#he should have talked to Tara more- they’d have so much to talk about about family

[epiales06]

As a character, Spike is super interesting. He contradicts himself- and not always in the “bad writing” way but the “complex character” way too.

On the one hand, he is REALLY motivated by family/the need for one. The first thing he did as a vampire was turn his dying mother into one (and it obviously went horribly), then he lived with a found family (The Fanged Four) for a while before going off as just him and Dru. Fast forward to seasons 5-6 and he’s looking out for Dawn, often hanging out with her and Joyce, and longing for a meaningful relationship with Buffy. Not to mention how, in Tabula Rassa, he assumed he was Giles’ son.

But on the other hand, he abuses every partner he has other than Dru (Harmony and Buffy), acts as the “black sheep” in his found family (The Fanged Four), and hates Giles during his stint thinking he was his son. Every time he gets a shot at the family and relationships he craves, he sabotages it.

Anyway, all I’m saying is that I think there are a lot of lenses we can look at Spike through and they get increasingly interesting- but I do think that a lot of his (internal) conflict and asshole-ness stems from this contradiction.

[inkdrinkerworld]

I saw you're looking for more post prison spencer and sunshine reader!

What about sunshine reader having a badass moment and save spencer from an unsub? Spence would definitely be worried but amazed at the same time

Only if you want to write it haha thanks! I love your writing always ❤️ 💕

cw: mentions of episode '300' and Spencer and Garcia being taken by the cult. Spencer suffers from a busted lip, broken nose and being in love, so does the reader :)

You were cold with worry and anger. They’d taken Spencer and Penelope from right under your nose. You were gone twenty minutes and the entire BAU is shut down and ripped open because they’re gone. 

Then Penelope came back, disheveled and shaking and you were seeing red. “We’ll find him, Penny.” You whisper to her as you strap your kevlar vest on and set your guns to your hips and boot. 

“Be safe.” She says, gaze wild as Tara ushers her to a seat and you all begin filing out to an SUV. 

When you get to the field, you can hear Spencer talking but you’re not focused on that. 

Emily would have you sit down in her office after this is all over to tell you that you were militant and that you probably hadn’t done everything by the book, but you don’t care. 

You take down two of the guards Ben’s believers have hovering the entrances, and you wait till you catch Spencer’s eyes before breathing out slowly. 

Emily and Matt cover your sides as you sneak around to the back of their altar. 

You’re moving outside of your body, your mind just focused on freeing Spencer and getting to him safely. You just feel your body, using your training to knock them out rather than shoot at them. 

“FBI,” JJ announces and then the gunfire ensues. 

You’re aware of taking down two more members of the believers who try aiming their guns at you and Spencer before Emily, Luke and Tara are barking orders. 

“Hands where we can see them. Everybody on the ground!” Your ears feel stuffed with cotton, all you can see is Spencer; his face bruised and his nose looking a little more crooked than it usually is. 

You cut Spencer free of the rope, arms around his neck as you hold him close. 

“They burst your lip.” Your hands bury themselves in his hair, holding his face close to your shoulder. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers back. Eyes closed and breathing you in. “How’s Penelope?” 

You sigh, “She’s okay, a little shaken up but I’m gonna call her. Let her know we saved you.” 

He breathes a laugh through his nose, pulling away and finding you more worried than he’d expected. 

“It’s not the first time I’ve been with them.” You know Spencer’s trying to make this situation seem lighter but your frown worsens. 

“Spencer, that is not the comforting thought you think it is.” 

He laughs outright this time, walking with you back to the SUV. You call Penelope as soon as you’re back in the car. 

“Hey Pen, we got him and we’re on our way back to you.” She breathes a long sigh over the phone. 

“I’m okay Garcia, thank you for helping save me.” 

The phone call doesn’t last much longer, and you use the time to just stare at Spencer as you sit next to each other in the back. 

“They broke your nose. And you’re going to mottle on your pretty cheekbones.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes. “I set it already, plus the bruising can be helped if I ice.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, your hands hovering near Spencer’s face. He leans into your hand and you smile, your thumb grazing his bottom lip and your index finger brushing his nose. 

“You should take martial arts classes,” you say softly. 

“I don’t like cardio, not that type anyway.” He says the last part so quietly you almost miss it, but you choke on your gasp all the same. 

“It would help stop all these abductions. You could disarm your attacker much easier if you did,” 

“Jiu jitsu, I know. It’s too coordinated and I’m too clunky at that sort of stuff.” 

Your eyes glint with mischief as you pull away your hands from his face. “But you’re good at other types of cardio?” 

He smiles, his dimples popping out making you want to poke his cheek. 

“How’re you feeling? No shaking with the adrenaline comedown?” Spencer deviates from your loaded question with one of his own. His eyes scan your entire body, focusing on your eyes and your hands. 

“I’m just tired now, Spence. Kicking ass is tough. Is the adrenaline supposed to do that?” He nods, you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, you can sleep but I think it might be better to stay awake so you can do your reports once we get to Quantico.” Spencer knows how anal you are about doing your reports right after wrapping a case when the memories and details are fresh and unstained by how you wish things went. 

“No, I can do it. I won’t forget it if I sleep,” you yawn. “Plus, I could feel your eyes on me the entire time so you can look it over to make sure I didn’t miss any details.” 

Spencer laughs, Emily and Luke filing into the SUV as he strokes your arm, lulling you closer to sleep. 

“You’re ridiculous, but I’ll look it over for you, sweet girl. Get some sleep.” 

Emily cuts Spencer a look from the rear-view mirror that has his cheeks flushing but he ignores it in favor of setting his cheek to your head and closing his eyes as well; the smell of you flooding his senses as he starts dozing off.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part i

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: “I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” Tara says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.” ghostface!tara

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, possessive behavior, vaginal sex, murder of an OC character), smut. 

word count: 4.2k

a/n: for anon, who requested some smutty, possessive ghostface!tara. very, very fun to write, let me know if you want me to write some more ;) 

Four murders in seven days. 

It was a nightmare. You’d heard the stories, sure. Seen the movies. But you’d never thought it would actually happen to you. 

That’s what you got for transferring to Woodsboro of all places. 

Your phone buzzes as you finish locking the remaining doors. It’s Tara. You smile instinctively as her name flashes across your screen. 

where are you? still coming over? 

You look outside. It’s dark already, and the thought of leaving the house when there’s a lunatic running around scares the shit out of you. 

not tonight sorry, baby. lost track of time. don’t want to leave Chase here by himself.

You contemplate asking her over. Her sister is in town, and you’d been trying to give them some space to reconnect. Sam was with her, you assured yourself. Besides, the last thing you wanted was her leaving the safety of her home and getting attacked. 

“YN! Popcorn ready?” 

You drop your phone to the counter, check on the popcorn in the microwave. 

Chase had been your first friend at Woodsboro High, before you’d met anyone else, even Tara. Since you’d started dating her, you hadn’t seen him much. He’d asked you over tonight - your parents were out and he didn’t want you on your own. He’d had a hankering, in somewhat bad taste, to marathon the Stab movies. 

It was nice being with Chase again, even under such terrifying circumstances. 

You tell him so. 

“You know why that is, right?” He laughs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Your girlfriend hates me.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“She does not.” 

“Does too. Every time I see her she gives me these eyes.” 

He squints, twists his face into an angry glare. 

“Like she wants to kill me.” 

“You’re imagining it.” You tell him. 

Throw a kernel of popcorn at him. 

“Uh huh.” He says, turning his gaze back to the movie, “Sure.”

Talking about Tara had always been weird with him. He’d had a thing for you, back in the day, when you’d first met. He’d even asked you out once. But you already had your sights set on Tara and nothing could deter you. He’d taken it well-ish. So you’d thought. 

“How are things going with her, anyway?” His voice casual. You look over. 

“Good.” You say. “Great. Why do you ask?”

He doesn’t look away from the TV. Shrugs, but it’s tense. Like he’s trying to appear more non-committal. You suddenly feel uncomfortable. 

“Just wondering.” 

The movie plays a little, you let awkward silence wash over the room. Peer down at your phone. No response from Tara. Maybe you should have gone to her house after all. 

“I-” He says suddenly, then stops. Purses his lips. 

“What?” 

“It’s nothing.” He says. “Nevermind.” 

You stare. 

“What, Chase?”

“I just get a weird vibe from her sometimes. That’s all.” 

You blink, caught off guard. 

“You don’t know her.” You say, instantly defensive. “There’s no vibe. She’s perfect. She’s the perfect girlfriend.” 

And she was. She picked you up everyday at 8am on the dot to drive you to school. She walked you to class, held your books for you. Showered you with affection. 

“She’s possessive.” Chase says. He’s looking at you now. Words spilling out of him like they’ve been pent up for a while. “You just don’t see it because you’re all moon-eyed for her. It’s not normal. It’s like you're her special toy and nobody else can play with you.” 

“Stop.” You say. 

“She’s isolated you from all your friends.” He continues. “You used to play soccer, remember? What happened to that? What about dance? All the things you used to love. You don’t do them anymore. Your whole world revolves around her.” 

You stand up. A lump rises in the back of your throat. You’d come here to watch movies with an old friend, not have him berate you about your relationship. 

“That isn’t true.” You say, “With school, I just don’t have time for those things anymore-”

“Because when you’re not in school, you’re with her.” He presses. “And she wants you with her all the time. Like I said, possessive.” 

“Great to know how you really feel.” You say. Grab your phone. 

“Sorry, YN. The truth hurts.” He slumps back into his seat, stares at the TV again. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.” You mumble. 

You open your phone when you reach the bathroom, go straight to Tara’s contact. 

She’s opened your message, but hasn’t replied. 

“Great.” You say aloud. Your perfect girlfriend has left you on read. 

You contemplate calling her, asking her to come get you. No. You chew on your bottom lip. You could just leave, chance an encounter with ghost-face. You decide against it. You’re annoyed with Chase, but not that annoyed. 

You wash your hands. Head back downstairs. Flick Tara another message. 

You’re not mad, are you? Love you. Wish I was with you instead. xx

Chase hasn’t moved. He looks up when you enter, looking a little sheepish. 

“YN-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You say. Sink into the sofa, as far from him as possible. “Let’s just watch the movie.” 

And you do. Forty minutes of cheesy dialogue and bad acting and not a word from Chase. You like it that way. You keep glancing at your phone, waiting for your girlfriend’s response. But nothing. 

The movie’s over. You can hear the credits rolling, but your eyes are drooping. Half gone. Your phone long abandoned, Tara’s reply nowhere to be found. You’re dreaming of Hawaii in the summer. Pina colada in hand. Tara dressed in a bikini, waist deep in the water. Kissing her in the sand, not a care in the world. 

Then you hear the crash. 

Your eyes jerk open. You sit up. Startled. You look around the room. The TV has shut itself off. Chase is nowhere to be found. There are noises coming from the foyer. Your heart beats, fast. You look wildly around the room. You want something to defend yourself with. 

You settle on a small wooden zebra. Some useless ornament only Chase’s mom would decorate with. It’ll do. 

You hear scuffling. More crashing. Then, Chase’s voice, shrill - scared. 

“Please! Stop!”

Your ears ring. Terror rips through you as you make your way into the hallway, quietly as you can. 

Chase is on the floor, writhing, both his hands wrapped around a curved, silver dagger. 

Your stomach drops. 

It’s Ghostface. 

Your bottom lip trembles. You want to run. Scream. Hide. All at once. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, transfixed. 

Ghostface raises his arm, steady. Then slams his dagger straight down and through Chase’s chest. Chase cries out. Blood gurgles from his lips. Ghostface stabs him, twice, then three times. Crazed. Possessed. 

Your body gives way. You let out a scream. Topple backwards into the hallway cabinet. 

Glass smashes around you. Ghostface looks straight at you. 

Your back hurts from the fall. You writhe desperately on the floor, trying to get up. The Zebra has slipped from your fingers. Tears tumble down your face. 

In your peripheral, you see Ghostface abandon Chase. Head straight for you.

You cry out as he makes a grab at you. 

“Stop.” His voice is contorted, unnatural. He’s using a voice-changer. That same awful voice from that dumb movie you’d just watched. You sob as his hands tighten around you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t struggle.” 

You flop out of his grip, kick up just in time to take the Zebra in your hands. 

“I’m not here for you, stop-” 

Your fingers tighten around the Zebra. You use all your force to smack it hard against Ghostface’s head. You hear him cry out. Fall back. 

You’ve hit him hard. He clutches at his head as he falls back. 

There’s a clang as his mask hits the ground. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your chest seizes painfully. The Zebra in your hand slips out of your grasp and hits the floor. 

“Tara?” 

She looks up at you, her eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes. You blink. 

She swallows. Stands upright.  

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She says. The voice changer is gone. The sound of her voice makes you want to weep, “Don’t be scared.” 

She edges towards you, slowly. As if you’re a baby rabbit that might startle at any moment. You see the gleam of her dagger in her hand. Still wet with blood. 

“Tara.” You say again, voice trembling. You take a step back. Panic floods through you. How can this be happening?

“It’s me.” She assures. “You don’t have to be afraid. Look.” She holds out her hand, drops the dagger to the floor. It careens over the carpet. Stains it with blood. 

She inches closer. You don’t realize just how close she is before she’s reaching out, tugging you into her open arms. Your body locks up. The shock, the panic, the lump at the back of your throat. Everything spills over. You blubber into her chest as she holds you tight. 

“Shhh. It’s okay baby.” She comforts you, hands rubbing tight circles across your back. You want to push her off. You want to run. But you can't, you're frozen, all you can do is bawl. She tilts your head up to her. Rubs her nose against yours. She smells metallic. Like blood. She’s covered in it, you realize with a start. 

You tremble. 

“Don’t be scared.” She repeats. Strokes her fingers along your cheeks. “My pretty girl. I would never hurt you.” 

Her eyes are wild. Pupils blown. No trace of your sweet, loving girlfriend. You don’t recognize the person in front of you. You want her off you. But you don’t dare push her away. She presses you into her. Over her shoulder, you see Chase’s lifeless body. His glassy eyes stare up at you. 

“He’s dead.” You say. Tears leak like acid from your eyes. Tara holds you tighter. 

“I know.” You feel her lips graze the side of your head. She presses a lingering kiss there. “I’m sorry you had to see, darling. I thought you were asleep.” 

A whimper emerges from your lips. Tears fall hot and fast down your cheeks, your hands limp at your side as she holds you. Cradles you. 

“Why?” 

She pauses. You feel her tense. 

“Because they wanted you. All of them. They wanted you, but I’d never let them have you. Because you’re mine.” 

And it clicks. There had been four victims so far. The first was Dan and his brother Sam, both boys you’d known since elementary school. Both who’d had crushes on you. 

Then there was Aaron, your first kiss. Then Sadie, your first girlfriend. 

Your bottom lip trembles. They were all dead because of you. 

Tears roll down your face. Your body starts to shake. 

Tara shushes you, pulls back only slightly to wipe away your tears. She’s so tender, gentle, you almost forget the bloodied body you’d just watch her maim lying in the corner of the room.  

“Don’t cry, sweet girl.” She presses her lips to your forehead. “Here. Look.” 

She steps back momentarily. Shimmies out of her black robes. She’s wearing your old varsity soccer t-shirt underneath. Your sweatpants. The necklace you’d got her for your one year anniversary. She looks like herself again. Your Tara. 

Your bottom lip trembles.

“See. It’s just me.” 

It makes you cry even harder. How could this be real? You’d just watched as your sweet, gentle, loving girlfriend had driven a knife into someone. 

Tara. How could it be Tara? 

“I know, I know, baby. It’s okay.” Her arms are around you again. She holds you as you sob. Every instinct in you screams to run. To get away from this deranged psycho who just killed your best friend in front of you. But you can’t. She’s the only one you want to run to. 

You press yourself into her, tears soaking through her shirt. She cradles you, you feel her lips ghost your forehead. 

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” She says, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know it’s a shock.” 

She holds you a while longer. Until your eyes are red and dry, nothing left to cry. Your heartbeat still hammering against your chest. 

What do I do?, You think. Where do I go?

She was calm now, much calmer than you. But that could change in a heartbeat. If you ran, she’d chase you. Maybe even kill you too. That look in her eyes, black, terrifying. You hiccup against her. 

What the fuck do I do? 

 She rubs your back. Draws away from you just enough to wipe the rest of your tears from your face. Lets her fingers linger on your cheeks. 

“Come here.” She dips down before you can protest. Presses her lips to yours. You don’t resist. Electricity flows through your body. Your stomach flutters the way it always does when she kisses you. Your body wants her just as it always does. Guilt flushes through you. You draw back, hold her at arms length. 

“I can’t.” You pull back, a fresh wave of tears rising. Your stomach turns. “I think I’m going to be sick” 

Her hands grip your shoulders. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright. Hey. Look at me.” She’s firm, suddenly. You look up at her through glistening eyes. She softens her voice again, brushes your hair out of your eyes. 

“I’m going to clean this up.” Her head jerks to the body near the corner of the room. “Then I’m going to clean you up.” She strokes the side of your face. Scratches on your cheeks from the glass. 

“And then I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you. Show you just how much I adore you. Alright? Will that make everything better, sweetheart?” 

Revulsion rises in your stomach suddenly. Her hands on you feel heavy. Suffocating. Your cheeks flush hot with emotion. 

“No. Don’t you dare touch me.” You say. You shake off her hands, take a step back. 

The words startle you as much as they startle her. Hurt clouds her features for a moment. She tries to smooth it over, tilting her head. 

“Baby. You don’t mean that.” 

“Yes I do. I don’t want you near me. Not after what you’ve done.” You back up, pressing yourself against the wall. Part of you wants to make a grab for the dagger but she’s too close. Besides, what would you do with it anyway? You weren’t like her. You weren’t a killer. 

Tara blinks. Her eyes fill with something you don’t recognize. 

“You’re just confused.” Tara says, voice hollow. “I know it’s hard to get your head around-“ 

“Please. Go. Just go.”

You’re shaking. Tara stares. Her bottom lip twitches. You recognize what’s behind her eyes this time. Anger. Irritation. 

“You want me to go? After all this. After everything I’ve done for you?” For the first time, her voice is trembling. She looks angry. Hurt. Confused. 

“For me?” You ask. Your voice rises. “You killed my best friend for me?” 

“For us.” She urges. “Don’t you see - there’s no distractions anymore. No one else. No one is going to take you from me.” 

She’s moving closer again. You don’t want her near you. You eye the door, move before she can stop you. 

“YN!” 

You run. Blood rushing in your ears. 

She calls your name again, but you don’t look back. The front door is locked, so you sprint for the back. You can’t think straight, can’t trust your own emotions. So you trust your instincts. 

Run. Run. Run. 

You reach the door, fumble with the handle. Your heart in your throat. You twist it madly, but it doesn’t budge. 

“Come on!” You cry out. You twist again, but it’s too late. 

You feel her hands on your waist as she grabs you. 

You struggle against her, screaming. The sheer force knocks you both over. You scramble up, trying to stand but she’s too quick.  Her hands wrap tight around your waist, pulling you back down to her. She grabs your wrists, holds them tight over your head as she climbs on top of you. 

“Get off me!” You cry, but she doesn’t. Squeezes you down tighter. 

Wild eyes stare down at you. Her eyes, usually the softest brown, are wide, saucer like. Her eyebrows knit together as she pleads.  

“Please, baby, stop.” She begs. “It’s me. It’s just me.” 

She’s smaller than you, but she’s so much stronger. She’s always been stronger than you. It used to be hot, the way she could hold you down with such little effort. Now, it terrifies you. 

You try with all your might to push her off but she only grips tighter. A frustrated sob emerges from your lips. She presses you against the floor. You feel her lips on your forehead as she shushes you.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” She says, voice so tender you almost forget she has you trapped in a vice grip. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Then let me go.” You wail. Your body goes limp. There’s no point in struggling. She’s too strong. “Please, Tara, just let me go.” 

“I can’t do that, baby.” She says. Her voice soft, almost apologetic, “I love you.” 

You whimper, pathetically. Your mind whirls, going a mile a minute. There’s no way out, you realize. She’s stronger than you. She’s faster than you. And she’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. She’ll never let you go. 

Your breathing evens out. 

“I love you.” She says again, voice barely above a whisper. 

Her breath is hot, against your mouth. You shudder. She presses her lips to your cheek. Nuzzles her nose into your neck. 

“I love you.” 

Her lips press into your neck. A hot jolt of energy sparks between your legs. Even now, after everything she’s done you can’t help but want her. You start to cry again. 

She tilts herself up. Looks at you, really looks at you. 

Gone is the manic, crazy killer who just chased you down a hallway and stuck a knife in your best friend. Her eyes are wide, that soft, sweet brown they always are. 

There she is. Your first love. Your high school sweetheart. The girl who had taken your virginity. Tara. Your sweet girlfriend, Tara. 

“I love you.” She whispers, a final time. Your heartbeat slows, steady. Your eyes flicker down to her lips. She notices. 

She lingers above you only a moment, before she leans down and captures your lips. 

Heat flushes to your cheeks. Butterflies erupt in your chest.

Warm, warm, warm. 

Is all you feel. 

You groan into her mouth. Confusion flashes through you once again. 

“Stop.” You murmur against her lips. Soft. Half-hearted, like you don’t mean it. She pulls back. 

“Stop?” She asks. Voice low. Like she knows what you’re going to say. 

Your breath hitches. Her hands loosen their grip on your wrists. Her weight on top of you suddenly feels erotic. 

“Don’t stop.” You whisper, and she claims your lips once again. 

Your kisses build, feverish. Desperate. A mesh of lips and teeth and tongue. You loop your hands through her hair, pull her tight against you. 

Her hands loop under your shirt, tug at your jeans. You pull hers off first, wanting her hot and naked against you, groaning at the heat of her skin against your own. 

All thoughts of Chase are gone as you slip your hands into her underwear. She’s wet already, gasps as you circle her clit. You press warm kisses to her jaw. 

She presses you back onto the floor. Tugs your underwear down your legs. Her fingers dip down to your heat. 

“Tara.” You gasp. She nuzzles herself into your neck. Presses, wet, sloppy kisses down your jawline. Her fingers brush your clit before she sinks her fingers inside you. 

She groans. Kisses you deep. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So wet.”

“Tara.” You gasp. Her fingers curl inside you, her thumb rubbing gently over your clit. She kisses you again. Works her fingers deeper into you. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” She asks. Her voice is graveled, thick with want. You moan out as she hits just the right spot. 

“You like that? You like my fingers inside you?” 

You nod, madly, clawing at her back, trying to pull her closer. 

“I like it too, baby. It’s my favorite thing in the world. I’d do anything to be inside you.” 

Her eyes are black, hazy, lust filled. You kiss her deeply. 

“I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” She says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.” 

You moan. 

“Tell me.” She says, “Tell me who you belong to.” 

“You, baby.” You gasp. 

“That's right. All mine. Every inch of you.” She growls. Her hand movements are steady. Angry. Pounding into you. Your hips jerk with each thrust, your cheeks red. 

“Nobody else is going to touch you. Not ever. I’m the only one who gets to do this.” She says. Her eyes are starting to blacken again, jealous at the thought of somebody else sinking inside you. 

“No one else.” You pant. “I promise.” 

She growls, takes a nipple in her mouth. Bites down hard. Her fingers drive into your pussy. 

You moan her name. It relaxes her a little. She slows her pace, dipping down to kiss down your stomach. She nuzzles against your thigh, lovingly. 

“Who can blame them?” She says. She reaches up to touch your face, presses a gentle kiss to your belly. Her fingers pump in and out at a steady pace. Her fingers coated in your wetness. “My perfect girl. Always so beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you? I want you all the time.” 

She dips down, presses kisses to the tops of your thighs, rhythm steady as she fucks you. A low moan escapes from your mouth as she licks a long stripe down your center, stopping momentarily to wrap her lips around your clit. 

Your thighs clench around her head but she keeps your legs pried open. She sucks you only a moment before she’s grinning up at you, debauched, slipping a third finger inside your dripping cunt. 

“I wish I could spend every waking moment inside this gorgeous pussy. Always so pretty and tight and wet for me.  Always throbbing around my fingers. Squeezing. Trying to keep me in you, isn’t that right?” 

Her eyes gleam. Her pretty red lips sticky with your arousal. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby? You’d like me to be in you all the time.” 

“Yes.” You groan. 

“Dirty girl.” She chides. Her head dips down again, and you throw your head back as she sucks on your clit, hard. 

She releases you after a moment. Lips back on your thighs, fingers pummeling up into your g-spot. 

Your stomach coils. She sucks on your thigh leisurely, her fingers slamming into you with no mercy. 

“Mine.” She says. “Say it.” 

“Yours. All yours.” 

Her arms grip tight around your waist. She licks her way up your length, not stopping the force of her fingers. 

You throb around her, so close. She presses kisses to your thighs as she works you to the edge. 

“You going to come for me, baby?” She murmurs, lips on your clit, “Good girl. That’s it, sweetheart. Come in my mouth.” 

She sucks your clit, hard, and you topple over the edge. 

Your back arches. You let out a low groan as your orgasm washes over you. She works you though it, lovingly sucking, her fingers curled. 

You slump back onto the floor as she presses kisses to your belly. She keeps her fingers in you as she leans up, kisses you so tenderly. 

“Good girl.” She murmurs. You sigh into her mouth. You can taste yourself on her lips. It’s intoxicating. She presses a kiss to your neck. 

Draws her fingers out of you. You whine. She smiles, sucks you off her fingertips. 

“Don’t worry baby.” She murmurs. Brushes a lock of hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Your heart beat slows. She shuffles herself off you.

Wraps herself tight around your waist, drawing you into her. 

Your eyes draw to the robes of the floor. The mask. The dagger. Chase is here somewhere, dead in another room. And you just fucked his killer. 

Shame floods through you. Your body tenses. She can sense it. She turns you in her arms, pulls you into her bare chest. 

“Shh. Don’t look, baby.” She coos. “I’ll clean it up.” 

“He’s dead.” You say. More monotone than anything. In the last thirty minutes you’ve felt every possible emotion you could ever feel. You’ve cried every last tear. You’ve fought and struggled and lost against your own desires. You’re exhausted. 

“It’s alright, babe.” She senses your resignation. Presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now it’s just you and me. The way it should be.” 

She tilts your face up to hers. You let her press a kiss to your lips. Close your eyes. 

“I’m all yours, baby.” She says. “And you’re mine. Forever.”  

You nod, slowly. 

She is, there’s no point in denying it. 

Next part

[cobaltperun]

Lost (24) - Landing in London

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.7k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-And when the night falls in around me, I don't think I'll make it through, I'll use your light to guide the way, 'Cause all I think about is you-

She used to be lonely as a child. Woodsboro was a small place, children often met through parents, and her mother had her when she was young. Meaning while her parents were raising her their classmates and friends went out to party or went to college, meaning they had no kids Sam could hang out with when she was really young. So, Sam was lonely, Sam was alone, quickly learning that she couldn’t really go to anyone for company. Kids at kindergarten talked about watching cartoons with their parents, but Sam never had that. Her father, the only father she ever knew, even if she wasn’t his biological daughter, did his best, gave up on his dreams so he could take care of her. Her mother did the same thing, working, coming back home, taking care of Sam. They didn’t really struggle, they weren’t rich, but they had plenty, but Sam was lonely. All she ever wanted was to have someone to spend time with, to share moments and memories with.

And then the greatest gift Sam ever received in her life made the loneliness go away. Tara was born, a month earlier than she was supposed to be, and sickly, soon to be diagnosed with asthma, but she always, always looked at Sam with those expressive brown eyes and a happy smile that made Sam promise she would always protect her little sister. It broke Sam’s heart when Tara would spend another sleepless night, sick, sometimes just barely breathing, and still managed to smile at Sam.

Her strong, resilient little sister. Tara’s always been the strongest person Sam knew, enduring everything happening to her before she could even walk. Tara knew pain before she knew love, she knew sickness, and hospitals, and medicine before she knew playgrounds, parks, toys, playing, anything a child her age should know.

Sam loved Tara, more than anything in the world, but her love couldn’t replace the love of her parents. Unlike Sam, Tara never truly had that. Because Sam was loved as a child, her mother loved her, her father adored her, their family worked the way it was. Sam didn’t need much, so Sam was loved.

Her parents didn’t count on a sick child though, they didn’t count on all the medical bills, on all the time they’d need to spend taking care of Tara and taking her from one doctor to another. Looking back, perhaps finding out Sam wasn’t his daughter was only the excuse her father needed to leave them, because he could no longer handle having a sick child and now that the other one wasn’t his, well, it just gave him another excuse. Not to mention Christina was starting to drink some time before he left. He ran away, never to be heard from again, and Sam hated him for leaving Tara like that.

So, with him gone, money became a bit of an issue, and the only reason people didn’t really notice was Christina’s inherited house. Hell, Sam had no idea until several years later that Christina took money for Sam babysitting Chad, Mindy, and Wes. Sam didn’t say anything, because that money was used to pay for Tara’s medicine, and Sam would always protect Tara.

That was how she, now an angry teenager swung first before asking any questions when she saw an unfamiliar kid talking to Tara. That kid turned out to be you, trying to help Tara, but Sam didn’t know that at the time. She wouldn’t have even remembered your first meeting if Tara wasn’t angry at her for attacking you like that.

It was almost funny how the two of you were so drawn together, how Tara, without even knowing your name got angry at Sam. Tara was shy though, but she kept seeing you every now and then, and even though she never approached you, she’d tell Sam she saw the ‘cool girl’ in the hall between classes. So, Sam asked around as subtly as she could, finding out you were the only child of a rich family that recently moved to Woodsboro, but other than that she couldn’t find out anything about your family. She did learn you had an interest in martial arts, which explained the quick reaction when Sam attacked you.

Sam still remembered her anger when Tara, near the end of that year, and sicker than she was in a long time, told her how their mom didn’t pick her up from school and how she stood in the rain for an hour and a half. Yet, despite the temperature that was too high for home-made medicine, despite the cough and runny nose and all the other symptoms, Tara still looked happy, because she properly met you, and you carried her home in that rain. And when you dropped by the next day to check on Tara because she didn’t show up in school Sam saw the admiration in Tara’s eyes and somehow, without an explanation, she felt at peace.

And then you became a constant in Tara’s life, acting as her shield from the world. Sam remembered it as if it happened yesterday, the scene she walked into a few months before she left.

~X~

Tara hadn’t been this sick in a couple of years, probably since that time in the rain when you first carried her home. You kind of made sure of that, you skipped after-school activities when it was raining so you could make sure Tara got home as dry and warm as possible. You couldn’t protect Tara from everything, so when Christina’s neglect made Tara wait in front of the front doors for hours in cold weather, she got severely sick. She couldn’t even lie down without having a coughing fit, but Sam couldn’t panic. She couldn’t do much more than pick up medicine or make Tara some tea. She had to put faith in her mother to take care of Tara, even if every sign pointed toward the realization that Christina wouldn’t do that. Still, Sam had to hope because sooner rather than later Sam would leave and Tara would be left only with their mother.

She had to leave, she wasn’t safe for Tara, she was starting to hallucinate, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing her biological father. It took her several minutes to figure out what was real and what was her mind fucking with her, and she couldn’t let Tara see her like that. More importantly, she couldn’t risk hurting Tara in that state of confusion.

She still called her mother, just to ask how Tara was.

“W-what is it,” her mother answered and hiccupped, drunk, and Sam’s blood ran cold.

“Where are you? What about Tara?!” Sam demanded, for a moment wondering if she really could kill her mother, because she wanted nothing more than to do that, and that desire frightened her, strengthened her need to get away from Tara to protect her.

“At home, she’s fine~,” her mother drawled, and Sam wanted to crush her phone, to let her rage out, instead, she just ran home, barging in and running upstairs to Tara’s room. She didn’t hear coughing, she didn’t hear anything as she ran down the hallway, and she was frightened of what she would find when she opened the doors, but instead of Tara in pain or not breathing at all, she found Tara with you.

You were sitting in a not so comfortable position, leaning back against the rather uncomfortable headboard. You held a pillow to your chest, and Tara was right there, leaning on it and sleeping peacefully, half lying down, half sitting, but not coughing. She had the yellow teddy bear Sam bought her years ago next to her, and she was holding your hand, making you hug her from behind. From the corner of her eyes Sam noticed an almost eaten plate of soup, one that her mother definitely didn’t make. It was from a local restaurant, so you must have bought it for Tara.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled from relief, but the look in your eyes made her freeze, you were angry, but you couldn’t move, not without disturbing Tara’s peaceful slumber, and even as pissed as you were you wouldn’t do that. Sam saw you wanted nothing more than to get into a fight with Sam for leaving Tara alone when she was this sick, and Sam would have let you hit her as hard as you could, because she felt like she deserved it. Yet, you didn’t. Not because you cared about Sam, no, you talked every now and then and you were civil with one another, so no, it wasn’t because of Sam. It was because Tara would be sad if you and Sam fought, and you wouldn’t allow that.

“Y/N,” Tara mumbled weakly, and Sam noticed she held your hand a bit tighter now.

“I’m right here,” you soothed her, your thumb brushing against her hand as Tara settled down once more.

It was you. When Tara was sick and left alone by her mother, she didn’t call Sam, she called you, and you came, dropping who knows what just to take care of Tara. With how sick Tara was, she barely remembered calling you, she vaguely remembered you were there, but she most certainly didn’t remember sleeping while leaning back on you. Or if she did remember she definitely wasn’t sharing that with Sam.

~X~

The next time Sam saw you and Tara like that was after Tara was attacked, only there wasn’t a pillow between you two this time. Sam could never repay you for how much you cared for Tara while she was gone, because she was sure you’ve spent countless sleepless nights taking care of sick Tara, or simply keeping her company when she felt alone, abandoned by everyone else. Later, while you were training for your last two matches Tara told Sam about those times, about how she would always worry that you’d get sick taking care of her, yet you somehow remained resilient, not once getting sick. Tara also told her about all the times she had you watch The Babadook with her, or the times she just called you over so you could just hang out, do homework together or research random things.

Tara was always the happiest when you were with her, and Sam would forever cherish the memory of Tara laughing while the two of you danced at your wedding.

It was, naturally, a small wedding, the two of you, her and Danny, Chad with his girlfriend at the time, Mindy, Anika, Gale, Sidney with her family, and Kirby. And Tara looked more beautiful than ever, laughing, unable to keep the smile off her face for a moment, and her happiness was contagious.

Sam would have given everything she had to go back to those times, to the time when Ghostface was a thing of the past, and not a threat she once again had to deal with. To sit at the dinner table with Tara and you, making plans for whatever you wanted to do this week, instead of sitting at her computer, yet again realizing that the cult dedicated to Ghostface actually existed.

She should have known it was only a matter of time before he came back, and in the darkness of the night she looked at her window, seeing him there. Her real father, taunting her, putting the mask on her reflection, his mask, the same mask she put on when she killed Bailey.

“I like the design,” the monster told her, and she knew exactly what he was talking about, the dog painted on the mask, proving the belonging to the cult.

Sam got up abruptly, her chair scrapping against the floor. She needed to tell Tara and you, she needed to make sure you were ready and careful. She found you and Tara in the living room, on the sofa, with Tara sitting on your lap and flipping through a magazine while you hugged her from behind and rested your chin on her shoulder, occasionally kissing Tara on the cheek or the side of her neck.

“Sam? What’s wrong? You look worried,” Tara noticed, of course Tara noticed.

Sam should have told her right then and there, she should have told Tara everything. How she’s been lurking online, looking for any signs of Ghostface coming back, how she saw her father more and more often and the medicine was no longer working as well as it used to. Instead, seeing how happy you two were, she shook her head, staying quiet. “Just something at my job. What got you two so excited?” she tried to put on a smile.

Tara and you remained silent, as if exchanging a silent conversation by just briefly glancing at one another. “We’re having a baby!” Tara’s words shattered what little sense of relaxation Sam had left.

Tara would more than likely be the one getting pregnant. She’d be in even more danger than usual, and the child would be in the constant danger from Ghostface, no matter where Tara and you moved to. And in that cold September night that one thing that made Sam’s body tremble wasn’t the temperature, it was the fear for her sister and the life Tara was trying to build with you.

“Sam?” you spoke up when Sam didn’t respond.

“Oh! Sorry! That’s great! Congratulations!” she put on a fake smile, but her mind was already creating plans to infiltrate the cult. She’d just take the place of the one with the dog on the mask. She just needed to find him or her first.

~X~

It was the middle of the October, in the early morning, and Sam was watching a building from a busy coffee shop, with nothing but newspapers and a cup of coffee that had long since stopped steaming. She barely touched the coffee, frankly, she just needed some kind of cover. The unassuming blonde woman, no older than twenty-three left the building in a densely populated block. It was just at the edge of an area with high crime-rate, more importantly it was an area where one could easily rent an apartment without having to answer too many questions, so perfect to hide, or use as a base of operation for following someone. Sam narrowed her eyes and waited to make sure the woman wouldn’t come back right away before slipping into the building.

She had followed the woman enough times already to know which apartment was hers, so, when she got on the fourth floor she looked around and dropped to her knee to pick the lock, only to realize the apartment was unlocked.

Did the woman notice her and was setting up a trap? Or was she just that carefree? It didn’t matter, the girl was slightly smaller than her, looked slower and weaker than Sam as well. Worst case scenario Sam would get injured, but she’d come out on top, no matter what. It wasn’t this girl Sam was worried about, even if she left her alone she wouldn’t be able to beat you, it was the rest of the cult that worried her.

So, she stepped inside, on edge and ready to strike at any sign of movement, but the apartment was empty. No one was inside and she even checked to make sure there wasn’t a hidden room behind the mirror. So, she went and searched the place for clues about the cult. The notebooks gave her very little, and she’d have to deal with the girl’s laptop when she was alone. Still, hoping she’d find something in the laptop she stashed it away in her bag and hid in the girl’s bedroom. All she had to do now was wait for the woman to come back.

And sure enough, about an hour later she heard the doors opening. The blonde had no reason to suspect anyone was in her apartment, and she actually whistled happily when she stepped into the bedroom. As for Sam, she just sneaked up on the girl and grabbed her from behind, slitting her throat before the girl could even figure out what was happening.

She did it, she easily killed the woman that had the mask with the dog, but it also frightened her, because the woman was only a few miles away from where Tara and you lived. She moved there two weeks ago, and Sam was willing to bet she was going to attack Tara and you, or Sam herself, soon.

After that Sam got lucky, the cult meetings required the mask to be on at all times, and that they would use a voice changer, which meant no one really knew who the other Ghostfaces were. But she got into the cult, and though she wanted to start slaughtering them, she couldn’t get close to anyone without raising suspicions.

And then an opportunity that she couldn’t pass up on came up. The leader wanted to kill your father, and then get your mother to give him as much money as she could in return for her life. That would fund the next step of the leader’s plan.

Sam volunteered, killing your father in an apartment falsely rented in your name, in cold blood, stabbing him multiple times, taking her revenge for everything he and your mother did to you. Taking her revenge for them hiring Thomas and making Tara cry while you were in a coma, for making her cry for you, for nearly successfully arranging your murder… She may have stabbed him a few times too many in her fury.

“That’s enough, Ghost-Dog,” Ghostface pulled her away from the body and she shook him off, wiping the knife clean of blood and breathing heavily as she stepped away.

“Still, this will look convincing. Now, I’ll go deal with the Mrs. L/N, you need to get Y/N L/N to come here,” his words made her heart stop for a moment.

Why did he want you there? What did he plan to do? If he wanted to attack you that would be the perfect opportunity to end the biggest threat. The two of you could end the leader of the cult, you could take his mask and the two of you could then take care of the rest of the cult members.

“Ghost-Dog? Call Y/N and get out of here, let the police do the rest,” she could hear the confusion in his voice even through the voice changer-

They weren’t attacking you? They were framing you? They were making sure you were locked up? But Tara was pregnant! You couldn’t protect her from jail!

Still, if she didn’t follow the orders, she’d lose her chance and Tara would be in an even greater danger.

So, Sam nodded. “Yes, sir,” she spoke evenly, once again seeing her father tauntingly smirking at her. She was making things even worse. She was taking Tara’s greatest protection away from her. She was betraying you. She was betraying her sister. But maybe this would protect Tara in the long run. Maybe with you gone she’d go into hiding?

When the leader left, and Sam was sure she was left alone she turned off the voice changer and called you.

“Sam?” you sounded relieved to hear her. “Do you have any idea how worried Tara is, you asshole. Come back home!” you still scolded her, and despite blood dripping from her hand Sam still smiled a bit. If she could protect Tara, if she could only protect Tara…

“I don’t have time to talk, I need you to come and meet me somewhere, right now,” she didn’t need to fake urgency, she knew exactly what she was doing, she knew it would be unforgivable, that you would never trust her again, but she still set up the trap for you. And you walked into it, like a fool that trusted her.

~X~ March 24th, 2027 ~X~

Sam sat at a bar, drowning her sorrow in whiskey. Funny how things turned out. She despised her mother for drinking, she scolded Tara for drinking, yet here she was, drinking her problems away. She spent five months in the cult and had nothing to show for it but one dead Ghostface and blood on her hands. Danny was dead, Tara was captured, and she had no idea where she was. After getting you framed, she became somewhat of a second in command, seeing as she basically took care of the greatest threat, so she wasn’t assigned to whatever location they were holding Tara in.

She tried to keep Tara safe, and all it accomplished was the death of her boyfriend and her beloved, pregnant, sister, now being in more danger than ever before. Everything she touched she ruined, that was the summary of her life and she felt awful, she felt cursed, she felt like she had no right to ever hold her sister again.

“Your tip saved Sidney’s life,” she heard Kirby’s voice coming from the side and just barely lifted her head to look at the FBI agent. She didn’t care how Kirby managed to find her, Kirby somehow ended up finding her a couple of times over the past half a year, at this point Sam didn’t really question it. Maybe she was just that predictable.

“And Gale?” she asked, even though she felt the answer in her bones.

“Dead. It took too long for my mole, Ghost-Wolf, to take the snake mask and go after them,” Kirby sat down in front of her and slumped back against the chair. “Things aren’t so bleak though. Our newest ally found Y/N,” she managed to smile a bit, despite the circumstances.

Sam nodded. She failed to protect Tara, but you would be able to do it. You’d keep Tara and your child safe. “Good, I’ll finish this, three nights from now,” she decided right then and there, she’d put an end to the cult, or die trying.

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Taglist: @alexkolax

[domripley]

There and Back Again

Pairing: Amber Freeman/Reader

Summary: Amber wasn’t the jealous type, of course she wasn’t. You just needed to be reminded that you were hers.

Warnings: Dubcon, Fingering, Spanking, Face Slapping, Amber isn’t nice in this, Toxic Relationship, Gaslighting, Daddy Kink, Threats of Anal, Mentions Fisting. This is a semi-dark fic, so you have been warned but it’s on brand for Amber

this is a repost

“C’mere,” you heard your girlfriend say from the other couch. The two of you were at Wes’ house, trying to watch whatever movie he had on. Mindy and Chad both left the room and you wanted nothing more than to go home. Amber had started to argue with you before the two of you made it to their house. She accused you of flirting with Tara any time she was out of the room. Which was a lie.

“No, I'm good.” you said, your voice cold and short.

Amber didn’t like that.

Looking around to see if anyone could hear what she was about to say. “I said, come here. You’re not going to like it if I have to come to you.”

Amber leaned forward, waiting for your response. You sighed, shaking your head. “No. I don’t want to be near you nor do I want to talk to you.”

Before Amber could respond, Mindy came back into the living room. “You guys are still watching this movie? It’s really shitty.” She laughed and you watched as Amber faked a smile.

“Nah, we were just leaving.” She said, getting up quicker than you expected her to.

Amber pulled you up and off the couch by your arm a lot rougher than she wanted to. Mindy gave you an odd look, but soon dropped it when you said goodbye. You knew Amber was upset, but you didn’t think she’d pull you away from your friends. Literally. The walk to her car was rushed and you tried to keep up with your girlfriend – you hadn’t realized that she was this angry with you.

Once the two of you were in her car and the doors were shut, you spoke up, “What the fuck is your problem? You keep acting like I’m doing something wrong, when you and I both know I didn’t do anything.”

Amber gritted her teeth, trying her best not to let her anger seep out. “You didn’t want to sit next to me so Tara could sit next to you!” she shouted, turning her car on. She wanted to be as far away from her friends as possible, a little worried that they’d be able to hear the two of you.

“Excuse you? Maybe you want to fuck Tara with the way you keep bringing her up constantly. You hate the idea of me being friends with anyone else huh? I’m fucking done.” You snapped and Amber kept her eyes on the road. You were expecting her to say something back, but to your surprise, she kept quiet.

You didn’t say anything else all the way to her house – unsure of where you stood. You loved Amber so much, but you weren’t going to deal with her accusing you of things that weren’t happening. You loved Tara as a best friend, even as a sister and Amber knew this. Or she should at least know this.

As soon as the two of you were in her room and the door was shut, Amber pushed you onto the bed. “I’m sorry baby… let me make it up to you.” She pouted before sitting on the bed with you.

Pushing you onto your back, Amber kissed your cheek before she got on top of you. Placing a kiss on your lips, you closed your eyes as you kissed her back. You whined as Amber got off you, taking a step back from the bed so she could get a better look at you.

“Clothes off baby, Daddy’s going to make it up to you.” She said softly and a part of you wondered what she was trying to do. Even when the two of you weren’t fighting, she never talked to you in such a soft voice.

”Amber,” you said, unsure of how to react. You weren’t expecting her to change how she was acting so fast – it was confusing you, and you needed to know what her problem was.

“We can talk about it after, I promise. I just want to make you feel good. Won’t you let Daddy make you feel good?” she asked, trying her best to hide the smirk that was forming. She knew she had you where she wanted you – wrapped around her finger. You were never going to break up with her, no matter how much of her jealousy came out. Soon enough she wasn’t going to have to share your time with anyone but her. But she knew she was going to have to wait until the right moment, and that time wasn’t now.

You started to undress yourself, feeling your face burn in embarrassment as Amber’s eyes never left you. Knowing full well you would eventually give in to what she had wanted. Of course, she loved you, but the fact that she could get you to do anything she wanted you to do.

“Come on baby, we don’y have all day,” she rolled her eyes, watching as you went faster. Once you were completely undressed, Amber sat at the edge of the bed, patting her lap so you knew she wanted you across her lap.

“Oh come on, Amber. I’m not letting you spank me,” you stated, crossing your arms to hide your chest.

“It’s either that or I fuck your ass, and I don’t have any lube. So which is it.” She stated, smirking when you began to walk towards her.

You refused to say anything as you laid across her lap, hating the fact that she was having you do this. You were embarrassed. When you were comfortable, Amber rubbed the small of your back – normally it would help you relax, but all it did was cause you to want to get away from her again. You had conflicting feelings, not wanting to lose her but you also didn’t want her to get away with her attitude. Tara was just your friend, and if Amber couldn’t see that, then maybe you needed her to leave you alone for good.

“I’m only going to spank you ten times and don’t worry, I’m not going to make you count this time.” Amber stated as if it would make you feel, but before you could say something back in protest, she brought her hand down against your ass as hard as she could twice.

You cried out, trying to wiggle out of her grip. You bit your lip as you tried to focus on anything but Amber’s hands on you, but you soon failed as she brought her hand down against you twice more.

“Six more, baby. I know you can take it, then I’ll fuck you like you’ve been wanting me to.” Amber cooed, running her fingertips against your sensitive skin. You knew you were going to have a bruise on your ass tomorrow from how hard she was spanking you.

“I don’t want you to fuck me, Amber.” you said, trying your best to not stutter. Amber was quiet for a few moments, not responding to what you had just said.

“Okay then,” Amber sighed before bringing her hand down once, twice, three times before she continued. You whimpered, unable to keep yourself from crying. “We can break up if you’re not wet.”

Bringing her fingers to her own mouth, she sucked on the tips before bringing them down between your legs. You bit your lip as her fingers began to rub at your pussy. Amber gasped in faux shocked, “Well would you look at that baby. You’re so wet, you’ve made a mess all on your thighs and my legs. So you’re not breaking up with me any time soon.”

You closed your eyes as she slid a finger inside of you - keeping it in place as she spanked you three more times. You were glad she was done spanking you, but soon your thoughts left as she slid in a second finger. As she began to fuck you with her fingers, you tried your best not to make any sort of noise - you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me, I could probably get my whole fist in if I wanted to,” she commented, causing your eyes to snap open.

As she continued to pump her fingers in and out of you, you tried your best to gather the words to say something, anything. But all you could think about was how good her fingers felt inside of you.

“F-Fuck, D-Daddy,” you whimpered, unable to hold it in any longer. You knew you were never going to hear the end of it, but at that moment, you didn’t care.

“You want me to make you come?” Amber asked. Of course, she already knew the answer to this - but she loved embarrassing you as much as she could and this was a perfect opportunity. Her fingers sped up, only slowing down to add a third. “I asked you a question baby, you need to answer me so I can give you what you want.”

“P-Please make me come, m’need it, need you,” you begged, hoping that Amber would give in to what you wanted. You didn’t want her to drag this out any longer, and thankfully, Amber seemed to be satisfied with your begging.

As she fucked her fingers into you, Amber pulled your head up by your hair. “You and I both know that you’ll never leave me. I make your pretty little pussy feel good.” she stated, smirking down at you when you started to squeeze her fingers.

“Come for me, baby.”

In which you did.

Amber kept going, fucking you through your orgasm - only stopping when you began to wiggle away from her.

“You’re such a good girl for me, and I’m sorry I get so jealous, it’s just… you’re mine and I see the way Tara looks at you.” she sighed as she helped you to your feet. You knew she was lying - Tara never looked at you the way Amber was trying to say. “I promise I won’t act like that again. Stay the night?”

Another lie.

“I’ll spend the night.” was all you said, not wanting to have another argument.

“I’m glad. Now let’s put on a movie and cuddle.”

You knew Amber was going to bring Tara up again - it was only a matter of time.

[sequinsmile-x]

Our Great Divide - Chapter 2: Eyes Leak Acid Rain

It's what they'd hoped would happen for years. For a decade it's what they would talk about late at night whilst snuggled up in bed together, quiet voices whispering about a life where Jack and Haley came back, where Jack could meet his siblings and their family would finally feel complete. Now it was finally happening, Emily had a pit in her stomach. A heavy weight made of fear and guilt as she worried that this could actually be the thing that tore them apart.

A Foyet Arc AU

-x-

Hi friends!

Thank you SO much for the response to chapter 1, I'm really blown away by it!!

Please let me know what you think of Chapter 2 <3

-x-

Warnings: Full list of warnings can be found on the Master List

Words: 4.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She goes home immediately. She asks Penelope to tell the others, shaking off Tara’s and Luke’s attempts to see what was wrong as she left so abruptly when the working day had barely started. It was something she hadn’t done since Scratch had tried to tear her family apart a couple of years ago, the rat-faced bastard's plan stopped in its tracks by his inability to understand just how far they’d go to protect each other. 

She makes it home less than two hours after she left, the world feeling so different to how it had when she’d woken up that morning. Whilst Foyet had gone quiet, he’d still hung over their family like a phantom. Hidden in every shadow, always just one step behind them, his hand stretched out to attack at any given moment as they strove to move forward with their lives. She sighs as she turns off her car engine, her hands tight on the steering wheel as she looks at their house, the place where she’d finally found a home after looking for one her entire life. She sees the curtains in the living room twitch, her husband’s face flashing in the window before it disappears, and she blows out a shaky breath as she climbs out of the car. She locks it in tandem with the front door opening, Aaron’s concern clear as he steps out onto the porch, looking beautifully domestic in a polo shirt and jeans like he wears most days now. 

“Em? Sweetheart?” He asks, taking the stairs down from the porch two at a time, his eyes wide as he looks her up and down, “Is everything okay? What are you doing home?” 

“I’m okay,” she assures him, reaching for his hand and squeezing gently, “Are the kids at school?” 

He nods, his eyes still searching hers, “Yeah, I just got back from dropping Stella at kindergarten,” he says, his fingers trailing over her cheek, “Emily,” he says, more determined now he was sure she wasn’t hurt, “What is going on?” 

“Let’s go inside,” she says, squeezing his hand again, leaning in to kiss his cheek, her heart beating so hard in her chest that she’s sure he must be able to hear it, “I’ll explain everything.” 

He nods and she encourages him towards the house, her hand still tight around his. He willingly follows her, just like he would anywhere. He watches as she steps into the house in front of him, her eyes fixed on a picture of Jack for just long enough that the concern that had sparked in his gut the moment he saw her car pull into the driveway comes back to life. 

“Em.” 

She clears her throat, pulled from her thoughts as she turns to look at him, reaching for his hand again as she leads him to the living room, “We should sit down,” she says, taking a seat on the couch, encouraging him to join her. He stands firm, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at her, “Aaron-”

“What is going on?” He demands, his concern turning into frustration. Anger had always been the easiest emotion for him to feel having grown up in a home where it permeated the walls, a type of black mould that had made its way into his lungs and was still there all these years later, no matter what he did. 

Emily swallows thickly, giving herself a second, one final moment of their life as it always had been before it changed forever, “Foyet is dead.” 

He stares at her, unable to process what she’d said as if she’d accidentally slipped into French or Spanish like she often did if she was exhausted. It was something that happened in every one of her labours, her whispers that she couldn’t do it in the final stages slipping into languages he didn’t understand. It had worried him when she had Hugo, guilt that he couldn’t help that had turned into determination to learn something that could help her when she had Leo and then Stella. Poorly pronounced reassurances that she could do it, that she was doing it, in words that felt heavy and strange on his tongue. She’d looked at him with such adoration, her pain suddenly an afterthought for a moment as she realised what he’d done for her. 

He swallows thickly, his brows furrowed as he looks at her, “He’s…”

She nods, her chest tight as he sits down, the couch sagging with the dead weight of him as she reaches over and grabs his hand, sandwiching it between both of hers, her thumb tracing back and forth on the heel of it, “Pen’s system flagged up his name.” 

He clenches his jaw, his muscles rippling under his skin the closest thing to a response as he continues to stare right ahead, his voice ragged when he finally finds it, “What happened?” 

She swallows thickly as she thinks about the details Penelope had given her, desperate to hold back her emotions for now. His were more important, it was his son who this affected. His ex-wife. The life he’d had before her. 

“He had internal bleeding because of his stab wounds,” she says as evenly as she can, “Just like…”

“Just like what happened to me,” he finishes for her when she trails off, his fingers finally linking through hers. 

“Yeah,” she nods, her lips pressed together, “Just like what happened to you.” It was still hard to think about even now. She’d been pregnant with Leo at the time and the phone call she’d received that he’d collapsed at the grocery store was one she knew she’d never forget. Just like she’d never forget the doctor telling her, as she stood there with Hugo sitting on her hip and Leo rolling in her belly, that if he’d collapsed at home it would have been too late to save him by the time she’d finished work for the day. “Only he stroked out during the surgery that was meant to save his life.” 

He laughs, although he doesn’t mean to, the absurdity of the situation settling into his chest. The thought that he’d survived something that the man who had tried to ruin his life hadn’t almost too much to bear. 

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat, a strange sense of guilt for laughing over the death of a man, even if that man was George Foyet, churning in his gut. “That was…sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for, baby,” she says, scooting closer, one of her hands on his cheek as she makes him look at her, “That man was…” She blows out a breath and shakes her head, leaning forward so her forehead rests against his cheek, “You have nothing to apologise for,” she closes her eyes, takes a moment to breathe him in, “There’s something else.” She says, and he laughs again, the sound hollow as it slips past his lips, “It happened over 7 years ago.” 

He frowns and pulls back to look at her, “What?” 

“He had the stroke during surgery over 7 years ago,” she repeats, her tongue peeking out to wet her lower lip, “He’s been in an assisted care facility ever since. He died yesterday when he had another stroke.” 

He can’t do anything other than stare at her as it all slips into place, why Foyet had gone quiet. Why he hadn’t come back to do anything once he found out Emily and Aaron had a family. It sucks the air out of his chest, the reality that he’d been living looking over his shoulder for no reason for years, that so many of the years Jack had been gone were unnecessary. 

Emily feels like her chest is hollowed out as she watches him collapse in on himself, his shoulders slumping as he gets physically smaller in front of her. She shifts so she’s on her knees on the couch so she can hug his head to her chest, her arms tight around him as she kisses his hairline, “I’ve got you, baby,” she says, kissing him again, “I’ve got you.” 

“How did no one know?” He asks, his jaw tight as he pulls back, fury she knows isn’t aimed at her shining in his eyes, “How was it never…”

She wipes her fingers over his cheeks, pushing away the tears neither of them will acknowledge beyond that, “It was a state facility. They barely had the funding to do patient care let alone background checks on bed-bound patients.” 

He sucks in a breath and shakes his head, “He’s dead?” He asks, still not sure he believed it, if he ever truly would if he didn’t see it with his own eyes. 

“He’s dead,” she repeats back to him, pressing her lips against his hand as she raises it to her lips, “I pulled some strings. The coroner is happy for us to go see him. If you want to.” 

He can’t help but smile at the fact that she knows him so well, that she’d organised it before she’d even told him, “Yeah. I think I need to.” 

She smiles tightly at him, her lips pressed together, “We can go now if you want.” 

He pulls her close, his arms tight around her, “In a minute. I just need…in a minute.” 

She nods and holds him close, letting him sink into her embrace, “We can stay here as long as you want.” 

“We’re going to get my son back, Em.” 

She blows out a breath, her chest aching with emotions she couldn’t name at the mix of joy and devastation in his voice, the time that had passed since he’d last seen his little boy as vast as it had ever been. “Yeah,” she says, kissing the top of his head again, “We’re going to get him back.” 

___

He was shorter than she remembered him being. 

It’s all Emily had been able to think about since they’d gone to the coroners, the memory of Foyet’s body lying on the metal slab flashing up every time she’d closed her eyes. He was smaller than she’d remembered, something she was sure was magnified by him being bed-bound for years but it had still taken her aback. She’d built him up in her head, made him this big bad who was after her family and who had broken her husband’s heart by forcing him to send his son away, but he was just a man. A pathetic, small man who was now dead and gone. 

The coroner had told them that his body was unclaimed, that he’d be cremated and stored until such a time someone did claim him. It was something that had brought her a strange sense of satisfaction, that he’d be forgotten, that he’d disappear into nothingness and she and Aaron would get to live their lives free of him. She knew Aaron felt the same. He’d admitted it to her that night, Leo fast asleep and tucked between them as he whispered the confession in the darkness of their bedroom, an edge of shame to his voice that she’d chastised him for because he had nothing to feel bad about. 

She wouldn’t let Foyet crawl into his brain like that, wouldn’t let him take away the fact he was a good man. Not when he’d taken so much already. 

“Mommy?” 

She turns to look at Hugo and forces a smile as her eyes meet the 7-year-old’s. He was a mini version of Aaron except for his eyes, he had her darker ones, right down to his facial expressions. It was something she’d hung onto when he was tiny and the threat of Foyet felt so real, his scowls as a newborn something that never failed to bring her joy, especially when, at the time, she was sure he’d be her only chance at being a mother. 

“Hey sweet boy,” she says, encouraging him closer, opening her arms for him to join her on the couch, “You okay?” 

He walks over, a wide smile on his face as he settles on the couch next to her, “Where are you and Daddy going?” 

She smiles as she tugs him closer, needing the comfort he’d brought her since the first time she held him.

“We’re going to see old friends of Daddy’s,” she says, the lie bitter as she chokes on it. They were going to see Haley and Jack, who, according to their handlers, were on their way back to DC. They’d decided it was best to meet them at Quantico, on ground that was as neutral as they could make it given the circumstances. She was anxious in a way she didn’t entirely understand. It's what they'd hoped would happen for years. For close to a decade it's what they would talk about late at night whilst snuggled up in bed together, quiet voices whispering about a life where Jack and Haley came back, where Jack could meet his siblings and their family would finally feel complete. Now it was finally happening, Emily had a pit in her stomach. A heavy weight made of fear and guilt as she worried that this could actually be the thing that tore them apart.

“Can I come?” He asks enthusiastically, and she shakes her head stamping a kiss to his hairline. 

“No, baby. You’re going to stay here and help Aunt Tara look after Leo and Stella,” she says, leaning in to whisper as if it was a conspiracy, knowing her son was always keen to help, “You know she needs all the help she can get.” 

“I heard that.” 

Emily smiles as she turns to look at her friend, chuckling at the look on her face as she kisses Hugo one more time before she stands up, “Good. I meant you to.” 

Tara shakes her head as she leans against the doorframe, following Emily out as they step into the hallway, “It would be fine if I wasn’t essentially like babysitting three smaller versions of you,” she says, her smile teasing, “I never have these problems with Henry and Michael.” 

Emily laughs, the feeling sharp and raw as it tears through her throat, “Well, two of them look exactly like Aaron,” she says, “They had to get something from me.” 

“You did save having your own clone to last,” Tara says, nodding towards a picture of Emily and Stella hanging on the wall, their matching smiles wide and bright. Emily hums, grateful for the moment of normality as it fades. Tara reaches out for her, her hand on her arm, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replies, not sure if she’s lying or not, “I’m okay. It’s just…a lot.” 

“If you ever want to talk-”

“Here is one princess excited for an afternoon with her Aunt Tara,” Aaron says, joining them in the hallway with Stella on his hip. In the few days since Foyet’s death, neither Emily nor Aaron could escape the thought that she was close to the same age Jack had been when they’d last seen him. He was a teenager now, just past his 14th birthday, and the thought of missing that much of Hugo, Leo or Stella’s life made her ache.  

Stella smiles widely in her father’s arms and reaches out for Tara. “Ra-Ra!” She says, the nickname she’d assigned her when she was too small to pronounce her name something that had stuck. 

“Come here,” Tara says, rolling her eyes at the flash of delight in Emily’s eyes at her acceptance of being called Ra-Ra, “We’re going to have some fun, huh?”

“So much!” Stella says, her hands tight in Tara’s shirt. 

“Say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy,” Tara says, waving alongside the little girl at Emily and Aaron. Emily leans in to kiss Stella’s cheek, doing it again when she giggles. 

“See you later, sweet girl,” she says before she turns her attention to Tara, “You’ll be okay?” 

She rolls her eyes, “We’ll be fine,” there’s a crash from the next room, followed by twin giggles from Hugo and Leo and Tara sighs, “We’ll mostly be fine,” she corrects, smiling softly at her, “You two go. I’ve got things here.” 

Emily smiles and reaches for Aaron’s hand, squeezing it gently before they head out to the porch, shouting their love and goodbyes to their children over their shoulders before they close the door. They get into his car, an unspoken agreement that he’d drive, that he needed to control something hanging between them, and she reaches for his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“You ready?” 

It feels like a stupid question, but it’s the only thing she can ask. He answers with a smile, leaning across the centre console to kiss her, only pulling back just enough to speak, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he kisses her again, “You’ll be there the whole time?”

She nods, squeezing his hand, hoping he feels the love she has for him passing from her skin to his, “I won’t leave your side for a second.”  

___

September 2012

They sit in awkward silence, Emily’s confession hanging in the air of the conference room around them, her hand on her small bump, hidden by her baggy sweater, under the table. 

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope asks, the joy sparking in her eyes mixed with concern she’s doing a bad job of covering up, “But I thought…”

Emily smiles tightly and rests her hand on Aaron’s knee, grateful when he immediately squeezes her hand back, “We weren’t intending on this happening,” she says, her lips pressed together, the word mistake something she would never accept when talking about her baby, “But it did and we’re doing this.” 

“Congratulations, Em,” JJ says, smiling softly at her, “You’re going to be a good mom.” 

The compliment eases something in her chest and she smiles, “Thank you.” 

“How far along are you?” Spencer asks, his eyebrows pinched together curiously, “Because I did notice…” he trails off when Aaron and Emily both glare at him and he clears his throat, “Sorry.” 

“I’m 18 weeks along,” she says, “It’s why we told you now. It’s getting harder to hide.” 

Derek laughs bitterly, “Why are we all acting like this is okay? Like this won’t bring Foyet back into our lives?” He shakes his head and stands up, scoffing as he glares at Aaron who stands too, protective as he puts himself between her and Derek, “Do you have any idea how much danger you’ve put her in?” 

The anger that had been simmering in her gut for weeks, getting hotter every time she was made to feel like she couldn’t be happy about this, comes to a boil. She stands between Aaron and Derek, her expression stern as she points at her friend, jabbing her finger into his chest.

“Hey, he hasn’t done anything,” she says through her teeth as she points between herself and her husband, “We made a baby together. And even though it wasn’t planned we’re doing this,” she looks at her friends. She imagines a world where they’d be able to be completely happy for her and share in her happiness that she was having a baby with the man she loves. Instead, they look at her with varying degrees of concern and half-baked joy. Every one of them fracturing the delicate hope she was allowing herself that everything would somehow work out, and it breaks her heart, “You don’t have to understand it, but you do have to get used to it.” 

She turns away, heading out of the conference room before anyone can say anything else, before they can take any more of the shine off this for her. She barely has a second alone before she hears footsteps behind her. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs as she turns.

“Aaron, honey I just…” she trails off when she sees Dave standing behind her, a sympathetic expression she hates on his face as he steps towards her, “Oh, not Aaron.”

“Definitely not,” he says, speaking for the first time since she’d broken the news of her pregnancy, “People don’t often confuse us.” 

She laughs humourlessly, “It’s a shame really you are both very…smart,” she says, her real smile flashing across her face when she edges around calling him handsome. He smiles too, but she sees it fade. She sighs, knowing him well enough to understand where this was going, “Dave-”

“We can get you into hiding. Clyde would help if you called-”

“No,” she cuts him off, shaking her head, her teeth clenched so tightly she thinks her jaw might shatter, every part of her feeling as fragile as it ever had, “We both know he won’t go anywhere and I’m not leaving him.” 

Dave sighs, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, “Bella-”

“I said no,” she says, yelling this time, her eyes drifting shut as she blows out a shaky breath, “I have spent so much of my life pretending to be something, someone, I’m not. When I was growing up. When I was with Ian. In Paris…” she shakes her head and clears her throat, “I am not doing that again. Not when I’m about to be someone’s mom. I am going to raise my kid. Emily Prentiss. Not under whatever name someone in an office somewhere comes up with.” 

He huffs out a breath, his eyes drifting down to where her hand is resting on her bump, “I just don’t want you to be in any danger. We buried you once. That was enough for a lifetime.” 

She closes her eyes and turns her head just long enough to wipe tears from her cheeks before she looks back at him, pulling him into a hug that he gratefully returns, “I’m tougher than I look.” 

He laughs and squeezes her harder before he lets go, “That might be the understatement of the century.” 

“And…I can have this,” she says, coming the closest to talking about Rome with him since Matthew died, “I’m not a kid faced with the idea of having a kid myself anymore. I’m married to the love of my life. In any other circumstance…” she shakes her head, “I’m doing this.” 

Dave smiles, “If it helps, I’m happy for you,” his smile gets wider as she looks up at him, “I am. You both deserve this,” he says, watching her as her eyes shift to the conference room full of their friends, “Don’t worry about them. As soon as they meet a baby that is half you, half Aaron they’ll forget all the reasons they were worried,” he says, winking at her, “You’re annoyingly charming so I imagine your kid will be too.” 

She laughs and nods, wiping a tear from her cheek, “Thanks. I think.” 

The conference room door opens again and Aaron steps out, his eyebrows knitting together, “Are you okay sweetheart?” 

She nods as he walks over, his arm around her waist as he rests his hand on her bump, “I’m okay,” she says, resting her hand over his, “Can we go home?” 

“Of course,” he says, looking at Dave who is smiling at them both, “Can you-”

“I’ll hold the fort here,” he says, “You two get going,” he focuses on Aaron, “Look after her.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, but Aaron nods, holding her closer, “I always do.” 

She sighs as he leads her to the elevators, resting her head on his shoulder as they wait, “That went about as well as I thought it would.”

He kisses her forehead, “They know now. That’s what’s important,” he kisses her forehead again as he leads her into the elevator, “And at least Dave’s on our side.” 

She chuckles, “If I didn’t know any better I’d assume Nonno Dave had snuck into our house and replaced my birth control with candies,” she says, smiling when Aaron laughs too, “He didn’t even seem that surprised.” 

“Dave knows all,” he says, winking at her as they step out into the parking lot. He stops her, his hand around hers, “Everything will be okay, Em,” he assures her, “I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” 

She smiles and leans in to kiss him, “I know,” she says, her hand on his cheek, “I won’t let anything happen to you either.” 

She knew that they were being naive, that life had rarely been kind to either of them, but she had to believe that together they could make it through anything. 

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

I Do, Do You chapter 5 In Lieu of a Honeymoon

WC: 4,709 AO3

~Back in the real world, our couples have to figure out how to work, and live, together; clashing personalities must compromise, cooperate, and coexist.~

Between increasing victims, grieving family members, a mysteriously speeding up count down, and an uncooperative local unit, Luke finds a convenient excuse in letting himself get caught up in other things, avoiding focusing on the thing he’s gotten himself into, the newest part of his life left in the background in the drown of work. There’s only so much guilt he can lash himself with…Because of this, he hasn’t called her, he hasn’t texted her…He hasn’t spoken to Penelope in five days.

Still, every unguarded moment has him drifting back to her and the feel of her in his arms, how unexplainably right it was. If he’s being truthful with himself, he’s absolutely trying not to think about her, to not be distracted on the job, but he’s underestimated just how interested his friends are.

“I still can’t get over it…five days. It’s been five days! You’re somebody’s husband.”

Luke brushes off the remark not wanting to make it the big deal Tara clearly does, trying to keep focused on the work in front of them, the warehouse they’re sweeping for clues, “It’s not that weird…I mean, I am your work husband.”

Tara exchanges looks with Matt before a loud laugh bursts in echos through the empty room, her flashlight sweeping away. “Not even close. Prentiss is my work husband, you’re Matt’s work wife.”

“What?!” Luke scoffs, laughing. This ground had better footing, was more familiar. Feigning insult, he looks to Matt behind him who doesn’t say anything, but smiles and shrugs, holding out his arms welcoming Luke into a hug.

Luke, embracing Matt, turns back to glare at Tara, spitting out a petulant sounding “He treats me better anyway,” before they go back to combing the dark.

But letting go, Luke concedes to her original point, “Jokes aside, I know. It’s…surreal. And…I feel awful admitting it, but I'm terrified to talk to her. I don’t know what to say. I mean, she’s…incredible- funny, smart, beautiful, witty-” he stops short, feeling the looks they were giving him, at his reaction to the stranger he’d just jumped into a legally binding marriage with. But they’d been at the wedding, they’d seen, if only very briefly, his reaction to her, none of this came as much of a surprise except for him admitting to it so openly.

He whips his head down, embarrassed, grinning, then looks up at Matt. It doesn’t matter if they don’t get it, he doesn’t really either. “So, any advice for a recently married man from our resident Marriage Expert?”

“Oooo good thing Rossi retired, he might be offended-”

“Pft, that old man knows his score-”

They laugh before Matt comes back around to question, “Look, Kirsty is a saint. She makes our whole relationship look easy, but it takes work. Remembering the little things, knowing what she feels is important, making those a priority, making her feel loved and cared for, desired. Making her feel important. Sometimes I slip up, but she lets me know.”

He pauses, thinking for a moment, then continues, “Remember back when you were still with that doctor-”

“Lisa.”

“When you were with Lisa, you asked how I knew and I told you I just did? It’s kind of like that…you do things because you’re thinking about them. I mean, have you thought about her since flying out here? Texted? Called? Or have you shoved your head so far in the case you can’t see out when you go back to the hotel at night? Go to bed alone and tired?” He knows the answer before asking, they both do, after all, Matt knows how his relationship ended. “She doesn’t know you, you don’t have that history built up…you should at least be calling her, checking in.”

“Mmmm” Tara hums in agreement, “If I were her and my new husband ran off and didn’t contact me for days on end, I’d be checking out.”

—-

That night in the hotel room he calls her, not sure what he should say, not sure how she’ll react. With each ring his heart thuds, but it rings…and rings…and rings… and then finally, goes to voicemail. Sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers combing through his hair, a mix of disappointment and relief churn and meld until disappointment takes over completely. He considers again if it would be better for both of them if he asked for an early out, if Matt’s ability for a healthy relationship was an anomaly amongst the BAU and it was futile to even try… Glancing at the red blinking “11:00”, remembering the three hour time difference, he waits for the beep. “Hey, Chica, sorry for calling so late.. and so…late at night. I- I wanted to call before. But I didn’t have the chance.” It’s a lie, he knows he’s had plenty of chances like this one over the past few days. “I’ll keep it short and just tell you…I’ve been thinking about you. Every day. See you soon, hopefully.” He hangs up and gets into bed, at least if they asked tomorrow, he could say he tried.

Two hours in the past, Penelope sits in her bed updating code for SOAR, a search for Luke running in the background and Sergio asleep at her side. She watches as her phone rings next to her until it hits voicemail, then reads the message he’s leaving in real time. Four days without so much as a text. If it weren’t for the ring on her finger it’d have started to feel like a fever dream. She thinks about picking up…about calling him back. She doesn’t think about why she doesn’t, why she didn’t call or text him first. Though if she did it likely would have been something about him being the one to leave, so him needing to be the one to reach out, that and she didn’t want to disturb him while he was working.

She reads the transcript again, his words, sweet. Sweet like that hug…like that kiss to her cheek…chica. But it’s been four days, and she still doesn’t know anything about him.

Despite all her digging, all her tricks, she hasn’t found a single shred of him online. No trace of a digital footprint- no mentions in articles of apprehension, nothing from ex-girlfriends or spurned loves, no photos from relatives, not even a card purchase- and no dating profiles. She’s married to a ghost, or possibly worse- a luddite.

Penelope lays down, thinking about how four days into marriage, her shadow husband, despite now having a face, is still just that- a shadow of a dream.

—-

It’s three days more before they wrap up the case, he calls her to let her know he’s back in town, this time she answers.

“We just landed at Quantico, I’m gonna pick up Roxy, go home, take a shower. Maybe tom-” He sighs, exhausted, Penelope cutting him off, saying it’s been a week, she doesn’t feel married at all, it wasn’t fair to sign up for this if he wasn’t willing to- did he even still want to-?

“I do!... I do…" ‘Do you?’, and, ‘Why should you…' following in his mind, "You’re right. I’m sorry. I - I just don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to come over tonight, it’s late, I won’t be good company.” His voice is soft, hollow.

The case was awful. One of the worst of his career. They weren’t able to save a single victim, and on top of that the monster killed himself.

Luke tries to take solace in knowing his reign of terror is over. At least he’s gone. But he’s left with the images of what happened to those poor girls in his head, left with the words of their families- grieving mothers and fathers- in his ears, the guilt in his soul.

This is what broke Lisa and he up, his inability to be present, to share, to be comforted…to open up. He knows, as much as someone may ask, they never really want the actual details, sharing something like what he deals with would never be a good thing, but he doesn’t know how to only give part, so he keeps things boxed up, keeps away.

Reluctantly he gives her his address, Penelope’s there waiting at his door when he and Roxy drive up, pajamas, robe, and fluffy slippers. He musters half a smile for the woman dressed like a cartoon, giving him that cartoon mother look, but it softens when he lets go of the leash, and Roxy heels at her feet, Penelope automatically stooping at hers, the pair of them like long lost friends. She coos and pets, Roxy happily rolling on her back. “Rox-” he half heartedly admonishes, but the reprimand dies on his lips watching them together, a soft smile spreading at their shared joy. Eventually Penelope stands, and without a word wraps her hands around his waist, tucking her face into his chest.

She doesn’t know if it’s a good idea, if her touch is welcome, she just knows how nice that last hug had felt, and how beat up he looks. Everyone could use a hug.

He drops his bags, arms wrapping around her back, his head falls to the top of hers, and for a moment, he just stands there, for a moment it feels like it did a week ago. Her soft hair on his cheek, that sweet smell, the fullness of her. His tired hands drift up and down holding her closer, feeling more of her, and his head lifts up tilting down, nose brushing nose, vision much to close.

She feels him hug her tighter, his cheek on hers turning her face up to meet his, the zing in her body as the tip of his nose brushes once, twice, a strong hand on her lower back bracing, pressing them together, her lips parting-

And the jerk at their knees as they’re shoved apart.

Like a bucket of ice, the moment is gone, Luke letting go. Looking down there’s now a dog shaped mass between them, Roxy whining and barking, pawing at the doorknob.

Luke scoffs and it’s almost a laugh, “Alright, we’re going in.” bumped out of the moment, out of the bad decision he was about to make, he silently thanks his girl for saving him the trouble of complicating things. He isn’t in the right headspace, she…he didn’t even know how she was, but it wouldn’t be the right move, their first kiss driven by sorrow, a tainted kind of comfort.

He fumbles finding his keys and unlocks the door, letting it swing open into his dark apartment. Roxy trots in and Luke leans past Penelope flipping on the switch, motioning for her to go in, then, grabbing his bags, follows behind.

“The…bedding’s fresh,” he stilts out, making a plan as he leads her to his bedroom. “I just changed it before the wedding, you can sleep there, I’ll sleep in the living room-” but just as quickly as she had before she shuts him down.

“We’re married, we can sleep in the same bed, we’ve slept in the same bed already, well, I mean, I slept in the bed, you did some weirdo on the bed thing- my point is it’s not a big deal. Plus, I'm not kicking you out of your own room when you’ve been sleeping on god knows what for a week.”

He doesn’t have the fight in him or the energy to explain himself, and his bed is much more inviting than the two armchairs he was planning to push together in the front. Silently he concedes, “I still need to shower, take whichever side you want”

Penelope looks back to where he’s standing in the door and sees the exhaustion, the fraying behind his eyes that match his tone from earlier. Her stomach sinks at having pushed him, but they’d already wasted a week…What was the vow? ‘For better or worse?’… At least now they were sharing the same air.

She nods turning back to the flat linen in the dim room, hoping it’s softer than it looks, and heads towards the left side, taking off the robe she’d worn mostly out of insecurity.

Luke, stepping into the bathroom, turns back, bright light glowing behind him, “-Ah, Don’t be surprised if Rox jumps up there with you, she’s usually allowed, I hope you don’t mind-” but even as he’s saying the words she’s patting the bed and cooing at his dog. Taking in the scene his heart aches and he can feel the edges of his mouth rising when she glances up grinning, hands ruffling ears, Penelope the happiest he’d seen her since he stepped out of his truck.

Behind the closed door scalding water pummels his skin, sharp pelting stings too hot to sooth, an act of self-flagellation, of washing away the thoughts. Thoughts of Penelope, the woman in his bed, the person he feels so oddly connected to, so desperate for, touch at the corners, but the other images shut her out, scold him. How dare he think about her, about his own bit of happiness when all those people died at his slow hand? Bracing the cold tile wall, steam clouds around him, the steam clouding out the images and voices. By the time he gets out she’s asleep, and gently he climbs into bed, feet nudging Roxy, who moves a paw in response. He turns on his side facing her, studying her before closing his eyes, inhaling the stale, clean cotton and traces of Penelope, the newest part of his life, the part that could become dear if he let it, and drifts off to sleep.

—-

When she wakes up there’s no embrace like before, or if there had been, she wasn’t aware of it. When she wakes up, she’s alone. There’s a note on the pillow next to her. He tells her he’s gone to work, and that ‘Janie’ (dog sitter) has picked up Roxy, he says he’ll try to be back by 4, and they can get dinner and talk then. He tells her there’s food in the kitchen and towels in the bathroom if she wants to shower. There’s a key under the note, presumably for her. He signs it, “Your Husband,” and it almost quiets the hurt, quiets the frustration of thoughtlessly being left again.

It had been an in the moment decision, not sure what to write; nothing feeling cold, x’s and o’s not him, just his name bland, your husband he thought she’d like, would say, if just a little bit, he meant it…

He didn’t need to go in this early, but it’s hard to break routine when your whole life’s been spent regimented to the job. He knows if he waits she’ll want to talk, he will too, he can feel himself getting wrapped in her, lost to her, last night was dangerous enough,...he doesn’t want to see her face when he has to leave again…doesn’t want to hurt her, so he heads out without waking her...sneaking away.

Last night minimal lights had been turned on, they’d gone right to his room, right to bed, not much being taken in, but in the light of day, walking through his home- if you could call it that- she’s horrified. It’s like she’s walked into gray-scale hell or a 40s sepia film, and the place is sparse, like a display house left intentionally blank for prospective buyers so they can superimpose their own identity into the space- she’s easily the most colorful thing in the house, easily the most personality that’s ever graced these floorboards.

His bedroom is beige and flat like the bedding, the kitchen and living room aren’t much better. There’s a small bookshelf and some kind of faux-wood patriotic flag art protruding from the wall by the back patio door. On the wall across from the kitchen, next to the front door, is a taller metal shelving unit with a small corded stereo, two framed pictures, and some cds. To the left of that, a flatscreen tv sits on a low glass tv stand/table, and above that, in a small frame is a miniature metal rifle on oxblood matting- one of the only things here giving clues to who he is. For seating there are a pair of stools at the kitchen island and two burnt-orange hotel-style armchairs. She hates it.

While her toast is toasting, she sips her coffee and goes to examine the bookshelf more closely- at least he reads. A place this empty wouldn’t have books just for the look…nothing here appears to be for ‘the look’.

There’s FBI training guides and exam booklets, some Tom Clancy, the ever popular Pirsig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and then, to her surprise, she spies there’s a book of poetry. Emily Dickinson. She picks it up, noticing its age in comparison to the others, it’s old, and worn, something about it erasing her initial assumption that it was the forgotten property of a girlfriend past.

She holds it, feeling weird- something private about this particular item- but wanting, needing, to know more. Was there a favored passage or poem? A page the book would fall open to if cracked? Where had it come from and what made him keep it… What could it tell her about who he is…

Her fingers ache tracing the robin's egg canvas along the breaking edge of the cover, hovering, the silence of the apartment filling her ears, her heart picking up, it’s just a book, curling her fingers, --shik-- the toast pops and Penelope jumps, dropping it.

“Shoot!” she darts to the ground, snatching it up, checking to make sure it hadn’t been injured in the fall and sheepishly replaces it on the shelf thinking to herself, the universe really doesn’t want her cheating.

After toast and coffee she leaves to go home, feed Serg, and start work for the day. On her drive she thinks about how to bring up the book in a way that doesn’t make it sound like she’d been snooping through his things while he was gone.

She can’t think of one.

—-

She spends the day in a mood, shifting between being angry that he left this morning without a word, and curiously searching up and reading Dickinson poems online. She assumes the note means he wants to meet up at his place, another thing that adds to the mood-  that she’s left to assume anything- still, she sets an alarm, and drives back.

Roxy alerts Luke to Penelope’s arrival. Opening the door, he comes face first with a fist. Jerking back, “Heey!” he says, about to make some joke, but the sight of her sends his thoughts spinning in a different direction.

So far he’d seen his wife in just three outfits; a (completely unreal) wedding dress, leggings and a tee (with those very cute bird glasses) the morning after, and pajamas last night, which is why this outfit has him stopping in his tracks.

Glaring eyes pop wide in surprise behind candy-red glasses, unlike last night, she’s once again eye-level with him. Looking down, Luke finds the change in height is due to road-cone orange velvet strappy platforms, all other thoughts having gone *poof* at their sight, he lets his eyes wander up from there.

White fishnet stockings climb like vines up her curving legs, legs his mind helpfully imagines curving around him, his fingers tangling through stretching netted holes, feeling up and under the skirt of her thigh skimming dress- a dress which was cobalt blue. Tempering the mental intrusion, he notices the orange tiger striped cardigan she’s wearing is placed just so over her cleavage bearing neckline. As his eye drift further, he sees the slim red bandanna tied around her neck and notices the contrasting blue lipstick donning her full, succulent lips, lips he very much wants on his own despite the color…and finally he sees, clipped in her hair, a pair of tiger cat ears, her pièce de résistance. Laughing, all lustful thoughts wain, the collection of items bringing an altogether different image to his mind “-Wow. Uh. you look…Grrrrrrreat!”

Penelope wants to laugh too, it’s so dumb, and his very appreciative, slow, eyeing hadn’t escaped her notice, but she glowers instead, still miffed. “What can I say, my husband ran out on me this morning and it really frosted my flakes.”

Immediately his expression changes to one of remorse, “If he said you were so deep in sleep he didn’t want to wake you, would you forgive him?”

“I’d say it was a shame, if he’d woken me up, I could have given him a real breakfast of champions.” It’s bold, given the lack of, and aborted, physical affection, but she is who she is and she can’t help flirting now and then…and given the very thorough eye fucking he’d just given her it seemed fair play.

His brain snags at the entendre, the curl of her tongue sticking to her lip. Penelope, moving past Luke, enters, “So what did you have in mind for dinner, husband?”

They order Thai, while waiting for it to be delivered she watches him prepare Roxy’s dinner, Luke getting lost in the task of chopping and steaming fresh vegetables, carefully layering raw meat on apples and topping it off with a scattering handful of blueberries.

“If you cook like that for her, I can’t wait to see what else you cook” The compliment is an opening; tell me something, anything…

“Ha! Uh, lasagna,” he replies, somewhat flustered by the expression of awe on her face. But the doorbell rings and the subject is lost as they arrange cartons and plates, eating on the marble bar between his kitchen and living room.

While eating, Penelope makes a show of looking around, taking in the simple decor of his place, they were supposed to be making a decision, right? His place, her place, or some other place… “So…how long have you lived here?”

Thinking for a moment, he stretches out his reply, thinking about how long he’s been with the BAU, “Fouuuur years?”

Penelope balks, eyes going wide and mouth dropping, “Four years in Virginia, but, you just moved houses, right?” There’s no way someone could live like this, no way she can live like this. This is the house of someone ready to leave at the drop of a hat, someone who has no intention of settling down…

Luke chuckles, “No, I’ve lived here pretty much the whole time. What? What does your place look like?” His eyes dance around her and he suspects he already knows.

“Oh, I will show you. Finnish up, we’ll go,” she states, wiping her hands on her napkin and hopping off the stool, adding excitedly, “We’ll bring Roxy, you two can meet Sergio!”

—-

Luke laughs sudden and loud and this time the glitter of his eyes and little teasing smirk irritate her. “What?”

Painting on a look of innocence, he shrugs, “I just…I thought we were going to your house, not the storage unit of a thrift store-”

It’s vibrant and cluttered, there’s framed art on all the walls and framed photos and magazines on all the tables, there’s a beaded curtain in the doorway of what he assumes is a room that holds a bed, and the floor is covered in a lime green rug which clashes with the purple and yellow walls, there are weird lamps on every surface, and a collection of action figures fill three tears of a shelf, the bottom housing an old film projector with a film strip primed in it.

She glares at the mock, “Oh, and your utilitarian patriotic cardboard box is better?”

Luke throws his hands up grinning, “I didn’t say one’s better than the other, this is very clearly ‘you’.” Instinctually he lowers a hand to the small of her back, pulling both her and himself closer, leaning down, and kisses the side of her head, but just as suddenly he steps away, hand releasing, and apologizes.

“Sorry- I uh. Sorry.” The action had felt so natural in the moment, but after, he wasn’t so sure, a little voice telling him not yet. Not ever, if he still didn’t know.

“No! It’s fine, that’s- that’s fine.” The twisting little act of affection throws her. Her hands come up in front of her stomach, twisting her keys, “We should. Here, I’ll show you the rest while Roxy and Sergio do their thing, then we can talk about it- the place.” Roxy was patiently making herself look as small as possible from a spot low on the floor in front of Sergio who was experimentally batting at the dog’s nose.

Behind the beaded curtain there is indeed a bed, a massive, vaulting, marshmallow mound of a bed in a dark and heavy carved wood frame with puffing, plum silk pillows and an enormous sage duvet. It looks like a thing of dreams, like what children imagine the perfect bed to be, and truthfully, it does look pretty inviting.

When the short tour is over, she makes them tea and they sit on opposite sides of her couch comparing pros and cons, logistics. He drives to work most days, she works from home, both places are equally distant from Quantico, and she can come back here if need be for dependable internet access. His bathroom is larger, the apartment larger overall with outdoor space for Roxy, which ends up being the deciding factor. She can’t deprive his good girl for the sake of her own small comfort. He tells her to bring anything that will make her feel most at home, they can start to collect things tonight and take over whatever she wants with his truck tomorrow.

After they’ve packed up various clothing and shoes, accessories, and toiletries, five stuffies, two pillows, three blankets, and the figurines she’s deemed ‘totally and completely, without a doubt absolutely are you out of your mind?! necessary’, he still can’t get his mind off the projector, “So I’ve gotta ask, what’s with the film? I thought you were all high-tech, Ms. queen of the night.”

The dig makes her glower, but his tone is playful, rolling her eyes, she decides to tell him, “It was Gideon’s; after my parents died he found the only thing that would cheer us up were his old collection of Charlie Chaplin and Abbott and Costello films. He gave me the projector when I went off to college, hoping it would comfort me if I was feeling homesick… I still watch them when I need cheering up.”

He didn’t expect something so emotionally tied, but he should have, if he’d been thinking he would have known it didn’t fit for a reason. Quickly he thought of a peace offering, something to reciprocate, “My grandpa loved Abbott and Costello. Every Halloween he’d pick me up from school and take me to this little theater to watch their monster movies…I’ve never seen a single Chaplin though.” It’s small, but a connection regardless.

“Oh. Oh! That changes To. Night. I mean, right now. Go, sit. Get comfy, I couldn’t possibly let you leave without having seen at least one.” He watches, delighted as her energy shifts, Penelope excitedly taking charge and ordering him around, Luke finding he’s every bit willing to let it happen.

She puts on a collection of Charlie Chaplin shorts, the film that had been primed in the projector when they first got there. He sits on the couch and she sits next to him, eventually curling into him, and as the films play, as Penelope leans into his arms, the longer he’s there, Luke thinks about how he doesn’t actually dislike her apartment. He likes that it’s cozy, and lived in, and very much her. He likes that she’s so unapologetically and confidently herself in every facet, and he can’t help but think how she’s nothing like her secret moniker, nothing like her online persona… The Black Queen  was soft, and playful, and she was his. For now.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

THE BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS UNIT (criminal minds)

—

What some of The BAU Members Would Smell Like

scent Headcanons

CHARACTERS: DEREK, PENELOPE, JORDAN, TARA, MATT, REID

SFW, canon typical content — no reader-insert

Pic Sources: criminal minds

• These headcanons are for when they aren’t in the field because being identifiable by scent when you’re trying to sneak up on an unsub is a bad thing and none of these guys (except for maybe JJ and Jordan when they first transition from liaison to field agent) would sabotage themselves like that.

—

DEREK MORGAN

Smells like expensive ass cologne, okay? He invested in smelling right, partly because of his father impressing upon him the importance of smelling “respectable” and nice and partly because he wanted to feel himself and attract more women.

The cologne isn’t too strong (won’t burn anyone’s noses or anything because it’s not basically just scented alcohol) but it is aromatic and it does linger whenever he leaves a room.

Everybody always finds themselves subconsciously breathing it in a little extra when he’s around, and Penelope comments on his “good smelling cologne” every time she smells him wearing it and will just straight up smell him while Derek laughs and plays along by opening himself up to be smelled; Emily also definitely teases him about her having been able to smell him coming before Penelope cuts in like: “and every second was glorious.”

I think his scent should have some sweetness to it, like it’s masculine or whatever but it also cuts his edge which is part of the reason he likes it so much. Like sweet almond or something, idk.

Derek’s natural scent is also grand and Savannah is in love with it about as much as she is with him in general. When he was in the hospital she would press kisses to his forehead or hairline and then just take a moment to breathe him in.

Fran used to cry from how much his and his sisters’ naturally smelled like their father.

I think it’s be cute, too, if the cologne he uses as an adult is as similar a scent as he can find to the cologne his father would wear. Like, Derek latched onto the scent of his father after his death because he missed him so much and eventually asked his mother if he could wear his father’s cologne and Fran fully let him after saving some of it for herself. The cologne won’t last forever but for the immediate further they could both at least keep him close like that.

Some of the most unprompted hugs he’d get from his sisters would be when he was wearing their father’s cologne. Desiree would tease him about thinking he was big and bad with Pop’s cologne on right after the hug, and shove at him some before they’d devolve into a match. The first time she smelled her father’s cologne on him she got so mad he had the audacity that the two fought though, only reconciling after Fran put them on “house arrest” and forced them to talk it out.

Sarah would just smile at him and remind him not to let his head get too big while he was out running the streets but (even if the first couple of times she caught scent of him she cried) she starts appreciating the association with Hank’s usual scent with her little brother even when he was pissing her off.

PENELOPE GARCIA

Smells sweet but what kind of sweet depends on her exact mood and/or the color of her outfit.

During her angsty teen/Black Queen days she smelt more like rose incense that gave her a smokey, muskier and feminine smell.

It takes her a while after she’s caught by the FBI and after her breakup with Shane for Penelope to be okay with wearing scents with rose in them at all because of the lingering negativity from her relationship and her depression at the time that she associated with the flower (and the occasional scent of black cherry too).

Even after joining the BAU she still occasionally smells like sage after particularly gory or sadistic cases that make her feel icky because she cleanses her space.

Reid figures out that’s why on his own eventually, Penelope tells JJ about it while working on a case by mentioning that she’s basically gonna have to fumigate her office after watching the videos she’d uncovered, and when she first joined the team Emily had tentatively placed an small ornate pot of culinary sage in front of Penelope as a bit of a peace offering after so frequently smelling it on her. She hadn’t realized exactly why the analyst used sage but Penelope couldn’t find it in herself to correct her and she used that sage in her teas for months afterwards.

The first time she ever burned sage after her worst case with the team at the time Derek had walked into her “bat-cave” to tell her goodbye, cracked a joke about her burning down the place before she explained her reasoning to him, and then he’d just stayed back to keep her company and walked her to her car when she was finished and packed up. From then on any time he smells sage on her or lingering in her space he makes sure to check up on her extra vigorously and softly urge her into venting and letting go before she combusts. He doesn’t always say the best thing but she appreciates him seeking her out anyway.

Penelope (similar to her glasses) doesn’t just have one singular scent. She has a good couple of perfumes that she rotates around and bases whether she’ll wear one based on the color of her outfit that she’s wearing or based on what type of vibe she’s going for with an outfit. Usually floral, bakery, fruity (especially raspberry) type scents that compliment her brightness without being too overwhelming.

Derek teases her about it once she tells him how she picks out her scents. He makes some crack about missing the scent she wore the day before and she’s like “too bad” then explains her process to him.

Luke probably picks up on how she chooses scents and pats himself heavy on the back when she reluctantly confirms his suspicions.

If Penelope wakes up late and has to rush into work, forgetting her perfume, she usually goes to Tara for some because everyone knows how potent but neutral her scent is and Penelope needs something that can go with any outfit or vibe she’s going for.

Her scent picking process is determined by stuff like: summer, winter, spring, or fall scent notes; what color is she wearing; dress or skirt? Shit like that. She’s of a particular type, yk?

She is a creature of habit when it comes to her scent routine but loves it when her romantic partners or friends ask her whether it’s a pink day or a blue day (for example) and then go pick out the corresponding perfumes for her by color.

Penelope also loves it whenever her partner smells like her. She was not expecting to get as giddy as she did when she’d catch a whiff of her perfume on someone else because it showed that they really did hang out with her often.

JORDAN TODD

*will forever stay salty about the fact that Jordan never got a shot in the title sequence even if I know why, but anyway*

She has a very mild but spicy scent. It’s like ginger and you get a waft of it every time she brushes her hair over her shoulder even though you likely hadn’t noticed the scent before then.

It’s understated because she sprayed it for herself mostly, but once other people smell it it’s definitely a scent that they start searching out even though they’re probably unaware of the original and frustratingly can’t seem to catch a whiff of it again.

I’d imagine that people could smell the warmth and subtle product from her heat protection spray in Jordan’s hair from her blowing out her natural hair if they were close enough to her.

I think otherwise she’d use largelly scentless lotion, creams, soaps and gels just because it’s more convenient for her.

I like the scent of ginger for her because it’s sharp and peppery but also a very warm and sweet scent as well. I think that fits because of how hard it is for her to get comfortable with the team, how she rankles against feeling incompetent, but how ultimately it’s her caring so much that causes her to but heads and why she left the BAU because she couldn’t take all the constant negativity and stress.

TARA LEWIS

Doesn’t spray on perfume; absolutely uses perfume oil.

She would’ve picked up on using oils when she was a teen while moving countries and going from base to base after being stationed in a middle eastern country.

Typically smells like vanilla; not overly sweet but still notable if someone is close to her, and shea butter.

Whenever she moves her arms, brushes past someone, or stands up, her scent reignites(?) and you’re reminded of just how nice she smells.

Can usually smell the oils she uses to moisturize her natural hair, add shine to her wigs or sew-ins, and keep her scalp healthy when she has in braids as well. Coconut or argan oils most often.

Emily and Rossi probably notice when she’s wearing a scent the most; Dave commenting on the subtle scent of vanilla indicating that Tara beat him to work, and Emily would tease her about how she must’ve been feeling extra good that day.

When they were split up Rebecca would catch the faintest whiff of vanilla and brace herself, whether she’d end up running into Tara or not. When they’re good, however, Rebecca has a habit of lifting Tara's wrist up to smell then pressing a kiss just below where the oil was applied before intertwining her fingers with Tara’s. It’s a quick gesture but it makes Rebecca feel horribly giddy and Tara always looks down at her like she brought oxygen to earth so it works out.

MATTHEW “MATT” SIMMONS

Before he met Kristy he wore a stronger cologne, nothing too expensive but certainly masculine. He also saturated himself in it like crazy.

After meeting Kristy he backs off on the over spritzing and switches to a less “harsh” cologne that she thinks suits him best after she takes him out shopping for “his scent”.

She definitely had to pester him and push him towards leaving that comfort zone for a good bit before he agreed to take time out to change it.

His cologne has a citrusy undertone (like blood oranges) and then a fresh scent like Aloe Vera that carries the citrus without making the scent overwhelming. It’s light and Simmons actually likes not feeling so heavy when he’s wearing cologne. Plus Kirsty loves it and it’s not too harsh on tiny kid noses so it’s a win win all around.

Quite frankly when he doesn’t smell like oranges at home his kids are very confused.

Luke probably comments distractedly about him smelling a bit like a creamsicle the first time they hang out casually.

SPENCER REID

Smells like paper (typically book paper, but sometimes he also smells just like warm printer paper).

I think he’d wear a scent mostly when he’s either going to see his mother or has been thinking about her because she would’ve impressed upon him the importance of being a nice smelling young man. She’d emphasize lighter, flowery scents for Reid however, not at all caring about setting him up to lean into societal expectations for how men “should” smell. Diana just wanted to teach him how different flowers and their scents would positively impact his impressions on others and help him feel better in scent therapy terms.

Diana would shove sprigs of lavender in his breast pockets in order to help ground and calm him and as an adult Reid would make his own lavender oil to use whenever he felt he needed that grounding or wanted to feel more connected to his mother.

Otherwise (even when going out) he typically won’t wear a scent at all, and he’s fairly impartial towards cologne.

Mostly Reid just smells like the unscented soaps and aftershave and shampoo that he uses. A clinical scent that’s “clean” in a different way to how Jordan or even Tara smells. Sterile even, but incredibly subtle.

I could see him smelling kind of cinnamon-esq too. Warm and a bit spicy just feels right for Spencer. Maybe he’d start leaning towards that scent later on in the show’s seasons.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! And that none of my headcanons were too out of left field!

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Alright, I’m ready to move on to S15E05 “To Absent Friends” in my series 15 Holby rewatch, although with this particular episode it’s a stretch to call it a rewatch because I haven’t actually seen any of this ep before. I also know very little about it plot-wise. This should be an interesting watch.

Edit 1: No Henrik in the intro! That is clever.

Edit 2: Sort-of Henrik cameo via phone answering message!

Edit 3: Oh yeah, this episode goes right into the drama!

Edit 4: Wow, Jonny is a bad liar. Lol.

Edit 5: I’m a bit obsessed with Lilah just telling every single consultant that her mentor said she should do her best to work with them.

Edit 6: Although Elliot himself says otherwise, I think he’d be a good acting CEO. He says he’s not the type for the job, and I agree in a long-term stint he wouldn’t fit, but I think he’d do perfectly well in a short stint. Then again, it makes sense he’d say no, as they didn’t know how long Henrik would be gone for so they didn’t know how long they’d need an acting CEO.

Edit 7: Now wait just a minute, is this patient’s mother Lisa Fowler from EastEnders or am I just prosopagnosic??

Edit 8: I was right, it’s Lucy Benjamin! Now that I know that, I can get back to the episode.

Edit 9: One thing Holby was often very good at is casting actors who look like they could be related in real life - I don’t know the actress playing Lucy Benjamin’s character’s daughter, but they really do look like they could be mother and child!

In other news, I already love Ramona the HCA on AAU. And while I love Michael, he kind of deserved it when she said this: “Just because you’re clinical lead doesn’t mean you can be a jerk.”

Edit 10: The Darwin staff gossiping about Henrik’s disappearance! Little scenes like that make the show feel so much more realistic.

Also, LMAO at this:

Jonny: “It costs a lot of money to look this bad.”

Tara: “Well, it wasn’t wasted!”

Edit 11: Chantelle, my beloved!!!!!

Edit 12: Serena in her first acting CEO era!

Also, Ric in this scene is me to the Casualty writers right now: “Look, I really haven’t got time for 20 questions. Just give me a straight answer. Who is running Holby City?”

Edit 13: Lexy?? I didn't know she was in this ep!

Edit 14: I can’t believe I’m giving props to Jonny, but it was nice of him that when Lexy said she was romantically involved with “a certain someone”, he said “let’s get you fixed up and back to them”, i.e. he didn’t assume gender. That was cool.

Edit 15: Oh, Serena is LOVING this.

Edit 16: Chantelle talking about her date with Torchwood Boy. And when Malick says she should just ask him (Torchwood Boy) out if she wants to see him again, she says: “I’m a girl. Girls don’t ask.” I’m becoming ever more convinced she was early-diagnosed autistic and had social skills classes (which, from my knowledge, do tend to include such gender-stereotyped ideas).

Edit 17: Lol okay not me saying that Lucy Benjamin and the actress playing her character’s daughter look like they could totally be related, only for the episode to reveal the daughter was adopted.

Edit 18: Oh, this Ramona is GREAT. She deserved to be a main character.

Edit 19: Good on Ramona calling Michael out for patronising her.

Edit 20: I miss Malick.

Edit 21: The Keller patient storyline in this ep is so interesting.

Edit 22: Mo’s... sleeping with a barman from Albie’s??

Edit 23: Remember when Holby had actual patient storylines?

Edit 24: Welp, my computer crashed. Now I'm gonna have to wait like 15-20 minutes for it to turn back on so I can finish the episode.

Edit 25: I can now resume my Holby viewing, thankfully.

Edit 26: Lexy’s collapsed in the multi-faith room. I’m getting deja vu.

Edit 27: Serena’s meeting with the board is both hilarious and has aged... well I can’t decide if it’s aged well or it’s aged badly. “Under Mr. Hanssen, Holby led the way in groundbreaking procedures which garnered huge amounts of publicity. And that’s fine when things are going your way. When they’re not, you go over budget, and become the focus of too many headlines. Hospitals should never become THE story - that’s how they get closed down.”

(I miss when Henrik became the focus of headlines for things he did.)

Edit 28: SERENA’S MEETING SFSFSFSF I couldn’t make this dialogue up!!!!! “This is a time for Holby to play it safe, to look to the future and ensure its long-term survival.”

Edit 29: Lexy’s getting the Herzig!

Edit 30: Chantelle has arranged a second date with Torchwood Boy.

Edit 31: Serena and Ric toasting to Henrik at Albie’s!

Edit 32: I feel like old Holby was better at developing one-off staff members than later Holby was at developing actual main characters. Karol in the previous episode, Ramona in this one, etc.

Edit 33: Okay, I looked up Ramona’s actress, she’s actually in several episodes! I’m glad to see that, because I really like her.

[plus-size-reader]

Just a Kid

Daryl Dixon x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2453 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Taking Lydia in as your own with Daryl

Hi, I couldn’t get this concept out of my head. 

—————————————————————————————————

“She’s just a kid, D” you hummed, carefully working at the knot in his neck that he’d been complaining about for days.

You knew that this thing with the girl, and Jesus, and all these people wearing faces was really starting to wear on Daryl’s nerves.

You could tell, because every night when he came back to your house, he was even more tense than the last and at this point, you were really starting to get concerned that he would burst a blood vessel.

There was just too much going on right now.

...but you knew what you had to do.

Lydia was just a child, and even if her people were the purest evil you could ever imagine, that didn’t mean that she was. If nothing else, she was little more than a battered little girl who had never known any better.

That was how you saw her, and you knew Daryl did too.

He just wasn’t ready to take on so much yet, and honestly, he didn’t know if he could. It was hard for him to have to take over all this at Hilltop, and that girl they’d brought was only making it worse.

“You still on that?” he grumbled back, really hoping that you would have gotten over this pipe dream of yours already.

The two of you had talked this conversation to death, and while you knew there was a good chance that nothing was going to change, you would continue to do so until he changed his mind.

Ever since she had come to know this group, you had gotten it in your head that the two of you could give her the home that she had never had but Daryl wasn’t so easily convinced. 

It just seemed like more than you were ready for.

He saw that look in your eyes, when she was finally safe behind those gates, but then you’d gone and made it even worse.

You met her.

Maybe it hadn’t been the greatest idea, and maybe it wouldn’t help but you knew that at least you could try to understand better.

You could only imagine how a girl in her position would be feeling. You knew that if you were her, you would have been absolutely terrified.

After all, she was surrounded by strangers, in an unforgiving and new environment.

It was possible that one friendly face would make all the difference to her and as it happened, you had one of the friendliest faces around here.

If anyone was going to get through to her, it was you.

Course, Daryl was against the idea from the start but you knew that no one else was going to stick their neck out for her if you two didn’t. That made it more than worth it to you, even if no one else understood.

She didn’t say a word for the first few days.

Lydia had nothing to say to you and frankly, you couldn't blame her for that. You were a stranger, the enemy as far as she knew, and there was no reason she should have trusted you at all, but that wasn’t always going to be the case.

The more you came, the more she realized that you may have been the only person willing to stick their neck out for her. Once she decided that you weren’t going to kill her, or sell her out, it was pretty much settled.

You needed to help her.

It wasn’t up for debate, but for some reason, convincing Daryl was proving to be an even more difficult task.

“We aren’t her parents, it ain’t our place” he tried, desperately hoping that you would see how insane what you were proposing was. Still, you weren’t letting up, and he knew you well enough to know what that meant.

You were invested.

You were going to do whatever you could to get through to her.

Perhaps it was because you two found yourself comparing her to Daryl or perhaps it was your own soft spot for kids.

In any case, the damage was done.

“She doesn’t have parents D, that’s why she needs us” you sighed, leaning down to rest fully into his back, your head nestled in the space between his shoulder and his neck. It gave you just enough leverage to look at him.

It was hardly up for debate.

Lydia’s mother saw her as little more than an asset, something to abuse and control. After all the things you’d endured with Daryl, it made her well being that much more personal, for both of you.

It took months to get Daryl to tell you about his past.

He trusted you more than anyone else in the world, and his greatest pain was still too difficult to share until he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

You had no doubt that the hold this girl’s mother had on her was even stronger.

At least Daryl had Merle, he knew how much of an asshole his dad was.

Lydia was brainwashed.

You would be lucky if you were ever able to break whatever her mother had done to her, due to the extreme circumstances, but you knew that you had to try.

No one deserved the way she had been treated, and you wanted to make sure that she understood it wasn’t her fault.

Her mother was cruel, and there was nothing more to it than that.

The best way to prove that to her would be giving her a real home, proving to her that not everyone was going to treat her the way that she did. Maybe, if she felt safe, she would finally start to open up.

When the two of you first met, Daryl hardly spoke to you and when he did, it was always in a gruff, unfriendly tone. It took him some time to warm up to you and once he had, that tone warmed up to one of love.

It just took time.  

The same thing could apply to Lydia, if you just gave her some time.

If nothing else, it had to be worth a shot.

She was worth it.

“You really wanna do this?” he hummed, after what felt like an eternity of silence between the two of you.

Daryl heard you, he got the message, he just couldn't be sure that being with you, and him, would be enough.

He knew what it was like to be in her position, and he knew how hard it was to let people in. It was possible that she would never allow herself to be cared for in the way you wanted to, and he didn’t want you getting your hopes up.

You would be crushed if she rejected your offer, but it couldn’t hurt.

Even if she wanted nothing to do with either of you, at least you tried to give her something. That was much more than anyone else in the world had ever done for her.

“Yeah, I do. I really do” you smiled, not even bothering to hide the wide grin that spread across your face at the idea of what he was saying. It wasn’t exactly a yes, but it was as much of a yes as you were going to get from Daryl.

It was more than enough.

At the end of the day, even if it was a bad idea, Daryl knew better than to argue with you. What you were suggesting was crazy, but it was so very you that he couldn’t even worry about it.

He fell in love with you and that heart of gold of yours, so if this was what it was telling you to do, he owed it to you to let you do what you thought was right.

You had to, just as he had to.

...and of all the crazy ideas you’d ever had, this was hardly the most dangerous one.

All you wanted to do now was give a little girl a place to live and a family, it wasn’t like you were suggesting some kind of suicide mission. You and Daryl had faced far worse than a child, desperate for belonging and acceptance.

What you were doing was new for all of you.

~

Lydia wasn’t sure, at first.

After all, she had never really had parents and you and Daryl had certainly never been parents.

It just wasn’t something you had any experience with.

However, with all that you’d lost recently, it didn’t make sense to turn her away too. She was a product of her circumstances and nothing more. It wouldn’t be fair to make Lydia pay for the sins of her mother.

Instead, you chose to put all your effort into making sure she never felt like a burden again.

You knew that she blamed herself, in part, for what her mother had done. Henry was gone, Tara was gone, Enid was gone, it was just too much.

You’d lost too many people in the months it had been and you weren’t interested in losing any more.

You certainly weren’t interested in letting a little girl take the blame for what her people had done, not when she first arrived, and not now.

Lydia was good, she was trying, and that wasn’t something you were going to debate.

Thankfully, that was something you and Daryl could both agree on, without all the initial back and forth.

You were both winging it, of course, but you knew that you had to try and stick up for her. Even the smallest gesture would make a world of difference.

She deserved to feel safe for once.

When you and Daryl had decided to take her in, it wasn’t supposed to be perfect. You weren’t going to move into a little cottage surrounded by a white picket fence, with flowers and a dog.

It was making the best of whatever shit show situation you’d been dealt.

It was all you knew to do.

“You wanna help me with this?” you hummed, addressing your words to the young girl at your side.

What you were asking wasn’t really all that much of a question but considering that you were sewing up a huge hole in Daryl’s button up, she wasn’t interested.

“D does it himself, mostly, but he’s clumsy about it. The stitching always comes undone” you reminded, thinking about the last time he’d offered to stitch up a hole in your jeans, and it had unraveled by the end of the day.

He meant well, he really did, but he had never really had the patience for more delicate things like this. Sewing of any kind, even stitches in flesh, had never really been his foray.

...but that was okay.

You told him that you would take care of this, and he could pick up the slack somewhere else, making dinner or cleaning blood and dirt out of the laundry.

“I don’t know how” she tried, looking at you in the way she often would when she ran into something she had never done before. The two of you’d had this same conversation when you suggested she go to school with the other children.

She didn’t even know how to read when she came to you, and now, she is making great progress.

It was just a matter of learning what she had never had a chance to learn before.

“I’ll teach you, it's easy” you smiled, handing her the garment with one hand, and the needle with the other.

She looked unsure, lost even, but she took it nonetheless.

“Hold the fabric with this hand, and move the needle with the other, up and down in as straight a line as you can manage” you instructed, keeping it as simple as you possibly could until she got the hang of it.

You knew this was probably a tad bit overwhelming, and if she didn't go it right the first time, she would get discouraged but luckily, years by Daryl’s side had taught you a patience that nothing else ever could.

You could sit here all day if you had to, as long as she got the hang of it.

Lydia had been living with her pack of skin walkers all this time, only doing what she was told, but that wasn’t the life she was living now.

She was part of a community, and she had a family, but that also meant that she had to learn to protect and provide for herself when you weren’t there. If something ever happened to you or Daryl, she still had to live.

Her clothes couldn’t be ripped or ruined, her wounds couldn’t stay open to fester, and eventually, she would need to cook and clean for herself too, but for now, a helping hand was all you needed.

People were what kept your communities running, and your home was no different. You and Daryl were a team, communicating without words most of the time, and she was part of that now.

She was part of the team.

“Like that?” she tried, hoping that some part of what she was doing was right. There was no real way to tell but you didn’t seem upset so that had to be a good sign.

It was a strangely domestic task for her, one that brought back memories of her people, her old people, sewing up masks of tanned human skin. The motion was the same, the idea was the same, but there was something normal about this.

She was just fixing a shirt.

There was nothing volatile or aggressive about this, and it wasn’t for anything other than someone she cared for. That made it a little easier to stomach than any other chore may have been.

This was for Daryl after all, and if anyone had earned something like this, it was him.

Lydia wasn’t blind.

She knew what the two of you had done for her, always making sure she had something to eat and sticking up for her when the others got a little too comfortable with their distaste for her.

“Exactly, just a little closer together” you prompted, smiling when she did just as you asked. She was a quick learner, and you knew that she could do this.

This was normal, real, and the sooner she learned that she could live a completely normal life, the sooner she would really adapt to life in a community like this one.

“Once you’re done, you can help Daryl with dinner. I’m sure he’d love the help”

It was hardly where she expected to be, but it was more than where she’d been. At least, with you and Daryl, Lydia knew that she was safe.

[sierraraeck]

How to Apologize

Spencer x Luke x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You can’t believe that for the four months since you’ve joined the team, and have been relentlessly flirting with the two hot agents, no one thought to tell you that they were together. Luke and Spencer decide they should apologize to you with an impromptu, late-night visit.

Category: Smut. Essentially pwp. A little fluff and a dash of angst if you squint.

Warnings: Cussing. Alcohol mentioned. Fingering (vaginal and anal), oral (male and female receiving), protected penetration, double penetration. Use of condoms and lube.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Welcome back to episode three of me being in love with Ralvez. I’ve just really been in a mood for them lately, so I hope you enjoy what my mind comes up with when I just keep thinking about them ;)

You’ve got to be shitting me.

You couldn’t believe it. Luke and Spencer were together, and had been for over a year now. You’d only been on the team for about four months, all of which you spent unabashedly flirting with both of them.

Everyone knew it, too. It wasn’t like you were particularly quiet about expressing how much you enjoyed their company, and how easy they were on the eyes. It was fun for you, and you thought it was fun for them. They both seemed kind of into it, and the team found it a little funny.

Now you’re understanding why they found it funny. Because the whole time, you’d been embarrassing yourself by flirting with taken men. And they weren’t just taken. They were dating each other.

“You’re joking,” you said, with absolutely no humor. You were sitting on a barstool looking around at the shit-eating grins around you. They all shook their heads.

Your mouth was agape, “You’re fucking joking. You all saw this happening and not one of you had the decency to tell me!? This is bullshit!”

This just caused more laughter to erupt around you. Luckily, the bar you were at was pretty noisy, so not too much attention was drawn to your group.

“Honestly?” Emily started, “We just wanted to see, you know, as a profiler, how long it’d take you to figure it out.”

“And we,” Luke hopped in, gesturing to him and Spencer, “Wanted to see how well we could control our microexpressions.”

“This is some shit,” you mumbled to yourself, still wrapping your head around what was being said. You were trying to be light-hearted about it, and you had to admit it was a pretty good one they pulled on you, but you still felt a little insulted. And embarrassed. Oh god, you felt really embarrassed. Especially now that you knew they were ‘testing your skills’ or something, and you weren’t good enough to pick up on their relationship. You offered a disbelieving smile and shook your head. “You know what? I’m disinviting myself from this, and I’m going to go home, because otherwise… Actually let’s not talk about what would be happening otherwise.” The whole team gave you some strange looks at that comment, and you just took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m just gonna go.”

“Hey, Y/N, wait!” Tara called after you. You turned to face her. “We meant no harm by it!”

You laughed and acknowledged, “Oh, I know! I just think that maybe I should do a little mental detox now that I know I need to cool it.” You winked, trying to make everything calm and casual so that there would be no weird feelings when you returned to work on Monday.

But you definitely had weird feelings. About the deliberate joke that led you down a very deep rabbit hole, about the fact that you couldn’t just ‘detox’ the two men from your mind, and about how long they let the joke mess with your feelings.

It didn’t matter, though, because Spencer and Luke were together, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things complicated.

You were seated on your couch with a glass of wine watching reruns of your favorite show when you heard a knock at the door. You were in your pajamas, a navy tank top with matching shorts, and had been home for nearly two hours. It was a little past midnight, and you were actually about to go to bed. You couldn’t figure out who was at your door, and why the hell they’d be there past midnight, but one look through the peephole gave you clarity.

Two tall, handsome, nervous figures stood, waiting for you to answer. You sighed, unlocking the bolt and pulling the door open. You had the slightest idea to grab a jacket or something to throw on over your pajamas, but you were no longer trying to impress the agents before you.

“Hey guys,” you croaked, voice sounding tired.

Spencer and Luke were still acting a bit nervous, but Luke gave you a small smile. “Hey Y/N. May we come in?”

You gave them a once over, realizing they were both in large, matching, burgundy robes. You were confused, and gave them a strange look, but stepped to the side regardless. They quickly scampered into your apartment.

Once inside, Luke shut and locked the door, standing in front of it. You waited for them to say something.

Instead, they looked at each other, took a deep breath, then undid their robes, dropping them to the floor. They were completely and utterly naked.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, unable to peel your eyes away from the two of them.

They both smirked slightly at your reaction, and Spencer brought your attention back to his eyes when he said, “We figured we needed to apologize.”

All you could manage was a weak ‘uh-huh.’

“As long as you were serious about some of the things you said-” Luke started.

“And were actually flirting with us because you liked us-” Spencer continued.

“We wanted to show you that we were serious and flirting with you, too,” Luke concluded.

Again, all you got out was an ‘uh-huh.’ They looked at you expectantly, so you picked your jaw up off the floor and forced your brain to say something more helpful. “Yes, I was dead serious, yes, I was actually flirting with you, and, to answer your next question, yes.”

“The last yes was for what?” Luke half-teased.

“Whatever the fuck is happening right now,” you gestured to their bare forms, “yes.” They both laughed slightly, and just as Spencer was about to take a step toward you, you held up your hand. “Hold on, wait. I know you said you were serious, but is this something the two of you actually want, or is this just out of pity?” you asked skeptically.

Luke’s eyes went wide, “We actually want this.”

At the same time, Spencer said, “This is not out of pity.”

They seemed sincere, and that was good enough for you.

This time when Spencer stepped toward you, you didn’t stop him. His lips latched on to yours, and you immediately sank into his warmth. His lips were soft and his tongue was energetic, searching every part of your mouth it could reach. Luckily for you, he was already stark naked, giving you free reign to explore his bare chest.

As Spencer was exploring your mouth, Luke came up behind you and started lifting your shirt off your frame. His hands felt nice, just barely brushing up against your cold sides. You and Spencer had to part, but only for a moment, as Luke pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side.

You already felt like you couldn’t breathe, but when Luke seductively trailed his fingers up your sides and around between you and Spencer to start toying with your nipples, you thought you might never breathe again. Spencer started kissing down the column of your throat, sucking slightly at each point. Without Spencer’s mouth to absorb the sound, they could both hear the small gasps and whimpers you made at each touch.

Luke was firmly at your back, his hot chest pressed up against your shoulder blades, or maybe the fire radiating from them was all in your head, you couldn’t quite tell. Spencer wrapped his arms around your back, and pulled you all the way to him, leaving barely any room for Luke’s fingers to continue their ministrations. You made a snarky remark in your head about how you weren’t surprised about Spencer’s possessiveness, until he reached behind you. Luke groaned in your ear shortly after Spencer squeezed your ass and continued his trail to the growing bulge behind you. Spencer was quite good at multitasking. Kissing, sucking, stroking… That didn’t surprise you, however. You knew how fast his mind could work, and how it always seemed to be thinking about multiple things at once.

It didn’t really surprise you either that Luke was less good at multitasking. Still amazing, but not like Spencer. With that in mind, you decided to turn the attention of the group a little bit. You turned in Luke’s now still arms, back against Spencer’s chest. You gave Spencer enough room to continue massaging Luke, but you did lean forward enough to plant your lips on his.

Luke’s kiss was different from Spencer’s. His lips were plump and captivating, and his tongue was a bit more languid than Spencer’s, granted that could’ve been because most of his attention was being drawn elsewhere.

“Wait,” Luke panted, pulling away from you. You and Spencer both immediately stopped what you were doing and looked up at him. “Bedroom?”

You tilted your head in the direction of the door down hall, and the three of you moved like it was a mad dash to get there first.

Once inside, Luke’s lips reattached themselves to yours, and he walked you backwards toward the bed, hands on your waist. They traveled lower, over your still-clothed ass, and spread flat on the back of your thighs. Somehow, you knew what he wanted, lacing your fingers together behind his neck and jumping into his sculpted arms. He swiftly strode the rest of the way to the mattress and plopped you down, following quickly with his own body. Your legs were partially wrapped around his middle and his hands were back on your waist again, this time toying with the waistband of your pajama shorts. You had a fleeting thought about how you wished you were wearing any of the cute lingerie pieces in your drawer, but before ten minutes ago, you never thought the situation you were currently in would even be possible, let alone happen. It wouldn’t matter much longer anyways, as Luke’s fingers were pulling away the remaining garments.

Now, completely bare in front of him, Luke pulled back to admire you. Spencer was at his side, also eyeing you, but wasn’t quite as patient. He crawled up the bed, looking you straight in the eye. You nodded to him, your silent consent for him to lower his head, placing delicate kisses all around your neck and chest. He was back to doing what he had only moments ago, only this time he travelled farther down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You took a shuddering breath, weaving your fingers into his shaggy curls.

Luke stood, admiring the sight. His boyfriend was hunched over their mutual crush, drawing the most arousing whines from your mouth. It went straight to his cock. But, while this was definitely a mutual pleasure situation, it was also a way to make it up to you. He wanted to make sure you got all the attention first before going any further.

With that in mind, Luke joined the two of you, his focus a little farther south than Spencer’s. You’d been so caught up in the feeling of Spencer’s tongue and teeth nipping at your peaks that the feeling of Luke’s fingers circling your clit drew a dramatic gasp from your lungs. You tugged a little harder on Spencer’s locks, causing him to moan into your skin. You made a side note to yourself about hair pulling for Spencer for future reference. You were optimistic that you’d need it.

Luke started gradually picking up the pace on your clit as Spencer switched his attention to the neglected breast. You knew that you were already pooling, and despite not being able to see anything past Spencer’s mess of hair, you could tell that Luke was pleased. His index finger circled around your entrance, one, two, three times before pushing in. Your back arched off the sheets, pushing your nipples further into Spencer’s mouth and palm. Your jaw hung open in a silent moan.

Spencer noticed, and teased, “Come on, you’re usually not this quiet when it comes to expressing how much you enjoy our company.”

Luke leaned up, finger still pushing in and out of you, to see your face. He barely caught what Spencer was referencing, as you were trying to snap your jaw shut, and smirked down at you. He turned his head to the side and started kissing up the side of Spencer’s neck, who habitually craned it to the side, providing more access. Luke added a second digit, scissoring them inside you. Spencer hummed happily at the little hickies Luke was scattering all over his neck, and you felt the heat in your belly start to burn. God, it was so fucking hot, in every sense of the word.

Luke curled both of his fingers upwards, hitting that perfect spot, as he latched his lips to Spencer’s. With the combination of the sight and both men’s ministrations, you fell over the edge.

You squeezed your eyes shut, only a little disappointed that you couldn’t continue looking at them, as your lungs expelled any air you had in your chest.

When the waves of pleasure had mostly subsided, you managed to lift your eyelids, peering up at the sight above you. Luke and Spencer were still attached at the mouth, but they pulled away, Spencer laughing a little while Luke just grinned.

“Remind me to always kiss you like that when we have guests,” Luke said to Spencer, then winked at you. You gave a weak shrug, still too blissed out to form coherent sentences. It wasn’t your fault that the two people you’d been fantasizing about kissing on top of you turned you on. No way in hell you were ashamed about it, either.

Still laying there a bit dazed, the fluffy haired boys rolled over, taking all the heat with them. Spencer was hovering over Luke, tracing his tongue down Luke’s defined muscles before reaching his destination.

Spencer wasted no time running his flattened tongue up and down Luke’s length before sucking at the tip. Luke ran his fingers through Spencer’s hair, and both seemed to relax into each other. Despite the explicit sight in front of you, everything about the two of them, clearly starting to drift into their own world, was domestic. Caring and filled with love. You almost didn’t want to disrupt them, but the overpowering need to be near them won out.

Spencer’s lower half was over the edge of the bed, his toes being the only thing holding him up and giving him a vantage point. You slid off the bed yourself and tried to soundlessly move behind the younger man, coming to rest in a squat.

Spencer was getting Luke all worked up, raspy grunts mixing with satisfied hums as Spencer bobbed his head up and down. His movements came to a screeching halt when you leaned up against the foot of your bed and swiped your tongue quickly over Spencer’s tip. He let out a soft whine, muffled by Luke’s skin, who took a sharp inhale at the vibration.

Spencer’s dick was hard and spilling precum as you worked it into your mouth. His hips started moving of their own accord, forcing you to take him deeper, faster. The three of you started a steady rhythm that was already faltering. Both men were getting close.

Propped up only on your toes, you almost lost your balance once, digging your nails into Spencer’s side for support. He growled, and just because you could, you dragged your nails down the rest of his backside. All of the muscles tensed at once, and you smiled as best you could with your mouth full, moving your hands back to work what your tongue couldn’t.

Abruptly, Spencer pulled his hips back from you, and crawled further up the bed. You followed, getting up from your spot on the ground. Your toes, on the brink of cramping, weren’t complaining.

You realized why Spencer had pulled away so quickly, catching Luke coaxing Spencer into his lap. Even though they were in a slightly different position, it didn't stop you from what you’d been doing before.

Right as Spencer got situated on Luke’s cock, just starting to roll his hips, you took Spencer back in your mouth. You had one foot on the ground, the other knee next to Luke’s torso. Spencer was louder than you’d expected, letting curses and praises fly past his lips as if they were statistics of the utmost importance.

Luke was less vocal, but he seemed more coherent. Barely.

“Come here, baby,” Luke panted. Pulling off Spencer for a moment, you looked back at Luke. His face was already glistening, and he was gesturing toward your legs. You lifted the one closest to him, and he eased it over his head. Straddling his face, he pulled you down to him, licking a clean stripe up your slit. You moaned his name, letting your head hang.

He was just so warm. Everything about Luke was warm. His personality, his face, his tongue and mouth and literal body temperature. It made you feel safe. Thinking that, you realized just how perfect he was for Spencer. You could tell Spencer wasn’t someone who experienced warmth very frequently, you’d heard about his cold past, but you were happy that there was finally someone to show him some. It made you feel even more embarrassed that you hadn’t noticed their relationship sooner.

Lost in thought, you’d stopped doing anything besides feeling Luke’s tongue alternate between pushing into you and swirling around your clit, something Spencer was less excited about. His large hand cupped your face, causing you to look up into his pleading eyes. You stifled a giggle at the sight, quickly figuring out why he was looking at you like that. You returned to tracing your tongue up and down his cock, but it was becoming much harder to focus.

Luckily, you could feel how close Spencer was to finishing, and gave him the silent ‘okay’ to finish in your mouth.

Hot ropes of cum filled your throat, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes when Spencer pushed all the way into your mouth. You were gasping for air when Spencer leaned back from you, and so was Luke as he desperately called Spencer’s name. He must’ve been close when Spencer momentarily stopped moving to find his own release.

The pressure between your hips was building as you continued to watch Luke disappear inside Spencer. You started wriggling your hips for more friction against Luke’s mouth and slight scruff, but Luke wouldn’t let you. He wrapped his arms almost completely around your waist, and pulled you down like an anchor. No matter how much moving you did, there would be no getting out of his grasp, not like you really wanted to anyway.

You couldn’t tell which one of you finished first, but your collective moans filled the air all the same. You whined at Luke who continued to lick up every ounce of moisture from you, the sensations starting to become a little too much.

He let you go, and you took a moment or two to deep breathe, forcing oxygen back into your lungs. Once Spencer thought you’d gotten sufficient air, he took it all away from you again, leaning down to kiss you. He tasted himself on your tongue, which only made him relive the fresh memory over again.

He peppered little kisses down your neck and side, which was a tad ticklish. Spencer caught on despite you trying to keep yourself together, noticing the slight flinching in your muscles. He spent extra time working you up until you were laughing and begging him to stop.

Spencer was working his way down to Luke, who’d been absentmindedly massaging your cheeks for no other reason than he wanted to touch your tush.

You weren't sure how, but the two tall men were able to kiss each other around you, Luke sitting up and Spencer leaning forward. He got to taste you off of Luke’s lips, and was almost jealous that he didn’t decide to take Luke’s spot instead.

You leaned into Luke’s chest, resting your head on his shoulder and reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his soft curls, much shorter than Spencer’s but fun to play with nonetheless. They kissed each other with more passion than you’d really ever seen before, one hand touching the other man, their other hand tracing the curves of your body. You felt like you could fall asleep in the exact position you were in, half on Luke’s lap, half on Spencer’s.

But alas, there was still plenty of night to fill. Spencer asked if you had any lube and condoms, and you were about to get up and get them, but both men kept you where you were. You started wondering how much the two of them talked about or planned before showing up at your door, but decided those were questions for a later hour.

You directed Spencer to where both were kept while Luke turned you around to face him. You had a very quick discussion about cleanliness, something you were relieved to find out wasn’t an issue for any party, and Luke was sliding on a condom and pushing into you before you knew it. Pregnancy wasn’t something you were looking for at the moment.

Luke had been doing most of the work up until Spencer returned, his presence really only being a shifting of air behind you. Your eyes were locked on Luke’s eyes which were flicking between you and the man behind you.

It took you all the way up until Spencer’s hip bones came in contact with your ass that you realized what Spencer wanted the lube for. That and the guttural groan that ripped itself from Luke’s chest. At that point, Luke had stilled his thrusts up into you, so you decided to keep the pace, bouncing up and down on Luke’s ever-hardening dick. You braced yourself with a hand on his chest, his skin feeling like it might melt your fingertips.

Spencer snaked his hands around your body, cupping your breast in his hands and rolling your nipples around between his fingers. Spencer, you were convinced, had bad circulation, feeling colder than you and Luke. You arched your back into him regardless, giving him full access to nip down your neck as he continued to pound into Luke. You had barely noticed the slowing of your hips atop Luke’s until Spencer placed his hands on your waist with a bruising grip. He set a much faster pace for you and Luke than either of you had set before, but you couldn’t be mad. Each thrust pushed you further and further toward the edge.

That all stopped when Spencer lightly leaned you over Luke’s body, Luke gladly accepting by pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around your back. The three of you were still moving, but only in the slightest way you could from your positions.

With your face buried in Luke’s neck, reveling in the momentary reprieve of a slower pace, Luke must’ve been looking at Spencer who was tracing all sorts of patterns on your ass. You felt like there was a silent conversation you were being left out of.

You were clued in when Spencer traced a single finger right over your puckered hole, all the muscles contracting at the sudden contact. Luke whined at the tension, as he was still completely sheathed inside you.

Spencer lightly continued his tracing, close but not too close, as he leaned over your back and asked, “Is it okay if I touch you here?” He emphasized his words with another swipe over your hole. This time, you were a bit more prepared.

You twisted your neck around to look at Spencer’s face. It was soft and questioning, showing you that, while he was interested, he clearly wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want to. But you were intrigued. You’d only ever tried it once before with a definitely straight man, and it was just medium. Nothing you had really considered doing again until now, but you trusted Spencer. And honestly, who better to give it a second chance with than someone who knew what he was doing? Not only that, but frequently participated in it with his boyfriend?

You nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Let us know if you are ever uncomfortable or need us to stop,” Luke reminded.

You turned your attention back to him and nodded again. “I will.”

Now with confirmation from you, Spencer dripped some of your lube at the top of your ass, watching it roll all the way down to where you and Luke were connected. Luke had stopped moving completely, and you were staying still enough for Spencer to slowly push a finger into you. He confirmed with you one more time that you were okay, which you assured him you were, before he started moving.

He was nice and slow to start, allowing you time to adjust to the feeling. As Luke started rocking back and forth with his hips, Spencer added a second finger, scissoring them to help stretch you out. You hissed at the added pressure.

Both men started moving a bit faster, pulling gasps out of you faster than you could bring air back in. You were surprised that you whined when Spencer removed his fingers, not realizing how much you were actually enjoying yourself. You felt empty with the loss of contact, but didn’t have to worry for long when the familiar ‘pop’ of the lube cap let you know it had been opened.

A few moments later and Spencer was filling you up at a tantalizing pace. Luke slowed again, allowing you time to adjust to the new sensations. The man at your back pulled clean out of you, drawing yet another whimper, as the one below you placed his firm hands on you back and rolled the two of you to the side.

Spencer was at your back again, already pushing back into you as Luke pulled your top leg over his hips, giving both men better access.

It started out slow and sensual, but gradually turned into something desperate and frantic. Hands were groping over bodies, mouths were attaching themselves to any lips or skin available. Spencer was massaging your tits from behind and Luke hand his arms draped over your hips to bring you closer to him with each thrust by your ass. The three of you were a mess of limbs and moans, each trying to meet your end.

Spencer came first, sloppy thrusts coming to a halt behind you, and tried to muffle his groans in the flesh of the base of your neck. It didn’t help much. You were right behind him, the brutal pace they had been pounding into you becoming too much. You were worried you might have blown Luke’s eardrum out with how closely you were screaming next to him, a sound your neighbor was sure to mention when filing a complaint you couldn’t care to feel guilty about.

You and Spencer were floating down from your highs, but Luke wasn’t as satisfied. He pulled out of you, cold air hitting your body and sending a shock through your system. His lips were on yours quickly, which had you melting again.

He growled in that deep voice of his about turning you around, which made you feel all tingly until he actually did it. It took more effort than you care to admit to simply change sides, facing Spencer now. It was good to look at his face again. You had absolutely no problem with Luke’s (who would?), but you wanted to look at them equally. Unfortunately, you weren’t born with eyes in the back of your head.

You were back in the same position you’d been in, just this time your other leg was propped up on Spencer’s more pronounced hip bones and not Luke’s. Spencer quickly took advantage of getting to see your face head on, capturing your lips with his. His tongue slid into your mouth when you gasped at the feeling of Luke entering you from behind. It was a bit easier for him to slide in, Spencer having already stretched you out. Luke joined Spencer as they both kissed down your neck, only stopping briefly to kiss each other.

The slightly younger man trailed all the way down to your breasts, taking your nubs in his mouth or fingers. Luke was still marking up your neck, brushing his fingers down your sides. With each of his thrusts, your heat was grinding against Spencer’s length, which you felt continually get harder. He looked into your eyes and you whispered the few words of your consent, not being able to get anything else out.

He bucked his hips up into yours, having no trouble as you were still wet from your previous orgasm and your impending one. The feeling of the two of them pushing and pulling inside you, hitting different spots from different angles, you knew you weren’t going to last long. It just felt so good to be completely filled up to the hilt.

Needing something to grasp on to, your fingers immediately found Spencer’s curls. You remembered from earlier he seemed to like it, so you tugged, pulling a delicious groan from his pink and puffy lips. You felt Luke’s labored breath on your ear, and with the few brain cells that were still working, you could tell that the three of you were very, very close.

You snapped first, clawing your nails down Spencer’s back, and the feeling seemed to be enough for him. The sound of his love and his crush moaning in harmony pushed Luke over the edge, joining your symphony.

The three of you laid there panting before both men got up to remove their condoms. Luke came back with a towel to wipe you clean of yourself, Spencer putting the lube back where he found it. Luke tossed the towel to the side, laying down next to you. Spencer walked back into your room on slightly shaky legs, which made you smile just a bit. He, too, collapsed next to you. You were able to see all the red marks on his back and thighs from your nails, and you almost felt bad for not spreading the wealth around a little more, only Spencer’s skin receiving the assault.

Soon, all of your breathing reached a normal level, and Spencer pulled the sheets up over his body, Luke helping him get you under, then sliding under himself.

You sighed with content, then laughed, drawing both men’s attention to you, as if it weren’t already. “Wow. You sure know how to apologize.”

They both chuckled with you, cuddling even closer now.

“So was it worth it?” Luke half-teased.

You pretended to think about it, but replied, cheeky, “I mean, you could have told me sooner, but I guess I don’t mind the two of you needing to apologize.” And to be honest, you hoped there’d be more reasons for apologies in the future.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Sixty Six Percent [Spencer x fem! Reader]

A/N - This is for my “girls night out” square on my CM bingo card for @cmbingo​, which you can find the masterlist for here. Also loosely based off this prompt I’ve been wanting to write for a while - Our best friends are that awful “cute” couple that make out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and god they’re awful, let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “oh we’re that awful couple now”. Includes some Galvez and is set circa season 14 ish. Bottom right image taken from Kirsten’s Instagram. 

CW - not much really - just drinking and fluff.

In which girls night takes an unexpected turn when it coincides with boys night.

WC: 2.2K

Find my full Masterlist here.

Western’s bar in DC on a Friday night had been a must for girls night out. It was known for its cheap drinks, loud music and packed dance floor. Everything you and the girls were looking for. 

When your closest friends worked for the FBI, arranging girls night was always a near impossible feat. You’d lost count of how many times Penelope, Emily, JJ and Tara had to bail on your plans because another case had come up. 

You understood, you’d been best friends with Penelope for years now and you appreciated their schedules were hectic but you were always left downtrodden when they’d had to cancel again. 

But finally after weeks of cancellations and rescheduling, tonight they had been free for girls night. 

Shots were flowing and you all showed off your moves on the dance floor. You and Tara being the only single ones of the group danced with a few men but it was all harmless flirting, nothing serious. 

You weren’t looking to take someone home tonight. 

It was nearing midnight and you had all taken a break from dancing to rehydrate with vodka. You noticed Penelope’s eyes shift away from the girls across the room and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it, Pen?” You asked her, having to speak loudly to be heard over the music. 

“We can’t just have one night.” She rolled her eyes but then her face broke out into a large smile. “Excuse me.” And with that she sauntered off.

Your gaze followed where she had gone to see her throwing herself into the arms of her boyfriend, Luke Alvez. 

You chuckled to yourself, nudging Emily in the arm.

“They just can’t stay away from each other can they?” You laughed.

“It’s disgusting really.” Emily also laughed. 

“Looks like they're having a boys night. We should probably go and say hi.” JJ shrugged.

“I suppose it would be rude not to.” Tara agreed.

The four of you followed in Penelope’s footsteps across the room. You’d met most of the team over the years thanks to Penelope and you said your hellos to Luke, Rossi and Matt. 

The last man you came to had incredible hazel eyes, which even in the dim lighting of the bar you could see were flecked with gold. He had a light stubble on his cheeks and untamed curls you had a sudden desire to run your fingers through. 

Spencer Reid, you assumed. You’d heard of him countless times but for whatever reason the two of you had never met. You got the impression he avoided social situations in lieu of more academic pursuits. 

You’d heard stories of his time in prison and looking at him now it struck you that there was a hint of sadness in those hazel eyes and you assumed that must be why. 

“You must be Spencer.” You smiled a little shyly at him. You had no idea he’d be so attractive. “I’m Y/N.”

He smiled at you but you noticed it was stifled. Like he knew the fact you knew his name meant you knew what had happened to him.

“Yes, I’m Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you Y/N, I can’t believe we’ve never met before.” Despite the sadness about him, his eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked at you and it made you feel hot under the collar. 

“Me either.” You couldn’t help but beam, had Penelope been hiding him from you? He was just your type. 

You turned to look at your friends briefly but were surprised to find them gone. Tara, Emily, JJ and Matt were now dancing in the middle of the floor while Rossi propped up the bar, sipping his single malt. 

A few feet from where you were standing with Spencer, Luke and Penelope were swapping saliva in an extremely NC-17 fashion. 

He had his hands on her voluptuous backside and her fingers were clawing at his shirt. 

“Are they always like this?” You turned back to Spencer with a grimace.

He shrugged.

“Not always but often enough not to be phased by it anymore.” He chucked a little. 

“Young love.” You laughed too. 

“They’re actually pretty cute when they aren’t pushing the boundaries of public displays of affection.” 

“Pen always refers to him as bunny, it makes me sick.” You laughed harder.

“Oh gosh.” Spencer pulled a face. “They flirt over the phone on cases all the time. It takes forever to get an answer out of Garcia because they have to flirt in every single call.”

“I bet he hasn’t described to you their sex life in graphic detail. Because Penelope has.” You shudder a little. “I know more about Luke’s anatomy than I ever needed to know.”

“That’s...that’s unfortunate.” Spencer laughed. 

“Yeah that’s one way to put it.” 

“Can I buy you a drink?” His smile was much less sad now, and more genuine as he looked at you. The way he was smiling at you made you feel weak. 

“That would be really nice.” You nodded. 

You followed Spencer to the bar where he ordered you both a drink and paid. He then led you over to a small booth away from the chaos where you sat next to him to allow you to be able to converse over the music. At least that’s what you told yourself.

It had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to be close to him. Absolutely nothing. 

“One time we were on a case in Boston and I called Garcia and for whatever reason she thought I was Luke and she started graphically describing what she was going to do to me, Luke when I got home. It was...disturbing to say the least.” 

“Oh wow. That sounds...horrible.” You laughed. 

“I’ve not been able to properly look her in the eye since.” Spencer pulled a face.

“They are the definition of sickening. But they’re happy. I guess that’s all that matters.” You shrugged, sipping your drink. “They’re lucky, one night stands have never worked out that well for me.” 

“No?” Spencer looked inquisitive. “I’ve never had one.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought everyone had had at least one.”

“Statistically only sixty six percent of American’s have had a one night stand before.” 

“I forgot Penelope told me you were a genius.” You laughed again. “That’s a surprisingly low number.” 

“It’s still over two hundred and sixteen million people.” he didn’t even look as though he had to think to know something like that. You were impressed and felt slightly inadequate in comparison to him.

“Oh, in that case I suppose it is a lot.” you didn’t really know what you could say to that. “Can I ask why you’ve never had a one night stand?”

Spencer contemplated his answer this time. Facts and statistics rolled off his tongue but when he had to speak of personal things it often took him a moment to find the right thing to say.

“I suppose I’m a romantic at heart. One night stands seem kind of...disheartening to me. I’m not saying never but I’ve never felt the need thus far in my life.”

“See I don’t agree.” you turned in your seat so you could look at him properly. This close you could really see his incredible bone structure, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. You wanted to run your fingertips over the delicate curves of his face, kiss the stubble on his soft skin and make your way to those plump lips of his. “Being single is hard, especially when your best friend is Penelope who is and is all loved up with Alvez. One night stands provide a little solace from the loneliness I guess.” you shrugged, trying not to sound like you were throwing a pity party for yourself. 

“But isn’t it just lonely all over again when it's over?” Spencer leaned closer to you and your eyes were fixated on his lips. 

“I don’t know.” mirroring him, you leaned closer. “We could always find out.” you smirked at him. You had just met him and you knew being so brazenly flirtatious could be dangerous territory. But you’d gone all these years without ever crossing paths so you supposed if this went south and Spencer rebuffed you then avoiding him wouldn’t be that difficult. 

His facial expression didn’t change so you had no idea what he was thinking or how he had taken your advances. He leaned even closer and your eyes were still locked on his lips.

“Are you asking me to come home with you Y/N?” his eyes were dark, lust perhaps? 

“I’m asking you to join the sixty six percent Spencer.” 

For a few long seconds neither of you moved or spoke. Spencer eyes fell over you, lingering longer on your lips. You shifted a little in your seat feeling hot under his intense gaze. He leaned even closer and you thought he was about to kiss you, but just as he inched towards you, a voice snapped you back to reality.

“Y/N there you are!” it was Emily. “And Spence, hey.” 

“Hi Emily, what’s up?” you would never forgive her if she had gotten in the way of Spencer kissing you.

“Come and dance, it's girls night!” she tugged your arm, pulling you so you were on your feet. 

Spencer shuffled out of the booth behind you. As Emily started dragging you towards the dancefloor, he came close to your ear and whispered “I’ll come and find you later.” and then he headed over towards Rossi who was still propping up the bar.

You danced with the girls for hours, even Penelope when she came up for air and pried herself away from Luke for more than a few seconds. The drinks kept flowing, laughter was aplenty; it was a great night all round. It had been worth waiting for.

Around three am you and the girls decided to call it night. You were a little tipsy and your feet hurt from all the dancing. You had lost track of Spencer earlier in the night, you were a little disappointed but it was probably for the best. A one night stand with your best friend's colleague would no doubt only end in disaster. 

You said your goodbyes outside, hugs and cheek kisses were dished out and they all promised you would have another girls night as soon as their schedules allowed. You lived on the other side of town than the girls so you waved off their cab from the curb and awaited the next one. It wasn’t long before another cab pulled up and to your confusion the rear window rolled down as it came to a stop.

“Told you I’d find you later.” Spencer smiled at you from the backseat. 

You tried to hide your blush as you slid in next to him. 

“I thought you left.” you buckled yourself in and almost immediately Spencer took hold of your hand.

“Not without you.” he leaned closer and then his lips pressed against yours in the backseat of the cab and you felt your whole body turn to jelly at the sensation. He used his free hand to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

You felt a jolt of electricity coarse through you, something you had never felt before. Your lips moved in such a synchronized fashion it was crazy to think you had never done this before. You felt as though you’d waited your entire life for this moment. 

The kiss lasted a few minutes and when it ended you both panted slightly, trying to grasp at the air that had escaped your lungs. He kept his hand on your cheek, stroking small circles on your skin with his thumb. 

“Are you ready to join the sixty six percent club Spencer?” you smirked at him in the dark. 

He kissed you again, softly this time, more cautiously. 

“I’m quite comfortable in the minority. And I already know I am not going to be able to settle for one night with you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and the loving look he was giving you. You squeezed his hand, kissing him once more.

“If you take me for breakfast in the morning, you can have as many nights as you like.” you winked at him which made him blush a little.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, my love.”

“Thirty four percent it is then.” you laughed, settling your head on Spencer’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your head. 

You would have to berate Penelope for not introducing you to Spencer sooner. But you might also need to cut her and Luke some slack, because you had a feeling you and Spencer were going to become an awful, cutesy couple just like them. But when it was happening to you, you didn’t mind so much. Maybe you’d even let Spencer call you bunny…

...On second thoughts, maybe not. Somethings would never change. You’d leave the cringey nicknames to Penelope and Luke. At least for now anyway. Tomorrow was another day. 

[snelbz]

Life As We Know it {Chapter 15}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta looked in the mirror and figured she looked decent enough. Having not been on an actual date in quite some time, she felt a little off her game, but the dress she had chosen felt better than the others she had tried on.

After admiring the deep, crimson color and the way her breasts looked in the low neckline, Nesta sprayed her hair and slipped on her heels before grabbing her clutch and walking down the stairs.

Nyx was in the living room, bouncing up and down in his exersaucer. When he saw Nesta, he grinned.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and hoping her lipstick hadn’t rubbed off. “Cassian?”

“Kitchen!”

“I’m heading out,” Nesta said, leaning back up.

He was a room away, in the kitchen, making the gods knew what for their dinner. Nyx always ate whatever she made for him, but it was typically a challenge. Earlier in the week, Cass had started deviating from his generic meals for Nyx of jarred baby food and puffs. It seemed like it didn’t matter what the man fed him, Nyx adored it.

She made her way into the other room and stood behind a chair at the kitchen table and cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be home too late,” she said, drumming her fingers along the wood.

Cass glanced back at her and his eyebrows rose. “You sure? You look pretty nice for shouldn’t be home too late.”

Blushing, she said, “We’re just going to dinner.”

He turned back to the stove, where he was sautéing some broccoli and carrots, but she caught the smirk on his face. “I doubt dinner will be the only thing he wants to eat.”

A knock from the front door halted whatever her response was going to be.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Cassian blinked. “Are you going to get that or should I?”

Nesta huffed as she made her way back through the house and opened the front door.

Balthazar was there, that glorious smile plastered on his handsome face. His brown eyes went wide in appreciation. “Wow. You look incredible.”

Nesta looked down at her dress before saying, “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks-.”

“Alright, don’t keep her out too late and make sure she doesn’t drink too much.” Nesta spun around to find Cassian leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “She’s not a pretty drunk.”

She widened her eyes at him, not sure if he was joking or not. The glimmer in his eyes said yes, but she couldn’t be sure.

Balthazar narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze trailing down Cassian’s arms. “Are you Illyrian?”

Nesta swore she felt the tension in the room thicken at the three words.

“I am,” Cassian said, and she wondered if the flexing of his arms was intentional or not. “So I’d be real careful what the next words out of your mouth are.”

Balthazar smirked and unbuttoned one of his shirt sleeves, rolling it up to reveal—

Illyrian markings.

Cassian’s brows shot up and Nesta looked back and forth between the two of them.

“You’re from Illyria?” Nesta asked, once it was clear that Cassian wouldn’t say a thing.

“I am,” Balthazar said. “Grew up in the mountains. Moved here nearly a decade ago, but my parents still live there. I go there a couple of times a year.”

Cassian whistled before Nesta could say anything. “The mountains are beautiful. My mom used to take me up there for a getaway when I was younger.”

“Ah, yeah, I love it there,” Balthazar said. “I’d love to move back someday.”

Nesta cleared her throat, awkwardly. “I hate to break up this bonding moment, but we do have dinner reservations.”

“Right, of course,” Balthazar said, nodding. He stepped back, letting Nesta by. “If you’re ready, we can go.”

“Cass, have a good night,” she said, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

“Yeah, y’all, have fun,” he said, smirking at her as he closed the door behind them.

Balthazar walked Nesta to his car, opening her door for her and heading to his own side, climbing behind the driver seat. They rode in silence for a second before Balthazar said, “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nesta, despite herself, blushed as she looked over at him across the car. “I am, too.”

*

Cassian hadn’t been lying when he told Nesta he wanted her to go out with the doctor. If she had a boyfriend, he’d be less likely to think about sleeping with her again.

But he hadn’t expected to see another Illyrian at the front door. There would have been no way he could’ve known, since Nyx had only had to go to the doctor once while they’d had him, but surely Rhys would have mentioned that his son’s doctor was Illyrian at least once. There weren’t many Illyrians in Velaris, most of them choosing to stay in Illyria, to the north.

He hated that Balthazar was a nice guy.

A great guy.

A damn Illyrian.

While Nesta was gone, Cassian tried to keep his mind off of her on her date. And yet, it’s all he could think about, which was ridiculous. Nesta deserved to be happy, deserved to have fun.

And Cassian wasn’t complaining. He loved hanging out with Nyx, loved doing all the things that uncles did. And yet, Cassian felt off.

Everything was better when Nesta was around.

Nyx whimpered and Cassian seemed to understand as he lifted his nephew out of his bouncy seat and cradled him in his arms.

“Aunt Nesta will be home soon,” he crooned, bouncing Nyx.

The baby still looked around, looking for her.

For the first couple months after the accident, Nyx had constantly looked around, constantly searched for Rhys and Feyre. But recently, he hadn’t been looking around much anymore, and when he was it was for one of them.

Silently, Cassian had hoped it didn’t mean he was forgetting about Rhys and Feyre.

He sighed, carrying him to the kitchen. “Uncle Cass wants some ice cream, how does that sound?”

He clapped once and Cassian chuckled. He got a big bowl, with two spoons and settled back on the couch, Nyx next to him.

Nyx’s bites were much smaller, and Cassian tried his best not to laugh when his eyebrows bunched together, a little brain freeze hitting him unexpectedly. After he’d had a few bites, Cassian set him down on the carpet, letting him crawl over to where his toys sat on the floor.

“When are you gonna walk, dude?” He asked, watching as he banged two plastic blocks against each other.

Nyx had mastered pulling himself up right before he turned one. Yet for whatever reason, he still hasn’t taken his first steps. He and Nesta talked about it a lot, and they’d discussed whether it was something they should ask his doctor about.

He supposed Nesta could do so tonight if she was so inclined.

“It’s about time for bed, you know,” Cassian said, watching as Nyx threw his toys across the living room. “For you and me. Once you go to sleep, I’ll be right behind you.”

Nyx made a noise that nearly made Cassian laugh out loud.

“Exactly,” Cassian went on. “So, let’s get you in your pajamas, then Uncle Cassian is going to relax for a while.”

Nyx didn’t protest as Cassian carried him upstairs and started to get him ready for bed. Cassian gave Nyx a bath and got him into his pajamas before he laid him in his crib. After patting his belly, Cassian went back downstairs and laid on the couch.

He laid in silence for ten minutes before deciding that Nyx was sound asleep and nothing would wake him.

Now, all he could think about was Nesta’s date.

He didn’t let himself think about why that was.

*

Nesta wasn’t sure she had laughed this hard in months. She was actually fairly sure she hadn’t.

Not since before the accident.

“Wait, wait,” she said, using her napkin to dab underneath her eyes, having laughed so hard that tears slipped out. “There were how many people there?”

“At least two thousand at the game and way, way more watching on TV,” Balthazar replied, cringing, reliving the time he’d accidentally been pantsed during a championship baseball game in college.

And had left nothing to the imagination.

Nesta was laughing again, but took a sip of her wine and shook her head. She was having an amazing time. The conversation was coming easily, the food was delicious, and Bal had made a spectacular wine choice.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m having a good time,” she admitted, surprising herself.

He brushed a thumb over her knuckles and smiled. “I am, too.”

Nesta looked down where their hands met. His hands were interesting. Softer than she expected, but strong. Not rough, at all, like Cassian’s were.

Her eyes snapped up to Bal’s.

She wasn’t going to think about Cassian.

“You know, I hear they have amazing desserts here,” Nesta went on, keeping her hand in his.

“I hear the same,” Balthazar said. “In fact, I may have ordered us a sample board while you were in the ladies’ room.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Balthazar nodded with a grin. “I figured why only taste one when you can taste them all?”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Just as dessert came, Balthazar ordered another bottle of wine, and Nesta was blown away. Once again, she knew that doctors made good money, but it was surely the most extravagant date she had ever been on.

Having already eaten the cheesecake and the pavlova, Nesta scooped up a bite of chocolate cake and moaned. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed, delighted.

When she opened her eyes, Balthazar was watching her, intently.

Nesta’s cheeks turned pink.

If she would have been asked to sleep with Balthazar a week before, she would have surely said yes. But now? Even with that look in his eye, she hesitated. He was handsome. Sexy, even, and she was certain that underneath his suit he was built like a Greek god. He was charming. He was kind. He was a perfect gentleman.

On paper, he was complete and utter perfection in every single way.

A part of her — a bigger part of her than she liked to admit — however, couldn’t shake the pleasure she had received only nights before by someone who was very much not the man sitting across the table from her now.

“I’m stuffed,” Nesta said, at last, draining what was left in her wine glass.

“Happily stuffed or in pain stuffed?” Balthazar asked, his voice a little quieter, that look in his eye remaining.

Nesta chuckled, softly. “Oh, happily, for sure.”

“Good,” Balthazar replied, and waved to the server for their check.

They were back in his car within fifteen minutes, and Balthazar reached across the middle console to take Nesta’s hand.

She let him.

“I have to confess,” Balthazar began, his voice just above the soft radio, “that I don’t want this night to end.”

“Does that mean that you’re taking me out again?” Nesta asked, looking over at him.

He smiled, not taking his eyes off the road. “Does that mean you’re saying yes to another date?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” she replied, tracing the line of his long fingers with her free hand. She quietly admitted, “Though, I won’t have another free Saturday for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s okay.” He pulled their joined hands across the console and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I can wait.”

His lips were warm against her skin, and he had just a bit of stubble on his face, enough to tickle, not to scratch. She swallowed roughly, wondering again what he would be like as a lover. From what she knew of him, she was almost sure that he would be sure, slow and calculated. Everything he’d do would be to ensure her pleasure, which she certainly wouldn’t be opposed to, but…

She wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted anymore, not when she knew how amazing it could be to be with someone who was completely unleashed, who was frenzied as he tried to bring her to release, and—

Balthazar said something and Nesta was completely lost in her thoughts. She cleared her throat, grateful he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry, I was out of it for a moment.”

He chuckled quietly. “It’s okay. I asked if you might want to see a movie one night this week, if you had any free nights?”

Nesta thought about it for a moment. “I’m free on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” he repeated, and nodded. “Alright. Thursday. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect,” Nesta said, smiling as Balthazar pulled into her driveway.

He parked, got out, opened Nesta’s door, and walked her up to the front door. “Until Thursday, then.”

“Until Thursday,” she promised. He leaned forward and kissed her, softly.

It was a quick kiss, but it was nice.

They said their goodbyes then Nesta was opening the door, making her way inside.

The house was quiet, as she expected it to be at a quarter till eleven. After slipping off her shoes and setting her clutch near the door, Nesta was tiptoeing through the house, only stopping when she caught sight of Cassian sprawled across the couch.

She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed as she looked at him. He had one of Nyx’s stuffed animals clutched in his hand, halfway behind his head almost as if he was using it as a pillow. One of his legs hung off the side of the couch, his foot pressed flat against the floor, and Nesta couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as she stood there, looking at him. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep, his face relaxed and almost boyish like this. It was so at odds with the smirking mischief she usually saw there. She wondered if this is what he would have looked like if she would have asked him to stay in her bed the other night. Shaking her head, Nesta quickly banished the thought, not wanting to detract from the almost perfect date she’d just had.

Glancing around the living room, she noticed that it was an absolute wreck. Toys were strewn everywhere, as if they’d been thrown as far as Nyx’s little hands could manage them, and a completely melted, but mostly empty bowl of ice cream sat on the coffee table. Unable to stop the quiet chuckle, she silently picked up Nyx’s toys, putting them back in the basket where they belonged. She also scooped up the remains of the bowl of ice cream and carried it into the kitchen.

She turned the water on a low stream and was rinsing out the bowl when she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

“You’re home early.”

The rasp in his voice made her knees weak.

She looked over her shoulder to find Cassian leaning against the doorframe, his eyelids half fallen, one hand scratching the back of his neck.

Nesta chuckled. “Early? Must not be too early if you’re drooling all over the couch cushions.”

Cassian huffed a laugh as he came up behind her. “You don’t have to do that. I was planning on cleaning it.”

“No big deal,” she said, placing it in the dishwasher. “I’m pretty awake, thought I’d take care of a few things anyway.”

Cassian nodded as he leaned back against the island. “So…”

Nesta turned and crossed her arms as she leaned back against the counter. “So.”

“Did you have fun with Doctor Wonderful?” Cassian asked.

“I did,” she said, leaving it at that.

He waited for a moment, but when it was clear that that was all she was going to give him, he asked, “Yet you’re home before midnight and are wide awake enough to clean up after me and the baby?”

Nesta knew what he was asking, what he was insinuating, without voicing the words.

Why didn’t you go home with him?

“It would seem so,” she replied, a hand reaching up okay with the charm dangling from her necklace.

Cassian’s eyes tracked each motion as the charm zipped back and forth along the chain. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip and he nodded. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

She wasn’t sure if she was waiting for him to say something else, but when he abruptly turned and headed for the stairs, she blurted, “How was your night?”

Pausing, Cassian turned back to look at her. He laughed quietly, and said, “My night doesn’t matter, Nes. Just as long as you had fun. Goodnight.”

He didn’t give her a second to reply as he turned the corner and she heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs. A moment later, his door closed.

Nesta spent far too long thinking about his words after he left.

Just as long as you had fun.

Why did such kind, simple words bother her so much?

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite. 

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told. 

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.  

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest. 

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god. 

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.  

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.  

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.  

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say. 

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be. 

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

[drabbles-mc]

Say Cheese

Juice Ortiz x OFC (Chris Teller)

Inspired by Day Five of the July Prompts: camera

Warnings: none, this is just slice of life fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: My brain has been going in a million different directions as far as WIPs go these days but I think about this pairing on a daily basis I love them so much

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Chris was throwing sunscreen and her beach towel into her bag when she looked over and saw Juice very carefully packing his camera bag. She smiled, walking over and resting her hands on his shoulders before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his temple. He let out a hum of approval as he zipped up the bag.

“Bringing the camera to the beach?”

He looked up at her and nodded, “Yea, that okay?”

She shrugged, “Yea, of course. I just, you trust it at the ocean with all the guys?”

He laughed, “It’ll be fine.

Chris couldn’t remember the last time that they all went together somewhere and none of the guys took their bikes. Everyone brought cars and coolers and things to hide their alcohol in. Gemma, as per usual, had brought enough food to feed an army. She brought enough sunscreen to bathe each of the guys a few times over, knowing that none of them would think to get any for themselves.

The laughter that was erupting from where the waves met the shore was the greatest sound she’d ever heard—Thomas and Abel getting their first real taste of the beach and the ocean. It was good to see kids just being kids. She looked on with a smile as she laid out on her towel, content to just catch a tan and read her book. A little farther down the stretch of beach, a few of the guys were locked into a very competitive game of volleyball. She could hear the smack-talk over the music from the speakers and the waves.

Juice had been quiet for a while, and she honestly thought that he had passed out on his beach towel. With his sunglasses on it was really anyone’s guess. She looked over to make sure that he wasn’t starting to burn, though, and that’s when she realized that he was awake and digging into his camera bag.

“Gonna get some action shots of Tig diving face-first into the sand over there?” she laughed as she nodded towards the volleyball net.

Juice chuckled, shaking his head as he got his camera set up, “Nah, not yet anyway,” he held the camera up and pointed it in her direction, “Say cheese!”

Chris turned away with a laugh, shaking her head, “No way, Juan.”

He lowered the camera, a pout on his face, “Why not?”

“I’ve seen what you do to the photos you take with that camera. My face and body aren’t going anywhere near your photoshop equipment.”

“C’mon,” he laughed, “I’m not going to photoshop you. I promise.”

She didn’t know how much she actually believed him, but regardless she figured that indulging him just this once wouldn’t really hurt. With a sigh she turned back to him, lowering her sunglasses slightly and flashing him a smile. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he lifted the camera back up and snapped a shot.

Scooting closer, he turned the camera so she could see how it came out, “See? Now I can make posters out of you for my dorm at the clubhouse.”

She laughed, leaning onto his shoulder, “God, I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I love you too,” he stood up, stretching out for a minute, “Now I’m gonna go get a shot of Tig face-planting.”

“Try to get one of Jax, too!” she called after him with a laugh.

Later on in the afternoon, she tagged in to give Tara some time to just sit, and she took over running around with the toddlers on the shore. She was glad that she brought an extra bag, because every single shell that Abel got his hands on, he wanted to keep. So the three of them were locked in a very intense scavenger hunt when low tide came around, too busy looking for the next great thing to notice that Juice was lurking around to get candid shots of the three of them together.

The only thing that clued her into it at all, was Abel calling out his name as he ran to show him his latest find, “Juice, look!” he held out his tiny hand that held a shell, “It’s a cone!”

He made a big show of inspecting the shell that Abel had just handed to him, “Sure is, buddy. That’s so cool! You gonna keep it?”

“Duh!” Abel turned and ran back towards Chris, who had the bag in one hand and Thomas’s hand in the other.

She spotted the camera and knew exactly what Juice had been doing. She shook your head with a smile, “I’d splash you if that thing wasn’t so expensive,” she walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the lips, “Better not have any of me making weird faces.”

“Define weird.”

She gave him a playful shove, “Shut up. Here,” she handed the bag of shells over to him, “Your turn to do the heavy lifting.”

He rolled his eyes, thinking that you were exaggerating. But once she draped the bag onto his arm his eyes grew wide, “Holy shit,” he laughed, rebalancing himself, “that’s actually heavy.”

“Yea,” she laughed, scooping Thomas up into her arms, “I know,” she looked over at her nephew, “Let’s go get some fruit and water, lil man.”

Juice and Abel trailed behind the two of them, Chris’s oldest nephew chattering on and on about all the different shells and colors of sea glass that they’d found that day. The four of them made quite the little crew as they made their way back to the towels and coolers.

“You don’t look half bad with a baby on your hip, sweetheart,” Gemma piped up from her chair.

“Look way better with a baby off of it, though,” Chris quipped right back as she handed Thomas to Tara.

Gemma ignored the comment, watching as Juice carefully took the camera and set it on top of its bag before walking over and placing a quick kiss on Chris’s cheek. For all her comments and opinions, she couldn’t deny that Chris had been so much less restless since she started dating Juice. She seemed so much more content.

“Got any pictures of yourself on that thing?” Gemma nodded towards the camera.

Juice laughed, shaking his head, “No, no.”

“Here,” she motioned for him to hand it to her, “Let me get a picture of the happy couple, hm?”

Chris rolled her eyes, “Mom.”

“It’s fine,” Juice cut in before the two of them started going tit for tat over it, “C’mere,” he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

She laughed, knowing that she wasn’t going to win this one. She could feel the smug grin of victory on Gemma’s face and chose to ignore it, letting her mom take the win this time around. The heat from Juice’s chest seeped into her back as she leaned into him. Just as Gemma was about to take the picture, he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, causing her to break out in laughter.

The satisfaction on Gemma’s face was genuine as she handed the camera back over to Juice, “Thank you for indulging me.”

He smiled as he took it back and clicked back to find the picture. The grin on his face grew as he showed it to Chris, “Not bad.”

She looked, and couldn’t deny that she was immediately a little obsessed with the photo, “That’s the one that should be a poster in your dorm.”

“I could do both,” he chuckled, leaning in and kissing her on the lips.

“Gotta make two copies of this one,” she lightly tapped the camera screen.

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

I Do, Do You? chapter 7: Helping

WC: 6,875 Ao3

Another week passes with Luke going in to work, but also coming home in the evenings, no active away cases. They take Roxy on morning walks through the park and around the neighborhood at night. He holds her hand and he holds her waist, he holds her when they sleep, and when he forgets himself, he kisses her fingers and her cheeks…but he always stops short of kissing her, much too much loaded behind it now.

As much as she tries not to think about it, not let it bother her, she can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t...and if he will before their time is up. She’s been quite patient and they’ve had much less time than other couples on the show, but even by regular relationship standards she would have jumped some bones by now.

Still, she believes him when he’d said he finds her attractive, that he has “lots of feelings” for her… she holds on to that, holds on to the bits of himself he gives.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, Penelope’s getting dressed and ready in the bedroom for a late park walk when she hears Luke talking on the phone in the living room.

“What about Alvez’ new wife?”

He had mentioned off-hand to Tara and Matt that Penelope was highly skilled with computers, he’d told them about her expertise (he might have been bragging), and alluded to her past, but he made sure to leave out her identity.

She left that life behind, he wanted to respect her privacy, that was for her alone to tell. He knew they’d still want her if they knew, knew the bureau could dream up charges to get her to agree...

“Ha. Tar, I know you’d love nothing more than a chance to see her again, and if things keep going the way they are, maybe I’ll have her meet me for lunch so you all can gawk from that fishbowl before we vanish into the elevator, but I am not bringing a civilian into what we do. Definitely not her.”

He’s on a group call, the team in the office, Luke at home, day four of testing out his ‘working from home unless absolutely needed’ routine, a new compromise from Prentiss to make up for all the away cases they’d had since the wedding now that things have gone into a lull.

When he told Penelope about the offer she jokingly declared she was going to write thank you notes to the whole of the BAU and the director of the FBI and send them along with a batch of each of their favorite cookies, he chose to ignore exactly how she was going to get that information.

Penelope thinks it’s nice having him around, someone to talk to and banter with, a chance for them to get closer. She’s enjoyed showing off her work with SOAR, and baking for them (he especially likes her chocolate chip cookies, and her dog cookies for Roxy). She’s hopeful the temporary arrangement will help more with the needed work/home mindset adjustment he’s had such trouble with, that it’ll continue to ease him into a better balance, maybe even make him realize other things can be important too… maybe even more important sometimes…

Luke, however, doesn’t think blending work and home have been a good idea, he’s felt on edge running background on cases remotely, choosing his words carefully so that other ears don’t overhear, always keeping the cursor primed to minimize a screen should something be up and she walk by. This phone call, what his unit is now trying to goad him into agreeing to has only added to the “bad idea” camp. To him this phone call is the start of the end.

“Luke, she does sound like an excellent resource-”

“My WIFE is not a resource,” The comment is sudden, and volatile, and about her? Piquing her interest, her head angles up and her body leans towards the door from in front of his dresser mirror. What follows is quiet, but can only be compared to a roar in intensity, “she is a person who did not ask to be around what we see everyday!”

“Luke, no one is saying-”

“No, no one is thinking,” he counters angrily, “She volunteers at an animal rescue! She runs a support group for grieving families. She doesn’t even eat meat! Prentiss- She’s. No. I, I get it, she has very valuable skills, ones that would-”

“That could break this for us.” Prentiss finishes in her maddeningly even voice. “She’s compassionate, right? Then Luke, we’ll shield her… but if she’d be willing to do some deep digging…Help us nail this guy…We can protect her, Luke. But if she’s really that good, think about the victims that could be saved, the ones that could be prevented… Aren’t they worth it?”

Penelope tiptoes on her stockinged feet to the door, positioning herself in a better spot to eavesdrop on the fractured conversation.

“Absolutely not. No. I already told you I will not ask her. She will not do it.”

Balancing work and his personal life was already proving to be a battle, combining the two in this way was a sure-fire recipe for disaster, he just didn’t know which would blow up first.

“Luke, you know we’re down, you know this could help. We’ve been after this guy for months-”

“Don’t- don’t do this to me Lewis, don’t push that line- Find another way. Find. Another. Person.”

The words are chillingly cold. Penelope bites her lower lip, peeking out from the crack in the door and jerks back, swallowing a squeak as he erupts in a furious growl, pitching his phone at the armchair across from himself.

She’s never seen him so mad, seen this side of him. Knowing it had something to do with her, that he was being protective over her, ignites a part of her she’d just as well not acknowledge and makes her all the more curious as to what exactly was being asked on the other end.

Timidly, she opens the door and comes out sittings on the edge of the couch closest to where he now slumps in the other orange chair. “Another case?”

There’s an intake of breath before he answers, “-Sort of,” he sighs, defeated, unable to look at her, not wanting to fall back into how things were, knowing that eventually he’d have to anyway, and preparing for the disappointment she’s about to unload and the disappointment of letting down his team.

She had gotten him to open up a few days ago while making dinner, maybe if she prodded gently, he’d be willing to do it again. Taking a page out of his book, Penelope reaches out, covering his hand with hers, then positions herself, kneeling in front of him, settling back on her heels, “…Can I ask who won’t do what, or is that top secret?”

Luke looks down at her with a wry smile, this magical woman, this genius funny sexy talented woman he didn’t deserve sinking to her knees in front of him, looking up at him like that; wide eyed, innocent, trusting, glossy lips and blushing round cheeks and blushing round...

His eyes zip back to hers, pleading, entreating. There was a god, and he was evil, “You.” he says after a struggle that feels like millennia, “The team… they want me to ask you to help us. Tara remembered what I said about how good you are, your specific talent-”

“You talk about me?”

“Penelope-” The genuine perplexity of it is a knife digging neatly into his chest, the fact that she thought she could be so easily out of sight, out of mind. Was it everyone before him, or was it just him who had made her feel that way?

She kneels up, wiggling as she waves a hand dismissively, “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Go on.”

Despite the situation he smirks in response. “My boss feels someone with your skills could really help us. But I told them no. I don’t want to put you in that position. -It’s too much of a ris-”

“I’ll do it.” The words are out before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

“No, I’m not-”

Kneeling up again she places a single polished finger against his lips, “Luke. SHH. If it’ll help, I’ll do it.”

He hesitates, he doesn’t want to make her aware- more aware of that world, of his world, he doesn’t want to put her in that position, but even he had mentioned how they scout for individuals who specialize in doing what she can do and she’d be the first to tell you, she is the best. He knows if she’s willing, it isn’t up to him, still he wants to make his position clear, "Penelope, I am not asking you to do this, don’t feel like you need to-"

Removing her finger, she caresses his cheek, thumb stroking and smoothing the concern at the corners of his eyes. He brings a large hand up to cup her own, holding it to his face, eyes closing. Luke nuzzles into the warmth of her, holding her to him he turns his head, she holds her breath, stomach knotting as he places a soft kiss to her palm.

Penelope’s tongue unsticks her lips, “You’re not asking me, I’m volunteering. This isn’t for you,” she lies, “You told me before, I’m like a superhero…well, superheroes work together. I want to help.”

Working together on something he deemed important would bring them together, they were still trying to connect, to catch up… they needed to take opportunities as they came, and this would let them learn more about each other. “I want to do this. Luke, I like helping people and I know I'm the best.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet-”

She shrugs, feigning indifference, “Like I said, I’m the best. We can both be superheroes.”

—

What had started out as Penelope tracking and compiling everything they needed with unparalleled speed, quickly morphed into the situation Luke had predicted.

They were already exposing her to the dark and sordid imagery of Congressman Whitt’s digital footprint -not shielding her from it like Prentiss suggested was possible- And they still needed to make sure their case was solid, prove without a doubt he’d abducted, restrained, drugged, and raped those women- all on a live-streaming platform with “customers” paying for the privilege of assault by proxy… But the only way to take down someone so well connected would be to catch him in the act.

“Sorry to be the bearer of awful news to all you very beautiful, very in need of therapy people, but it looks like he’s planning on snatching someone tonight.” Penelope stood in their small conference room in front of a flatscreen tv frowning over her findings. On the screen she displayed the decoded message she found that had been sent out this morning to creeps in the know. The group of agents watched in awe at the depth and detail of what she’d been able to discover and how quickly she’d been able to do it.

“Alvez, you weren’t kidding” Tara hums.

“Ms. Garcia, you have been an invaluable help, thank you.” Prentiss says, gesturing for her to join them at the table.

Penelope responds with a quickly vanishing pleased look and passes off the remote, sitting in the chair next to Luke. He snatches her hand, catching her eyes when she meets him, “Hey,” he whispers low, “are you ok? I’m sorry you had to see that-” he’d noticed her shudder and blanch at the new countdown she’d popped up for them to see.

His thumb caresses the back of her hand, she notices he hasn’t stopped petting and stroking her, keeping in contact with her, since they entered the building. Even in the office they’d set up for her he came in, hands on the top of her chair finding their way to her neck, her shoulders- it reminds her of their wedding day- small brushes of finger tips, his gaze never leaving her. “It’s fine, we’ve all seen the ID channel,” she says, brushing it off. She could be strong, she doesn’t want them to think she can’t handle it.

Luke frowns giving her a look, Penelope smiles back, insisting, “I’m fine-”

“Alright, we knew he was going to be at tonight’s gala, and now thanks to Ms. Garcia’s skilled work, we know he’s teased another stream, which means he’s planning on finding another victim tonight, likely at or around the dinner.”

“-It would be great if we knew who the target was,” Matt says.

“Well, we do know he’s an opportunist and likes to have a few options to offer up, so he won’t have a victim picked out, which we could use to our advantage if we had someone on the inside. But on such short notice and with all the additional security being distributed around the city, we definitely won’t be approved for that, you all know the director isn’t especially supportive of this-”

Penelope watches as they continue to talk through their options, talk through a plan, ignoring what she feels is an obvious solution sitting in the room with them, until finally offering, “…I can do it-”

“Not a chance.” Luke shuts the idea down so fast she can only assume it had been on his mind as well, maybe even quietly hoping it wouldn’t get brought up.

Prentiss, hesitant about using a civilian with no prior experience on such a dire case, looks between the two of them, “Iiiii don’t know…”

“I’m his type, right? Blonde, bubbly, and I have been told- entirely sexy-”

“Penelope-” He was definitely hoping no one would bring up the similarities between Penelope and the victims, suggest…

What he got instead was his wife using his -private- admissions as ammo against him in some bullheaded effort to prove… he didn’t even know what she could be trying to prove.

“Luke! It’s not up to you, it’s up to her,” Penelope says, nodding to Prentiss standing hunched over the table, “and you need someone-”

“But not you” he grits through clenched teeth, a hand moving to her knee as he turns to her, the other still covering her hand on the table. He could give two fucks about anyone else in the room right now, it was only her he was having this conversation with.

“Why not? You trust them, don’t you? I trust you. Plus, I do theater, so I can keep up a front-” this she says to the team at large.

Penelope doesn’t say the other part that she’s thinking, that she’s already had experience being a victim of attempted murder once, so a second time with supervision shouldn’t be that bad.

The…experience was something she still hadn’t told him about.

She had thought about telling him a few nights ago, telling him she understood why his job was so important, and not just because she had JJ and Derek in her life, but because of what she’d gone through…what she wouldn’t have survived without them. She knows if she had told him then, there’s absolutely no way he’d allow her to do this, he’d make sure, so secretly she’s thankful it hasn’t felt like the right time.

The team watches the exchange play out, Luke dead set against her involvement, Penelope insistent she’s capable.

Despite Luke’s protest, Emily can’t help but weigh the offer; she was right here willing to do it, knew about the unsub, had helped them endlessly…but she was also a civilian they’d just met who had a history of circumventing the law in accordance with her own morals, she had no formal training, they didn’t know how well she’d be able to play this off…and Alvez would clearly be compromised during the operation.

But if it worked, they could catch Whitt tonight.

Mind not yet made up, she breaks in, “Even if I said yes, we still couldn’t get approval… or tickets-”

Penelope looks away from Luke, grinning up at his boss, “Of all the tricks I’ve pulled today, those are going to be the easiest…and the most fun”

He can tell Penelope has no intention of listening to him, her mind already made up. Relenting, he changes tactics, “I’m not letting you go alone. If you go, I go.” Luke turns his attention to Prentiss, finishing, “-every step of the way.”

If she insisted on doing this, if Prentiss approved, there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Just the idea of her talking with the congressman, being in the same room with him, on that cam footage for all those creeps to see, made Luke broil. She was serving herself up on a platter after seeing what he’d done to women who looked like herself. He would be sure it didn’t go that far.

Penelope strokes his cheek like she had this morning, gazing at him, “You’re the only one I know, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

There’s little time, but Penelope manages to secure a group of suites in the city near the gala, forge tickets, and change the guest list to include two agents and herself, all while being coached by Luke’s boss and his teammate Tara on what to do and how to respond. The day goes by quickly leaving no time to process, dwell, and allow nerves to build.

Stings, she gets the impression, don’t normally come together so fast or out of the blue. On tv she knows it’s either months of planning every detail, or quickly throwing someone in in the moment. Maybe that last type isn’t quite true for them.

She also gets the feeling that his boss, Prentiss, is worried about the subject of their sting. He’s a big deal in DC, a man with deep pockets and friends in high places, someone who doesn’t need to be paid to do these horrible things, a defense they’d no doubt rely on. She already wanted to show Luke she could handle what his world was, that she could take on some of his burden and he could open up to her, but watching those videos, reading what those men wrote, hearing those girls…she wanted to help them, and if that meant dressing up, she was more than willing to do it.

The dress they gave her to “up” however was….hideous.

It would need much much “upping” if she were to be irresistible enough to inspire a chatroom full of subhuman cowards to….want her. Unfortunately, the bureau wouldn’t let her wear her own clothing (maybe for her that was a good thing?), something about rules, and there was no time to go shopping with all the sleuthing and forging and convincing and prepping and practicing. So instead she’s left with this.

Penelope examines the shapeless reflection in the mirror impressed there is a garment capable of so wholly camouflaging her more prominent features. She considers one last appeal to the bureau to let her wear something from her own wardrobe…something more flattering.

She’d insisted that her closet was chock full of goodies for every occasion, but she would have to agree, her closet certainly didn’t (and never would) have a dress like this.

Black-tie indeed. The floor length, black dress had all the appeal of a graduation robe. She’s matronly and generic and if she were going to be the prime choice tonight, this dress would not do.

Twisting left and right, pinching at fabric and checking seams, she quirks her mouth thoughtfully, glad she’s up to the task of dressing it up. All those years transforming her own things finally had a use beyond personal esthetic.

Hacking off the high round collar, she winces and hopes this doesn’t constitute destroying federal property as she morphs the neckline into a perfectly cleavage framing low V (modeled after one of her tried and true f-me dresses). She lifts and brings in the waist, fitting the skirt through her middle in gathers, softly draping at the narrowest part of her, and finally she takes the elbow-length bell sleeves and carefully pleats and folds them like origami rings at the high point of her shoulder, leaving her arms bare. She’s wearing her best push-up bra to help push all that cleavage right to eye level, and she thinks about stockings, but ultimately decides against them, the dress covered her legs anyway…though she was very tempted to add a thigh high slit.

Looking at the transformation, she should be uncomfortable. This moody, vampy thing reminds her of her past, of someone she no longer is…someone naive and angry and desperate to fit in…someone trying to find their place. Their peace. She should be uncomfortable in that Penelope’s skin, but she isn’t, and maybe it’s because that person was the right one to be tonight…Maybe that’s how she can get through this undetected. The changes she’s made to the matte black silk, she’s sure are more than enough to make her stand out in a sea of predictable sparkling navy and red DC housewives, but if they aren’t she’s sure she will be.

Penelope curls her hair and removes the large white cube necklace she’d been wearing earlier, exchanges the alien earrings and mahjong tile bracelet for a cleavage dusting lariat and a malachite point tipped gold horseshoe bangle, and lastly, takes the 8-ball ring off her pinky leaving only her wedding ring.

Twisting the emerald, flicking the band left and right, she knows she can’t leave it there if she plans on being desirable bait (a missing married woman would be too quickly noticed), but she’s struggling with the thought of taking it off.

Like ripping off a bandaid, she quickly plucks it from her finger placing it on the dresser, but just as quickly she snatches it back up. Penelope frowns thinking about how stupid it is to feel so attached to a piece of jewelry, feel so wrong. Old Penelope, The Black Queen, certainly wouldn’t have, and after all, she doubts he wears his all the time, he’s only known her, been married, for almost six weeks.

But not wearing it feels…like betrayal…like a slap.

Instead she places it on her right hand. At least this way it’s still with her. If he notices when he comes to get her, she’ll just explain, though if she’s being honest, she’s hoping for some visual confirmation that her handiwork has made her as distraction-worthy as she feels.

Thinking back to every one of his slow outfit appraisals, the quickly averted, heated looks that set her skin on fire, she’s looking forward to tonight’s reaction the most. How he would feel about this side of her, this part that was so much of her for so long. Would he be put off? Would he laugh when he saw her, be mad she altered the dress? That she was revealing so much of herself…for them. Would he be so overcome with passion and possessiveness that he’d take her in his arms, unable to control himself any longer and pin her to the door, crush his lips, his body, to hers?  Immobilizing, determined to show her she was his, his bulletproof vest firm against her under his tux, his thigh pressing her legs to spread…kissing her furiously, roughly kissing down her throat, toothy hands hiking up her skirt…up her thigh….

Focused on the fantasy playing out in her head, Penelope shrieks in surprise at the ring of the door bell and quickly applies the finishing touches of makeup- some pink blush and candy red sheer lipstick before hurriedly snatching her clutch and scurrying to her waiting husband.

But opening the door she’s only met with disappointment. Behind the door there is no ego boosting, jealously wandering eyes from the mouth watering husband she’d so well imagined, in fact, there’s no mouth-watering husband at all.

What she finds on the other side of her door is instead a different unfairly beautiful person.

Tara, now dressed to the nines, is waiting to escort her to the SUV that will drive them into DC. She can’t help but notice how, unlike what Penelope was first given, Tara’s dress doesn’t make her look like an 80s schoolmarm.

Tara, narrowing her eyes, inspects Penelope, “That’s the bureau’s dress?”

Smoothing her hands down the sides of her skirt, Penelope responds as evenly as possible, “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie, she wasn’t lying to a federal agent. This was the dress, she just improved it is all. Improved their chances of her being picked. And anyway, they gave her that one.

“Right.” Tara smirks, “We should get going. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Penelope closes and locks the door behind her, she’ll just have to settle for hot husband glances on the way there.

In the vehicle however, there is no Luke either.

He had said every step of the way, didn’t that include picking her up and going to the city?

She doesn’t admit that she’d fantasized anticipated him drinking her in, his expression turning parched, eyes wide and tracking like she’d caught him doing so many times before…but finding only Matt, Penelope, can’t stop herself from asking, “Not that the two of you aren’t gorgeous and delightful and I’m sure very great company, but…where’s my- Where’s Luke?”

She doesn’t want them to think she’s not brave enough for this, she is, or that she’s clingy and needs him around- she’s not some sad husband reliant trad-wife. She’s independent, she has her own life, she had a very full life before he was matched with her and she’d have one after- She didn’t need him to protect her, she had volunteered, insisted because she knew she could do this- She would be fine…she just…wanted to know.

Matt looks back at her in the rearview, smiling, “You don’t look too bad there yourself, Garcia, sorry Luke couldn’t be the one to see it-“ Tara jumps in explaining the last minute change of plans. Matt, looking more the part of a gala attendee, swapped roles with Luke, Luke and Prentiss went on ahead to set everything up at the hotel and gala.

It’s then that the scope and specifics of the situation really click. Her life is in the hands of strangers, their success is in hers, things can change at a moment's notice and her being the odd-man out, not an FBI agent, they are under no obligation to consult or inform her. Luke was possibly even instructed not to inform her. She isn’t familiar with how they operate, how they handle things on the fly, and the person she’s the most familiar with, she’s only known for a few weeks at best. Penelope flexes and stretches her fingers, willing the needles forming to vaporize. She’s capable of handling herself, she’s been in worse situations alone before and come out fine, she could do this, just like she’d told them.

“It was a pretty big blow-up actually,” Tara goes on, “He was insistent on being here with you.” She doesn’t want Alvez’s new wife thinking this was on him, that he’d lied, “…It’s just…not always up to us. Prentiss felt he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself in check, and he kind of proved her right with how he reacted… But looking at you, I don’t know that making him play catering staff will make a difference.”

The rest of the way to DC is filled with review, last minute prepping, and cues, Penelope watching the landscape and sky change from the passenger window as Tara continues to test and prime her.

At the hotel, Tara shows her an ear piece and small camera she’ll be outfitted with, Penelope distracts herself by setting up a laptop with a fake account, joining the congressman’s watch party, and adding a backdoor server to record everything undetected. There’s still no Luke and no Prentiss, they’re at the event space double checking physical layouts to Penelope’s found blueprints and giving as few people in charge a heads up as possible, but there is that Anderson guy. She shows him how the chats and servers work and what to do if certain tech-related scenarios come up, and writes it all down for him just in case on some turquoise sticky notes floating in her bag.

“What happened to the Bureau’s dress, Ms. Garcia?” She hears it in her ear. This is the sound check Tara told her about, Prentiss must have seen what she did to the dress when Tara was showing her the camera pin. Thankfully, she hears what she thinks is a hint of amusement in the question and decides to use that opening.

“Funny thing, I put it in the wash, and wouldn’t you know, it shrunk!” Tara, Matt, and Anderson snicker from around the room.

“Let’s be sure it doesn’t happen again, we want you to be picked, not picked apart”

“Ma’am.”

“-Don’t- call me ma’am.”

Two agents and one former hacker pack up and head out to an extravagant evening none of them are bound to enjoy. The nerves start to creep in.

~~

From one of the rooms Penelope secured, Prentiss runs laptop surveillance along with Anderson, keeping track of the feed that’s streaming through a lens in Whitt’s boutonniere. “So far he’s signaled between the caterer near the north end of the patio, the musician who just excused herself to the lady’s, and Ms. Garcia” she gives a rundown of the targeted options to the four at the Gala through their earpieces.

A muscle turning feeling crawls beneath Penelope’s skin at the information that she’s made his notice, a shudder jerking her from the shoulders down hearing the confirmation. Three hours into the night, three hours. Was that all it took? Even the knowledge that Tara and Matt were triangulating the room with her, keeping an eye on Whitt and the possible would-be victims, that Luke was here too, ready should anything happen, didn’t feel like enough.

“He can’t do anything, I'm right here,” comes in cooly, seemingly right next to her. His voice like a string lacing and constricting her chest.

Luke’s been tracking her since their arrival, though the woman he sees walk in looks more like the devil on a shoulder version of his wife than the living jawbreaker- tough ball of rainbows- he’s used to seeing. He’s not complaining though, the inky black dress contrasts her pale skin and makes her blonde hair glow gold, and the shape, the cut, how she fills it out- she looks devious and sultry and perfectly wicked in just the right way. But he wonders how much of this is some shield or wall, something to just get through tonight, and if it is, is he wrong being this enamored with a side that isn’t a side at all?

“Penelope, remember, we want them to pick you, you need to make yourself more present” this time it’s Prentiss breaking through the space in her ear.

She doesn’t speak but she slowly nods her head. Duh, that’s why I chopped up the dress...

She knows from the recordings it’s not that easy, if she approaches him, they won’t like it, won’t like her. She needs to be aloof, but confident, a little brash, and flirty. She needs to make them want her, want to punish her, to have a powerful man put her in her place. Closing her eyes, she channels her other persona, the one who’s smart and sassy- a bolder, more forward version of herself. The person she used to be…but that’s not who she is any more and she’s not sure she can muster it fully… remember her intricacies. What if they see through her? Worse yet, what if one of them knows her? Would they recognize her after all these years? Was she dooming the sting before ever entering his orbit? This was so stupid, she should have thought this through, created a better disguise. What if they were using her?

Entirely worked up and filling with self-doubt, Penelope drifts across the room, mentally repeating that she’s safe, that no one recognizes her, and even if they did, she’s in a well-lit place in a crowded room and there are agents and security all around, Luke, though she’s only heard him...

Looking around, she spots a group of younger, strong jawed men adjacent to the congressman. They look the type to have been on Crew at Yale or Harvard, the type to drink too much, and get too handsy- politicians sons, the perfect group to be noticed with.

She drains her champagne, joining them, flirting. It’s a tactic that works like a charm, no sooner had she joined the group of men, laughing and touching, squeezing biceps and brushing lapels aside, did Whitt approach.

“Champagne?”

The voice isn’t the congressman’s though, it’s the one in her ear, but it isn’t from the piece, this time it’s behind her. Penelope turns, feeling the wash of relief at his warm eyes finally where she can see them.

Luke had positioned himself between Penelope and the congressman, creating a physical barrier. If any man was approaching his wife tonight, he would be the first.

Irritated at being cut off from his target, Congressman Whitt picks up two flutes from the proffered tray and with a slick sleight of hand drops sedatives into one. Sidestepping, he reaches past Luke, ignoring his presence, and offers it to Penelope.

She grins wide, placing her empty glass on the tray, one hand sliding out to slip around the slim crystal stem, the other sliding down Luke’s hip, not so discreetly squeezing his ass. Luke’s eyebrows jump in surprise, but quick reactions allows him to catch himself before his arm and tray swoop.

Her eyes never leave the congressman as she delivers a coy smile, “What a gentleman, I do like to keep my hands full,” Penelope purrs, taking the spiked champaign.

“Nice job, Garcia- they really did not like that, the comment section is lighting up,”

Luke’s free hand slips down covering her own, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze back before removing it.

She hears the buzz and watches Whitt check his phone, his eyes careful not to fall on her as he reads, careful to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re on, Penelope.”

From that point on it’s a waiting game filled with tension, everything seemingly pulling back before the slingshot forward.

After some small talk, Whitt politely excuses himself. The less time he’s around her, the less outward interest he takes in her, the less likely he is to be suspected when her dead body’s found in the park tomorrow morning.

With the congressman now making himself noticed schmoozing across the room, Tara reminds Penelope to keep her head in the game, timing is crucial. He’ll wait for the drugs to kick in, wait until his victim is weak, wait for them to seclude themselves, wait for everyone else to become suitably drunk and high and otherwise distracted, then when they’re too incapacitated to put up a fight, he’ll strike. If she succumbs too soon he could get suspicious, if she takes too long, he could change his mind. Waiting for the timed signal, Penelope continues to make sure she’s seen flirting and flitting with every man in the room, at one point even feeling up the delectable Matt Simmons, coining him ‘Biceps’ as she batted her eyes and teased him, much to Luke’s displeasure.

Pantomiming working the room, Whitt watches from a distance incrementally simmering with rage until Penelope, given the direction, feigns going under. Swooning and swaying, fanning herself, she stumbles to the patio, alone.

She holds onto the gritty cement balustrade, eyes closed, cold of the night hitting her, sucking down air, stomach knotting with the knowledge that this was the plan, but the plan put her in direct physical contact with a tortuous murderer. Her body swoops, -the act just a little too good- knees going weak from the anticipated attack. Before she can regain any kind of composure she feels a thick clammy hand on her back and hears his drawling voice, “Hey there Cinderella, had a little too much to drink?”

She swallows, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to think about where he plans on this going, but thinking about the women before her she forces her eyes open, forces the lazy slipping grin of an easier, unperturbed seductress unaware of the horrors that await her. She shrugs, slowly batting her lashes and sways again.

Luke keeps eyes on her from the far side of the ballroom, Tara and Matt from a point in the garden, the act is good, too good. The trio start to worry, had she slipped up and accidentally ingested the spiked champagne?

How much control did she really have? Was she this good of an actress? He shouldn’t have ever allowed Prentiss to approve her, he shouldn’t have told Penelope at all.

Whitt’s hand moves holding her more firmly as he braces around her side, “Why don’t you come with me, I can help-” Penelope tries to get it out, but the words won’t come, fear stuck in her throat, she resists, but he’s quick. All of a sudden she feels the tip of a knife pointing into her other side, “You can fill your hands with something real-” is hissed into her ear. She tries to push away, but freeze takes over, hyperventilating, panic. She’s alone and she can’t move, she whimpers at the sharp pull, Whitt grabbing her by the hair, the hand with the knife wrapping around her. She feels the zhhht- zhhht- zhhht of the blade zig-zaging up her dress, feels the sharp tip find and press to flesh, “I said let’s go you fucking whore-” He pulls her against himself, her back to his chest, she struggles against his grip. He’s taking her and they’re not here, no one is doing anything to stop him, there’s no Prentiss in her ear, no Luke-

The moment he sees Whitt touch her his hand flinches, reaching for his gun.

“Alvez, stand down, we don’t have anything yet-” she’s disconnected Penelope’s radio, not willing to risk Whitt overhearing them through it.

“Prentiss he has her-”

“I said, wait!”

His stomach churns watching the blade slide up her chest, Penelope’s head jerking back and her mouth dropping in a cry.

Every muscle in his body compresses, tenses, braces, “Prentiss, god damn it, he’s taking her!”

There’s urgency in his voice, a thread of distress, Whitt’s actions are alarmingly bold given the setting, but obediently Luke holds back- for a breath-

Whitt’s arm tightening around her.

Then two-

Penelope’s heels dragging back on the flagstone.

Waits until it feels too long

waits until-

“-Fuck this-” shatters. In one fell swoop the silver tray is replaced with a handgun, Luke rushing in a crouch to the patio doors, peaking around the curtain, lining up his shot, “Cover me-”

He steps out into the dark terrace, gun trained, stance even, level, voice ringing out against the din of the party, “Congressman Whitt, FBI, let her go-,” a clear command.

There’s a glimpse of Luke before her head is snapped back, vision pulling to the dark sky above, her body propelling forward. The sharp sound of a knife clattering to stone is like a gunshot, the second she hears it Penelope’s stumble turns into a run and in no time flat she’s colliding heavily into Luke’s chest, his open arm, their bodies rocking with the force, the commotion behind her unintelligible, the others apprehending and arresting Whitt.

Matt steps in front of the congressman, kicking the knife away and reading his rights as Tara roughly takes him by the arms, clicking the cuffs into place. "This is all a misunderstanding, I don’t know what you think you saw- This poor young lady is clearly unstable- She was trying to kill herself! I was trying to stop her! Maybe she was drugged! Put up to it- She was with some young men earlier, I bet they slipped her something-" He bellows and blusters the revisionist story ignorant to the fact that he’d been set up, that they have the whole thing on tape- his own feed.

Tara and an officer escort the protesting congressman to a waiting patrol car. The whole time Luke keeps one arm secure around Penelope’s back holding her to him and the other with his gun trained on the congressman being led away, ready should he make a single move.

“Prentiss, Anderson, you get everything?” Luke feels her arms constrict around his waist when he asks.

“We’ve got it. Unless Ms. Garcia thinks anything needs to be done with this tonight, she can get some rest- Alvez, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.” He hears the finality, the awaiting reprimand in her voice, he can’t bring himself to care.

Holstering his gun, he pulls out the ear piece, bringing both arms to circle Penelope tightly. His chin hooks over her shoulder as his hands run up and down her back, “Penelope” it's a prayer on her neck, tangling in her hair.