#he left the socks in the evidence locker

[alcorian-wizard]

You say you accept art request so... How about something for Al-V. He's a good boy and I desperately want more content about him.

YESSIR HERE IS OUR BOY 😤😤😤

god the rosewood affair by @ii-thiscat-ii has me so weak- this fic has actually shot my appreciation for al-v straight through the roof and more bro (oh my god the way i would die for this little chaos incarnate super virus who loves his dad)

(referrenced his looks off of thiscat's art of him over here! )

(IM SORRY I GAVE HIM SHOES I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DRAW FEET AND THEIR ITTY BITTY PINKERINOS)

plEASE give this fic a read if you haven't already it's such a feel good fic oh my god

[januaryembrs]

I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

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‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck. 

“Only if they have evidence,”  Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins. 

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth. 

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark. 

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss. 

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won. 

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long. 

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another. 

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him. 

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another. 

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section. 

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing. 

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer. 

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle. 

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so. 

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab. 

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face. 

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore. 

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on. 

-

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her. 

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.  

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?” 

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,” 

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer. 

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love. 

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch. 

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen. 

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years. 

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks. 

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted. 

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer. 

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried. 

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless. 

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear. 

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set. 

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now. 

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office. 

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so. 

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him. 

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently. 

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness. 

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?” 

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances. 

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance. 

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so. 

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself. 

“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms. 

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it. 

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking. 

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried. 

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this. 

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?” 

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other. 

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children. 

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material. 

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do. 

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him. 

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on. 

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke. 

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to. 

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered. 

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out. 

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom. 

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit. 

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?” 

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy. 

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time,  Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer. 

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it. 

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough. 

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself. 

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze. 

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall. 

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror. 

A beat of silence passed between them. 

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding. 

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?” 

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things. 

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!” 

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car. 

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that. 

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head. 

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead. 

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights. 

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual. 

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips. 

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing. 

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-”  Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,” 

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really. 

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become. 

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,” 

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more. 

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman. 

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep. 

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died. 

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen. 

Because it was their room now. Not just his. 

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work. 

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?” 

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light. 

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror. 

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth. 

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that. 

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations. 

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life. 

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap. 

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression. 

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant. 

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that. 

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,” 

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands. 

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it. 

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin. 

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room. 

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more. 

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step. 

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer. 

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date. 

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them. 

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after. 

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second. 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime. 

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus. 

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry. 

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat. 

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more. 

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,” 

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet. 

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,” 

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?” 

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly. 

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details. 

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations. 

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely. 

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,” 

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head. 

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend. 

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over. 

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego. 

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her. 

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh. 

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?” 

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker. 

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course!  I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,” 

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,�� She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?” 

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together. 

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams? 

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay. 

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly  if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree. 

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked. 

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be. 

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork. 

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz. 

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,” 

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?” 

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,” 

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact. 

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

 “What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase. 

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic. 

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,” 

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care. 

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day. 

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,” 

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed. 

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her. 

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off. 

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving. 

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light. 

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes. 

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it. 

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created. 

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her. 

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking. 

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk. 

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious. 

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless. 

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate. 

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman. 

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-” 

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field. 

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye. 

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman. 

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!” 

“Shhh!” 

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,” 

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down. 

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly. 

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast. 

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-” 

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,” 

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again. 

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze. 

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home. 

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden. 

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,” 

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,” 

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,” 

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul. 

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast. 

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate. 

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair. 

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,” 

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was. 

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,” 

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp. 

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step. 

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders. 

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd. 

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it. 

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public. 

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster. 

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met. 

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you. 

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..” 

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now. 

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,” 

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!” 

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her. 

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,” 

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.” 

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly. 

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her. 

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her. 

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub. 

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of. 

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy. 

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently. 

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line. 

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid. 

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her. 

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay. 

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?” 

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,” 

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,” 

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders. 

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword. 

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first. 

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face. 

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.  

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse. 

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip. 

It was going to be a long night. 

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice. 

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery. 

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it. 

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him. 

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,” 

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same. 

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew. 

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly. 

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,” 

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile. 

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?” 

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had. 

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast. 

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend. 

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer. 

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least. 

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor. 

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be. 

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain. 

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers. 

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him. 

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle. 

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending. 

--

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[instructionsnotincluded]

State of Grace

Chapter XVII

Excerpt:

Victor Shoupe stood in front of a map of Kildare County, arms folded as he stared blankly. It had been almost five days since Audrey sat in his office. Four days since they filed the missing person report. Four days since his deputy was last seen. Four long, long days.

Shopue had no idea where she was—he wasn’t even convinced she was on this island anymore, which frightened him more than he wanted to admit. Max had basically disappeared into thin air. His apartment was empty, his cruiser in the parking lot that they’d since towed back to the station. Shoupe even tried tracking his department issued smartphone, but his deputy had left it in the car, the device reset to factory default. None of Max’s neighbors ever talked to him and the few people he was friendly with in the department didn’t ever do anything with him outside of work—so it was just dead end after dead end. Shoupe knew that all eyes were on him and he could feel the tension coming off the other deputies, everyone walking around on eggshells now that the State Bureau of Investigation was involved, all of their work under an even larger magnifying glass.

Moving away from the map, Shoupe took a seat at his desk and glanced down at the evidence bag of items they’d taken out of Deputy Whitehall’s locker. There wasn't much—a fresh pair of white gym socks, a tube of deodorant, a thing of hand sanitizer and a photo of him and an older man taped to the door. But what really interested him in the bag was a small, beat up looking ring attached to a silver chain. It was far too small to fit Max’s fingers, looking more like it was made for thinner, smaller fingers. If Shoupe ran his thumb across it over the plastic of the Ziploc, the ring itself changed colors, but only slightly. It’d been awhile since he saw a mood ring, and even longer since he wore one, but it was definitely the kind kids got out of machines for a handful of quarters. It didn’t fit with Max’s clean and tidy appearance, and Shoupe couldn’t help but keep looking at it, as if it had all the answers to this horrific situation.

[lpmurphy]

Spring in Tchakova Park

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Master List

Chapter Playlist

Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Complete 5/7/24)

Chapter Eight: Headboards (NSFW)

To Violet’s pleasant surprise, Spartans wore briefs. And they left deliciously little to the imagination.

John’s clothes paved the path from the island to her bedroom, each article discarded between kisses, his hands returning to her after each efficient tug of fabric. Their dinner lay forgotten in the kitchen as his lips met hers on the island, each kiss growing more desperate and needing as their hands roamed one another’s bodies. Violet had slipped her hands up his shirt, the hard muscles of his stomach tensing under her fingertips, and brought her lips to his neck, kissing along his skin to his ear, then dragging her tongue back down the same path to his shoulder. That had seemed to be his undoing; a growl-like moan ripping through his lips as he pulled her to him again, lips crashing against hers as he swept her off the counter. His shirt had been the first to go, Violet yanking it up as far as she could before he pulled it the rest of the way, throwing it to the side. 

It wasn’t exactly how she had pictured their reunion when she saw him on the lift that afternoon, but she wasn’t about to complain. Not in the slightest . She was, however, grateful to the Violet of four hours ago for deciding on a more attractive pair of underwear, and for shaving her legs before he arrived. 

His pants went next, Violet’s hands working his zipper as he carried her to the bedroom. He kicked them off in the hallway, Sadie trotting behind them towards the bedroom door. He pushed the dog to the side with one gentle sweep of his leg, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him. The dog scratched weakly at the door, whining for a moment before her nails clicked away on the floors back towards the kitchen.

Dusky sunlight cast shadows across her unmade bed as John discarded her onto the mess of sheets, kicking off his socks onto her bedroom floor. Violet pushed herself up onto her elbows, taking in the sight of the barely dressed man before her. His body was nothing but hard knots and ripples of muscle, the fading sun throwing shadows across his body like he was some ancient statue of a Grecian hero of long ago. A work of art. 

As she brought herself to her knees to kiss him again, she paused, noticing the full scope of his scars; thick as ropes and old. They decorated his body like a road map, a documentation of every injury and surgery his lifetime had faced. The news of Catherine Halsey’s arrest had hit even her dusty little planet the year prior. Violet had wondered exactly what ethics the scientist had violated when establishing the Spartan Program, but the evidence stood before her now, unwilling to meet her eyes as her hands traced the scars on his chest. 

Fourteen. She remembered her own fourteen; sleepovers and soccer games, arguments with her sister over stolen clothing and summer trips to the lake with her family. She had thought getting her appendix removed had been a major surgery, worried about what people would think of the small scar on her belly when she changed in the school locker room. It shouldn’t have been this for him. She found herself wondering who he would have been without this; if a fourteen year old Violet would have even turned a fourteen year old John’s head had their circumstances been different. Her fingers traced the collection of scars again; tracing the road map that had led him to her. It was fortunate thing Halsey was already in prison, she thought, Violet’s mind reeling from the thoughts of what she would do to that woman if she ever got her hands on her. 

“I can go find my shirt,” his words came out a whisper, John still not willing to look at her as her hands traced, “If they bother you.”

“Stop,” she pressed her hands to his chest, touching his forehead to hers. His hands found her hips again, his breath shaky as he leaned into her touch. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his, “you’re beautiful.”

He chuckled against her lips, the sound vibrating in his chest under her hands. She could feel his lips lift into a smile against hers as he kissed her, his hands sliding up her back again. She grazed her teeth against his bottom lip, John groaning into her mouth. His hands seemed to shake as he touched her, the thin straps of her dress falling off of her shoulders.

She pressed a kiss to his jaw, leaning back to look at him. His hands remained on her body, his eyes darkened as he watched her. His heated gaze did nothing to hide the nerves that seemed to be written in his expression from where he stood stiffly at the foot of the bed. She took his hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” his answer came quickly, but Violet sensed a hesitation as his eyes darted to her lips again. He licked his lips, swallowing hard as he shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve only done this one other time. It wasn’t… it wasn’t my best.”

Violet felt her heart drop at his expression, taking his hands again. “We can do this as slowly as you’d like,” she said quickly, processing the full meaning of his confession. “We don’t have to do anything at all tonight. It is completely up to-.”

He stopped her rambling with a kiss, gathering into his broad arms again. She melted into him, John tilting his forehead against hers again, his nose brushing against hers. “I want to,” he whispered, Violet nodding at the statement. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated. 

She smiled, peppering his jaw with kisses. “You know,” she ran a finger along the waistband of his briefs, John’s breath hitching at the touch, “I have a lot more clothing on than you. It hardly seems fair.”

Her dress was over her head in an instant, John tossing it behind him in a puddle of fabric. She kneeled on the edge of the bed before him, the cool air blowing in from the open bedroom windows prickling her naked skin. His hands skimmed along the curve of her waist to her breasts, his skin warm and calloused against her. His touch felt hesitant, as if he were holding back. She noticed that tilt of his head as he looked down at her, Violet matching the motion.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, sincerity to the worry in his tone. He pressed his hand to her chest, as if to feel her heart pounding under his touch. She pressed her own over it, bringing his hand to her lips and pressing a kiss to each of knuckles. 

“You won’t,” was her whispered reassurance. 

“Violet,” he swallowed, “I could-.”

“You won’t,” she repeated, meeting his nervous gaze, “I know it.” 

Her lips found his again, his fingers knotting in her hair. She brought an experimental hand to the waistband of his briefs, sliding it under the elastic and taking him in her hand. She had felt him on the island, his erection pressing against her thigh proved just how much of him there truly was. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the nearly seven foot tall man, but it came as a surprise as she ran her hand along the impressive length of him. John let out a choked gasp as she stroked him, his head falling to her shoulder in response. 

She pressed a kiss to his temple, his fingers knotting in her crumpled sheets as she repeated the motion. She whispered for him to lay down, John following her order with the urgency of the soldier he was. In a series of shuffles against sheets, she found him on his back under her. She settled between his legs, John watching her every move as she slid off his briefs, his cock springing from them at full attention. Violet hoped that her eyes hadn’t noticeably popped at the sight of it, swallowing down a nervous giggle at the sight of his considerable size. She had seen plenty of dicks before, she told herself. Okay, maybe five dicks. She could do this. She brought her mouth to him, the flat of her tongue lapping at the head of his cock, her eyes fixed on his. His hips bucked at the touch, a string of curses hissing from his mouth. 

“That okay?” She asked, stroking him again. His response came as a nod, his hips bucking again in response to her touch. She couldn’t help the smirk that split her face at the sight of him watching her with darkened eyes. 

She lowered her mouth to him and dragged her tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his cock, John hissing out as the wet heat of her mouth closed around him. His head fell back against the headboard of her bed as her tongue swirled around the tip of him, the growled way her name left his throat becoming her new favorite sound. 

Her hand joined moments later, sliding up and down him in tandem with her mouth . His whole body felt like a live wire under her, crackling and twitching under her touch. Her head continued to bob in his lap, her hair swaying with each motion as she took as much of him as she could, her eyes pinched shut and cheek hallowed. 

“Fuck,” he groaned out, her lips turning up into a smile around him.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, settling for gripping the headboard behind him, the other reaching down to stroke her cheek. She looked up at him with nothing but heat in those green eyes. Her lips left him with a wet pop, darkened and wet with saliva, Violet still stroking him in one hand.

She pressed a kiss to his palm. “Is this okay?” She murmured, pressing her lips to his too sensitive flesh again. He could only groan in response. Violet giggled around him, her eyes still fixed on his. She seemed to be enjoying every moment of this, and fuck, he didn’t want her to stop. He nodded, unable to find his words with her grip around him, sure that whatever left his mouth would be completely incoherent. Her smile was positively feline as began her movements again, torturously slow at first, her tongue swirling and licking at him. Her lips left him again, Violet spitting onto the head of his cock before returning her hand to him, massaging the now slick length of him. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat, his hips bucking into her fist. 

She licked him again before taking him into her mouth, her throat clenching around him as she gagged around his cock. Her nails bit into his thigh and he felt his breath catch at the feeling of her throat around him. His whole body reacted to her, tightening with pleasure, his fingers gripping at the headboard desperately as she repeated the same motion. 

The unmistakable splintering of wood interrupted the wet sounds of her mouth around him as she looked up in surprise. Her swollen lips parted in shock as he brought his hand forward, finding himself gripping a chunk of her headboard in his palm. He looked between the lump of splintered wood to the headboard, the place in which he had anchored himself to it now missing. Violet watched him with wide surprised eyes, a beat of silence passing between them. Holy shit, she thought, I think I broke him.

A deep red flush crawled up his neck as he looked back to her. “I am so sorry.”

His apology was met by a burst of laughter, Violet’s hand clapping over her mouth as that joyful sound left her, echoing off the bedroom walls. She apologized, still giggling as she crawled up him on the bed, taking the chunk of wood from his hand and giving it a hard look before placing it on the bedside table, sitting back onto him. 

“Don’t be. I was never crazy about that headboard anyway,” she laughed. “This is going to go straight to my head though, you know.”

“It felt good.” He replied breathlessly, laughing with her. She pressed her hands to his chest, eyes glinting mischievously. He brought his hands to her thighs, tracing them with his fingers to her hips.

“Should I continue?” She purred, that sinful look returning to his eyes. “Or are you going to keep breaking my furniture?”

She brought her lips to his and John groaning as she dragged her teeth against his bottom lip. She lowered herself down the bed again, her nails dragging down his thighs as she slipped back between his legs. Her tongue flicked up the length of him again in question, her eyes fixed on his. He groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as he gritted out, “No promises.”

---

“Chief.”

Cortana’s voice pulled him from his sleep. He blinked into the dark room. Violet’s head rested on his chest, the weight of her body pressed against his under tangled sheets. He closed his eyes again, “No.”

“Chief!”

“No, Cortana.”

John rolled over in her bed and tightened his grip around Violet’s sleeping frame. Sadie huffed between them, having been let in at some point in the night. She rested her head atop his leg and began to snore again. Violet stirred, pressing a sleepy kiss to his hand before slipping back to sleep. 

He hadn’t lasted much longer once her lips had wrapped around him again. The Spartan was left embarrassed by his lack of endurance as he finished in her hand, her name on his lips in the dark bedroom. Violet had only kissed him before slipping out of bed and stating she was going to get him something to clean up with. He had watched her naked form travel across the room to the bathroom, Cortana reassurances that the endurance would come with repetition echoing in his head. It took all of his willpower not to shout at the AI when the bathroom faucet turned on. He was already asleep when she returned to the bedroom, his whole body warm and heavy as his exhaustion overtook him. 

Violet turned over, her hair spilling across the pillow. She tucked her cheek against his chest and curled into his embrace. He tucked the stray strands that fell into her face behind an ear, tracing the curve of her jaw with his fingers as she slept. The sight of her asleep beside him, twisted in the sheets she had pulled over the both of them when she returned to bed, had to be one of the most magnificent things he had ever seen. He listened as her breathing grew even again and traced the curve of her spine. 

“Chief, I must insist.”

“And I must insist that you leave us the hell alone, Cortana.”

“Fine,” she snapped, “PT starts in 30 minutes but hey, how is that of any concern to me?”

John’s eyes snapped open, an annoyed groan escaping his lips as he rolled over. He pushed aside the splintered lump of her headboard to peer at the chrono on her bedside table. John sighed as the glowing red numbers confirmed Cortana’s snippy statement. Violet moved with him, letting out a sleepy noise of disapproval as he pulled out of her arms. 

“What’s wrong?” Violet mumbled against his chest, her voice heavy with sleep. He rolled onto his back, Violet still clinging to him. 

“I have to go back,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her bed mussed hair, “I have morning PT in thirty.”

“No,” she whined, wrapping an arm around his middle, “Fuck PT. Stay. It’s so early.”

He considered it for a moment, unwilling to pry himself from her arms. She tilted her head up to pepper his jaw with soft kisses. “I have to,” he argued weakly, pulling himself from her grasp and swinging his legs around the side of the bed. She made a grumpy noise as she slid to the warm spot he had left on the mattress. Her eyes peeked open to watch him begin the scavenger hunt of finding his discarded clothing around the room. 

“It’s four o’ clock. The trains aren’t even running yet,” she groaned, looking to the chrono, “come get back in bed. I’ll make it worth your while.” 

He chuckled at the mischievous tone, Violet giggling as he reached under the bed for a sock, “I’m sure you would, goose.”

She caught his hand as he stood, her fingers curling into his, “Come back tonight. I’ll actually feed you this time.”

He looked down at her as he zipped his pants; her hair fell across her face, shadowed in the early morning light. She crossed her arms under his pillow, looking up at him from where she lay under the sheets. He didn’t even have to consider his response before nodding, knowing it would take whole fleets to keep him from returning to her. He reached down, brushing her hair from her face again. She touched his cheek and lifted herself to kiss him. 

“I will,” he promised. 

She smiled up at him, shuffling down under the sheets as he pulled them over her bare shoulder. “I’ll see you on base,” she mumbled, yawning and closing her eyes. 

He nodded and kissed her again before straightening up. He crossed the room to the door, taking one last glance at her over his shoulder, her breathing evening again as she dozed back off. She curled into where his body had been minutes ago, pulling the pillow he had used against herself. 

He found his shirt balled up on the kitchen floor and pulled it over his head. Sadie trotted behind him to park herself by the door with an expectant stare at the overnight visitor. John seized his boots from their place by the door and settled onto the couch to tug them on. Cool morning air blew in through the opened windows, left forgotten the night before. John stood, reaching to push the windows shut, but found himself lingering in the open doorway. The sunrise peeked over the horizon, flooding the living room with pale light. He stood for a moment, watching the park wink awake underneath him under the pale glow of the street lamps, the geese on the pond waddling across one of the walking paths to the grassy shores of the pond. 

He already couldn’t wait for the day to end. 

[daydreamgoddess14]

Run

MASTERLIST

The team tries to stop Ted from leaving.

Rebecca couldn’t look up. Couldn’t bring herself to look around the locker room. She could feel Colin’s shoulders shaking beside her, and Van Damme’s noisy, snotty tears. Beard sat on her other side, still holding her hand. Jamie still hadn’t released Sam from his tight hug, his face buried in Sam’s neck. Isaac was on double duty - trying to console Will with one arm whilst holding Moe’s hand, no hands spare to wipe away his own tears. Keeley had made herself as small as possible and curled into Roy’s lap. Leslie and Trent had slumped together, looking around the room at the other members of the team in various states of despair and tears, comforting each other or seeking comfort from those who still had a spare shoulder to lean on. Her arm shook a little as Beard took another deep, shuddering breath to calm himself before giving up and letting out a sad little whimper. Still she stared at the floor, at the dirty socks, Jamie’s painted toenails following his afternoon with Phoebe. She did find one player at floor level, Dani had laid down and curled into a ball. She sighed sadly. She needed to pull herself together, for the team more than herself. She gripped Beard’s hand and gave it a squeeze, took her own deep and painful breath, and stood up, clearing her throat. Some of the team looked to her, others were still too lost in their own thoughts.

“We should… we need to… Fuck.” She wiped away the tears which had restarted as soon as she’d caught Jamie’s eye over Sam’s shoulder. “We need to regroup, I know this is sad.”

“It’s not sad, boss. It’s worse than that.” Richard mumbled. Rebecca’s heart nearly tore open again at hearing him call her ‘boss’.

“I know. I know it is.”

“Why did we let him go?” Van Damme wailed, Rebecca braced herself to be blamed.

“He wants to be with his boy, we need to respect that. We ain’t his kids.” Jamie grumbled, his voice still muffled by Sam.

“There’s got to be another way. A better way.” Sam countered.

“Well, if there is Sam, then I don’t know what it is.” Rebecca admitted. She’d thrown money at the situation - her private jet, the best solicitors to discuss shared custody. Nothing had worked. Beard knocked his knee against her leg, she looked down at him.

“There is one thing we didn’t try. But I didn’t want to suggest it around Ted.” Over a dozen voices seemed to speak at once-

“What is it?”

“Anything, we’ll do anything!”

“Tell us!”

“What do we do?”

Rebecca dropped back into her seat and turned to face him. “Tell me what to do?”

“We call Michelle and Henry. Show her… this.” He gestured around the room and then reached for his phone. “But be warned - he may never forgive us for this.”

“It’s worth the fucking risk, do it.” Roy said gruffly, his voice still strained with the effort of his crying. Beard selected the contact and waited for the call to connect.

“Coach, what can I do for you? This is a surprise.”

“Michelle, I’m gonna cut to the chase. Ted’s just left for the airport to go back to Kansas.”

“What? Since when? I had no idea, I promise we haven’t discussed this.”

“I know you haven’t. This is all his own stupid idea. But I need you to see what he’s leaving behind.” He turned the phone around and panned it across the room. No one bothered to hide their tears or distress, they clung to each other like they were each other’s lifeboat. He handed the phone to Rebecca, the tracks of her tears still evident.

“My god. Why does he think this is necessary?”

“He wants to be with Henry, is he there?” Rebecca’s voice cracked.

“He’s here, he’s here.” She handed the phone over. 4,336 miles away Henry’s face popped into view.

“I don’t need him to come here. I want to come there, I want to spend more time there. Can’t you stop him?”

“It’s too late sweet boy. He’s already left us.” Rebecca felt fresh tears fall.

“Stop him!” Henry bellowed, the team suddenly roused. “I am Lenry Hasso and I am telling y’all to move your-” his voice dropped to a whisper, “asses! Move, move, move! Old man Coach Beard can move faster than you dweebs!” He shouted again. Beard sprung up next to her, followed by Roy who nearly dropped Keeley. Jamie finally let Sam go, Van Damme roared. Within moments, the team was on their feet. Pulling on trainers, t-shirts. Rebecca thrust the phone at Beard and grabbed her bag from the floor to get to her own phone. She brought it to her ear and scrolled through her contacts.

“Bring the coach round, right now. Right now!” She shouted, “Right you lot, get outside now - we’re going to Gatwick!”

“Heathrow.” Trent offered.

“Heathrow! We’re going to Heathrow right fucking now! Thank fuck for that,” She turned to Trent, “it’s half hour closer!” It didn’t take long for Rebecca, Beard and Roy to corral the team onto the bus. In fact, it was the quickest they’d ever organised themselves. For once, there was no arguing over who sat where or pushing down the aisle. Beard had handed the phone over to Keeley while he got everyone in order. Once Will had done a headcount, he sat next to Rebecca and they both looked to the screen at Henry, who’d be joined by Michelle and Jake.

“Are you all there?” He asked, breathless.

“Yes Henry, we’re all here. We’re all going to stop him.”

“I’m going too - Beard, do not hang up this phone. I don’t care how much it costs, I’ll send you my allowance.”

“I’m not hanging up buddy.”

“And you will not, I’ll cover this phone bill.” Rebecca used the journey to calm herself down, there was nothing to do about looking like she’d been in a boxing ring - her eyes red and sore, hair and clothes disheveled, but she could at least try and calm her mind and try to figure out what the hell to say. As if reading her mind, Henry asked exactly that.

“Tell him the truth.” He said once Rebecca had admitted that she didn’t have a clue.

“What’s the truth? That the team is entirely dependent on him?” Henry scoffed,

“No silly, that you love him.” Rebecca nearly dropped the phone, but Beard was able to grab it from her.

“It might be obvious to astute types like us, H, but Rebecca’s not quite there yet.”

“Well according to Google, she’s got about 20 minutes to get there.” Henry said sternly.

“Are you pulling out Lenry Hasso again?” She asked.

“I might. Do you love my dad?” Rebecca thought briefly before nodding with absolute certainty.

“Yes Henry, yes I do. Is that ok?” he beamed at her through the screen, and behind her a huge cheer went up amongst the players.

The bus pulled up at the drop off point and Leslie gave some vague instructions to the driver about doing a loop of the airport. “Think Sandra Bullock in Speed.” He said sagely. The entire team huddled together,

“Are you sure we should all do this?” Will asked nervously, the team ribbing at him. Isaac looked around the group.

“Hands in, ‘Get Ted’ on six.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six - GET TED!” They all shouted before dispersing and heading to the terminal doors. In the midst of the group, Trent as the voice of close to sanity shouted directions.

“Gate 16, turn left.” They all ran as if their lives depended on it. Rebecca’s feet pounded the floor with each step, she wondered how she had enough air in her lungs, how she could be running in heels, but the team swept her along and kept her going, their odd peloton navigating the wide corridors of the airport. They raced through duty free and followed travelators until they reached security. Rebecca was pulled to the front and presented to a trio of security guards. She was about to channel her inner Keeley Fucking Jones when one of the guards said,

“Ain’t you Jamie Tartt?”

“And ain’t you Roy Kent?”

“Shit Derek - this is the Richmond team!”

“I know! ‘Ere, what you lot doin’?”

“We need to get through.”

“All of ya?” Rebecca drew herself up to full height,

“All of us. Is there a problem with that?” The security guard swiped his card and the double doors swung open, the team pushed through before they could be stopped again, and the running continued.

“Turn right at the bottom!” Trent called out, they moved as one, all leaning into the corner. “It’s the last gate at the end of this hallway.”

“Course it’s the last fucking gate.” Roy puffed. “Last push lads, let’s fucking goooo! Whistle, whistle, whistle!” With renewed energy, they upped their speed and ran at full pace, crowds dispersing in their path. Rebecca looked around quickly, trying to keep her balance. Somewhere behind her, Keeley’s voice rang out,

“We’re all here babe, all of us are still here.”

It was hard to ignore the noise, chaos and confusion brought on by an entire football team, their support staff and owner running through an airport. Ted heard the commotion long before he saw it with his own eyes, he wasn’t sure he could trust what he saw though until they were screaming his name.

“COACH!”

“Ted!”

“Lasso!” and over the speaker of Beard’s phone, still connected to Henry,

“Daaaaad!” The team surrounded him, barely leaving him space to turn on the spot.

“What in holy heck is goin’ on here?” Somehow, Rebecca found herself pushed to the front again. Over Ted’s head, Beard handed her his phone.

“Someone wanted to talk to you.” She said, short of breath.

“Dad! Don’t get on the plane!” Henry shouted. The team murmured in agreement, their voices rising until Ted could hardly hear Henry.

“Settle down, hush your butts boys.”

“Sorry Coach.” They all muttered.

“Henry, I need to come back to you.”

“No you don’t Dad, you need to stay there - the team needs you. Beardo needs you. Rebecca needs you.” He whirled around to look at Beard,

“Did you do this?” He accused.

“All I did was pick up the phone. These guys did the rest. And her.” He nodded his head towards Rebecca.

“Tell him, Rebecca, you gotta tell him!” Henry demanded.

“Tell me what?” Ted asked, his voice quiet. The murmurs of the team rose in volume again,

“Tell him, tell him.” They whispered, gently jostling Rebecca.

“Don’t go, Ted.” She begged, a prod in her back pushed her forward half a step into the little left of Ted’s personal space. “I love you, please don’t go.” She breathed, the chaos of the last 40 minute drive and dash through the airport had kept her going, but the tears were now threatening to fall.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked in disbelief.

“She didn’t know!” Half the team replied in singsong unison.

“I didn’t know.” She whispered with a watery smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But I do, I love you. I love you, Ted.” The tears fell and her knees gave out, nearly sinking her to the floor, but her team held her up. Isaac on one elbow, Colin on the other. Ted nodded at both of them and they moved away to let him through. He took her into his arms.

“I love you too, boss.” He grinned, “I don’t suppose I can rescind my resignation?” He leaned in to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her arms moved up and around his shoulders bringing him in as close as possible. Surrounded by whoops, cheers and tears, Ted smiled against Rebecca’s mouth.

“You’re not going anywhere, Coach Lasso.”

Sometime the next morning, late morning, Rebecca laid in bed and flipped through the newspaper. She had a cup of tea resting against her exposed collarbone, a sheet held up against her body. The first 10 pages contained photos of the airport dash, with a picture of Ted kissing her on the front page. She couldn’t help but go back to that page again. Next to her, a deep voice muttered from face down in the pillow,

“I know a picture lasts longer sweetheart, but I don’t think it matters when you got it on demand?” Ted rolled over to look at her, bare faced and smiling at him.

“I’m just thinking about how your next press conference is going to go.” She sniggered. Ted grabbed the paper and threw it over the side of the bed, pulling her closely to him, “Watch the tea!” She reached behind to put the cup on her nightstand while Ted kissed the red mark the hot cup had left on her chest.

“I don’t care, I’ll have the full support of the owner.” he mumbled against her skin.

“Yes you will.” She smirked, settling back into his arms.

[ungefug]

remote flirting

Prompt: Asking permission to send a dick pic (@wrestleprompts)

Word Count:  1074

Rating: M for dick talk

Characters: CM Punk/Dean Ambrose

Dean Ambrose comes swaggering up to him in the locker room, just as CM Punk is pulling off his left boot. Few dare to enter into that miasma but Dean takes no note of it. He’s special like that.

“Hey,” he says, his hands in his pockets, leaning back leisurely.

Punk looks him up and down. Dean is wearing the mandatory WWE backstage dress code: slacks, shirt and suit jacket. Punk has never seen a wrestler make it look as sloppy as Dean does. It’s frankly endearing, he looks like a wet poodle.

“Hey,” Punk replies and returns his attention to his other boot. 

Any other time he’d enjoy talking to Dean, for Dean to speak to anyone is rare enough and Punk thinks he likes Dean, he’s seen him wrestling, although he’s not sure Dean feels the same because he’s mysterious, to put it nicely. It’s just that right now Punk just wants to get under the shower, get to his hotel room and then cry a bit, jerk off, maybe at the same time, and go to sleep.

Punk pulls off the other boot. Dean doesn’t move from his spot, and while Punk gets out of his kick pads and knee pads, quite aware of Dean’s feet just at the edge of his vision, Dean’s just standing there, doing nothing, breathing.

When Punk finally looks back up at him, an annoyed what?! on his lips, Dean is holding his phone in his hand and he asks, “Can I have your number?”

“Uh, sure,” Punk says. 

He doesn’t normally do that, doesn’t want to end up in some group chat with the boys, but Dean has taken him by surprise. Punk wipes his hand and takes Dean’s phone off him.

As soon as Punk hands Dean back his phone (Punk’s number saved as first name Punk, second name Best in the World), Dean just walks off without saying another word, not even a thanks. Something’s wrong with that guy.

When Dean messages him later that night, Punk is already lying spread out on his bed in his generous hotel room, wearing nothing but his socks and boxers. He showered and he cried but he hasn’t jerked off yet and he’s got his phone in hand, in the process of locating his favorite video, the one where the guy getting plowed moans like he’s being flayed, which is when Dean’s message pops up, giving him a fucking jump scare.

— is this punk?

Punk has the sudden vision of Dean holding one of those old fashioned telephones from back when speaker and microphone were separate pieces and in his vision Dean’s shouting into the wrong piece, going hello, hello, who is speaking, is this Punk?

— Yeah. Hi, Dean :)

Dean replies after what seems like an eternity.

— cool

Then radio silence. 

Punk tries to pick up the conversation again, because what the fuck is wrong with that guy?

— Anything you wanted to talk to me about? 

— just bored. no tv in this room… minibar empty… can I send you a dick pic?

Punk stares at the screen of his phone in disbelief. It’s got to be a joke. Dean’s fucking with him. It feels like a honeypot and he’s not going to step right into it. 

After some careful deliberation, choosing just the right phrasing, he replies:

—Why would you ask me that?

— it’s rude to just send someone a dick pic without asking first

— That’s not what I fucking mean! Why would you send me a dick pic?

— thought you might like it

Punk starts typing an angry rant. He sighs. Backspaces all of it. Okay, whatever, he likes dicks and even antisocial Ambrose has clocked him. No point playing hard to get.

— ok, send it. :3 

After sending that utterly damning message Punk demonstrates to himself how little he cares about receiving photographic evidence of Dean’s dick by opening his browser again for that video he’d been meaning to watch before Dean got him all distracted, but it doesn’t take Dean long to respond.

The photo Dean sends him is indeed a dick pic, but a picture of Dean’s dick it is not. Punk is not acquainted with Dean’s genitalia but he assumes it’s not five shades darker than the rest of him nor does he really think he’s got an elephant tattooed on it, or rather an elephant’s trunk, the rest of the elephant is tattooed onto the body of the man that is definitely not Dean and it’s so big, both the trunk and the face which is scaled accordingly, that the elephant’s ears cover the whole belly, and that’s definitely not Dean’s belly nor is it his hotel room in the background.

— That’s not your dick.

The written words don’t quite convey his surprise, anger and… disappointment?

— no

— Then why did you send me that?

— thought it looked funny

Okay, it’s definitely disappointment that Punk is feeling now and it’s hitting him like a cold wave of insecurity crashing at the shore of his miserable body. For a brief moment Punk thought Dean Ambrose was coming onto him because he’s so fucking irresistable the kid saw him all sweaty after a match and immediately thought, I need to tap that. 

Punk puts the phone down and stares at the ceiling, despairing for some long seconds, until he realizes he’s being utterly ridiculous. He bites his lip, calls himself names under his breath, picks up his phone and tries to be less of a cry-baby about it.

He ponders the dick pic again, attempting to see the humor in it. Yes, that is a funny penis, it’s got so much foreskin on it, it really looks like an elephant’s trunk, but it would be much funnier if Punk hadn’t got himself mildly excited for something else. Well, more than mildly excited. He cups his crotch, checking in on his arousal, and finds a solid erection. Turns out he was really looking forward to jerking it to Dean’s dick.

It’s either the lack of blood in his brain or his hurt pride that makes him do something stupid next.

— Dean. Send me a photo of your dick. Hard. With your hand for scale. Get your balls on it.

He licks his lip and after a brief moment of hesitation, he adds:

— Send hole too.

Dean’s reply comes faster than Punk expected, given Punk’s complicated instructions.

— can I just come over and show you in person?

[anon-sect]

Trezon, Kyron, and Allen had left out key evidence in a drug case. They had intended to sell the drugs to make a little extra money on the side. Even though they were paid well, they also wanted a little extra. They almost got away with it. A good cop had caught whim of their plans and reported to the police chief. They were called in the next day.

"I can't have crooked cops working at this department." Police Chief Karl spoke to them. "Unfortunately, I will have to make examples out of you three. The others need to know that this behavior won't be tolerated under my watch." He added as he picked up his phone.

"Please don't arrest us, chief." Trezon pleaded. "We will bring in the evidence immediately." Kyron added. "And we definitely won't do any of this again. I promise." Allen finished. All three hoping to save their reputation. They didn't want to be seen as bad cops, especially in the eyes of the general public.

Karl was about to have them arrested, but there was the new start program for cops that strayed away from the norm of being good police officers. "There is the New Start program. But it's your choice, gentlemen. Either you are arrested for the crime or volunteer for the New Start Program for wayward cops." He left them a moment to choose which poison they wanted.

All three knew about the new program but were hesitant to willing volunteer for it. The outcome of the program could have some permanent consequences that might not be favorable. Yet, being arrested also had unfavorable consequences too. Not wanting to be publicly shamed, they all choose the New Start Program.

A few days later, Reed was called into the police chief's officer. "You wanted to see me, chief." He asked.

"Yes, you remember that report about those three cops that you suspected were harboring evidence. Well, they were indeed." Karl paused as he placed a pair of underwear and a pair of boots on his desk. He handed Reed a paper to sign. "These three agreed to turn over a new leaf. They are in the New Start Program. Your boots are Trezon and Kyron. Your underwear is Allen. They will be your responsibility for the next 12 months." He spoke while Reed read over the paper.

Reed had one question before he signs off on the deal. "What does this box by the fine print mean?" He asked pointing it out on the paperwork.

"It only means that should you think they need more time in the program, you can ask for an extension to keep them your responsibility." Karl informed him. He watched Reed sign the document and check the box by the fine print. With the document signed, he handed the underwear and boots to Reed. Reed got up and left his office.

Reed made his way to the locker room. He quickly took off his pants, socks and boots. He took off his current underwear and put on his new pair. They felt good. The material felt much better than normal underwear. He then put his pants back on over his living underwear. Next, he tried on his new boots. He could say the same about his living boot. The insoles were firm yet soft. HIs feet were well cushioned. They belonged to him for a full 12 months. Depending on how comfortable they are over the months, he might have to ask for an extension on their time in the program.

Trezon was immediately regretting his choice. He couldn't stand feet, especially sweaty feet. Here he was now a boot for the officer that ratted on him. The sock that Reed was wearing wasn't all that good to smell. It had a slight vinegar odor, but that wasn't the worst of it. It was the pressure of being crushed under his socked foot. It was painful. He wished he had chosen to be arrested. As Reed walked on him, he realized that he controlled his fate. He could be a boot longer than 12 months based on Reed's choice. This fate was far worse than being arrested and charged with a crime. He mentally pleaded for mercy, but knowing as a boot, no one would hear his plea.

Kyron did have a foot fetish, but on the opposite end. He loved having his feet worshipped. He didn't like this new existence one bit. He was now being crushed by a slightly foul stench smelling socked foot. He could feel his face slowly being molded by each step Reed took. It was torture. There were times, he would make gay guys gage on his feet during his days off. He never expected that he would be on the other end of serving another man's feet. It was degrading that he was a boot for a fellow cop. Not only that, but the cop that ratted him out. It was an irony that he didn't expect. He only hoped that Reed would release him from the program in 12 months.

Allen was screaming mentally for help. Reed midsection was already sweaty with musk, and he was around that musk. Trapped in darkness with a musk so strong, it would make his human nostrils flare up. The worst part of it was that he was powerless to do anything about it. He couldn't even squirm to get away. This was supposed to be his life for the next 12 months. To make his situation worse was that his face was in the ass part of the underwear and his butt part was in the front. Any time Reed sat down, his ass would be in his face and his dick would be up his ass. Being a straight officer, this by far was a nightmare. Sadly, his fate was in Reed's hands.

THREE AND A HALF YEARS LATER........

Reed snapped a quick picture of himself. He was still enjoying his special pair of boots and underwear. Each year, he always asks for an extension on the program, claiming that Trezon, Kyron and Allen need more time to learn their lesson about being good cops. And every time his extension is granted. But secretly, he doesn't want to lose them. Allen is his favorite underwear and Trezon and Kyron are the best pair of boots he has ever worn to work. They were crooked cops who deserved this fate. As far as he was concerned, he would keep asking for extensions. They were too comfortable to just simply give up.

[shealwaysreads]

Revelation

drarry | E | 1.4k | kinktober, uniform kink, strip tease, leather gloves, lots of buttons, a whisper of boot worship, auror!Harry, unspeakable!Draco

Summary: Harry gets caught watching.

Read on Ao3

“What are you looking at?” Malfoy asked, cut-glass accent perfectly disdainful.

“Nothing.”

Malfoy’s lip twitched, almost a sneer, almost. “You’re watching me, Potter.”

“I’m not.”

He was. Harry had been watching him since they were both eleven, but that wasn’t what Malfoy meant. No. Harry was watching him now and he wasn’t even being subtle about it.

It was only the two of them in the changing room that the trainee Aurors and Unspeakables all shared, everyone else had left the building ages ago. It was late. Later than either of them should be here; later than they would be if they weren’t both working more than they should, if they weren’t both trying to prove themselves.

Harry had been in the duelling room, sparring with the automatons. Malfoy had been doing who-knew-what in who-knew-where. But they had both ended up here—in the sweat-scented changing rooms lined with lockers on both sides of the room. Harry was sitting on the uncomfortable wooden bench in the middle and Malfoy stood—defensive and as likely to admit it as a snake—against his locker.

Harry hadn’t meant to look, at first. It’s just that he was tired, bone-tired, and Malfoy was a curiosity now. Proven not-dangerous and maybe-decent by his wartime spying on behalf of the Order, but still sharp and unknown. Not-dangerous was an overstatement, perhaps. Malfoy had shown himself to be just as lethal as Voldemort had hoped for, only it was by hamstringing Fenrir in the middle of the battle rather than by felling Dumbledore during their sixth year.

The Unspeakables only took on talented witches and wizards with rare minds and a proclivity for deep thought and ambitious magic. But Harry wasn’t thinking about Malfoy’s mind. He was thinking about the fact that he had never seen Malfoy in less than perfectly neat clothes. Even in the midst of Fiendfyre and battle, Malfoy’s shirt had been buttoned up to the top, long sleeves covering his arms.

Unspeakable uniforms were even worse. They didn’t wear loose robes—like the Aurors, their uniforms had been streamlined after ‘incidents’ involving overly long sleeves and too much fabric—but tightly tailored black with so many buttons Harry couldn’t count them. Malfoy was covered from his neck to his toes; he even wore gloves, leather gloves.

Harry had started looking because Draco took his gloves off like it was some kind of personal ritual. He used the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to pinch the tip of each finger on the glove covering his left hand, until it was loose enough for him to slide off. The revelation of his hand—pale skin, slender fingers, perfectly manicured nails—had caught Harry’s attention. Then Malfoy did the same thing to his other hand.

It was like a present being unwrapped. Only the present was Malfoy.

That’s when Malfoy had opened his mouth and Harry thought that would be the end of it. Malfoy obviously knew Harry had been watching, and Harry’s denial had been more about keeping to form than any real protestation. Malfoy would pick up his gloves, snort derisively in Harry’s direction, and then bugger off home—wherever that was, these days.

Only Malfoy didn’t do any of that. He threw his gloves down on the bench next to Harry and with that quirk of his lip that said you are so far beneath me he brought his hands—his uncovered, unclothed hands—to the button glinting just under his chin. It slipped out of its hole. His fingers moved down to the next. Nimble and quick. The buttons were smaller than a knut, black and shiny, and Malfoy had only undone two of about a hundred but Harry’s chest felt like he’d just run up three flights of stairs.

Malfoy showed no signs of stopping.

The hollow of Malfoy’s throat, framed by the black collar of his uniform, was as startlingly pale as his hands. But more than that. This was the first time Harry had so much as seen this part of Malfoy.

Harry’s pulse thudded in his ears. He was just sitting, watching, but it felt like he’d just discovered something.

By the time Malfoy’s nipples—light pink, like the bit of the inside of his lip that Harry could see when he spoke—were revealed, Harry was hard. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. Malfoy had slowed down, made a show of each button sliding from it’s fastening, each inch of skin revealed.

Harry thought it might be the stark contrast of Malfoy’s black uniform against his fair skin that made Harry’s brain slow and slide like molasses. Or maybe it was the unexpected trail of dark blond hair that started on his sternum and trailed down, and down. Or maybe it was the silvery trace of scars on his skin. Or maybe it was Malfoy’s grey eyes, watching Harry as he watched Malfoy. A twin observation.

“Do you like to watch, Potter? Like to see, but not touch?”

“I—” Harry swallowed. He didn’t know the answer. He’d never done anything like this before. Never tangled himself, even accidentally, with someone as complicated as Malfoy. Malfoy who could make getting changed after work into something like a dance, something like a minefield.

“Of course.” Malfoy’s voice had dropped into something lower, softer. “You want to touch yourself. Go on then, do it.”

Harry stared. Malfoy unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, and then there were pale wrists on show. Harry could see the tracery of blue veins there, and wondered if Malfoy’s pulse was racing as fast as his own.

“Come on, Potter, I’m showing you mine.”

Harry moved almost without thinking—he certainly didn’t pause to wonder what would happen if someone walked in—he undid his jeans and pulled himself out. But Malfoy interrupted him before he could do anything more than that.

“Wait a minute, I need your help.” Malfoy stepped forward, the top of his uniform unbuttoned all the way—the shirt hanging open and his navel level with Harry’s eyes—and placed the tip of his foot on the bench between Harry’s spread thighs. “Undo my boot for me, Potter.”

He was serious. Malfoy watched, waiting as though he had reserves of patience where Harry was concerned (contrary to all prior evidence). Harry looked down at where the shiny black leather of Draco’s boot sat, right in front of his own cock, still hard and standing proud of his open jeans.

Malfoy’s boots were laced halfway up his calf, and the knot was tight, but the leather was warm under Harry’s fingers and Malfoy’s skin was responsible for the warmth. Harry undid the laces quickly, and held onto the heel of the boot as Malfoy pulled his foot out, then set it on the bench beside him and pulled Malfoy’s sock off too. Malfoy’s bare foot was as pale and elegant as his hands, Harry wondered if he liked having his feet rubbed, and what it would feel like if Malfoy pressed the ball of his foot against Harry’s erection. Malfoy brought him back to reality—even better than his imagination, for once—by placing his other boot in the same position, and patiently waited once again for Harry to do his bit.

“Only seems right for you to help me, before you help yourself,” Malfoy murmured, his eyes on Harry’s cock.

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet—it had worked for him so far, and it worked again. Malfoy almost smiled, and his hands went to the waist of his trousers; there were buttons there, too. Swiftly undone, they revealed more of that dark blond hair—curling and neat—and then Malfoy’s cock. He was hard. Maybe he liked being watched as much as Harry liked watching.

Malfoy nudged Harry’s thigh with the toe of his boot, dangerously close to his balls. “Come on, take it off.”

Once again, Harry pulled off Malfoy’s boot, and then his sock. Malfoy put his foot back on the ground, widened his stance, and then stepped forward even closer—till his open trousers were almost close enough to touch Harry’s face.

“Actually, I think you should properly help me. Seeing as I’ve so kindly let you watch the show.”

Harry looked up, and Malfoy’s eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted. He was serious.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“Do it, Potter.”

Read on Ao3

October 2nd & 3rd from this prompt list 🖤

Read the series here on Tumblr or here on Ao3

[kurowrites]

entigral or just super fluff gym meet cute - uh butcher nmj? Librarian lxc? Children’s librarian lxc?

BEHOLD, I WROTE A NIELAN.

---

The new guy had been coming in regularly for around two weeks now, and seemed determined to become another permanent feature at this gym. Which was… good.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t proud to admit it, but he too had been very sceptical in the beginning, assuming that this new guy would come two or three times, realise that this just wasn’t the thing for him, and then stop coming for good. But then, he hadn’t looked at him with disdain like some other members of the gym (never that), and so had actually been relieved to see himself proven wrong. It had been two weeks, and the new guy still came in every other day, ready for another workout, with a friendly smile to spare for everyone that crossed paths with him. 

Today too, the new guy was here again against all previous expectation, and Nie Mingjue redoubled his efforts lifting weights as he carefully resisted the temptation to turn his head after the new guy had walked past him with a polite nod of his head. 

It was rude to stare, even at a gym like this, where the biggest dudes occasionally engaged in friendly competitions to determine who truly was the biggest and strongest of them. 

(Nie Mingjue wasn’t always the biggest, but he definitely was the strongest. It wasn’t bragging if it was the truth.)

The new guy wasn’t like that at all. Though his workout gear revealed toned shoulders and strong arms, he lacked the bulk that made guys like Nie Mingjue look so imposing. This new guy was built along slimmer lines. Still fit, but clearly not aiming for a bodybuilder look.

Some of the other guys had taken this to mean that he wasn’t very strong, and had scoffed behind his back. But they had quickly been taught better when Mr. Newbie had started lifting weights. 

The man could certainly lift. Like, really lift. 

Even Nie Mingjue had been impressed.

Nie Mingjue didn’t really dare to approach the man, though he couldn’t help but be curious about him. He was friendly, with mild, polite mannerisms that seemed to be so at odds with the way he trained; an intensity and focus that spoke of determination and a clear goal that he must have in mind. 

Whenever the man passed him by, he would nod at Nie Mingjue, and Nie Mingjue would nod back in acknowledgement. That had been the total of their interactions at the gym so far. He didn’t even know the man’s name. 

But even though Nie Mingjue didn’t know the man or his name, he couldn’t help but keep looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. Nie Mingjue kept watching him, fascinated by the seemingly effortless elegance that he brought to exercises that looked very different when the bros at the gym did them. Nie Mingjue tried not to notice how nice the man’s hair looked in a braided ponytail, or how nicely his shirt stretched over his chest while he lifted weights. He wasn’t supposed to be watching at all, after all. 

It was ridiculous, really. He was here to work on his own fitness, not ogle other men while they were training. 

With a disappointed huff, he chastised himself for letting himself be distracted like this in the middle of a training session, and returned to his exercises with even more effort. 

---

After finishing an intense training session that left no more room for idle thoughts of pretty men, Nie Mingjue headed back towards the changing room, his mind now occupied with the thought of showering. He quickly slipped out of his training gear and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pour over him with a sense of relief and completion. 

He had just started to wash his hair when another person entered the shower. Looking towards the entrance, Nie Mingjue hastily averted his eyes, because the man entering the shower was no one other than the newbie, entering the communal shower completely naked (of course, it was a shower). He didn’t allow his eyes to linger, but one moment had been enough to ascertain that the man’s excellent physique extended to all parts of him. 

Now feeling distinctly less relaxed, Nie Mingjue hurried up with his shower and left hurriedly to get dressed. He was usually fine with being naked, and had no issue being around other naked guys, but being in the shower with a man like that… nothing to make you more self-conscious than a really attractive man. He was usually confident about his own appearance. Not right now, though. 

But Nie Mingjue didn’t have much more time than slip into his underwear and shorts. Just when he had sat down to slip into his socks, the new guy also returned to the changing room, now (thankfully) a towel slung around his hips. 

And Nie Mingjue, unable to check his impulse, looked up. And inadvertently locked eyes with the new guy, who was already smiling at him. 

“I think we haven’t been introduced yet,” the man said, and his voice was calm and smooth. Like one of these ASMR things that Huaisang had shown him once. “My name is Lan Huan.”

“Nie Mingjue,” Nie Mingjue replied, and couldn’t think of anything else to say. He fidgeted with his sock and added, “Nice to meet you.”

Lan Huan smiled again, as if there had been something amusing in his reply.

“You seem to be here rather often,” he observed.

“I like to let off steam after work,” Nie Mingjue answered. 

“Oh? What do you do?” Lan Huan asked. And then, as if sensing Nie Mingjue’s apprehension, he added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He didn’t really like talking about this topic, because there were lots of… unprocessed emotions still there. 

“I had to take over my father’s business at a young age,” he eventually replied, his tone more curt than he’d really like it to be. “The business is doing well, but it’s a lot of hard work.”

“Ah,” Lan Huan answered, and smiled a sympathetic smile. “That is quite a big responsibility.”

He nodded once to himself, as if he understood what he was talking about. 

There was something so earnest about it that Nie Mingjue found himself asking a question of his own, without really thinking about it. 

“And what do you do?” 

Lan Huan smiled again, and this time, it was a joyful smile. 

“I am a librarian,” he announced. “I specialise in children’s books.”

Nie Mingjue raised an eyebrow almost against his will. Sure, that kind of job fit perfectly with his mild character, but was totally incongruent with the training that he did. 

“My family has a holistic approach to personal improvement,” Lan Huan explained, apparently interpreting Nie Mingjue’s look correctly. As if that actually explained anything. 

Lan Huan noticed his evident scepticism and chuckled. 

“My brother and I were encouraged to excel both in our academic studies and in martial arts when we were younger,” he added, pronouncing the ‘encouraged’ in a way that suggested that there had been little choice in the matter. “It’s different now, but the training has become a habit. I don’t use it to hunt down people that have late fees. Generally.”

That had Nie Mingjue laugh almost against his will. Damn the man, he was not only handsome, but also smart and funny. 

Completely out of Nie Mingjue’s league. 

“My father had never much left for academics,” he offered. “But he took me to the gym as soon as I was able to lift a dumbbell. And here we are.”

“Here we are, indeed,” Lan Huan replied with the sweet smile that Nie Mingjue was becoming accustomed to far too quickly. 

They were silent for a moment, and Nie Mingjue looked up at Lan Huan, trying not to notice the low-hanging towel or the very nice, toned chest above it. 

This man was everything that Nie Mingjue was not. Technically, he should have resented him for it. 

If only things were so easy. 

“So,” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Are you in a hurry after this? I could go for some coffee.”

Lan Huan smiled again, and this time, there was something in his eyes that glittered with what might be private amusement. 

“I am more of a tea person,” he said. “But as things are, I am free after this.”

And with that, he turned around and walked to his own locker, on the other side of the room. 

Nie Mingjue tried not to stare too much at that very nice back. 

But these shoulders were definitely worth a look. 

He should, he mused as he distractedly pulled on his second sock, probably go to libraries more often. Maybe Lan Huan would have a few suggestions for him. Over tea. Or something.

[solarwonux]

Crop Tops and Tattoos || Wonwoo

soccer player!Wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, shower sex, wonwoo soft!dom, oral sex (female receiving), friends with benefits, friends to lovers, public sex (kinda) I think that’s all. 

note: another repost I’m sorry lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, honestly I literally have like a bunch of works that literally take place in the same soccer!svt/college!svt universe but really have nothing to do with one another except for like 3 and they’re all spicy lol. Let me know if you’d want them and also enjoy this one and lmk your thoughts hehehe :)

masterlist

“W-What?”

“Come to my practice tonight.” You rubbed the sleep from your afternoon nap out of your eyes, listening to Wonwoo’s soft voice through the receiver. “I miss you, come to my practice tonight, we can hang out after.” Wonwoo all but begged, and you can almost picture the pout that was on his face.

“Woo, I can’t I have to finish my half of the group research project.”

“Perfect, I’ll help you. You’re my partner anyway. Please love, I just want to see you it’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days Woo.” You rolled your eyes sitting up on your couch, retreating your phone from your ear, checking the time, 7:30PM it read. So much for a thirty-minute nap, you sighed.

“Precisely why you should come to my practice…hold on a sec,” Wonwoo pulled the phone away from his ear and gave the lost student instructions to where the art history section of the library was located at. “Please, it will be worth it, I promise.” He whispered, cupping his mouth over the receiver, muffling his words a little making you laugh.

“I’ll think about it, get back to work.”

“Okay see you tonight.” He said a little too excited and hung up the phone, a wide smile appearing on your face, making your stomach perform a whole gymnastics routine in the process.

The relationship you and Wonwoo had was interesting, it had started off as mindlessly flirty with one another, graduated to ghost touches and during a hot summer’s day. Where the air conditioning in the library had leaked and instead of Joshua calling everyone to tell them to stay home, he had made sure everyone showed up. Or else. His exact words.

The touches and flirting had escalated to the point that Wonwoo had dragged you to the forgotten encyclopedia section of the library and pinned you against the dusty bookshelves.

Since then your relationship grew more to just sleeping with one another to let off some steam. He would hold your hand underneath the reception desk at the library, mindlessly drawing patterns and phrases onto your skin. He would walk you to class when he could, sometimes with a bubble tea in his hand, other times empty handed. If you were scheduled to close on days, he had an earlier shift, he would wait and walk you home holding you close while the two of you talked about your day. And as of recently, after sex he had started to spend the night, claiming he slept better with you by his side.

In your head Wonwoo was your boyfriend just without the label. It was also a conversation the two of you needed to have, but it was also one you feared because you didn’t want it to ruin it.

You ran through the gates of the soccer field and started up the steps of the aluminum bleachers, earning weird stares from the guys and girls that decided to attend SVT’s first soccer practice of the season. You sat down, out of breath, holding your bag close to your body as you tried your best to regulating your breathing. A reminder that maybe hitting the gym every once in a while, wasn’t such a bad idea, because clearly having mind blowing sex with Wonwoo wasn’t helping with building your stamina.

“Woo your girl’s here now you can finally start playing.”

“Get your head out of your ass Jun.” Wonwoo scoffed shoving Jun lightly, earning a laugh from the other boy. Wonwoo gazed over at you a knowing smile evident on his face and waved at you. You felt your cheeks heat up and your eyes grew wide as you took in his appearance.

Wonwoo had sworn to you that he would never wear his old jersey again, especially since Seungcheol and Jeonghan had deviously cut it up after their last game last season. Yet, here he was in all his glory. The shirt stopping just above his belly button, the sliver of his toned stomach peeking through and you felt the beat of your heart start to raise. You warily waved back, before placing your cold palm against your forehead trying to cool yourself down.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, lifting his hand up and threaded it through his dark locks. His shirt riding up, exposing himself more and you felt the air leave your lungs. It was stupid, you have been seeing him in a lot less clothing for months and in every angle. But for some reason now as he stood boring his soft eyes into yours as Jihoon shouted commands to his teammates. The sweat dripping down the sides of his face, his glasses fogged up slightly due to the humidity and a knowing smirk adorning his face, teasing you. And you felt like you were about to burst.

“Hey, Woo, stop ogling at your girlfriend and get into position.”

“I like your shirt.”

“Hmm, yeah?” A devilish snicker fell from his lips as he pushed up against the cool tile wall. You nodded dragging your nails across the sliver of teasing skin, leaving red marks behind in their wake making Wonwoo shudder. “So sexy.” He groaned lowly pressing his lips onto yours forcefully, his hands snaking around your waist down to your ass giving it a squeeze making you gasp. He pulled away from your lips and trailed them down your neck. He swiped his tongue over your sweet spot earning him a whimper from you.

“You gonna let me fuck you in the locker room showers?”

“If you ask nicely.” You breathed out playing with the elastic waist band of his shorts. Wonwoo laughed against your neck and bit down before pulling away. “Can I fuck you in the locker room showers please?” He pouted playfully, grabbing your thigh and wrapping it around his waist.

“God Woo, yes.” You wrapped your arms around his waist pulling him closer to you feeling his growing cock against your aroused pussy. “As you wish darling.” He mumbled pecking your lips repeatedly before pulling away from your body, making you whine at the loss of his body heat.

Wonwoo chuckled sinking down to his knees, your eyes hooded with pleasure, feeling the wetness between your legs grow. He left teasing kisses down your clothed thighs, his thumbs hooking underneath the waist band of your leggings dragging them along with him. “Woo my shoes.”

“I was getting there, you’re so impatient sometimes.” He mumbled sitting back on his knees tapping your calf silently telling you to raise your leg. “It’s your fault…how am I supposed to be patient when you always look so good.” You obliged watching as he slowly took of your shoe and throwing it outside of the shower stall along with your sock. He repeated the process with your other leg before attaching his lips against your clothed thigh and left gentle open-mouthed kisses up your leg.

“I guess it’s time I teach you how to be patient.” He smirked pulling down your leggings along with your panties in one go. He threw them aside, placing a kiss against your hip bone, where the small stick and poke infinity sign tattoo he had made after a long night of immoral rendezvous. “Still can’t believe you let me talk you into giving you this.” He mumbled giving it another kiss and stood up.

“I wanted a tattoo but didn’t want to experience the pain.”

“It still hurt you, I had to stop, that’s why it’s all crooked and unfinished.”

“But it’s my favorite.” You whispered, his dark lust filled eyes boring into yours as he slowly started to take off his shorts and underwear, exposing himself to you. No matter how many times the two of you slept together, the sight of his body always had your heart beating out of time. He was perfect, an Adonis carved out of marble and to your surprise he was all yours.

“Don’t take off your shirt.” You whispered reaching and grabbing a fistful of the cloth and pulling him to you. “I want you to fuck me with it on.” You eyed him, a teasing finger running down his chest. “You’re so naughty today.” He laughed grabbing your hand and moved it up to his lips kissing each of your knuckles his sensual gaze lingering on yours. You felt your breathing pick up, the heat trailing down your thighs. “Please touch me.” You whimpered pulling your hand away and taking your shirt of throwing it behind him.

“Not yet I need to shower, I’m all sweaty from practice.” He winked, his hand finding the shower handle and turning it. A gasp left your lips as you felt the cold start to coat your heated bodies. “Now behave princess.” He kissed you hard, running his tongue over your bottom lip asking for entrance in which you granted. His hips flirting with yours and all you wanted to do was get down on your knees and beg him to use you in any and every single way possible. He pulled away detaching the shower head sending you a wink before putting it against your clit. The harsh water jets sending a sweet wave of pleasure up your spine.

“You’re going to cum like this and then I’ll fuck you.” He mumbled, before sinking down on to his knees again. He kept the shower head in place and alternated in kissing your thighs. Desperate whimpers falling out of your mouth. Wonwoo hooked one of your legs on top of his shoulder and bit down on your thigh, sucking making you yelp. “Your body reacts so well to me.” He kissed up your thigh sucking another love bite next to your tattoo before pulling away, shifting the shower head slightly. The sensation sending a new wave of pleasure up your body making you moan.

“W-Wonwoo, mmm, please.”

“Please what?” He teased the sound of a smirk evident in his voice and you’ve never wanted to hit someone so badly before. “I-I need you please.” You cried out, the tip of his index finger teasing the entrance of your pussy. “Yeah…you need me baby?” He chuckled moving your arousal around coating his finger with it before pulling away and bringing it up to his mouth, moaning sinfully as he licked it clean

“Y-Yes need your fingers, or mouth anything p-please W-Woo.” You raised your hips trying to grind yourself against the water, searching for a release in every way you could. “I’ll give you what you want but you can’t touch me.” He tsked giving you a pointed look. You whined nodding your head grabbing onto the smoothness of the shower wall. He ran his hot tongue against the lips of your pussy, the sensation mixing with the coldness of the water sent shivers up your spine.

“You always taste so sweet.” He mumbled against you flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. Your mouth hanging open as your fingers itched to touch him and push him against you even further. “L-Let me touch you?” You breathed out your nails digging themselves into the skin of your stomach. He nodded against you repeatedly licking strides up your lips before attaching his mouth on your clit. By now the shower head was long forgotten as it fell from his hand, hitting the shower wall with a loud clank making you jump.

You threaded your fingers in his short hair tugging at the roots making him moan against you. He wrapped his arms around your ass pulling you closer as he lost himself eating you out like a starved man. “B-Baby I’m close.” You moaned arching your back against the wall as he lightly bit down on your clit and pulled away. He licked his lips savoring you and adjusted his round glasses earning a lighthearted laugh from you. “Don’t laugh or I won’t help you cum.” He grumbled pressing his index and middle fingers against your entrance and slowly sinking them into you immediately curling them up in search for your g-spot. A satisfied smile etching across his face as you moaned out the second he found it.

Wonwoo attached his lips onto your clit again, this time wasting no time and sucking on it roughly, his fingers moving inside you at a fast pace. The coil forming at the pit of your stomach, your hands tugging on his hair, your hips bucking against his mouth and fingers. He moaned feeling your clench around his fingers, giving him the motivation to pick of his pace, the pleasure getting too much for your body to handle and before you knew you came undone screaming out his name. He helped you ride out your orgasm, desperately licking up your release making your body twitch from the oversensitivity.

“You did so well baby.” He mumbled before pulling away, licking his lips moaning in approval as the remnants of your arousal hit his taste buds. He thrusted his fingers a few more times before pulling them out making you whine, missing the way they felt inside of you. He chuckled licking them clean before standing up.

“Think you can give me one more?” He asked giving your lips multiple pecks and then your cheeks. You laughed pushing his face away resting your tired body against the wall of the shower.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you something?” You crossed your arms in front of you holding up the towel Wonwoo had wrapped around your body. Wonwoo hummed handing you his extra t-shirt as well as the sweatpants you had left at his place weeks ago. How he knew to bring them along with him was beyond you, but you decided to save that question for another day.

“Why do the guys call me your girl.” You emphasized standing up from the bench and started getting dressed. Wonwoo closed his locker resting his back against it drinking you in slowly, making you feel a little insecure. “Jeonghan saw you leave my apartment one day and texted the group chat to share the tea.” He rolled his eyes using quotations around the last word of his sentence before pushing himself away from the locker. “Now the guys think we’re dating.”

“But you never corrected them?” You tugged his shirt over your head gathering your semi dry clothes and folded them. “Do you want me to correct them?” He placed his hand on your cheek moving your head gently to meet his eyes.

“I-I mean yeah, we aren’t dating you made it very clear that you weren’t looking for a relationship when this started.”

“I wish I could eat my words.” He whispered running his thumb over your swollen lips. “I think I’m past just wanting to fuck you; I want more.”

You felt the air leave your lungs; your cheeks heated up and you desperately searched for a new point of focus because the intensity evident in his gaze was overwhelming. “We should go, I need to finish my half of the project.” You picked up your drying clothes and your bag and rounded the corner of the bench you had been sitting at.

“You don’t want to be more?” Wonwoo caught up with you grabbing your free hand to stop you from walking and held it close to his chest. “I do, I’m just scared you’ll end up regretting it if we ever do try to be more.” You confessed trailing your eyes down his body and stopping at your interlocked hands.

“I won’t, you make me feel so good an—”

“Exactly, I make you feel good. All you’ve ever known is how it feels like to be with me naked. You don’t know what it’s like to actually be with me.” You pulled your hand away. A frustrated sigh spiraling out of his lungs as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Your worst habit is jumping to conclusions.” He mumbled lowly tugging at the roots of his hair. It didn’t feel nearly as good as it felt when you would do it to him, but that was something he would ever confess out loud. “I want to be with you in every way possible, I know what I said before and if I would take back my words I would because that was before I found myself falling for you.” Wonwoo closed the gap between the two of you holding you tightly. His confession had your mind running nonstop, the weight of his words making their way into your heart and finding a home. You hugged him tightly, burying your face into his chest. “Is that a yes?” Wonwoo asked confusion laced in his voice as he hugged you back running his hands down your back soothingly. You hummed nodding your head taking a whiff of his lavender body wash and somehow it felt like home.

“You can’t just say things like that so casually.” You groaned raising your head from his chest placing a kiss on his chin. “Give me a warning next time.”

“Would you have preferred reading the essay I wrote about it instead.”

“Wonwoo stop fucking around you didn’t do that.” You scoffed pushing away from him and started down the hallway to entrance of the locker room. “Yes, I did it’s fifteen pages long, I even used citations.” He yelled following you a few steps behind, the teasing tone in his voice made you doubt his word. But he did once write a whole essay on how Soonyoung was the worst co-captain in the history of co-captains because he had beat him in Mario Kart.

“You have two options I can read it for you tonight after you’re done with your half of the project or I can read it for you on your wedding day.” You choked on your saliva making him laugh. He patted your back gently before pushing open the door to the locker room.

“What the fuck Woo, our weddi—”

“Finally, we’ve been waiting out here for hours. I’m starving.” Hoshi exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air before starting down hallway. “I told you guys to leave.” Wonwoo sighed rolling his eyes and extended his hand for you to take.

“Half of us did once they heard you guys fucking.” Vernon shrugged shoving his hands in his pockets. Your cheeks started to heat up, you prayed to every god out there to do you a solid and open the ground up and have it swallow you whole. “And you guys didn’t?”

“Nah, you’re paying for dinner remember, plus we made a bet while we waited.” Vernon took two long strides over and placed his hand on top of Wonwoo’s shoulder. “I never expected you to have a daddy kink and now I lost fifty bucks to Jeonghan and Dino each, that’s a hundred in total.” He shook his head and walked away running to catch up with Hoshi.

“I don’t have a dad—”

“You know bathrooms have echoes right?” Dino pushed himself way from the wall and started walking away. “We heard the two of you loud and clear, so you can’t deny it, Jeonghan even took a voice note just in case you wanted to deny it.”

“Baby you’re going to have to visit me in jail cause I’m about to commit homicide.” Wonwoo placed a chaste kiss against your head and let go of your hand and charged over to Dino. He turned around laughing before running down the hallway leaving you behind with a smirking Jeonghan.

“Honestly, I just hope you guys disinfected the stall the two of you used.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Chapter 2

Tim spun in a circle with his arms spread out, and screeched like an owl as the blanket cape billowed behind him. He took a minute to breathe heavily and jump up and down to try to work off his energy about how cool this was. He didn't know where to start!

It was some kind of secret hideout. Tim all but vibrated from excitement. Holy cow! He ran from room to room, sliding in his socks and giggling madly. There were two secret floors below the apartment. There were motorcycles! There was a big computer! There was a huge workspace with lots of deconstructed tools and radios and things that he was definitely going to look at later.

There was also a big open space with a padded floor, which was probably for exercise. He didn’t know what to do about that.

“This is a bat hideout,” Tim realized. He recognized the tech. He swallowed and reached out with a shaking hand to poke at a comm unit.

He. He'd touched bat tech.

Tim burst into tears and pushed his hands against his face. This was so weird and incredible! Where was he? He knew this wasn't part of Wayne Manor.

It was all too much. Tim wrapped himself up in his blanket cape and took a few minutes to calm down.

Think, Tim. Why was he here? What was this place?

It was obviously some kind of bat affiliated place, but he couldn't think of anyone who could use it. Why would Batman move his secret tech from the manor, the most secure place to keep it?

Maybe Batman and Robin had body doubles. They could be secret friends who helped them out. …But wouldn't Tim have seen them?

He had a sudden spark of fear that he might not know the difference between the real Batman and a part time Batman.

“No!” Tim said to the empty room. He got up and whipped his blanket cape dramatically open. “I'd know!”

It was time to investigate. There had to be some answers here.

There was a computer down here that Tim couldn't get into. He gave the password one try and then left it alone so he didn't accidentally lock the computer. He went through lockers and found costumes that didn't make sense.

There were five identical costumes made for a smallish man. They were red and black, and they came with a lot of strappy things.

There was one each of even weirder costumes- a totally black body sock thing and a purple girl outfit.

So. He could conclude that the guy who used this apartment occasionally had two female vigilantes work with him. Maybe he wasn't a total loser if he had friends who were girls.

His first theory was that they were all new. They were an emerging hero team that Batman was sponsoring. Tim looked for evidence that backed that up, but everything seemed to go the other way. There was so much equipment being repaired or updated: wouldn't it all be new if they hadn't hit the streets yet? There were minor scratches on 3 of the idental boy outfits and on the shin guards of the purple outfit.

Boo.

“It doesn't make sense,” Tim muttered. “There's nowhere in Gotham they could be active that I wouldn't have heard of them.”

….he was still in Gotham, right? Huh.

How was he meant to check that? But maybe if he'd been taken to another city this could all make sense.

A phone started to ring upstairs. Tim stood stock still for a moment.

Then he remembered there had been a phone by the work tablet.

…It might be work! Tim ran upstairs and snatched up the phone. He saw TAM on the screen in the instant before he hit accept call.

“Hello!” He said, a little out of breath.

“Tim?” Said a new voice. It must be Tamara Fox, of inbox fame.

“That's me,” Tim helpfully said. He transferred the phone to his other ear.

There was an extremely dubious silence. “...You sound very small, Tim,”

He wrinkled his nose. “I've noticed that,” he said. Everyone said that, even at school. It was so annoying. People didn't need to bring it up all the time.

“...Right. Do I need to call someone or do something?” Miss Tamara wondered aloud, obviously exhausted.

Tim hummed from the back of his throat. “No, it's handled,” he assured her.

She laughed, but it sounded weird. “Your life is- these kinds of things only happen to you.”

“...ahuh,” Tim said, not really understanding what she was getting at.

“I don't suppose - no, of course not,” Miss Tamara sighed. He could somehow hear her massaging away a headache. “You won't be coming into the office for the foreseeable future, I suppose?”

Tim snorted. “It doesn't seem likely,” he agreed politely. Of course not. He was 9.

“I'll handle it,” she said, exhausted and heroic. “You can continue to be available online?”

“Oh, for sure,” Tim reassured her. “Send me whatever problem you have.”

It was a bit grandiose but it made her chuckle. Tim beamed at the sound. Ha. He had done that, he made a real adult laugh with a joke. “I'll count on that,” Miss Tamara said, and she had such a good facade that it sounded like she meant it.

Tim hung up, still grinning about his first successful phone call with a stranger.

Nest Swap ch 1

Little Tim wakes up in big Tim's apartment.

The idea came from this chain started by @ew-selfish-art and the contribution by @faeriekit

(repost of something that's currently just in a reblog chain)

His first observation was that this wasn't his house.

Tim was new to detecting, but he thought that was a pretty dang salient observation.

He didn't actually remember going to sleep. It didn't feel like he woke up here, either. He just suddenly noticed he was sitting somewhere he'd never been in his whole 9 years of life.

Very weird! Pretty neat, though.

Tim prowled around in his socked feet in total silence, investigating by the little light that came in through mostly shut curtains. He wasn't in his own clothes, which was kind of scary. He had to keep hiking up his sweatpants to keep them on, and he rolled down his socks three times to tighten them up. At least the floors didn't creak at all, even when he stepped on the dark wood panels in between dark red rugs. It made him feel more secure to move around quietly.

He was in an apartment that seemed relatively expensive but new, no antiques or family heirlooms. It was an open plan, with floating stairs and a white sofa. It was also sterile, as if no one really lived in it. It was clean in the same un-lived in way his house was. Someone professionally cleaned this apartment. 

Tim was really, really careful not to make any mess. 

Theory one: he had been kidnapped. It seemed pretty sound. He went to bed at home, and he woke up sitting on a strange sofa. Danger alarms were going off.

He looked around for a house phone to call for help. There was none. Troubling. 

On the other hand, Tim opened the apartment door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He could see sunlight coming in through the huge lobby windows.

…Okay. He was going to consider that a viable escape route. He glanced at the side of the door where there was a pair of shoes. They were big but he could probably use them in a pinch.

So. He could just walk out at any time. He frowned. That wasn't very good kidnapping practice. He would plan a much better restraint system. Like, a rope would be a good place to start, or maybe breaking the little bones in his feet? 

“This is so disappointing,” Tim muttered to himself. “I'm not even being ransomed?” 

Just… Some effort would be nice.

Hmm. He didn't want to believe anyone that incompetent had managed to transport him into Gotham proper from Bristol while he slept. So. Tim formally recategorized his kidnapping theory to a  suspected no. 

It was undeniable that he'd been moved in his sleep, which was pretty classic. But the counter evidence? The new location looked pretty easy to escape, if he was willing to get his socks dirty outside. 

Conclusion: This probably wasn't a conventional kidnapping. What else was there?

Theory two: he hit his head or fell asleep while he was out birdwatching, and some good person took them into their house to keep him safe.

That neatly explained why he was in the actual city. Tim ran his fingers through his hair looking for a bump. He wasn't sure if he found one or not. Maybe his head was just kind of oddly shaped. Troubling. Maybe he should go to the doctor about that. 

It would have been helpful information either way if there had been another human being around to talk to. 

There were signs that someone lived here. Tim poked around in the closet and in the fridge, building a mental profile for the resident.

One person lived here, and they were clearly kind of a loser because they had no photos of friends or family up. The jacket hanging by the door told Tim they were either an average sized woman or a small man. They couldn't cook at all, which was excellent because that meant there was a really great variety of ready to eat food. Tim snacked on string cheese and a can of soda while he flipped through the books on the shelves.  He pulled a couple off to check for secret compartments. Nope. Just books.

“Boring,” Tim said to himself. 

They were all books about things like business and management. It was the type of self-aggrandizing garbage that his parents made fun of: memoirs that you knew damn well that person hadn't written, manifestos on the virtues of hard work from someone born into the financial elite, and how-to's directed at an audience who had no personal shame.

Momentarily, he entertained the fantasy that he had been kidnapped by someone who was going to mold him into the ideal Drake Industries CEO, someone who wouldn't jet off across the world to follow a passion. The suspects were the entire board of directors. 

Kidnapped theory redux: the Board of Directors did it. Evidence?

Tim sat down and made a chart for his thoughts, quantifying how much each person had been inconvenienced by his parents’ absence in the last fiscal year. He concluded that Mr. Morrison might hate his parents enough to do it, but the projected timeline was beyond his scope. Tim didn't think he had it in him to plan that far out.

So, the apartment owner was just a boring person. Tim made a note. Theory two was looking pretty good. The person who lived here kind of sucked at life but they were probably really nice.

Something started beeping. That was interesting. He followed it to the bedroom that he hadn't been brave enough to poke around yet. There was a weird tablet on the bedside table. He picked it up and it unlocked automatically. Wow, the security was so bad. He felt embarrassed on behalf of the absent apartment owner.

The screen showed an email from someone called Tamara Fox. 

“Tim, can you get me the numbers from the acquisition in Peru?”

He blinked at it. Was the person who lived here also named Tim? Surely she wasn't actually asking him. He looked around uncertainly. 

There was still no one else. The blinking display on the alarm clock told him that it was half past noon, and no one else was in the apartment. 

…. poor Tamara probably really needed that information, if she was asking for it in the middle of the workday. Tim sat down on the bed and started putting together context clothes to figure out what Miss Fox was talking about. Her email signature had her title at Wayne industries listed, so that was a pretty big clue. He had access to a team calendar that showed meetings and ongoing projects, which he used to narrow it down. 

When he figured it out, he sent her back an email and sat back in satisfaction. A moment later, he realized that the email account had an attached auto signature. It claimed to be Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. 

What.

He stopped breathing and momentarily considered that he had traveled to the future and this was really his apartment, but the name was impossible. There was no way he was going to marry either one of the Waynes. Bruce and Dick were kind of old. Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought. Gross. 

So, no. He wasn't Tim Drake-Wayne. “...It must be an inside joke,” Tim decided. “It seems really unprofessional.”

Tim was a little disappointed that he wasn't the boss of everyone, but at least he wasn't in a troubling marriage with a huge age difference. He had another cheese stick about it and the feeling went away.  Ah, good. Maybe that was how Mom dealt with Drake Industries: she distracted herself until she didn't feel bad about putting it on the back burner. It was a good tactic. He'd need more cheese sticks. He made a mental note to figure out how to replace these ones.

He found a loose blanket on a side chair and tied it around his shoulders, because the apartment was pretty chilly.

The email dinged again. Tim dragged his blanket cape back into the bedroom and stared at the tablet, lost in thought.

He didn't mean to be annoying. He really didn't. He knew people hated it when you got in their stuff. But the thing was: this guy got a lot of emails. And he wasn't here to answer them, which was pretty rude of him, honestly. It seemed like his job needed him a lot. 

Maybe when he got back, he would be mad at Tim for looking at his stuff. 

On the other hand, maybe he would appreciate it. Tim told himself that it would be fine, and he manned that email account until the end of business hours at 5:00 p.m. Then he gave a luxurious stretch and went to find something interesting in the freezer that he could microwave. 

His feelings about the email account had changed, after the hours spent together. It was their mutual email account now. Tim was willing to fight about it. He was emotionally attached to that email. People asked him all sorts of questions there, and he got to answer. It was pretty fun.

The apartment looked a little friendlier in the early evening light. He crossed it again and pushed a chair up against the deep freezer so that he could root around inside.

“Omigod, lasagne!” Tim ripped the package open in his excitement. Today was the best. He liked this place. Maybe he'd get to stay there when the owner came back to look at their shared email account.

While the lasagne heated, he went back to checking for fake books on the shelf. They were all disappointments. He did finally notice that there were pets here. 

“I should feed you,” Tim told the fish, because he was really fixing this guy's life. The fish didn't pay him any attention. The microwave beeped completion, so he went back and got his lasagne. He held it in one hand and ate while he searched for fish food. When he found it, he stuck his fork in the lasagne to free up a hand and shook flakes into the water. 

A secret compartment in the floor opened up.

Tim froze. He took a step back. He looked around the apartment, as if someone was going to materialize.

“…I might as well go see,” he told himself. “They're already gonna be mad that I answered our email.”

Down he went. 

[doubleleoenergy]

ii. Dark Times, The Princess and the Pogue Series

Waking up, half past five, blood on pillow and one bruised eye. Drunk too much, you know what I'm like, but you should've seen the other guy.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, slight mention of blood, mentions of bruises, swearing

Summary: The events at the Boneyard leave JJ with visible evidence of what took place. Thankfully, JJ’s met with a friendly face.

Words: 2445

JJ is startled awake by his alarm clock beeping over and over, groaning as he slammed his fist on the snooze button.

5:30 A.M.

“Fuck.” He cursed, burying his body under the thick comforter. It was the first day of his senior year and he felt like shit. JJ had gotten back to John B’s place a little after midnight and the pair had passed out immediately in their beds.

The alarm went off again, JJ rolling out of bed and unplugging the alarm all together in frustration. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his palms against his bare thighs. The events of last night ran through his head, still slightly hungover and his eye throbbing from where Kelce sucker punched him. His eyes travel to his pillow, dried remnants of blood from the cut on his forehead. He should probably take a shower and at least attempt to clean up and look semi-decent for the first day.

JJ grabbed his towel off the floor, opening the bedroom door and heading into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his expression in the mirror, touching the skin that was freshly purpled under his eye. JJ turned the handle of the shower to the hottest setting, letting the water warm up as he shrugged out of his boxer-briefs and stepped in.

The water seeped into his skin, relaxing his muscles and clearing his thoughts for the moment. He normally was the guy to start fights just because he could, or come to the defense of his friends, and it felt different for someone to view him as the good guy for once. Someone like y/n, who knew nothing about him or his past.

He washed his body of the blood, dirt, and sweat from the night before, standing under the water until it ran cold. Finally, he turned off the water, wrapped his lower half in his towel, shaking his blonde locks as he left the bathroom.

“Hey, man.” John B stated, sitting back against the couch, his fingers typing up a message to the gang on when he’d leave to pick them all up for school. John B finally looked up at JJ, squinting his eyes, his face full of pity. “He socked you pretty good last night, JJ.”

JJ scoffed, grabbing a bowl for cereal and pouring the contents in, grabbing the half-used milk from the fridge and filling up the bowl.

“You should see the other guy.” He retorted, a big grin on his face as he stuffed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Who was she anyhow?” John B questioned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Y/N? Said she just moved back here from Montana. Used to live here when she was little.” He shrugged nonchalantly, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

“She seemed into you, JJ.”

“Nah, man. She was just thanking me for beating the shit outta Kelce.” JJ claimed, tossing his finished bowl into the sink.

“Whatever, man. The way you’re acting shows me you might be into her too.” John B stood up, walking towards the bathroom to shower before they had to leave.

“We don’t even know if she’s a Kook or not!” He called out, hearing the door shut and the shower start. JJ walked towards his room, peeking his head outside the door. “By the way, there’s no hot water.”

“Fuck you JJ!”

The Pogues pushed through the front doors of Kildare County High School, mingling with the other students as they walked down the hallway towards their lockers.

“JJ, starting the semester off right with that shiner.” Kiara teased, earning a middle-fingered salute from JJ.

“Not funny, Kie.” He called out walking backwards down the hall until he turned, knocking into the person in front of him, sending their backpacks, and bodies, flying into the white vinyl tile floor.

“Fuck!” Y/N cursed, rolling herself off her back and scrambling to get up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying…” JJ trailed off as he got to his feet, remembering her features immediately. “…attention. Shit, y/n, I’m sorry.” JJ held out his hand to help her up, pulling her to her feet as she grabbed her phone and backpack off the floor.

“Hey, JJ. It’s all good.” Y/N mumbled, smoothing out her dress. JJ thought she looked beautiful, her body clothed in a forest green dress with tiny white flowers, a black belt pulled tight to cinch it in at the waist. Her feet were covered in a pair of plain white sneakers, a few scuff marks on the sides to show that they were worn in.

“Oh, I brought this in case I ran into you. Not that I meant to physically run into you like this.” He dug his hand into the back pocket of his cargo shorts, pulling out the bandana from the night before. “Sorry, I didn't have time to wash it.” JJ dropped the bandana into her hand, locking eyes with y/n. She couldn’t help but get lost in her train of thought, his ocean blue eyes distracting her.

Y/N pulled herself back to reality, a bright blush spreading on her cheeks as she stuffed the bandana in her backpack. “Uh, thanks. Your eye looks…well, like shit.” She announced, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. Nice response, y/n. JJ noticed how flustered she was, a different side of her than the confidence she exuded the night prior.

“It’s nothing.” Just as he spoke Topper and Kelce descended the hallway, Kelce glaring straight at the two. He looked rough, a few cuts along his face and a line of bruises covering the right side of his face from his temple down to his cheek. Kelce gritted his teeth as he passed, JJ grinning from ear to ear as he gestured towards the man. “He definitely looks like shit though.” JJ proudly stated, y/n turning her head to look at the damage JJ had done.

“I really wish you’d let me repay you for last night.” Y/N insisted, shifting her weight as she stood.

“It’s no big deal, really.” JJ leaned his back against a set of lockers, raising an eyebrow at the woman. “So, what’s your class schedule?”

Y/N huffed, pulling a folded piece of paper from her backpack and opening it up, furrowing her brows as she looked at the information. “Uh, I don’t really know if these are good or bad but…here.” She handed him the sheet of paper, hoping he may be able to give her some guidance.

JJ did a once over of the contents before handing it back to her. “Well, it looks like we have the same first class. Mr. Sunn is a good guy, and a great teacher. I’ll walk with you there, if you’d like.”

Y/N nodded her head, pulling her backpack higher up on her shoulder. “Lead the way.”

The last bell of the school day rang, dismissing the students from their classes, a rush of teenagers flooding the hallways. Y/N had shared two classes of her day with JJ, her first and third periods, and it was nice to know someone on the first day.

She had gotten the same questions: what’s your name, where are you from, why are you here, are you a Kook or a Pogue? The last question was mainly asked by classmates, and frankly, she didn’t know what it meant. JJ was called a Pogue the night before, it seemed as though it had been a slur that night.

Y/N walked silently out the front doors of the school, getting ready for the two mile walk home when she heard someone calling her name in the distance. She turned around, a smile lighting up her face as she saw who it was.

“Hey, how were the rest of your classes?” JJ asked when he caught up to her, pulling his backpack up with his left hand. 

“They were fine, thanks for helping me figure out where they were earlier.” She admitted, walking down towards the front sidewalk.

“Anytime. So uh, where are you headed?” JJ slowed his pace to keep in step with her, looking down at the woman.

“I was about to walk home actually.” Y/N stated, fiddling with the strap on her backpack.

“Walk home? Why don’t you hitch a ride with us, John B won’t mind at all. Plus, I’d love for you to meet the gang.” JJ stepped in front of y/n’s path before she could protest, looking at her with reassurance. “C’mon, you’ll love them.”

Y/N huffed, nodding in agreement before JJ directed her over to where John B had parked his van. The rest of the Pogues were already inside, John B sitting in front with Sarah in the passenger seat, Kiara and Pope waiting in the back of the van, the door slid open.

“Hey guys, I’d like you to meet y/n, thought we could give her a ride home.” JJ announced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “She’s the reason I look like shit today.” He teased, causing y/n to shove him just enough to make him sway.

“Damn, y/n, you’re already not taking JJ’s shit. You’ll fit right in.” Kiara commented, jumping from the back of the van and giving a small wave. “I’m Kiara, this is Pope, John B, and Sarah.” She pointed to each one of them.

“Nice to meet you guys.” Y/N smiled sweetly at them before JJ guided her into the back seat of the van, closing the door behind them. Y/N moved to sit on the plush leather seats, JJ squeezing in next to her, their legs pressed against each other. Her eyes focused on JJ’s thigh pressed against her own, her heart beating loudly in her chest, the roar of the engine coming to life pulling her from her thoughts.

“Where to?” John B asked, backing out of his spot in the parking lot and heading towards the main road. 

“Two miles down make a left on Sycamore lane. It’s the third house on the left.” Y/N instructed, pushing down the cuticles on her fingers, a telltale sign of her nervousness. The radio played lightly in the background as they drove, John B and Sarah talking about their late-night plans.

“So, y/n, you just moved here?” Kiara questioned, shifting in the spot next to her on the seat.

Y/N nodded her head, still picking at her cuticles. “Yeah, I used to live here when I was little, but I don’t remember it.” 

JJ turned his head towards her, his knee knocking against hers as they sat close together. He could smell her citrus body wash filling his nostrils. “You live with your parents?”

The question made her stomach turn sour, trying to remain as emotionless as possible. “I live with my older sister, Bailey.” JJ could tell there was some pain in her voice, and he didn’t want to pry, leaving it at that.

“Well, you’re welcome in the Pogue life anytime.” Pope added, leaning his head against the van window.

“Right...thanks Pope. I kept getting asked today if I was a Pogue or a Kook at school. Care to explain?” She asked, tilting her head to look up at JJ.

“Alright, so we’re all Pogues...well, Sarah was a Kook but now she’s just as shit as the rest of us.” He teased, receiving a glare from the blonde woman. “So as Pogues we are basically the bottom feeders of society. We live in the cut, are regular working-class people, you know, that shit. But we’re obviously much cooler than the rest of the people on the island. Then there’s the Kooks: they live in the figure 8, are the upper-class of the island, us Pogues work for the Kooks most of the time. They think they’re the cream of the crop, but as you know from meeting Kelce, they’re the shittiest people you’ll ever meet. So, are you a Pogue or a Kook?”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, shrugging her shoulders in response. “I guess I’m like you guys, if that’s okay. I mean, my sister’s an emergency room nurse at the hospital so she makes decent money but it’s...it’s just us.” Her voice was soft, looking down at her hands. Kiara threw her arm around y/n’s shoulders, a proud smile on her face.

“You’re definitely a Pogue, especially after the way you talked to Kelce last night. JJ told us all about it during lunch.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of JJ talking about her. Maybe he was just bragging about the fight, it didn’t mean anything, right?

The van pulled to a stop in front of y/n’s house, a one-story bungalow-style with a bright yellow front door. JJ opened the door of the van, hopping out and offering his hand out to y/n, helping her to her feet on the sidewalk.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, trying to hide the crimson blush on her cheeks. JJ saw it though, resting his arm against the frame of the van, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“No problem.” 

John B rolled the passenger window down, giving y/n a small wave. “If you’re not busy Thursday after school we’re going fishing, we’d love for you to join.” The gang shook their heads in agreement, y/n meeting JJ’s blue hues as he nodded as well.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks again for the ride.” She gave one last wave before walking up the steps to her front porch, fumbling with the keys before unlocking the door and pushing inside, the van taking off down the street.

“Bailey, I’m home!” Y/N cried out, dropping her backpack by the front door and kicking off her shoes. Her sister appeared around the corner, clad in her scrubs from work.

“How was the first day?” She asked, going to the fridge and pulling out a beer, popping off the cap and taking a swig.

Y/N plopped down on the couch, a smile spreading across her features. “It was actually great. My new friends want to take me out fishing Thursday night, is that okay?” She asked, turning her head towards her sister who was finishing up a pot of hamburger helper on the stove.

“Yeah sure, I’ll be working a double, so you’ll be on your own that night. I’m glad you’re making friends; I promise you’ll love it here. I did when I was little. And mom would be happy that we’re back here too. She never really wanted to leave, there were just…too many bad memories.” She turned off the heat and moved the pot off the burner.

“Now come set the table, dinner’s ready.”

Tagging those who may be interested or who may boost this. Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @sokovianheadtilt, @bucksmotel, @blackwiddows, @fuckandfluff, @agentofbarnes​, @astrydis​, @moniamaybank​, @matbarzalschain​, @bigassnocash​

[anon-sect]

Frank and Drayson were sports fanatics and athletic jocks, yet super competitive. Both loved that about each, which was one way they became the best of friends. Both had joined different teams in the league so that there would be a defined winner between them. For the past five years, the teams they were on had won the championship game but were never direct opponents in the championship game until this year.

It was two championship teams facing off against each other in the final game of the season. Drayson and Frank decided to place a bet on whose team would come out on top in the end. Because of their competitiveness, both claimed their team would win in a head to head competition. The confidence of gaining the win was so high, they decided that the winner should get some kind of prize for claiming the victory.

"When my team wins, you will worship my feet, socks, and shoes for a full month. I may even use you as a foot rest on occasion." Frank boasted and laughed while still shaking hands with his best bud.

"Okay, nice idea, but I will make a better one. When my team wins, I get to use my TF ray device to make you into either a pair of shoes or socks for me. You spend a month on my feet." Drayson wagered, shaking Frank's hand even harder, looking him directly in the eyes. "Do you still want to keep this bet? Honestly, my feet would torture you either as shoes or socks. And you would be stuck that way for a whole month. Your team will lose, and you would be my footwear at the end of the season. Your choice. Drop the bet or be prepared to be my footwear, which is it?" Drayson added with a smile.

Both stopped shaking hands but still made eye contact. "Be prepared for long foot worship sessions for the next 30 days. It's just an inevitable conclusion." Frank spoke back with the same type of smile Drayson gave him.

"You can't say I didn't try to give you a way out. Your mind is made up, and you have chosen to be tortured by my feet in the end. Just remember what I said. I won't change my mind no matter how much you will beg." Drayson simply said, hoping Frank would accept his fate willingly in the end.

"I will enjoy you sucking on my toes later on, buddy. Hopefully, there are no hard feelings." Frank spoke and left to prepare for the big game. It was at that remark that Drayson knew exactly what he would make Frank into at the end of the game. He firmly decided.

The score was very close throughout the game between the two championship teams. It was literally down to moment after moment on who would take home the championship trophy this year. They were evenly matched teams. At the last second of the game, Frank's team tied the game, resulting in overtime to determine a winner of the final game of the season. But in the end, Drayson's made the final goal, resulting in his team winning the game. Drayson celebrated with his teammates for a hard fought victory over their competitors. Yet he knew there was a sting of defeat in Frank's mind as he realized that he would have to fulfill his end of the bet.

Frank waited until the locker room was empty, and it was just him and Drayson. He was so sure his team would win. Now, the thought of literally being Drayson's footwear for the thirty days was presently on his mind. He had known Drayson's feet could reek on some days. The notion that he would possibly be wrapped around that with no escape was not something he wanted to experience. "I know we made our conditions before the game, but honestly, do you really want to place your friend in a position that you might be torturing me around your very feet for days on end?" He pleaded, hoping friendship would make him change his mind.

"What did I tell you before the game started?" Drayson asked to bring back his rememberence. "I said I would not change my mind." He pulled out his TF Ray device as evidence of his willingness to go through with the bet regardless of their strong friendship. "A bet is a bet, even among the best of friends, don't you agee?" He spoke, proving his point.

"Maybe I could pay you $100 instead. You still win, and money is much better than what you previously suggested before the game." Frank tried to persuade him from using the device on him. He knew how rough Drayson could be on socks in particular from previous conversations. Also, his shoes always reek badly. The idea of being forced to smell like that for thirty days straight was not pleasant to think about, let alone actually experience.

"Take your punishment like a man. Besides, it's only thirty days. You know full well what would happen when you lost. I tried to get you to drop out, but you refused. Now accept your fate like good footwear." Drayson put in the settings on the device, completely ignoring his attempt to get out of the bet.

Frank got to his knees. "Please, any other option you would consider?" He pleaded, but saw his pleas went ignored as he saw the TF Ray device pointed directly at him. Drayson wasn't dissuaded from his choice. There really was no way of getting out of it after his team lost. The fact that Drayson himself scored the winning goal that sealed his fate made it worse.

"I hope you physically and mentally survive the next thirty days, buddy. It will be really hard on you for sure." Drayson fired the device at him, ready to try on his new pair of socks for the next thirty days. Frank was planning to make him a foot slave, but now, Frank will know firsthand how socks feel on their owners' feet. "By the way, I won't be talking to you once in your new form. I would look silly talking to my socks." He laughed at the defeated look on Frank's face as the transformation happened immediately.

Frank knew what he would become, but it didn't make him feel any better about it. He watched helplessly as his friend locked giant size in a matter of seconds. His skin changed to become white and cotton. His body molded into a form of a white sock. It split in two like a form of mitosis. He was now a perfect pair of white socks at the mercy of his new owner for the next thirty days. He felt Drayson pick him up off the floor. He definitely didn't like the feeling of being manhandled in Drayson's hands as he was being examined, but on feet part he knew would be far worse.

Drayson loves the feel of his newly transformed socks. 'You feel really good in hand, Frank', Drayson thought. He removed his old socks and tried on Frank. The new socks felt so good on feet. The thought that Frank was his property for a month felt like it was a great idea. Human transformed objects just had a better feel than normal clothes. He definitely had a big decision to make once the thirty days were up. Until then, he had planned to explore as much fun as he could have with his new socks. He really did hope Frank's mind could survive what he was going to experience for the whole month long because he was going to enjoy treating him as property regardless of their bond of friendship.

THIRTY DAYS LATER........

Drayson sat in his room, wiggling his toes in his favorite pair of socks. He had done a lot in this particular pair in the last thirty days. He would wear Frank every day and wash him once a week. He wore his friend to every gym session, every jog or run, and every training session for the past month. Any time he went to just hang out with friends, Frank was the socks he was wearing. At least three nights out of the week when watching porn in his computer, Frank was over his dick being ejaculated in and used to clean his dick off. He enjoyed the domination he had over his friend as a pair of socks. He could do anything he wanted with them, and Frank couldn't stop him. He would just have to endure it. True to his word since that first day, he never spoke to his socks. He just did whatever he wanted in them regardless of how Frank felt about it. Frank was socks and treated as such.

Frank's mind was completely warped by the fifth day of being socks. The first four days, he mentally pleaded with Drayson to change his mind. It was a constant pleading that went unheard. It was torture after torture that slowly broke him down mentally. Physically, he had no harm. His sock bodies were completely intact, but his mind was a different story. After several sessions of being a cum rag and jerk toy, he started to love his owner's body and what his owner was doing to him. He craved to be on feet for hours with no end. And when Drayson would take him off feet and ignored he would be sad. He wanted to be close to his owner's body. He even didn't want his humanity back. He found great purpose in serving his Master Drayson. Even if his humanity was restored, all he would want would be to serve his best friend and Master Drayson. He started out rejecting Drayson's property but ended up wanting nothing more than for Drayson to own him forever. Human or sock, he literally saw his best friend as his forever Master to serve in any way he wanted to be served.

Drayson had seen several reports of missing persons featuring Frank's face. The police had offered a reward for any information in locating him. He knew exactly where Frank was, but he didn't want the reward money. He had all the pleasure of doing whatever he wanted with Frank, and no one could stop him or save Frank for whatever torture he was being put through. It was way too much fun for him and more valuable than the money reward the police were offering. He continued during the thirty days to be ignorant of Frank's whereabouts even when questioned. Many times when he was questioned, he was wearing Frank, hoping Frank could hear how fleeting his rescue would be. So close to help, but no one is coming to his rescue. The power trip over his best friend was worth more than the money.

Drayson, on the one hand, wanted to make his best friend human again and ask what it was like being his possession. Yet, he wanted to keep the power trip going. He liked holding Frank against his will as his property. Two ideas of what he could do, just couldn't decide which one. He chose to give himself one more week of keeping Frank as his socks. He would then decide what to do.

[anon-sect]

Double The Pleasure

Jake had owed Dillion, the college foot ball team quarterback, a large sum of money, and the dead line to pay in full was today. Unfortnantly, he only had about a third of the money. He had heard from others that he could be unmerciful when it comes to getting his money back. He even heard that some that have owed him in the past have simply disappeared. He hope it would be the same case for him. To ensure of that, he asked his best friend Tom to wait for him outside the locker room while he went to retrieve something from one of the lockers. He told Tom that if he come out after a few minutes, to come in and get him.

Jake entered the locker room and found Dillion ( a six foot five inch tall muscular jock) waiting for him. "Got all my money?" Dillion asked. Jake was hoping for some bit of mercy. "I only have about a third of it. Just give me about two more weeks, and I will have all of it." Jake explained, but the look on Dillion's face knew he was screwed. Dillion shook his head. "I guess you are the payment in full." Dillion answered with a smirk on his face as he pulled out a device that look simlar to a small cell phone. He pressed a few button on the screen and a ray a light target Jake. Jake looked slightly confused, but realize what was happening.

Everything around him grew in size, even Dillion. Within mere seconds, he was looking up as a giant Dillion. Jake tried to run, but a giant shoe blocked his path toward the door. "Since you can't pay me back in full now, you will be an excellent toy for me to play with." He heard Dillion say as he saw a giant hand reach down and pluck his five inch body off the ground. "What are you going to do to me?" Jake asked. The smirk on Dillion's face scared him. "I am going to store you in a good place till I get home after my last class." Dillion answered as he unbutton his pants and unzipped the zipper. Jake then knew exactly where was going to put him. He pleaded with Dillion not to be in there, but that only made Dillion laugh. Once unzipped, Dillion stretched his waist band around his grey boxer briefs. "In you go, little man." With those last words, he dropped Jake in his underwear. With a smile he release the waist band and zipped his pants back up. Poor Jake was now trapped in his underwear until he gets home from his last class. From the struggle around his dick, he could tell it was hell in there. But Dillion didn't care, Jake belong to him now. Anyone that couldn't pay by the due date were his property to do with as he pleased.

Dillion was about to walk out of the locker room till Tom walked in surprised. Tom didn't see Jake at all. "Have you seen Jake? He told me to come get him if he didn't come out after a few minutes." Tom asked. Dillion didn't like that. Jake had been prepared just incase something happened to him. He decided that Tom would have to disappear as well to keep his secret, but before that, he wanted him to see what really happened to poor Jake. "Unfortnantly, Jake is here, but not in a place he wants to be." Dillion responded back with a twisted smile. "Where?" Tom asked. "It's better if I show you." Dillion spoke, while unzipping his pants again. Tom was about to protest until he heard Jake's voice screaming for help from Dillion's underwear. He looked in and saw a tiny five inch Jake calling out to him to rescue him. Dillion quicky relese the waist band and zipped his pants back up, trapping poor Jake in sweat and humidity again.

Tom's eyes went wide. He didn't know what to do to help his best friend. "Now unfortnantly, you know too much, so I have two problems, I must fixed." Dillion paused. "first you need to be repurposed to suite my needs to keep you quiet, and second, I need some new socks. The socks I had on early got ruined. And I think you would be the solution to both problems." Dillion spoke as he pulled out his TF Shrink ray again. Tom went to run away, but would not get away in time. He soon felt weird as though the room was spinning. He quickly lost consciousness there after.

Dillion watched as his second victim shrunk and split in two within a matter of seconds. Once split in two, transformed in to a nice pair of cotton Nike socks with extra cushioning for the feet. Dillion took his shoes off and placed his new socks on his feet. They felt wonderful as he walked around in them. He looked at his watch. He had ten minutes to be to his last class, so he quickly put his shoe back on and left the locker room to get arcross campus in time for his class.

Jake was in putried hell. The sweat and humidity inside Dillion's underwear was getting bad. Jake thought it couldn't get any worse, but he was wrong. Dilllion's dick began to get hard the more he moved around trying to escape. He ended up rubbing against it. If only Tom had come in sooner, this might not have been his fate. All he could do was hope that one day Dillion would release him from this torment.

Tom on the other hand was screaming out for mercy in his mind, but Dillion couldn't hear him. The odor inside Dillion's shoes smelled like something died in them. If that wasn't the worst, he felt pressure and pain with each step Dillion took. It was like he was being crushed without death, a never ending crushing. The sad thing was there would be no rescue for either him nor Jake. With no evidence of foul play, Dillion could keep his new captives for life and no one would know where they are. This was their fate, to be Dillion's play things for the rest of their lives.

I hope you enjoyed this short story.

[rekrappeter]

Good Enough || s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: overthinking | cursing | low mood | insecurities |  lmk if I have missed anything ♡

word count: 1.9k

a/n: thank you for the love on my first fic, I hope this one loves up to expectations. i pretty much just wrote this in order to comfort my own insecurities so maybe other people can relate. my requests will always be open  ♡

That evening your phone had gone off every couple of minutes, blasting your obnoxious ringtone over and over again; yet it was still on your kitchen counter where you left it that morning. You refused to pick it up, not wanting to look at the numerous text messages and missed calls that were on the home page. It was Sunday and your boyfriend was due to return from work, but over the last three days that he was gone, you had fallen into an awfully big hole of overthinking. 

Seventy-two hours was a long time to have your brain constantly telling you that you weren’t good enough for the man that you called your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. Take away the few hours that you were sleeping in between, the last three days have been nothing but torture for you. Hence, the reason that you were ignoring his phone calls. He had just finished a case with the FBI, the last thing he had to deal with was you being low and insecure. It had taken six months for these feelings to start surfacing within your mind but once you started shedding the tears, there was no going back.

Spencer sighed in frustration, his phone indicating that he was running on low battery. He quickly clicked into your name again, watching the phone dial your number before the screen went completely black. Spencer hissed a number of curse words that gained the attention of his male companion, who was sitting closest to him in the bullpen. Derek’s brows creased together and he dropped the pen that he was playing with to focus his attention on the young doctor. 

“You ok, kid?” He asked, turning in his office chair to face Spencer’s desk.

Spencer looked up from his dead phone that he tossed by his pile of files, his curls hanging loosely over his face. His mouth opened and closed for a minute, reluctant to get advice from Derek before he shrugged it off. “Nothing.” He simply replied. 

Derek hummed in acknowledgement, “Very rarely do I hear Dr. Reid curse, but if you would rather me get Penelope or JJ to question you, I can do that.” 

“Please don’t do that,” The skinny brunette whined softly, weighing out the options in his head before deciding to trust Derek on this one. “It’s Y/N. She hasn’t been answering my calls all day.” 

“Ah, girl problems.” Derek teased, his pearl whites gleaming under the bright lights in the bullpen. 

Spencer groaned, standing up from his desk. “Forget about it.” He snapped, starting to pack up his belongings to head home for the night.

“Kid, I’m joking. Look, you’ve been gone for three days. Just pop by her apartment on your way home, okay?” Derek suggested which earned a grimace from Spencer, “Bring flowers, tell her you missed her.” 

“I did miss her.” Spencer sighed, his hand brushing his hair from his face.

“Exactly. You have been going out for six months, it shouldn’t be strange just dropping by.” 

“Um, okay… Thanks, Derek.” The younger boy replied, forcing a shy smile in his direction. 

Spencer started walking out of the combined offices before Derek’s voice halted him, he looked over his shoulder. “Behave, you minx.” This only resulted in Spencer rolling his eyes and stalking out of the room towards the elevators. On the way to your place, his thoughts began to linger, maybe it was a bad idea just to show up. He shouldn’t be this nervous going to be his girlfriend’s house but deep down, he knew there was something wrong. You always replied to his messages and never once sent his calls to voicemail. His thoughts started to jump to different conclusions, did he do something wrong and not realize it? 

 The sudden silence was oddly irking you; your phone had stopped ringing and you didn’t notice that you were taking comfort from your ringtone until it was gone. You couldn’t say you blamed Spencer for giving up trying to contact you, it wasn’t your intention on keeping him on the ropes all day. It was just that you weren’t sure that you were going to be able to answer the phone and pretend like everything was fine. You couldn’t pretend anymore that you lived up to his standard; he was the most intelligent man you have ever met, with a number of PhDs and BAs, and you just about got your BA degree. It was silly for you to compare yourself to an actual genius but it was more so the fact that he deserved someone that he could hold an actual factual and statistical conversation with; not someone that had to research nearly everything that he brought up. 

The empty feeling in your stomach from not eating all day came alive and you climbed out of bed, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were puffed and your hair was a bird’s nest, the fact that overthinking caused you to look and feel like this made you even sicker. You had just reached your kitchen door when the sound of your doorbell blasted around the apartment, grimacing you knew exactly who it was going to be. You weren’t expecting anyone else to appear at your door at eleven in the evening. 

You slowly walked to the door, your sock-clad feet sliding across the wooden floors. You peeked through the peephole and your heart soared with the sight of an exhausted looking Spencer standing there, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp. 

Opening the door, you hid half of your body with it but worry immediately covered Spencer’s expression. “Hi…” He said, his voice soft and he tried to step forward but you didn’t budge the door, “What’s wrong?” 

“Spence, I just want to be alone for a little while.” You whispered, avoiding his begging honey-brown eyes that were drooping. His heart tugged at the sound of your voice croaking, and it confirmed his theory that you had spent hours upon hours crying. “I’m sorry-” You attempted to close the door but Spencer stuck his foot in the way and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this drop.

“I can’t leave here knowing that you’re hurting. Let me in, talk to me.” Spencer begged, and you couldn’t deny him entry anymore. It killed you seeing him looking so worried. As soon as Spencer stepped foot into your apartment, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers brushed the back of your head and you collapsed into his embrace. He was warm and you were thankful that he was wearing a grey sweater, it felt soft against your skin and when you breathed in his scent of coffee and cotton detergent, you felt grounded again. His lips pecked into the side of your head, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as he pulled away. “Why are you crying, princess?” 

“I’m not crying now…” You replied, a pout evident on your face. 

“Why were you crying?” Spencer corrected himself, no hint of the worry lessening on his features. 

“I… It’s nothing.” 

“Clearly it is something. Tell me.” Spencer pushed, his thumb rubbing up and down your cheek gently. You sighed, your eyes closing which resulted in a tear escaping down your cheeks, running onto his fingers. “Oh, baby.” 

“Spence…” You started, reaching to cover his hand with yours and you peeled it off your face. “I have spent the last three days thinking and thinking and thinking…” 

“About what?” Spencer wrapped his fingers around yours, a feeling of heaviness erupting in his stomach. 

“You deserve someone so much better than me-” 

“Don’t start, Y/N, please…” Spencer’s head dropped, sadness radiating from the pair of you. 

“No, no, let me finish. Please.” You begged, he nodded in response and watched as you took a shaking breath in. The rant that you had created in the shower two days ago flowed off your tongue in one breath. “You deserve someone that matches your personality more than I do, someone that reads more books or watches old films in different languages. You need someone to challenge you in an intellectual way and I… I just can’t do that. I’m average when it comes to general knowledge, hell, I don’t even know what my IQ is. A… And I don’t want you to wake up one morning bored and regretting ever starting this.” 

Spencer whimpered softly, stepping closer to your shaking body. You avoided eye contact again but he reached behind you to place the flowers on the locker and he cupped your face with both of his hands. “Look at me.” He snapped softly, it was forceful but filled with love. He used his thumb to wipe the fresh tears away. 

“Spence…”

“No. Listen to me. The last six months have been the happiest days of my life.” You tried to object but he shushed you, “Listen to me.” He repeated, squeezing your face slightly and you sunk into his touch again. His lips were trembling but they remained their pink shade similar to the tint in his cheeks. “I don’t want someone to challenge me, I challenge myself enough. I want someone that makes me laugh, makes me happy, makes me feel like a kid again. You bring out a side to me I didn’t know even existed, you brought light back into my life and I enjoy teaching you things. I don’t want you to recite the whole Bible for me, I don’t need that. I just need you, I need you being happy and yourself because I love you and you are too good for me.” Spencer whispered the last sentence, and he sucked in a breath. 

“You’ve never said that before.” You replied, your heart beating rapidly against your chest. 

“I never thought I’d make you feel that you’re were not good enough.” 

Your heart sank at his words, regret cursing through your veins. “It wasn’t you, Spence. It was all up there.” You muttered, pointing to your head and for the first time that evening, Spencer shot you one of his smiles. The one that showed that he understood. 

“Just promise me one thing.” 

“Anything.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

Spencer smiled at the gesture and brought his lips down to yours, connecting them gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, embracing every erupting feeling that he was setting off. His hand slid into your mess of hair, bringing your closer and he deepened the kiss. His tongue danced around yours, and you were melting into him with every passing second. Just as a moan escaped passed your lips, Spencer pulled away. “Talk to me if you ever feel like this again.” 

You nodded in response and he was happy with that. Spencer untangled himself from you and picked the flowers back up, he walked deeper into your apartment but you stood there, your eyes following his every move. “Spencer,” You called out before he disappeared into the kitchen, he turned to look at you, his eyes sparkling and he waited for you to speak, “I love you too.” 

The smile he returned sent your heart soaring and he shook his head, a chuckle erupting from his stomach. “I know.”

🌻 🌻 🌻 🌻 🌻

please please please let me know what you thought of this! It’s my first s.r fic so I would love some feedback!

[sweetlavenderwritings]

Little to No Space

summary: tendou has a little crush on a certain someone, their straight faced manager that never reacts to his weird shenanigans. his best friend advises that they should get closer. 

-or, you get stuck in a locker with the guess monster.

a/n: this was based off an asmr i listened to a couple nights ago (you were hiding in a locker with a teacher of yours) it was kinda funny bc the one who  voiced it was oikawa’s official va. anyways, take whatever this is lol.

pairing/s: tendou satori x reader

wc: 2 147 (whoops)

tags: crack, comedy(?), humor, ur literally just in a funny situation lol, nsfw implication if u squint

-ꦼ———▸  crossposted on ao3

⋅. ♪ .⋅  Loving Tendou Playlist

“You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.”  Ushijima’s deep voice broke him out of his trance, catching his attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wakatoshi-kun.” He deflected. Okay, maybe he did tend to stare at you. But he swears he didn’t do it that much.

Ushijima rolled his eyes at that, “I may not be the brightest when it comes people-”

“You got that right.” He snickered while putting his gym clothes away.

“As I was saying, I at least know she isn’t the least bothered by you,” he shut his locker door with a firm bang, interrupting his musing for a moment, “we can all see how she isn’t fazed by whatever antics you flung at her.”

“But that’s just because she’s just like you!” His best friend raised his brows at him. “Not completely, but she’s uhh, I don’t know-stoic. Straight faced and doesn’t say anything much unless necessary.”

“I’m not stoic.” 

“Sure you aren’t.” Has he really not noticed?

“So you’re implying that you can be close to her?” He knew his best friend can be quite obtuse sometimes, but where did that come from?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, where did even get that idea?” He turned his attention to his duffel bag, already done with the conversation.

But it seems Ushijima wasn’t, “You said she was just like me, even if it was just a bit. And since we’re close, that means you could be with her as well.”

“You’re grasping at short straws here Ushiwaka,” he teased. “Why do you seem so persistent to get me to talk to her?”

“Because I think she might be one of the few people that would actually tolerate your weird personality, rather than shun you for it like most people would.” Oh, that was actually helpful. He knew Ushijima rarely spoke, but whenever he did, it was always something meaningful and helpful.

Ushijima scratched at his neck, looking around the locker room looking for something.

“Uhh, watcha looking for there buddy?”

“I’m missing my pair of socks.” Ushijima groaned. Suddenly, all his previous thoughts of him being meaningful was diminished within a second. 

“That’s the fourth time this week ‘Toshi.”

“I know, but for some reason they don’t end up where they’re supposed to be.” He was pouting, the redhead could tell. You wouldn’t actually see it until you looked closely.

He had to reassure their captain before he drones about ads he read in today’s newspaper. He was not interested in discounts held for sock stores. “We’ll ask the janitors tomorrow, okay? Don’t fret about it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Ushijima nodded. They both grabbed their bags then turned to leave, until they heard a knock at the door.

“Uhm, excuse me. Is Tendou-kun here by any chance?” Speak of the devil...

He stilled, clearly not expecting for you to look for him. He wondered how long you’ve been there, hoping you haven’t heard a single word from their conversation that just happened to be about you.

Ushijima looked at him, a faint smirk curved at the corners of his lips. He gave him a look as if to say, this is your chance.

Without consulting him if he even wanted to answer, he strode towards the door and opened it without warning, causing you to jump back in surprise. The basket of jerseys nearly fell from your hands in shock. 

He mentally slapped himself in the face. Way to go Wakatoshi, scare off our manager.

“Satori’s right here,” He waved to him, standing still like a deer in the headlights. “I must go.” He walked past you, leaving no space for you to even start a conversation with him.

“Oh, uhm alright. Thank you Ushijima-san.” You waved to Ushijima before to turning to him, looking at him with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry, it seems I interrupted you on your way home. But I promise this will be quick.” You said with a flat tone. You reached down on the freshly laundered basket of jerseys, fumbling with the different colored fabrics as you looked for something. 

With a victorious ‘ah’, you held up a familiar pair of socks. 

“I kept seeing these somewhere in your locker rooms whenever I clean after practice. I usually just place them on the benches but this time it was on basket with the rest of the jerseys so I took the liberty to wash them.” He took them from your hands, fingers lightly brushing when he grab ahold of the very socks his best friend was pouting about. He jolted, feeling a sensation from the minimal contact.

Either you ignored him or didn’t notice, which was probably the latter, you moved on to place the basket on a corner. 

‘You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.’

“So, how are you managing so far manager-chan?” He hoped his voice didn’t reveal how nervous he was to be alone with you. 

In truth, he liked being with you at any chance he could get. It was fun flinging non-nonsensical shit at you, just to get a reaction. It was like a challenge for him really, wanting nothing more than to see you flustered or even better, laugh at his jokes just for once.

You never looked irked or disgusted by his whole demeanor, which was something he appreciated a lot. He hoped you never would, fearing that it might be the inevitable truth he wasn’t willing to accept.

That he was a monster no one could truly understand.

“I’m still afraid of getting hit by a ball every time Ushijima-san serves, but other than that I’m doing fine.” You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaustion evident on your face. “You’re not going home, Tendou-san? It’s already late, I suggest you hurry now so you can rest easy for tomorrow’s practice.”

He smirks, suddenly feeling a mood for a good teasing. “Dawww, is our dear little manager concerned for the resident Guess Monster?” He quirked a brow as he leered at you with a teasing grin. 

Unperturbed, you tilted your head, looking a bit puzzled. “Of course I am. I am your manager after all, isn’t it my job to look after the team?”

“Don’t be shy, you can just say you like me, manager-chaaan~” He thought really shouldn’t tease you like that but he really can’t help himself.

What happened next surprised him the most.

He figured you’d wave off his teasing like always, roll your eyes then move on with your day. But instead, he spots the blushing of your cheeks. Something he didn’t expect from you at all.

He opens his mouth to say something but stops at the sounds of footsteps nearing the locker room.

Shit. If the team saw you alone with him in the locker rooms at this hour it’ll be the death of him. You wouldn’t have cared, but he knows they’ll hold it over his head and tease him relentlessly, insinuating that there’s something going on between the two of you.

With a hushed ‘Quick!’ he grabs your arm then pulls you into a vacant locker. He shuts the door in haste, making a loud bang that makes him wince. 

“Tendou what’re you-” he shuts you up with a hand covering your mouth. He looks at you pleadingly as he zips up his lips, urging you to stay quiet. You nod with his hand still covering your lips. 

“Hurry up Semi! We’re gonna be late!” Reon’s voice booms loudly as they enter the room, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

“Wait a damn minute will you? I just forgot my wallet.” The sound of a locker opening fills in the sudden silence. He waits with a bated breath hoping they’ll leave soon.

But it seems that wasn’t the case. 

“Say... Isn’t that Tendou’s duffel bag?” You both hear Shirabu’s voice ask with uncertainty. Tendou freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a muffled noise of shuffling. “Yeah, it’s his alright. It’s his jacket draped over it.”

“Then why is it still here? Shouldn’t he have left by now?”

“Didn’t we pass by Ushijima just earlier?” Shit. Shit. Shit.

The locker you were both hiding in was getting hotter by the minute. He feels a sweat trickle down his neck as he tries not to breathe loudly as to not grab attention. 

When Ushijima told him to get closer to you, he surely didn’t mean this!

Your soft hands reach to take his off your mouth. He mouths a soft ‘sorry’ but you shake your head softly, not minding his mistake in the slightest. With the ongoing conversation about his whereabouts outside he distracts himself with little details he begins to notice.

Like how you smelled of baby powder and faint deodorant, or how there are strands of your hair sticking to your exposed neck from your ponytail. He tries hard not to think about how close you were. Your shoulders pressed against his chest, head just below his chin, and your hips just right where his-

“Tendou-kun,” he hears you whisper. He cranes his just a bit, trying to get a look at your face. “Your phone is bumping my hip, I know there’s not much space but can you please move it a bit?” 

Phone? What phone? He was pretty sure he left it in his bag━

“Sorry.” He apologizes meekly, wiggling his hips away from you as he desperately wills his sudden hard on to calm down. This locker was gonna be the death of him soon if he stays here any longer. 

He thanks whatever deity is at work above for your obliviousness. A blessing in disguise he’s really thankful at the moment.

“Eh, why’re we wasting time here? He probably just went to the bathroom.” Semi cuts off as he grabs his wallet. Tendou thanks the ashen blond silently, promising not to tease him just for a day.

He hears the door shut. He waits until the footsteps are completely gone, then sighs in relief when no one comes back.

“Phew, that was a close call. Who knows what might’ve happened if they found us here.” He lets out a laugh, “we can leave now, [y/n]-chan.”

Then he’s looking at you, head ducked so he couldn’t see much of your face. But he peers between the strands of your hair and finally notices how flustered you look.

He smirks. “[y/n]-chan?” 

For once in your life, you try to avoid his eyes.“O-oh! Tendou-kun, are they gone yet?” 

“If I knew better manager-chan~ Judging by your flustered face, I would assume you actually wanted to stay here with me.”

Your eyes widen like saucers. “No! It’s just that it’s cramped in here, it got hot so I am blushing for different reasons!” Your composure was breaking by the minute, hands flailing in exaggeration as you try to explain in defense. 

He barks out a laugh. “Manager-chan, I was just kidding! Calm down for me, hm?” You don’t reply.

“Alright, I’m sorry for teasing you.” He says as he reaches for the knob, “let’s just get out of here-”

You shoot your hand on his wrist, surprising the both of you. “Uh... about what you just said.”

He waits for you to continue. With a deep breath you try to finish your sentence. “I don’t mind, being here with Tendou-kun.... that’s all.”

The message clicks in his brain. I like you Tendou-kun.

“Oh.” He replied numbly. He was sure he must’ve looked stupid with the face he was making, still awestruck at what you just admitted.

You giggle, a sound he finds himself emitting to his memory.

“You’re weird as ever Tendou-kun,” the look of adoration you gave him nearly made him choke. “But that’s fine, I like that about you.” 

Two confessions all at once? Was this a dream? Boy, he surely was gonna panic about this to Ushijima later, not that he’d be any of help.

Waving away the butterflies in his stomach, he ruffles your hair. “You’re too full of surprises today [y/n]-chan. Someday you’re gonna give me a heart attack if you just suddenly give me these cute faces without warning.”

He feels himself smile wide at another bashful look you give him.

“Now let’s get out of here.” He twists the knob inside but it doesn’t budge. Confused, he tries to twist it another way but it still doesn’t move. He struggles with it for a minute until he gives up. 

It wouldn’t open.

“Uhh... Tendou-kun, I think we might have to call the others.” He hears you say tentatively. 

“Sure, do you have your phone with you?”

You pat your pockets for a second. “Oh, I must’ve left it in my bag. How about we use your phone instead?” 

“...”