#it’s crazy to look back and see his growth

[guess-i-do-art]

I think everyone should draw their OC meeting themselves pre-trauma and post-trauma. It’s very fun

This is Devin. The world he lives in everyone has a type of magic that comes in around 13 years old. Devin was unfortunate enough to have Vampiric (also known as Blood) magic… stuff kinda spiraled from there. If anyone wants to know more let me know!

[januaryembrs]

LET IT ONCE BE ME | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [7]

Description: The THREE times she waits + the ONE time she doesn't have to.

length: 17.9k

trigger warnings: criminal minds gore + violence. jealousy. talks of sex and male and female anatomy. they get horny for one another basically. talks of Maeve + day of the dead. yearning idk? mention of one twin absorbing the other one in the womb (sorry if this is taken the wrong way but I conferred with my friend who did this when she was a foetus and she said it's not offensive and is okay to talk about so?)

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‘Let it once be me, who do I have to speak to 

About if they can redo the prophecy?’

The one where they pretend to be married

“I will not be exploited in my own home,” Bugsy chided, the faint smell of burning toast filling the small kitchenette. The butter knife sat ready in her hand, salted spread dripping down the handle where she’d been busy making breakfast before she had been called. 

He blinked back at her, unamused. 

“No. You cannot just scream at me whenever you want something from me. This relationship is toxic,” She huffed, turning back to butter her toast with the thick goodness. Sometimes she loathed living with three boys who had her wrapped around their fingers. 

The second piece of bread popped out of the toaster, which she quickly grabbed and began spreading, her fingers gripping onto the crusts gently as she did so. The squealing started again just as she readied herself to take the first bite, and she whirled around to see the two orange eyes that stared at her from on top of the counter. 

“Sergio, stop. You’ll get Niko all wound up-” She hadn’t even finished her sentence when Spencer shuffled into the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep, his long plaid pyjama bottoms skirting high up his ankles where he’d impossibly hit another growth spurt and forgot to find better fitting clothes. Niko darted in between his legs, rushing to jump up on the breakfast bar, where Sergio was already interrogating Bugsy for more treats, a low yowl leaving his throat at the thought of being left out of feeding. “You boys are driving me crazy, no more biscuits for today-”

The yowl grew in decibels, a second one symphonying it, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the whiney babies, turning to hand Spencer his piece of toast, crust already cut off and split into halves the way he liked it. 

“I warned you not to treat them when I’m not here, they’ve become spoiled brats,” She huffed, though she felt her entire body warm up when she looked at his doe eyes, still half idled with sleep as he watched her swan around his kitchen, their kitchen technically since she had all but moved in to his little apartment meant for two housemates. 

But they weren’t just house mates. They weren’t even dating. But she knew he wanted to. Because he loved her. 

“How could you expect me to say no, they’re so compelling,” He said, his voice gravelly where he’d lightly snored, as much as he always denied he did, fussing Niko behind the ear with long, gentle fingers. He took the plate out of her hand, his eyes swirling with a moved expression when he saw she’d cut his crusts off, his gaze snapping back up to where she’d sweeped her hair out her face, a large shirt and a pair of his clean boxers adorning her figure, “Thankyou,”

He hadn’t said the three magic words since, neither of them had. But they felt it. The weird static that had been thick in the air between them before was crackling along their skin with every glance, like they were both thinking the same thing.

I love you, and you love me.

He smiled at her warmly, the urge to grab her by her face and kiss her skin all over almost overwhelming him, because he counted himself lucky every single day. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. He heard it in every heart beat, like a mantra that his chest clung to since the words had spilled from her soft lips. She was waiting for him, for his head to settle with the idea that Maeve was gone, and he could let her go and not feel terrible about it; waiting for him to make the first move. 

“Coffee?” He asked, watching her eyes soften as they trailed over his face, and he worried he looked a little worse for wear since he’d rolled out of bed and headed towards the source of the girl he loved arguing with someone in the kitchen even though that someone had turned out to be the greedy bastard they loved dearly.

He knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have her waiting on him, and he never let himself forget it. 

“Yes, please,” She said, and he brushed past her, close enough for it to be on purpose when their arms touched, his hands busying themselves in between the plate and munching on the first bite of breakfast, because he didn’t know what he might do if they spent one more second looking at one another like that. 

She watched him move towards the kettle she’d sent him for Christmas when she was in London. After using one for two weeks she’d seen the light and realised he would love the nifty little invention. Her arm burned where he’d touched as if he’d taken a flame to her skin, her chest boiling up with every single thing she could think to tell him, like how good his hair looked when he didn’t do much with it, or how hot his voice sounded like that, or that she really really did love him the way she’d never even thought possible outside her silly romance novels, that she’d never believed Pip when he’d told Estella; “You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read,” and yet when she thought of it now, watching Spencer busy himself shovelling sugar into two mugs, it made entire perfect sense. 

She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew him, and she didn’t ever want to know. 

She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to say those three little words again, or just to tell him he smelled good even when he hadn’t put any deodorant or aftershave on, but her phone’s ringtone cut her off. 

Already knowing it was going to be Penelope with a new case, she flicked the call on to speaker phone, “What you got for me, baby girl?” She said, trying to make her voice as deep as it would go, and she heard Spencer snickering where he was stirring hot water into the instant coffee.

“Was that supposed to be Morgan?” Pen’s voice replied, a small chuckle of her own evident even through the digital tone.

“I thought that was pretty good,” Bugsy replied, stuffing the last of the toasted bread into her mouth.

“I thought he was right in the room with us for a moment there,” Spencer chimed in, humouring her, as he also took an enormous bite from his breakfast, knowing they were more than likely about to be called in and their game of house, one where they flustered every time they spoke, was going to be over, “I was like, woah, Morgan, when did you get here-”

“Alright, my little rascals. We have a case, Hotch wants everyone in,” Penelope said, no doubt already paging through JJ, “No more coffee for either of you, you’re both being weird enough as it is,” 

“Definitely not,” Spencer said, sliding the mug of milky, sweet caffeine over to Bugsy who smiled at him wickedly.

“Wheels up in twenty, Garcia,” The woman added in the same voice as before, Spencer laughing with a shake of his head and moving to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arm winding around her waist to give her a small, affectionate squeeze on the hip. 

Penelope sighed, already accepting that their mercurial attitudes weren’t going away any time soon, the sudden mood change entirely odd to the rest of the team who had no idea that they had almost kissed just one week ago. To everyone else, they just seemed to have bounced back to normal, reverted back to Bugsy and Spencer; attached at the hip, only the eye contact and secretive smiles had been dialled to a hundred. The line went dead, and her head shot to look at him, where his hand had yet to move, and it was scoldingly hot against the soft fat that gathered at her hips.

“I’ll get your good shirt, I put it out to dry yesterday,” She said, her voice suddenly much less brave than it had been when she saw his eyes crinkling with a small smile. 

He nodded, and she caught his gaze trailing down her nose, darting over her lips for a second in a way that made her chest rev like a Ferrarri out of gear. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he looked back up to her eyes, his forest hues entrancing like he was playing some silent flute song and she was a snake dancing under his orders. 

He took a second to realise they were standing in his kitchen, his body pressed against hers like he hadn’t even realised they were so close, like he’d just gravitated to her that way, like he couldn’t stop it even if he’d tried to. He’d had a taste of nectar, and he was a drunk man ever since. 

Spencer wrangled a hold of himself, allowing himself to stroke the back of her head lovingly, and pressing a kiss to her crown, before he stepped away from her, and the siren song dropped, the two of them dispersing to get ready for the case. 

Bugsy swore she could hear her heart pounding the entire drive to headquarters.

–

“I think the real question is why married couples?” Hotch mused, a steaming cup of black coffee sitting in front of him on the jet, his nose in the file on his lap. 

Bugsy scanned over the manilla folder in her hands, her legs swinging rhythmically beneath the table she sat on, Rossi to her left, her own second cup of coffee squeezed between her thighs. It was a heavy case for a weekend morning, three married couples found slashed and dumped together, the UnSub showing no signs of slowing or stopping.

“If he’s a sadist, having a witness to his torture heightens his pleasure,” Alex added, her lips pursed in contemplation, her hair primped surprisingly neat considering they’d been called in with little to no notice on a Sunday. 

“Israel Keyes kidnapped a husband and wife at gunpoint, got them in a car, took them to a remote location, and then killed the husband in front of the wife,” Spencer said, trying not to look straight at Bugsy when he felt her eyes on him.

He’d never been one to keep a good poker face, never been good at hiding how he felt especially when he was happy. And she made him happier than he deserved to be. He knew their little arrangement would become glaringly obvious to the rest of the team if he let himself look at her. he had no control of his face when it came to her, how he felt his eyes soften, his lips turn up into a dopey smile, his hands itching to touch her just to confirm she was real.

He saw her head tilt down, into her lap as she tried desperately to focus on the words on the page, but he caught the small smile that she kept for herself, and he had a feeling she was struggling just as much as he was. 

“Keyes was a sexual sadist, though,” Rossi interjected, his hands wrapped around a scolding cup of the green tea Penelope had bought them because she’d read of the stress relief benefits. They’d taken it, but David and Bugsy were the only ones who had tried it, “This guy, I don’t know,” 

“Cutting a husband and wife to death, it’s more like he’s mocking their marriage bond,” JJ said, her bluebell hues dancing to Bugsy when the girl chimed in.

“Mutilating both of them, killing them together, it’s like the idea of couples and happy marriage is a trigger for him; it’s personal. He wants to make them pay for their happiness, likely because something’s stopping him from having it too,” She said, taking a long sip of her coffee, Rossi nodding along with her. 

“That’s where my head’s at. ‘You took each other for better or worse, now I’m going to show you worse’,” He said, leaning back against the table, his shoulder nudging the younger girl. 

Derek stroked a hand over his stubbled beard, “His home life’s probably a wreck, at least one ex-wife, not to mention mom and dad,”  

“Alright we need to hit the ground,” Hotch said, flicking a glance at the youngest agent where she was all but inhaling her sweet beverage, “Prentiss and Reid, I want you mapping out a geographical profile,”

She nodded, her eyes slowly trailing to Spencer’s as Hotch distributed jobs around the team, but her head subconsciously tuned his stern voice out into static. Because when she looked up at his face, he was already staring at her, and the sound of her heartbeat racing crawled its way back into her ear, the thrumming so loud she was sure David could hear it too, she might as well have held a megaphone to her mouth and announced “Spencer Reid, you make me so nervous in the good kind of way,”

His hazel eyes trailed over her face, her expression unreadable as she scrambled to keep a lid on her feelings, and she wondered if this was where the phrase ‘Don’t shit where you eat,’ came from, because him so much as looking at her wiped her mind completely, which was not ideal for an agent working on a case. But she couldn’t help it, he was enchanting, and she guessed he was having just as much of an inner quarrel as he looked away from her, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his earlobes turning a strawberry ice cream pink. 

She had no idea how she was going to make it through the rest of the day so close to him. 

–

“First couple were last seen on the corner of Hill Avenue, Bella Mia Italian restaurant,” Bugsy read from her scrawled notes, as Spencer took a purple white board pen to the map of Detroit. Drawing a circle of a 5 centimetre radius around the little dot, he kept his eyes ahead of him. Hearing her pace behind him, he didn’t need to look up to know she was chewing her cuticles again. 

“Stop biting,” He chided lightly, hearing a guilty silence where he knew she’d caught herself with embarrassment. He tried not to show his amusement, knowing it would only make her feel worse, he bit down a smirk and raised his pen back to the map, “Next one?” 

She’d been on edge all day. He would have probably brushed it off as caffeine jitters seeing as she was on her fourth cup already, but Spencer knew her too well to know her tolerance was so high she had about two more mugs in her before she’d start to crash. 

He knew what it was, the memory of her skin beneath his lips burning his cheeks all over again, the look in her eyes when he’d been close enough they were sharing breath. He knew what it was because he felt it too. It was like their confession had set off a ticking time bomb, one that neither of them had the countdown to, and the clicking of every passing second sounded oddly like a pulse in their throats. To put it short, just the sound of her footsteps was making his skin pimpled with gooseflesh. 

“Uh, next one is Bowlarama, about ten stores down from there, Couple number two were seen getting milkshakes and heading towards the parking lot before they went missing,” She recited, her fingers firmly clutching the paper in her hand to resist the urge of gnawing at her nails again. Why was she so nervous? She lived with Spencer, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with Spencer, spent almost all her evenings either playing chess or watching movies with Spencer, or on the odd occasion he found a book in reach he hadn’t read yet, he’d read out parts to her he found particularly engaging to those million, trillion, billion neurological pathways of his. 

The squealing of the pen against the board was the only thing keeping her head in the case, Spencer’s messy handwriting dotting around the map with points of interest, and she begged her brain to kick into gear the way it normally did, tried everything to yank herself out of the head fog she’d found herself lost in where thoughts of him emerged through like Mr Darcy strolling through those clouded moors, like how his voice sounded when he smiled, how his hand looked gripping that pen, how his body was lithe and handsome even from the back. 

She shook her head, jamming her face back into her files, to the gory images of couple number three, mutilated and bloody, and reminded herself she had a job to do. 

Get it together, Prentiss.

“Couple number three’s last known location was on the corner of Whittier Avenue, outside a wine bar named Blue Mates,” Bugsy read out, hoping her hot cheeks would dissipate before he noticed, “It seems couples out on date night really agitate this guy,” 

Spencer hummed, focused on his third circle, the three of them overlapping with almost precise measurements. It was hard not to notice the pattern to them. He heard her draw nearer with his profile complete, and they stood beside one another, so close they knocked hands when they leaned in to take a closer look at the rings.

“He hits the same street of stores every time, one after another,” Spencer said, his long forefinger trailing down the strip of shops and bars the UnSub seemed to have a taste for, “I mean, excluding retail and supermarkets, since they’re unlikely spots for a husband and wife to go out on a date, the pattern is really quite linear where he hits next,” 

Gently taking the pen out of his hands, Bugsy leaned up to colour in every single store that would be considered retail, crossing out a pet shop or two, leaving only the cafes, bars, restaurants, even a cinema. And sure enough, the three spots the victims had been last seen lined up perfectly as the first three ‘date night’ locations on the strip, the next being a steak restaurant named The Greasy Grill. 

“How much do you want to bet our UnSub is getting a craving for Sirloin right about now?” Bugsy said, putting the pen down onto the table and they exchanged a look of accomplishment, just as Hotch walked in with the Chief of Detroit police. 

“What did you find?” Hotch asked, his eyes falling to the asterisks drawn on the whiteboard, the rest of the known locations Penelope had sent dotted around the map. 

“Date night is very important to this UnSub,” Spencer said, the two of them turning to their boss, his shoulder bumping hers, and it was only then she’d realised she was all but pressing up into his side. 

“He goes on dates?” The chief of police asked, his brows furrowed. Taking a step away, her eyes darting to the map as a means of distracting herself, she pointed to the ink marks they’d squiggled on the paper.

“No, but the victims do and he knows that,” She explained, tracing a chewed fingertip down the street, “The UnSub hit here first, where our first couple went out for pizza. He then moved down here where the second victims had their date night in a bowling alley, and onto our newest victims, they were last seen having wine here, each kidnapping site along the same strip with the next possible location being right here,” She said, her finger slapping against the Greasy Grill, Hotch nodding in thought as the Chief got on the phone with his own team. 

“Good work, you two,” Hotch hummed, and he opened his mouth to speak again when Bugsy’s phone began to ring.

Snatching it out of her pocket, she caught sight of Alex’s name before swiping to answer, pressing it to her ear, “Hello?” 

“Fourth victim has just been found dumped in a car.” The woman said immediately, and Bugsy switched her mobile to speaker so the other two could hear her. Turning on her heels to face the white board, she grabbed the pen resting on the table beside her, yanking the lid off with her teeth.

“Where?” She asked, Spencer picking the plastic from between her lips to help her communicate, her eyes focused on the road names as she waited for Alex’s response. 

“Back alley between Warren and Forest Avenue, one woman found alone in a white Buick,” Alex said, and all three of their faces scrunched in confusion as she said it. 

“He’s changed his victimology,” Spencer murmured and Bugsy nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line, “Alex, is the woman married at least, or has the UnSub completely altered his preference?”

“We have her husband here right now,” Alex confirmed, and Hotch stepped over to where the two geniuses inspected the map, “He said he missed a dinner reservation they had two nights ago at a restaurant called-”

“The Greasy Grill?” Spencer and Bugsy spoke synchronously, and Alex paused audibly. 

“I take it you two have figured out his pattern already?” She asked, though she didn’t sound all too surprised. 

“See if the husband knows anything else, Blake. We’re going to figure out the next location that fits the pattern,” Hotch ordered, and they bid each other goodbye, as Bugsy and Spencer were already coordinating which plots of land were retail stores. 

By the time the line went dead, there was a big red mark circling a mini golf course slash cocktail bar, and the duo looked at him expectantly. 

“If the UnSub keeps his victims for around three days at a time, and the woman was found this morning, my guess is he’s going to head there tonight,” Bugsy said, capping the pen and dropping it back onto the desk, feeling Spencer nodding behind her, “And if the victim was supposed to be at the restaurant with her husband, it means he’s still looking for couples, he just happened to get unlucky. He’s going to want another happy-go-lucky husband and wife pairing,” 

Hotch’s face became unreadable for a moment, his gaze switching between the two of them, like he was assessing the risk factor of sending his two youngest agents undercover for the second time. But they seemed to have worked together seamlessly the first time, in that casino, so he didn’t see the qualms about asking them to work the same act this time.

“What?” Bugsy asked, the look in his eye unnerving her, and she flicked a glance behind her at Spencer’s equally lost expression, turning back to see Hotch dialling Dave’s number to update him on their plan, “Hotch, what is it?”

“He wants a happy couple,” Hotch said, his phone already up to his ear as he eyed the little to zero space between the two agents who swore blind they were just friends, “We’re going to give him one,” 

–

She had to admit, this was a little nicer than the red dress she’d been stuffed into last time. The sundress was flowy enough she could hide her gun strapped to her hip, and still compliment her figure nicely enough that she couldn’t complain. And best of all, it meant she could wear her ballet pumps instead of those god awful stilettos she’d pulled out last time they were undercover. 

She still remembered that evening in the casino, watching Spencer’s big brain tick faster than she’d thought possible even for him. The briefing of this even seemed much more relaxed, seeing as their aim was to look like the happiest couple alive. ‘You worry about playing your parts, we’ll worry about playing ours,’; was what Alex had said when she’d brought in a dress about Bugsy’s size, the woman already styling her hair to look like she was really going on a date. 

Because she was, sort of, not really, going on a date with Spencer. Except none of it was real, like someone up there had to have one final laugh at her luck, like that carrot on a string she’d been waiting patiently for the past week was looking a lot more delicious by the second as it dangled in front of her.  

There was a knock on the small hotel room Hotch had booked them in for the evening, seeing as they were going to be scoping out the area until late, and Bugsy headed for the door without pause, thinking it was JJ returning with the fake wedding rings they’d gotten from a cheap jewellers down the street. 

She swung the door open, only to be greeted by two dark eyes looking at her done up face, her primped hair, her floral dress. 

“Spence,” She said, picking over every inch of him, breathless already, because she always thought he looked hot in a button down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, “You look-”

“You look beautiful,” He rushed, like he might just burst if he held it in any longer, and she smiled sheepishly, her face flooding with heat all over again. Damn you, Reid, with your stupid charm and ridiculously good looking lips.

“You look beautiful too,” She complimented, noticing a gold band on his finger then and she realised he had something in his palm, “You run into JJ already?” 

He nodded, smiling with a stammered breath, “Yeah, I said I’d come check if you were ready. Hotch and Dave are already there scoping out the bar,” 

She simpered under the weight of his nervousness, “Well, I’m ready,” Holding out her left hand, she raised her ring finger, “Marry me, pretty boy,” 

He snickered, shaking his head at her clear diversion from the stifling tension in the air, and held her hand in his delicately, his skin warm as it encompassed hers entirely, and he was careful to slip the false engagement ring over her digits, following it with a gold band of her own. 

“You ready to get your ass kicked at miniature golf whilst our friends catch a criminal, Mr Reid?” She asked, and he had yet to let go of her hand as she shut the door behind her, slipping her hotel room key into her purse. 

“That’s a bold statement from such a sore loser, Mrs Reid,” He said back, a smile so wide he thought he might burst a vessel as she laughed, and tightened her fingers around his, interlacing them just like she had done a handful of times before, and his chest crackled with white hot excitement when she knocked her shoulder into his side in affection. 

His lips scorched with the words Mrs Reid the entire drive to the bar. 

–

“Any eyes on him, yet?” Bugsy whispered to the women in the stalls, touching up her lipstick as JJ and Alex hid in the women’s bathroom for the signal. 

“Not yet,” Blake said, sitting on the closed toilet seat in her kevlar and jacket, all but twiddling her thumbs and wishing she’d brought a sudoku, “Are you guys having fun at least?”

“Pretending to be married to my best friend while a serial killer eyes up my guts for the taking; yeah I’m peachy,” Bugsy replied, rubbing her lips together and making sure her gun was still strapped tight to her hip, “Besides, he really is kicking my ass at golf,”

“He’s going to let you win anyway, you know that right?” JJ said, tucking her feet up onto the seat in her own stall in case anyone who wasn’t on their team came in to the bathroom, “He always lets you win because he knows it makes you happy,”

Bugsy paused, the tissue that was collecting rogue lipstick smudges from her face almost falling in the sink, and she was quick to gather her voice with a clear of her throat.

“Maybe I just win because I’m good, Jennifer,” She said, a lilt of teasing in her tone, binning the scrap tissue paper and heading for the door, “Keep an eye out, kiddos. I’m going back in,”

They chirped a goodbye, the two of them sighing as they waited for Hotch’s message, and Bugsy walked back out to where Spencer was waiting by Hole Seven. It was a classic windmill on top of a hill, a small tunnel where the door was supposed to be leading to a lower level behind the plastic decor, where the hole lay waiting for them. 

“You ready, honey?” He said, holding out a purple putter they’d chosen at the start of the course, and she smiled genuinely at him. She had been telling somewhat of a lie when she’d been so unenthusiastic in the bathroom, though she thought telling the women just how much fun she was having being married to Spencer might just rub salt in the wound considering they were bored stiff sat in the bathroom.

That and she wanted to keep whatever it was they were feeling theirs and only theirs for just a little bit longer. 

“Ready, my love,” She sang in response and let him go first. He had to lean over a fair bit seeing as he was so tall he made everything on the course look particularly miniature, including the putter that seemed dwarfed by his height. Taking a quick look at the hill, no doubt calculating the angle and force he would need to hit it with, he gave the little, pink golf ball a generous tap and it raced up the slope, straight into the tunnel. They heard it knocking around a little in the chamber, before it came careering out the other end and rolled no closer than a yard away from the hole. 

Bugsy looked at him with wide eyes, to which he pretended not to look almost arrogant with how easy he’d made it seem, only when he looked back at her with a shit eating grin, she knew exactly how pleased with himself he was. 

“I bet it’s not that difficult, it’s all just a matter of force and drag and whatnot, right?” She said, strolling up to place her lilac ball on the inky dot marking the start. 

“Totally, although this is where, I don’t know, say a degree in Engineering would come in useful, I bet,” Spencer chimed in, and she didn’t need to look at him to know he had that smirk on his face. 

“Mr Reid, get ready to eat your words,” She replied over her shoulder, smacking the ball hard enough it flew up the slope, bouncing off the wall of the windmill and racing all the way back down the hill, rolling right back to where they stood, Spencer hiding a laugh behind his hand. She gaped, her face hot with annoyance, “Wait, wait! That was a practice run, I get another go,”

“Practice run, I see,” Spencer said with a chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets, and watching her scramble to set the ball back on the marker, “So out of interest, how many of these practice runs are you getting,”

“Just the one,” She said, hitting the plastic globe again, though this time it barely made it half way up the incline before it rolled right back down again, “Two, I get two. This one’s the real one, starting now,” 

“The real one? So this one’s really the one that counts, right?” He teased, and she glared at him over her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, a look of the cat that got the cream smeared all across his face as he took a stance behind her, wrapping his arms around hers with the oldest trick in the book, “Why don’t you let your dearest husband help you out, huh?” 

“I have a masters and half a degree in medicine, I think I know what I’m doing,” She hummed, though the feeling of his hands resting over hers soone quietened down whatever fire was stoked in her belly from losing their game. Spencer was so close she could feel him breathing down her neck, feel his chest on her shoulder blades, and worst and most heinous of all, feel his crotch pressing against her tailbone. 

“Alright, alright. Just humour me,” He murmured, a new found confidence in him that he only seemed to get whenever they were playing the part of being other people. He gave her a salacious lick of his lips, smiling at her with a pink parted mouth, his eyes dark in this light like he knew what she was thinking as well, and he couldn’t help but think she looked so pretty when he flirted with her a little. He’d always thought that when she was stunned into that quiet tone, the mousy look she got on her face was rather cute. 

His hands engulfed hers with a mesh of pornographic veins and sadistically handsome knuckles, his mouth at her ear as they lined up the shot together. 

It was as if a murmuration of birds had flocked together in her chest, dipping and diving and creating all manner of shapes in her stomach as she felt it flip three or four times, his body so entirely pressed against hers she never wanted to move a muscle. She’d had the odd thought pop into her head about what sex with Spencer Reid might feel like, and yet all she could think about in the haze of the putter and fake grass beneath their feet was how delicious he felt pressing into her like that. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as she looked forward again, and she could have sworn she held back a moan when he breathed out down her spine. 

“Hotch has eyes on a guy at the bar watching us,” He whispered, her back straightening as she was reminded with a slap to the face they were still working the case. That as much fun as they were having, as happy as they were supposed to seem, they still had a very real job to do, and she felt stupid for thinking the flirty glances and erotic embrace was for anything more than to sell the married couple act. 

But Bugsy was nothing if not committed to her job. So instead of worrying if Spencer had felt anything real in the last hour or so, she decided to double down and give their UnSub a real show. 

Sticking her ass out so she brushed against Spencer’s crotch more, she intertwined her fingers with his, and hit the dimpled sphere the direction he guided her; and sure enough it rolled straight into the tunnel with little qualms.

Spinning in his arms, the smile was nearly wiped off her face when she saw Spencer’s eyes had darkened to a rich espresso hue as he looked at her. But she hid it well, despite the fact she caught the way his pupils were blown wide, and simply leaned to kiss him smack dab on his cheek, a smirk on her face when she pulled away.

“I guess I just needed the correct motivation,” She said with a flirty undertone, and she revelled in the way his lips parted enough she saw the whites of his absurdly pretty teeth. 

“Remind me to not take you out to mini golf for our first date,” Spencer huffed, his ears red as a mushroom top as they both stepped over to where the hole was and she snickered, trying her best to ignore the wings hammering away at her ribcage when he said that. 

“Duly noted, Mr Reid,” She said, watching him lineup his next shot with a smirk, and she wondered just where exactly they would go on their first date. Her smile only got wider, a girlish glee to her eyes. “So, theoretically, where were you thinking of taking me?” 

“Theoretically,” He said, lining up his shot, the ball only a small tap away from the hole, his feet spreading a little wider so he could lean down to putt the pink sphere, “I was thinking of going to that book cafe out in Delaware, the one where they have a bunch of drinks inspired by different authors. We could play a game I used to with my mom, where we choose a book for each other we think the other would like,” He took the shot, his ball rolling into the cavity without much effort as she watched him meticulously, her entire body softening with his sentiment right down to her marrow, “And then I was going to say we build a sofa fort in the living room and watch whatever movie you like, maybe get some popcorn on the way home,” 

He looked up at her, and almost reeled back in surprise to see her looking at him with something so vastly emotional in her eyes, like he’d offered her a winning lottery ticket or a chance to go back in time in a flying police box, her expression a complete window into her soul because she’d never been too good at hiding how she felt when she was around him. 

Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, only for their earpieces to jump to life, Hotch’s voice out of breath as he reported down their ear. 

“We have the UnSub, we caught him trying to sneak into your car like we profiled.” He said, and she knew his brow was creased without even having to see his face, “We’re taking him in for questioning now, you kids wrap up and head to the station,”

Bugsy hummed in confirmation, fighting the disappointment that their show was over, and they’d have to go back to their usual act of pretending there wasn’t three little words hanging over both their heads, gnawing at the back of their brains. 

Clearing her throat, she set up her shot ready to finish their game, “Well, theoretically speaking, when you’re ready to ask me on that date, I’m there,”

He smiled to himself, perhaps ready to flirt with her just a little more before they went back to being Bugsy and Spence, not Mr and Mrs Reid, when she hit the golf ball just the tiniest bit too vigorously. It rolled straight past the hole, bouncing off the wall and heading further away from the end than when she’d started, and she groaned in frustration. 

“How are you so terrible at this-” Spencer burst out laughing as she stomped over to the lilac ball, lining up another shot with a grumpy expression. 

“Not another word, Lover boy,” 

2. The one with an old flame.

“I wonder what Hotch wants,” She mused, her head resting on the arm of the seat, her eyes shut for the duration of the flight. Rossi had called them into the office startlingly early for a Friday, the entire team sleepy eyed and annoyed as they’d strolled onto the sixth floor. 

Yet the minute that they’d heard Hotch needed them, they’d soon perked up in interest, seeing as it was Aaron’s only appointed week off to see Beth in New York, and they had quickly jumped in to help with whatever it was he needed. 

“Penelope’s still waiting for NYPD to send her the autopsy reports for the previous victims,” Rossi said, him, Strauss, JJ and Alex playing a few rounds of Shithead with a peeling deck of cards because for once they had no paperwork to be looking over while they travelled. Bugsy had laid on the couch, the one Spencer usually commandeered, except this time he let her take the comfy seat, instead letting her legs drape over his lap as he read from his book, another two sat next to him for when he finished that one. 

“He sounded panicked. DEA thinks we might have a bad batch of something making its way through the club scene causing the deaths,” Strauss added, putting down two sets of three on top of JJ’s ace, “Aaron’s brother just happened to have been caught in the crossfire,”

“Men are almost twice as likely to die from drug overdoses than women, just last year there were forty-one thousand, five hundred and two cases.” Spencer said without lifting his head from his pages, his thumb caressing over Bugsy’s ankle bone, “The fact that the majority of the victims are women suggests it’s more than likely is a date rape drug that has been laced since they tend to be targeted towards female victims more often than males.” 

“Ecstasy can be made in pill, powder or liquid form so it really wouldn’t be too difficult to slip it into someone’s drink,” The girl mused, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she attempted to catch up on another half hour of sleep, “Or to convince people the drug they’re taking willingly is safe,”

“Even regular users might not know they're being dosed until it's too late,” JJ agreed, setting down a seven on top of Rossi’s two fives. 

“What about the two victims who were clean, Linda Heying and Eric Sullivan’s family claimed they never touched the stuff,” Alex questioned, as Morgan looked over the list of victims that they had been able to track down, despite the majority of the information waiting for them at New York. 

“Either the victims are good at hiding the truth or the UnSub is killing for another reason,” David said with a sigh, as Strauss set down the six of clubs, “We should take a closer look, see how they’re connected,”

“Well for now, let the princess get her beauty sleep,” Bugsy said, snuggling into the throw pillow Spencer had passed her as they’d sat down, “I’m feeling weird today,”

His head ripped from his book at that, the rest of the team going back to playing their cards, his hand skirting up to her calf to stroke her leg gently, “You okay?” 

She huffed, “Yeah, Penelope said it's because my Mercury is in Retrograde or something, I don’t know. I just feel strange,” She grumbled, resting a hand over her stomach, “Probably just coming on my period early,”

He frowned, moving her legs off his lap and standing up. Before she could ask where he was going, he stepped to the opposite end of the couch, picking her head up gently by the crook of her neck and sitting back down, resting her back onto his lap. 

His fingers were in her hair before she could say anything, scratching gently at her scalp the way he knew she turned to putty for, and she smiled, swearing blind she’d be purring if she could. 

“We’ll get you some breakfast when we land,” He murmured, and she snuggled her cheek into his thigh, his slender fingers massaging her skin kindly. 

“Thankyou, Spence,” She whispered back, all but slurring her words as sleep caught right back up to her, and before long she was drooling on his black trousers, the sight of it making him smile sweetly to himself. 

And it was for a moment like that he wondered what exact feeling he was waiting for in the first place. 

–

“Any updates?” Bugsy asked, as they entered the New York Police Department and saw Hotch waiting for them, his arms crossed in a casual shirt and jeans, clearly having had no intention of working this week, “How’s your brother?”

“A little shaken but then he never exactly made the best choices in life,” Hotch huffed, putting a hand on her back as she leaned in to give him a small hug because he seemed particularly stressed, “Emily always said you were bad, I’d take you over him any day,”

“Thanks,” She murmured into his shoulder, with a frown, “I think?”

He smiled, amused the way she had a knack for, though the worry in his mahogany eyes didn’t budge, and Spencer was all but a step behind her as the team filed into the building. 

“You guys have coffee?” Spencer asked, his eyes subconsciously trailing after Bugsy as she moved to talk to one of the detectives, and Hotch nodded, pointing him over to the small kitchenette at the back of the precinct. 

“Over there, I’ll get you guys set up with the lab reports now that you’re here. Autopsies came back for Linda and Eric,” Hotch said, and Spencer murmured in agreement, heading straight for the instant coffee and creamer, worrying about the girl who was already nose deep in a file by the time the machine had poured the first cup. 

He wondered whether there were any pharmacies nearby for anti-sickness tablets, or if she needed a heavy dose of water and sleep instead of the caffeine goodness he was whipping up for her, but then he knew she’d rather shrivell into a ball in the precinct bathroom than ask for a day off, would rather suffer in proud silence than make herself look weak. 

Bugsy remembered it happening in choppy intervals. One minute she was heading up the steps towards where Spencer stood patiently by the coffee machine, something already popping up as a point of interest in her overworked brain. Her head was down, muttering to herself the points of the victimology that conflicted with one another, when she felt herself slam right into a solid body, and she jumped back, steadying herself with an embarrassed expression. 

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” Her eyes snapped up to see a messy blonde sweep of hair, wide blue eyes she’d known ten years ago and a thick beard that happened to be the only thing new about him. Her gaze locked onto him, and she felt a fury she’d not thought about in over a decade rile up inside her, “Sean?” 

“Bugsy,” He breathed, the horror sweeping over his expression, a hand shooting up to slick his hair back nervously, “What are you- how are you-” 

She shoved him back with two firm hands, tossing the file onto the table beside her, and shoving at his chest again, his own hands coming up to defend himself lightly even though his expression read nothing but guilt. 

“Woah, woah, let’s just talk about this, I was just a dumb kid-”

“You left me, Sean. You left me in a foreign country alone with no boarding pass, no cell phone,” She snarled, and the sound of her tone rising turned a few heads, Spencer all but ditching the spoon into the sink when he saw her going nose to nose with some guy who looked purely terrified, “Your dumbass friends spent all my money on hookers, I’d still be in Italy if it wasn’t for the fact you graciously decided not to steal my bank card-” 

She shoved him again in between her growls, and it wasn’t until two hands came up to stop her did she realise Derek and Spencer had all but appeared behind her, the former’s arms wrapping around her waist to draw her back. 

“Woah, woah, talk to me, pretty girl. What’s with the aggression?” Derek asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked between the youngest agent and their suspect. It seemed her volume had reached the other side of the room where Hotch had been talking with Strauss and Alex, and Spencer could practically see the steam coming out his ears as he whipped around to their trio. 

He could already hear the lecture coming, and the thought of it made him gulp.

“This is Sean,” She spat, and Derek and Spencer’s head snapped to the blonde man who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, “You know, the asshole that ditched me on another continent and stole my money,”

“I didn’t mean to steal your money, I thought you had it in your purse, I-I didn’t think to check before we left the hotel room,” He tried to interject, though the girl's glare intensified, unaware her boss's shoes were now thundering across the steps. 

“Where you left me to miss the flight I paid for, you inconsiderate prick-”

“You told me to leave you alone! You said you were sick of us waking you up-”

“I meant playing your music too loud, dumbass-”

“Well sorry, last time I checked I’m not a mind reader, Bugsy-”

“What in God’s name is going on here?” Hotch’s voice was a crack of lightning through the precinct, and the two of them shut up immediately, like two school children caught squabbling in the halls, Sean turning to his older brother with an exasperated expression. 

“Aaron, I swear, I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Sean pleaded, and Derek, Spencer and Bugsy turned to their boss in unison with bewildered faces. Hotch looked back at them, his own anger dissolving into utter, raw confusion. 

“Do you two know each other?” Hotch, Aaron, asked the girl in the middle, the other men all but positioned as bodyguards in the midst of their little spat, and he saw her cheeks hot with anger deflating as she drew a breath to answer. 

“Unfortunately,” She spat, scrutinising the familiar tone Sean had used when he’d said Aaron’s name, “Do you two know each other?” 

“He’s my brother,” The Hotchner’s replied in unison, their tone almost identical and she felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.

Bugsy felt her face drop, her eyes scanning between them for any signs of a lie, except all she found were the tiny details of their face that seemed to half match. Like their cheekbones, and the crease between their brows, the shape of their lips. 

Her face blanked, gobsmacked silence passing between the five of them as she digested exactly what that statement ment. 

Sean, her Sean, the Sean she’d been sleeping with on and off for six months straight, who used to make her tea way too milky and without sugar the way she hated it, but would bring it to her in bed and stroke her back when they were finished, the Sean who once tried to ask her to be his girlfriend when he was stoned and she’d laughed at him and snatched the blunt away, told him to get a hold of himself because that was the exact opposite of how friends with benefits worked. 

Sean, who she had trusted to keep her safe, who’d ditched her naked in a hotel room in a foreign country and made her feel stupid for ever believing a word a man said.  

She stuttered for a response, a wide eyes mix of terror and confusion and repulsion washing over her in stages. 

“I need-” She swallowed thickly, her mouth drier than sandpaper, gently pushing Derek’s arm from around her waist, “I think I need a walk- a walk sounds good- yeah-”

Rossi paced over to the five of them, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He almost paused at the wall of awkward tension around the group, each participant seeming stuck for the right thing to say, the entire situation so bizarre that Spencer debated faking a migraine to get him and her out of the room for some air. 

“Hotch,” Both of the men turned to look at him, and the sight of it made Bugsy shudder, feeling almost completely out of her own body at the thought of her nude body on top of Sean’s because now all she could see was Aaron in his place, “Six new bodies found in a nightclub-”

“I’ll go!” She jumped, all but bolting past the men, trying her hardest not to touch either of them because her skin crawled with a sickening uncanny valley looking between the brothers, “I’ll go inspect the crime scene,” 

And no one stopped her, because they’d seen her be all manner of strange before, but never quite like that. Aaron nodded his head to Morgan, and the man took it as a sign to follow her. He quickly obeyed, hot on the girl's heels as she kept her head down with an odd, freaked out expression on her face like she was about to throw up and scream at the same time. 

Which left Sean alone as Spencer and Aaron whirled around on him, similar looks of annoyance on their face as the younger agent looked the man head to toe. 

He was handsome, handsome in a rugged way like he was used to bar fights and late nights and drinking until three am with pretty ladies like her. He was built wide like Aaron, his shoulders broad and muscles stocky, a few tattoos dotted around his arms that only added to his rough looking appeal, and Spencer wondered if she’d always liked the bad boys, wondered if he was an outlier in her dating history. 

Except they weren’t dating, not yet at least. 

“So I take it she’s one of your agents,” Sean said, wringing his hands together in anxiety as the two taller men looked down at him, equally unimpressed.

Though, Spencer hated to admit, his was more green faced jealousy than anything else. 

“Agent Prentiss is one of the best,” Reid corrected, his tone cold and stern, and Sean visibly shrunk in on himself, looking to his big brother for help, only he found Aaron was just as annoyed, glaring down at him. 

“You have some more explaining to do, Sean,” His brother snapped, and the two men diverted him into one of the interrogation rooms, Spencer’s jaw clenched so hard he felt his temples ache, “Or next time I’m not stopping her from handing your ass to you, and believe me when I say you’ll wish you’d told me sooner,”

Sean gulped, all too aware of the way eighteen year old Bugsy had never backed down from a fight, when men twice her age shoved her in clubs or girls bitched at her for dancing too close to their boyfriends. He didn’t imagine she was any different at twenty eight, except this time she was trained and licensed to handle a gun. 

The door slammed behind them, and Aaron pushed his little brother into the seat with a firm hand, the sight of his unit chief just as protective over her as he was making Spencer bite back glee. The image of Bugsy laying into the guy was burned into his memory, eidetic or not, and it seemed to be the only thing that stopped him blowing his top as Sean opened his mouth to explain what had happened between him and the younger Prentiss woman. 

–

“What did you do, Thane?” Sean’s voice crackled over the feed, the wire on his chest brushing against his shirt as he paced in the wine cellar. Aaron, Morgan, Spencer and Bugsy sat in the van, listening to the conversation through shared headphones, Spencer and Bugsy’s heads pressed together as they followed the voices as best as they could, waiting for a confession or anything they could tie to the victims' gory deaths. 

“I spiked the wine, you idiot,” Sean’s boss, Thane, snapped, his breathing laboured and Bugsy took a shot in the dark to say he was pacing, worrying now that there was concrete evidence linking his date rape drug to the deaths of atleast nine people so far, “Oh, God. Oh, god, Jim is going to kill me.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Sean seethed, his patience wearing thin as the man all but confessed to killing his girlfriend. 

“For a laugh, I thought it was X. Girl’s love that crap,” Thane replied, his voice louder as Sean stepped closer to him, and she exchanged a look with Aaron.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t X, was it?” The younger Hotchner barked, and she quickly let go of the headphones to grab a kevlar and her gun. 

“He’s going off track, Aaron, he’d not going to keep his cool much longer,” She said, and Spencer’s eyes trailed up to her face, her brow furrowed as Aaron moved to slip his own bulletproof over his head, adjusting the straps at his side. 

“Tell SWAT to stand by, we’re going in to support, but we may need back up,” Aaron ordered, unholstering his gun and switching the trigger off safety, “You two stay here and see if Thane says any more about the wine,”

She drew her gun to her side just as he did, and Spencer made a move to stop her, even just to check where her head was at because he knew she had this tendency of throwing herself in harms way and asking questions later. He selfishly worried what that upset look in her eyes meant, like she loathed that Sean was in danger as much as she loathed him. 

But he wasn’t quite fast enough, because by the time he’d reached a hand out for hers to ask if she was feeling alright, she had slid the door to the van open, hopping out onto the tarmac as Aaron shadowed her. 

And something ugly and envious reared its head in Spencer’s gut as the doors slammed, so much so that his jaw feathered and he took a deep breath out, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The two agents moved as one, their footsteps pounding over the linoleum floor of the night club. They swept to the back of the building, where the door to the stock room was, and it became apparent almost immediately from the grunting and shuffling the other side of the door that the two men were much closer to brawling than they’d guessed. 

“FBI, drop your weapon!” Bugsy called, bracing herself as she felt Aaron’s domineering figure at her shoulder. She raised her leg to kick the door in, and it swung on its hinges, smacking into the rack of beer. They caught the two men in the middle of a fist fight, Sean with a split lip, Thane with a gash on his forehead, his head locked under the younger man’s arm with a deathly grip.

She holstered her gun, seeing that neither of them were carrying, and moved forward to break the two of them up.

“Alright, Sean- Sean, that’s enough,” She scolded, her fingers prying his muscled arm off his boss’s trachea, and Sean took a second to realise it was disappointment in her face, not the white hot anger it had been not even a few hours before, before he let the man go, some colour returning to his bluing lips.

“He killed Linda,” The blonde Hotchner said softly, and something wavered in her eyes, something close to pity, and she nodded at him while biting her cheek hard. Aaron holstered his gun, surging forward to grab Thane with rough hands as he fought against the taller man’s grip. “She was sober, she’d gotten clean and he killed her,” 

“I know,” Bugsy said lamentingly, and against her better judgement she patted his shoulder kindly, more kindly than he probably deserved, and the thought of it made Sean’s baby blue eyes turn away in sorrow. 

Before she could say anything else, Thane wretched his hand out of Hotch’s grip, grabbing for the sharp box cutter and lunging right for Bugsy where she turned away from him. 

Sean’s expression morphed into fear for a moment, grabbing for her to yank her out of reach, but it was too late. She felt the slash across the back of her arm, where her kevlar couldn’t cover up, and she yawped in pain the way a dog sounds when its tail gets crushed. Turning towards the source of the danger, Sean’s hand weaved around her waist to tug her backwards as Aaron scrambled to grab the suspect. 

Thane’s hand gripped the blade and slashed down again, across her cheek and only inches away from her eye, her hands too late to grab his wrists to stop his advances. By the time he drew back to swipe for her again Aaron had already tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the wine soaked floor and fumbling for his cuffs. 

“We have an agent injured and needing medical, repeat, medical unit required on scene,” Spencer was out of his seat before Hotch could even finish his sentence, forgoing his own vest as he darted from the van, his heart racing at the sound of the scuffle echoing through Sean’s wire, and he felt his chest seizing at just what kind of a state she’d be in when he saw her. 

She was the only other agent on the scene. That call had to be made for her, the voice in his gut told him, but the twisted part of him hoped that it was someone else, anyone else, that had gotten hurt, because he might just throw a punch of his own at Thane or Sean or maybe even both of them if she had so much as a single hair misplaced. 

Spencer had only just about reached the bar area when the four of them emerged from the stock room, Thane in cuffs, looking rattled and aggravated. Spencer let himself take a long, hard look at the man with a glare that soon made him cower away, though he found little luck elsewhere as Hotch’s hands gripped him so tight Spencer thought he might be trying to strangle him through his arms. 

But that wasn’t who he was looking for. And there, trailing behind his unit chief sheepishly, with Sean’s hand on her back as he watched her carefully, his eyes worriedly darting over her skin when he saw how fast the blood was pouring from the laceration on the apple of her cheek, was Bugsy. Her expression was shaken, no doubt from nearly having her corneas slashed open had Sean not pulled her away even a second earlier, and she seemed in some sort of a daze, until she spotted the sweater vest she’d shoved in the wash about a hundred times, and two supple hands reached for her shoulders, snapping her attention out of her head. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, all but ignoring Sean as the man went to flag down medical, his own appearance dishevelled and stunned, and it irked Spencer something childish when her head snapped to the blonde, watching him head for the paramedics. 

“I’m okay, Spence, it’s just a superficial wound,” She said as a reflex, meeting his eyes finally. But she simpered when she saw just how terrified he seemed, a warm palm raising to cup his face affectionately, “He just nicked the skin, that’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks,” 

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Her face stung like a bitch, but the feeling of her cheek dribbling with the ichor was worse than the actual pain, and made her feel queasy more than anything. 

He went to say something else, or perhaps even gently caress the clean side of her face with his own loving gesture, but he was quickly interrupted by the medical team all but grabbing Bugsy out of his grip and assessing her themselves. 

“It’s probably best if you come take a seat, Agent Prentiss,” The woman said, pointing to where Sean sat on the back of the ambulance getting his nose checked over, “We’ll be over with some stitches and glue,” 

And Spencer made a move to follow the two of them, only to be stopped by Hotch, who called his name with that direct tone he took when he was worried.

“Reid, I need you and Morgan to interview Thane about where he got the drugs he used to spike the wine,” Aaron ordered, even though he seemed to watch the girl go just as bothered as the younger agent, and Spencer seemed conflicted between rebelling against his boss’s instructions or keeping to his track record of following them to a tea. 

He paused for a second, his gaze flicking to the girl who sat with her old flame, Sean’s eyes roving over her head to toe worriedly, and he looked back to Aaron, “But-”

“Now, Reid. She’s going to be fine.” 

And Spencer was forced to listen, even if his face burned with annoyance at the sight of the man watching her so tentatively. 

–

“Would you quit fidgeting, the medic said it was a surface wound,” Bugsy snipped, feeling the ocean hues burning a hole into the side of her head. She dusted her knees off of invisible dirt, braving a look up at her ex-fling where she was met with a wall of guilt.

And it was like for a split second she remembered all the mornings she’d wake up to him twirling the tips of her hair between his fingers, or when he’d shake his head whenever he’d look over her shoulder at her lab reports she’d be writing and make a passing comment on how a hot girl like her could have brains and looks. 

Or how he could be kind to her, genuinely sweet when he wanted to be, when they toed a weird line between friends with benefits and something a little more, because at his core she knew he was a good guy, he was just incredibly dumb for an eighteen year old. 

“Listen, Bug,” Sean sighed, looking down at the ground where they were perched on the back on the ambulance, Bugsy’s face stitched up so tight she hoped it wouldn’t scar very deeply, “I really am sorry for how I treated you,” 

His voice shook with something remorseful, and she let her eyes cast over his face that had grown even more handsome in the ten years since she saw him. With the good memories came the bad ones in equal measure, and the arguments over stupid shit like leaving cupboard doors open and playing music late at night and the time he forgot to feed her gerbil for two days when she was out of town washed back to shore from the deepest crevices of her mind. 

She’d been with men after him, had flings and meaningless kisses with boys who’d treated her much less kindly than he had. And when she thought about it, the anger and resentment she’d felt when she thought about those few days she spent lost in Italy stemmed from the fact she’d been forced to confront what she’d always feared since she was little. 

That Bugsy was alone in the world, forgettable, someone you could leave behind and sleep soundly. 

But when she thought of that now, the first face she pictured was Spencer, and how he would tell her to knock it off if she ever said that out loud, because he would never leave her, in a foreign country or even at a gas station if she needed to get fuel. He always walked up to the pump with her because he knew exactly how many women got kidnapped in places like that every year, he'd told her so already. 

And she knew the person she was when she could have loved Sean, the person who was reminded just how easy it was to leave her behind, was gone. In its place was the girl who Spencer loved like it was as easy as breathing. And the thought of it made her feel just that little bit less bitter towards the blonde man who fiddled with his rough, bloodied hands. 

“I was a dumb kid, I did a lot of things that I’m not proud of,” He swallowed heavily, his frown looking strikingly similar to Aaron's as he did, but she would never remind him, “But I did always wonder whether I’d see your name in the news curing some disease I could never pronounce or being the first person to learn like every single language there is,” He smiled sadly, and the old her knew him just well enough to know he was being honest, because his nose turned red whenever he lied. 

The thought of it made her lips curve up, despite how annoyed she’d been to see him again, and there was something bashful about the way the slid a hand into his to give it a quick squeeze.

“We were eighteen, Sean. No one has themselves figured out at eighteen,” She said earnestly, her head dipping to meet his ashamed gaze.

He shook his head, “You deserved so much better than I could ever give you, we both knew that,” He pulled his hand away, and her expression contorted into confusion, “It’s probably why you're with that doctor, right? Aaron said he’s like a whizz kid,”

“He’s not-We’re-” She sighed, running a hand over where the EMTs had stitched the gash on the back of her arm, “It’s complicated,”

“Complicated like we were complicated?” He asked, her fingertip tracing every single nook where they had looped the suture through her skin. 

She smiled to herself and looked over at him, something weighty like closure passing between the two of him as he watched her take his tired face in, knowing they were nothing more than just passing ships in the night now. 

“You meant something to me once, Sean, no matter how much we drove each other up the wall,” She snickered, and something like an exhausted chuckle matched her, “But it’s different with him. It’s like everything I do means something to the world when I’m with him, you know?” 

Sean took in the wistful look in her eyes, the girl he’d known who had only gotten stronger, scrappier, wittier with age, and he thought he’d be lucky to ever get someone like her again.

“I hope I do,” He said, and she knocked her shoulder into his to dispel the bad memories of two teenagers figuring out what feelings and kisses and sex meant in the messiest of ways. 

“Do me a favour?” Sean hummed at her, and she looked surprisingly like herself again when she smiled at him wryly, “Call Aaron more. It’s difficult being the only disappointment child in his life,” 

Sean barked a laugh at her words, and she smiled into her lap. Who’d have thought closure would be so healing. 

–

She felt eyes on her even as she tried to nap on the jet, having returned back to their original position on the couch, her head on Spencer’s lap. She had a sixth sense to who it would be, the Spider Sense they’d been calling it despite the fact Spencer tried to tell her it was mere intuition, she glanced up to where something melancholic swirled inside his forest gaze, already watching over her despite his book being open in his lap. 

She hadn’t even opened her mouth to speak before his obscenely large hand had sneaked under her jawline, tilting her face up so he could take a better look at the messy cut. 

“Have they given you anything for the pain?” Spencer said quietly, because the other’s were already trying to sleep, and she blanked for a moment, before her hand came up to snake around his wrist gently. 

“They gave me Naproxen for two days. Spence, I’m fine, really,” 

His teeth ground together, his other hand placing his book down beside him and moving to smooth the back of her hair, the sealed wound staring daggers at him as his eyes darted over the rest of her face, just to be sure they hadn’t missed anything. 

He nodded to himself, as if to conclude his consultation and his thumb stroked down the curve of her jaw, his head whipping up to quickly make sure no one else was watching.

“What, uh,” Spencer cleared his throat nervously, her expectant eyes looking up at him, “What were you and Sean talking about?”

Her brow quirked in confusion, and it wasn’t until she felt his delicate strokes hesitate that she realised he seemed on edge, “Why?”

“N-No reason, I just was wondering, you looked like you were-” He coughed again, even though there was nothing tickling his windpipe, nothing except embarrassment, because he’d never thought he’d be the envious type. 

He braved a look at her again, worried she would be annoyed with his crass and intrusive questions, only to see her smiling at him wickedly. 

“We were what?” She asked, and Spencer went so quiet he could have heard a mouse knitting if he tried, his cheeks flushing with raspberry red heat, “Are you jealous, Spencer?” 

He shook his head fast, unable to formulate anything that wasn’t a stammer, and she sat up in her seat, throwing her legs onto the ground so she could scooch up into his side. 

“Because if you were, you know I’d find that wildly attractive right?” She murmured, his cheeks burning an even hotter shade, the sight of it all but a bone to a hound to Bugsy who loved teasing him. She snickered, leaning in close to his vermillion ear, and leaving a tiny kiss on his clenched jaw, “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy. He knows I’m all yours,” 

3. The one with the day of the dead.

“Thankyou, thankyou, my helpful little mice,” Penelope chirped as the three of them stepped into her apartment, their arms filled with shopping bags, “Set them down on the counter, I’ll unpack them later,” 

“Wow,” Bugsy gawped at the altar stood in the corner of the woman’s living room, an assortment of sweets and tissue paper flowers decorating the layers, “Oh it’s so pretty, they’re going to love it. We spent a Summer in Mexico when Mom was having talks with their President, but we moved out before October rolled around so I never got to see a Día de los Muertos,” 

Penny smiled, though she quickly looked around the rest of her apartment that had yet to be decorated, “There’s still a lot to do before the party next week and,” She huffed, the bags taking up the entirety of her kitchen table as Bugsy frowned at her, “I’m scared. I’ve never had the whole team here before,” 

“Relax, Pen, I can help you set up,” The younger woman reassured, helping unload the groceries that needed to go in the fridge as Spencer helped her carry the larger items. 

Penelope perked up watching her guests move towards the cooler, a devilish smirk twitching at her lips, “Hey, while you guys are there, can you see if I have enough hot sauce for the party?”

“Sure,” They replied in synchrony, Bugsy putting the milk and soda in the side drawers as Spencer shelved away some of the meat. They both looked at the top row, where some kind of jalapeno salsa was resting next to a jar of fake eyeballs, and the flicked a casual glance at the woman who was pouring vials of red viscous liquid made to look like blood down her cheeks for a Penelope version of a practical joke.

Bugsy blinked once, not quite surprised as she would have thought seeing Penelope attempting to scare them with something they’d seen a thousand times over for real. 

“Now, are the eyeballs marinating in anything spicy or is it just like a pickled onion type of thing because all you seem to have is the jalapeno sauce,” She said, and Penelope deflated at her bored tone, looking at the two agents in discontent. 

“You guys didn’t even flinch,” She said sadly, her dark eyes flicking between them, “My poor babies, what has the world done to you?” 

Bugsy smiled, shutting the fridge door and handing the bubbly woman a leaf of tissue paper. 

“JJ’s right, I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween and she just laughed at me, and said that I don’t have a scary side,” Penelope whined, and Bugsy giggled. 

“Sorry, babygirl, you wouldn’t be Penelope Garcia if you were capable of scary,” She teased, waltzing around the kitchen to put away the rest of the shopping, even as the woman tried to shoo her away from helping, “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you, Pen,” 

“If it helps, you probably do,” Spencer interjected, helping Bugsy shelve something on one of the higher cabinets, his long arms weaselling over her own as he reached past her, “The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied and multi-faceted. It’s essential to one’s mental health to want to express these hidden personalities and it’s just a fact of nature that everybody has one,”

“Everybody?” Penelope asked, ignoring the way the two of them bumbled around her kitchen, handing things between one another the way she imagined them putting away the groceries in their own kitchen, like they worked just as well in the home as they did in the field. Dare she say it, like a couple who had been married and knew each other's routines for years. “Even the two of you?” 

“Oh, absolutely, yeah,” Spencer agreed, and Bugsy flicked a smirk up at him as Pen turned to her expectantly.

"I mean, you can't tell me Bitch-Slapping our boss or fist fighting with my sister was exactly usual behaviour for me," She pointed out, and the two of them nodded in agreement, although they wouldn't have exactly called it out of character for her.

“Okay, okay, I want to see it. I want to see Dr Spencer Reid’s hidden personality,” Penelope said, a smile growing as thick and fast as a weed when he seemed thrown off by her request, and it only took one look at the younger Prentiss to know she wanted front row just as badly. 

“R-right here? Like right now you want to see it?” He stammered, all too aware of Bugsy’s amused lashes batting up at him, the innocent expression she knew made it difficult for him to say no to, and he wondered for a second if she understood the exact amount of control she had over him when she wanted to. 

“I wanna see this hidden personality, pretty boy,” She smiled with her teeth, and he felt his hands turn jittery in embarrassment. 

“Okay, alright,” Spencer shook his arms out, clearing his throat with a growling sort of husk that made her raise her brows, and in a single blink he’d locked stern eyes with her, pointing to her with a completely un-Spencer-like stance; completely rose to his full height, confident and domineering, “I know what you’re thinking,”

She really hoped he didn’t. Because what she was really thinking was just how hot he sounded with that deep sort of timbre, that cocksure attitude. 

“You’re thinking ‘Did that guy just fire five shots or did that guy just fire six shots?’” He went on, his tone deadly serious, as her lips parted in surprise, and what had started out as a game turned into some wildly lewd thoughts fast, “You’re going to have to ask yourself a question; Do you feel lucky, pun-k,”

She swallowed haughtily, as he squeezed his eyes shut and when he looked at her again he was entirely puppy like the way he usually looked, none the wiser to the way her stomach had coiled in want. 

“That was Clint Eastwood from Dirty Harry,” He explained, looking to Penelope because he had no idea what that strange look on Bugsy’s face was, only to see his techy friend just as in awe, “I mean I know it’s not as effective as my dominant personality, but I really think it’s there-”

Penelope’s phone sprung to life with a call from Hotch and she quickly spluttered an excuse that they needed to leave right away, grabbing for her keys and heading for the door. 

Spencer made a move to follow her, only to feel a hand grab his shirt and turn him right back around, Bugsy still staring at him with that look in her eye, like she’d had too much caffeine or been told there was a million dollars cash waiting for them at home.

“Is everything okay-”

“Is Clint Eastwood strictly a party trick or would I be able to have him on request, maybe?” She said, her hands oddly tight as they grabbed at his soft stomach, and it was like he heard the click in his brain when he realised what she meant. 

“R-request, I guess,” He stumbled for composure, finding his footing when he felt her palms were clammy, “You got a thing for cops?” 

“Just the one, I guess,” She said with a clenched jaw, and he laughed though it sounded more like a choke, as she darted right behind Penelope to avoid suspicion. 

–

By the time the party rolled around, Penelope had decked her apartment out to the nines, marigolds and tissue garlands and lights and food of all sorts spread out across the altar, a mix of alcohol and juices available in pitchers, because Penelope was nothing if not a people pleaser. 

The doorbell rang right as Alex and Bugsy poured themselves some margarita, complete with the eyeball ice cubes ofcourse, and Penelope fussed in her beautiful dress, muttering under her breath the way she did when she was nervous. 

“What, what, what,” She murmured, her blonde curls bouncing with her steps as she reached for the door, “I thought you said you couldn’t come!” 

Bugsy’s head whipped to the door, Aaron looking much more casual than they were used to seeing him as he entered the decorated home, his colleagues all dressed smartly and in some shade of black. 

“Jack got a last minute sleepover invitation so I hope it’s okay,” He said, a bottle of rosé in his hand he’d brought as a contribution. 

“Ofcourse, ofcourse,” Penelope sang, leading him over to the altar where everyone stood with their offerings, sipping on their glasses of liquor, “Okay, everybody, I guess it’s time to start, here you go sir,”

She handed him a freshly poured glass of wine, chilled courtesy of the eyeball, and Aaron thanked her kindly, taking a generous sip to catch up with the others. 

“I want to thank everybody for doing this with me, and our altar’s burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here,” Penelope started with a grateful smile on her painted lips, a handful of old photos between her fingertips, “I will start, um, this is my mom and dad,” She said, nostalgia idling her tone as she gently placed down a worn picture of a teen couple holding a beautiful, blonde girl, eyes bigger than moons and full of curiosity, just how Bugsy would have imagined Penny as a baby, “I miss them. And this is my cat, Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He was a weird cat,”  

The team chuckled, looking at the enormous ginger Tom that lapped at the bubbly liquid. Bugsy took a sip of her drink as JJ took a step forward with a smile, her own photo in hand. 

“This is my sister, Roselyn. Ros.” JJ said, placing down a photo of a fifteen year old with identical eyes and nose to her, sitting it next to a small statue of the eiffel tower, “She always dreamed she’d live is Paris so um,” She swallowed, looking at her sister laying in the grass of their childhood home, something girlish in her gaze, “It didn’t happen but I thought this would bring her some happiness,”

They took it in turns bringing their offerings and pictures: David bringing some Cubs tickets for a soldier he had lost in Vietnam, Alex bringing a crossword for her mother, Spencer sliding down a picture of Maeve silently, alongside a cut out picture of Nikola Tesla, Morgan bringing his father, Hitch putting down the picture of Haley he kept in his wallet. 

Which left them all to turn to the youngest agent, who seemed flustered.

“So, I fortunately have not lost anyone properly thus far, so bare with me here guys,” She said fishing out an old scrapbook photo of her as a seven year old, a small orange snake wrapped around the length of her arm, twenty two year old Emily standing right behind her, the pair of them with beaming smiles as the snake seemingly poked its tongue out for the camera. 

Penelope clutched her chest in horror, “Is that a-”

“This is Tigger, the corn snake Emily gave to me when she left home,” She explained, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the million dollar grin she had in the photo, three of her front teeth missing sweetly, “I had him until I was about twelve before he kicked the serpent bucket, but he was cute for a slithery little guy,” 

She drew another photo, an ultrasound showing two tiny embryos and she put it beside the picture of Tigger, and the group drew a shared breath. 

“Bug, I never knew you were…” Spencer started, his stomach flipping when he saw the outline of the foetuses, only for the girl’s eyes to widen. 

“No! No, it’s not like that, this is um,” She cleared her throat awkwardly, scratching the back of her hand with a guilty look, “This is the twin I absorbed in the womb,” She said, and she felt the rest of her team gawking at her without having to look, “I guess I’d like to say, uh, I’m sorry pal. It was nice while it lasted, I hope you can forgive me,” 

“You’re being serious?” Morgan asked, gawping at the girl, right as Hotch broke out into disbelieving snickers, probably spurred on by the wine, and Alex was quick to join him, her hand over her mouth.

Bugsy turned to him with a ‘duh’ kind of look on her face, “Oh, 100% serious, yeah,” 

“Is that why you’re a little…” Rossi started, only he found himself stuck for words when she looked at him betrayed. 

“A little, what?” She asked, looking to JJ who cracked into a chuckle, putting her head in her palm.

“What he means is you have a big personality,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and giving her a motherly squeeze, hoping they hadn’t offended her, “And we wouldn’t change it for the world,”

“I should hope so, she got a double helping.” Morgan cackled, and Bugsy smacked his arm with a smile. 

“Every time I think I know everything about you, you come out with something new,” Penelope said, her own snickering laugh meeting the girl’s ears, “You’re like Jason Bourne,” 

“God help us if there had been two of you, Prentiss,” David added, patting the girl on the head as they laughed, and Penelope raised a toast to their altar, the rest of the team doing the same before they sipped out their cups and allowed themselves to enjoy the rest of the party. 

–

“Oh, I have something for you!” Bugsy said, springing to her feet and almost tripping over Sergio who had curled up by her legs. 

She’d cut herself off after her third, and by the time midnight rolled around she’d almost completely sobered up enough to the point her and Alex had been playing hangman except with only Old English words.

Her and Spencer had gotten home twenty minutes later, the two of them exhausted from an evening well spent, the melancholy happiness in the room draining them to the point Bugsy had immediately changed into her pyjamas when she got into the house.

Her pyjamas being Spencer’s boxers and one of his shirts since he’d inadvertently been hiding all of the underwear-top combinations she’d gotten from other flings that she’d brought when she moved into his. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” He said earnestly, and she simply waved his humble attitude off, the two of them sat on the sofa in their nightwear, flicking through the late night TV. 

He smiled, watching her bustle into her room and root around her closet, before she emerged with a terracotta coloured pot of lilac flowers, whirling on her heel to head for him. 

“What’s this?” Spencer asked, standing to meet her and Bugsy simpered, because she’d felt silly for buying them in the first place. Perhaps it was some left over guilt considering she’d spent the majority of Maeve’s existence in her life hating the girl, or atleast hating what she had that Bugsy thought she could never be privy to. Perhaps it was because all things considered she wanted Spencer to know that it was okay for him to mourn, because she’d never force him to hurry up his process when he’d been there for every second of hers. 

She handed him the potted plant, the small purple petals in the shape of half moons lighting up at him, and his mind raced as to what species they were since he’d certainly never seen them around the East Coast before.

“Scaevola aemula,” She said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt around her waist as she spoke because his eyes were unnervingly doe-like when he looked at her in the dark lamp light, “It’s called the fairy fan flower. I thought-"

She paused, her expression morphing into embarrassment, "Wait, this is so stupid, I’ll send them back,” She shook her head, the worry overtaking the rational part of her as she grabbed for the pot to stash it back in her room, but he held it out of her reach, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body against his hip, as the other stretched out to keep her from snatching back the plant. 

“Tell me. What?” He said, his lips stretching into a devious smile to see her so shy suddenly, and she buried her face into her hands as he watched her, “I'm not going to think it's stupid. Why did you get me these?”

“They’re not for you- well, they are, but I just thought,” She stumbled over her sentences, her heart thumping that this was entirely the wrong move, that she was poking at an open wound no matter how caring she was being. Clearing her throat, she let her forehead thump onto his shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she spoke, “I thought you could keep it so that you can think of Maeve every time you water it, since Maeve was the name of the fairy queen,” 

He was quiet. God, why was he so quiet? Her breath was thick as molasses as they sat in the silence for a second. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when two of his fingers ran delicately beneath her chin, tilting her head up enough that he could see her face and she drew a sigh of relief when she saw he didn’t seem angry or hurt at all. 

His eyes were soft as pools of honey as he looked at her, his brows stirring into a sad-happy mix. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” She whispered, their faces so close they were sharing breath, and he shook his head, his fingers never leaving her skin where they forced her to stay near, gave her no choice but to keep her looking at him. She didn’t think she could stop even if she wanted to. Everything pretty about him was dialled to a thousand whenever she got close, and his thick lashes blinked at her like he was seeing a mirage, a daydream. 

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, Bug,” Spencer murmured back to her, his every word fanning over the bridge of her nose, and she sighed in content, melting back into his side as he pulled her into a hug, his own face burying into the crook of her neck, “Thankyou,” 

She smiled and hummed in happiness, wrapping her arms around his slender waist and drawing him so close she got a whiff of his shampoo. 

“I have a bigger pot in my room, if you like, then we can keep it in the kitchen sill, away from the boys,” She offered, beaming at him when he stroked over the back of her hair affectionately. She hopped out of the embrace, “I’ll go get it for you-”

“You’ve done enough, Bug,” Spencer reminded, something grateful in his tone as she paused and waited for whatever he was going to say, “I’ll go get the pot, you go decide what movie we should watch,”

“You’re sure?” Bugsy asked, her brows furrowed as she checked for signs of an escape in his movements. But he just smiled back at her tiredly, the purple flowers his accomplice as she gave in and headed back towards the sofa, “It’s by my dresser, where my paper bin used to be,”

He set the gift on the kitchen table, the lilac hues brightening up the kitchen already like they just knew how touched Spencer felt to have received them, like there really was some kind of fairy magic burrowed into the soil as they watched the two of them dance around one another, heading to opposite ends of the apartment with lingering glances and bashful smiles.

Spencer thought his chest couldn’t swell any bigger in size, his heart so inevitably full of her, it left room for no one else, not even Maeve, which was the first time he’d brought himself to think that in months. 

+1 The one with the book.

He opened the door to her bedroom, her duvet tossed everywhere because it was a rare occasion she made her bed before they left for work, her clothes strewn about the floor in the general direction of the bathroom, like she’d stripped on the way there, and the thought of it made his stomach seize with a heat, the idea of her undressing little more than a wall away from him knocking his every thought from his head.

The vase. He needed a bigger vase.

Quickly collecting her clothes up and shoving them into her laundry basket for her, he diverted his attention to her dresser, where the slightly roomier pot sat on the floor, a towel underneath it to catch any water remnants and he stepped over her various note pads and books she’d clearly tossed off the bed before she went to sleep. 

He tried to ignore them, he really did, but his scratching urge to keep things tidy for her wrestled with his conscience that said to leave her stuff alone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself organising them into a neat pile in his hands and placing them on top of her dresser where one of her books had made it safely, or at least safe enough she wouldn’t trip over it. 

His gaze dropped to the book already on there, its leather cover entirely melting into the background of the dark chestnut dresser, yet it stared daggers up at him like it had been waiting to be noticed.

Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.

The book looked old enough to be easily from original 1900s, at least one of the first few hundred published. It was scuffed a little on the edges, the black lettering of the printed title choppy in places where it had been handled recklessly, and the leaves of paper were atom thin. The smell of dust and paper clouded his nose when he picked it up delicately.

Opening the front cover curiously to see its printed date, he was stopped in his tracks to see a little post it note on the title page, covering Mr Dickens’ name with a scrawled handwriting he’d known for six years. 

Six whole years. Nearly seven. He felt like he’d known her his whole life, when in startling reality he’d not even known her a third of it. 

And there it was, where he was expecting a list of notes or her thoughts on how David Copperfield had much more likeable characters, anything that she’d thought important enough to scratch down on the front page, instead was his name. 

Spencer,

He felt his breath catch the second he read it, contemplated slamming the book shut right then and there because this felt illicit to read whatever it was she’d scribbled out just for him even if it was dedicated to the stupid man who’d been asking her to wait on his stupid head and stupider heart to align so he could give her exactly everything she deserved. 

His gaze snapped away from the page, that voice in his head telling him this was wrong, that if she’d wanted him to see that book she would have given it to him already. And yet, like it did most days, the beating organ in his chest writhed in annoyance that he’d looked away, that he’d followed the rules one too many times for its liking. He bit his cheek, the two halves of himself arguing amongst themselves. 

After a second of debating, his eyes fell slowly to the note, a creeping guilt skirting down his spine that he was reading something private. How could something be private and yet meant for him? His brain scoffed at the dichotomy of it all, while his chest lurched when he caught a glimpse of more of her writing. 

‘Spencer,’ His heart trembled almost as much as his hand as he traced the writing with his forefinger, imagining her writing it out in a little ball point pen, her body slumped over the book with every intent of having him read her little note. He imaged her breath fanning across the page, her hand warm as her knuckles stroked over the paper, and it felt so much more intimate than a little post-it when he thought of her like that, ‘By the time you’re reading this I’ll be back home from London and we’ll probably be in your apartment doing that stupid thing we do when we pretend like I haven’t missed you more than anything in the whole world while I’ve been here in England,’

She wrote this in London, probably in that tiny apartment her and Emily had rented on a short lease, the one she’d said smelled like mildew and dust and wet wood but had a gorgeous view of Hyde Park when she looked out her bedroom window. 

She’d written it months ago, so why hadn’t she given it to him?

‘I miss you every day. You’re all I think about when I go for a run, and I think sometimes you’d really like it here. I’ve mapped out all the bookshops I’ve found and all the places that do really good coffee if you ever did want to visit England, but I think I’d be happy with you even if we lived in a little ditch on the side of the road like two drowning rats,’

His chest seized, tears lining his lashes when he thought about that day she’d yanked him into a hug the second she saw him, when he’d been too busy thinking about Maeve and burying whatever he felt for Bugsy entirely behind him. 

You should have called, Bug. He’d said, like his eidetic memory wanted to twist the knife in just that bit deeper, and he didn’t need his freaky brain to remember how her face had fallen when he’d said it like that. Like he didn’t even want to see her. 

He hated himself. He hated himself more than she’d ever had. Even if she had more rights than anyone to despise his selfish guts. 

‘Anyway, I know Dickens isn’t your favourite or anything, but I got you this because I know you like the original copies and because it made me think of you (but then again, what doesn’t?). 

I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. And so I guess that means I’ll love you until the life part stops too. 

All my heart,

Bug.’

He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he finished the note, digesting every single word the average speed instead of his usual method of inhaling the letters faster than should be possible, like he wanted to savour every single one because they’d come from her. 

He heard her saying every single one, the thought striking him like someone had cracked him across the face with a paddle. She’d wanted to say all of this when she was in London, when he’d been too busy for her, when he’d been too busy with Maeve. 

I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. 

“Did you find it?” Her voice called from the other room, no doubt where she was settling down to flick the movie on, her heart so delicate and gracious because she was still waiting for him. 

Even now, even when she was in his clothes and under the blanket she’d brought from her apartment for them to use on movie nights because it got cold too fast in his house, when she was waiting for him to come back. 

Spencer felt knocked out of a dream, like someone had yanked the chord on his music, shaken him awake into the freezing realisation she was waiting for a reply. 

He’d made her wait long enough. 

He barely heard her footsteps entering her own room, probably worried when he hadn’t responded and she said his name, “Spence?” A shudder rolled over his neck when he heard it, a siren song he’d been hearing like a mantra for weeks and he felt something fat and full well in his chest when he turned to look at her, standing there in nothing but boxers and a shirt, just as she had when he’d first met her. 

Except she was his. She was waiting on his call, on his signal, on his word go. 

And it was like the idea of being with her for the rest of his life made his living part worth it too. Like it always had done. 

Her eyes fell down to where his hand rested on top of the book, the page splayed open where he’d delicately flicked it open, the yellow post-it catching in the light and making her expression fall. 

They looked at each other, the same thought channelling between them, their brains meshed together on some other kind of bluetooth the same way they’d always done, only this time it was a prickling hive mind that gave them both gooseflesh the second they locked eyes. 

“Why didn’t you give me this?” He asked, his voice small because he already knew the answer, not daring to move a muscle like she was some kind of deer ready to be spooked. 

“You were busy,” She said equally as sheepish, her thumb moving to pick the side of her nail when she saw his still stature. They went quiet again, neither of them daring so much as to breathe too loud because they both knew what was on that note. It was the closest she could ever come to splitting open her own chest and handing him that thumping wad of bloodied muscle herself, and it was only when he turned to look at her did she panic, words tumbling from her lips; anything to stop him from walking away because she’d been poking around a fresh wound, “You weren’t supposed to see- I mean you were but only when you wanted to, I didn’t want you to think-”

Except he wasn’t heading for the door like she’d thought, he was heading straight for her. 

“Spence, please, I wasn’t going to tell you until-” But she’d shut up, because instead of replying anything back to her, instead of telling her she could have his heart and his soul and everything in between if she’d ever ask for it again, instead of telling her she was the thing that had kept him alive, like she might as well be the blood that rushed through every one of his veins, he grabbed her face in his hands so hard her back hit the wall, her hands flying out to stop herself from falling. 

And he kissed her, so hard he thought he might cry because it was better than any high he’d ever had, any drug on the market, better than his wildest dreams. She froze for a second, worried she’d tripped and fallen on her way over, that this was a concussion spun wild, because there was no way he was kissing her with every inch of their available skin pressing against one another, his hands swallowing her cheeks whole, his body invading her space, his breath rushing through her nose that bumped against his clumsily. 

Bugsy woke up after a second, her hands gripping onto his slender waist like he was pulling her drowning out of water, like he was dragging her from a flame which she didn’t think sounded too far off since her skin had become molten, her cheeks hot, her chest wrenching for control like she’d inhaled black smoke. 

But he was there, kissing her like she was all he had left, and she kissed him back with equal fervour, whimpering when he bit her lip, a hand wrapping around her waist to tug her just that bit closer to his stomach. Any molecule of her that was left behind was stolen by the action, and all she could think was that every inch of her was his, entirely his, his forever if he wanted it. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” He gasped, drawing away for a split second of air before he took her lips to his own once more, twice, and a third for good luck, their teeth knocking together as he wanted to tell her that a million more times while still kissing her, “I love you, I love you. God, I don’t think I ever want to stop saying it,” 

He pulled her to him again, silencing his own stupid ramblings of a mad man, a whine dragging from his throat as his brows furrowed, his lips soft and plump as he kissed her like he was begging for honey after a hundred day fast. 

And she smiled into his mouth, because Spencer was finally hers. 

--

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[sweetimpurity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 8!! yay! can you believe we're already a week into october?? wc: 1.4k love ya! masterlist>>

The buzzing of the electric razor fills the small apartment bathroom. The mirror is still a little foggy, a towel around his waist. Hot water still dripping down his back from his hair.  His dark eyes focused on the angle of his jaw. Running the trimmer over the edge and shaving away the growth of a few days' time. The square of his chin and down to his neck, trying to get it all even. Running his fingers over the freshly shaven skin. Hair falling into the bathroom sink. 

“Hey babe?” He calls. Your spot on the bed, phone in hand, distracted. “Yeah?”

“Can you see if this is even?” 

He waits, looking at himself in the mirror. When did those crows feet come in? And the smile lines. Those seem new. “Haa…” He sighs.

“Lemme see…” You murmur, entering the bathroom behind him. The humidity high from the steaming hot shower he just indulged in. Standing in front of him now. His huge height. Looking over the job he did. He’s so handsome. You can’t help but smile.

When did the crows feet come in? He thinks. He can’t stop thinking about it. Waiting for your answer and thinking to himself. Not nice thoughts. “Looks even to me…” You hum, smiling up at him, eyes drifting down his broad, built chest. Chest hair littered over his pecs. It’s wildly attractive. One of your favorite things about his body. “Okay…” He sighs. Not meeting your eye contact. 

He turns the razor back on. The buzz filling your ears. But you’re too distracted by his body to realize what he’s doing. Looking down towards his stomach and he’s holding the razor to his skin. 

“No, what are you doing?!” You squeal, startling him frankly so he flinches in surprise. You hand gripping his wrist, looking up at him with utter betrayal and he’s completely bewildered. “What are you doing…”

“I’m shaving, cariño…” He hums. Voice as soft and silky as ever. Even when he’s looking at you like you’re a complete crazy person. 

“Well you… you can’t shave that…” You stutter. What is he thinking? 

“I don’t like the hair, baby… it makes me look old…” He says matter of factly, gripping the razor and attempting the ultimate crime once more. “No babe! No, please don’t. I will literally cry…” 

“Babe. It’s hair, it’ll grow back. And then I’ll shave it again.”

“It’s your happy trail, Miguel. Do not shave it.” 

“Happy trail? Makes me look like an old man.” He huffs with a scowl at himself in the mirror. Turning the razor up to a higher setting, the buzzing higher and louder than before. “No no!” You whine, wrapping yourself around him, pressing yourself to his abdomen. 

“Why not…” He huffs, a little annoyed now with you latched onto him like that, preventing him from just doing it.

“It makes me happy…” You whine pathetically. And he just sighs. “Well then I’m shaving my chest or something… there’s too much hair baby. It doesn’t look good.” 

“No!” You whine, taking your voices up a few octaves to try and convince him. “It looks good, Miguel, you always look good. Why do you wanna shave it?” You look straight up at him, pleading eyes. 

“Makes me look fucking old I-I have crows feet, cariño. And smile lines. And- and gray hairs!” He exclaims, leaning forward with you still latched around him. Leaning close to the mirror and spotting a few stray grays grown in and tainting his otherwise dark curls. “You’re perfect…” You mumble, your voice muffled by his chest crushing you against the bathroom counter. 

“Ow fuck.” He hisses, pulling the grays out, or trying to, one by one. 

“Baby… Miguel… mi vida, mi amor…” You hum, using all the pet names he calls you, trying to stop his mind, his tunnel of bad thoughts. You can’t believe he would think this way about himself. “You don’t look old… you don’t look bad…”

“Don’t lie…” He sighs, frowning down at you. More like a pout. You want to kiss it off his lips. 

“I’m not lying. I’m telling the truth.” You sigh. Clearing your mind with a deep breath. Trying to see this from his point of view too. “If you… want to shave… if you want to pull the gray hairs out… then you can… you can do whatever makes you comfortable…” You explain, detangling your arms from him. He just looks down at you, listening to your words. “But you don’t look bad… I think you look perfect. You are perfect… just like this.” 

“You’re not just saying that?” He frowns, raising his brow at you.

“No… Mig. I wouldn’t change a thing about you… honestly…” 

He can’t help the smile at your words. “Do you actually like it? You like me with all this hair…” He says as if he’s trying to convince you you’re crazy. That you shouldn’t be attracted to him like this because he doesn’t think he looks good. 

“You look like… a man, Miguel.” You say, trying to make a point and he gives you a doubtful look. Like you’re just saying that to make him feel better.

“When you’re deep in me baby… I need this…” You say quietly. Laying your hands on his chest. The hair, the tan, the warmth. His brow cocks interested. Your words are getting through to him now. “I need it, I love it, please don’t shave it…” You whisper, pressing yourself to him, your arms snaking around his waist. A warmer smile breaks out on his face. His frustration melted into something softer. His arms finally wrapping around you in return. Pulling you with him, walking backwards out of the bathroom, back to the bedroom. 

…

“Oh baby! Mmm!” You sob and whine. Making so much noise, bouncing on his big dick, working in and out. His hands gripping your hips, bearing his teeth at the effort it takes to not paint your walls white immediately. But the way you want him. The way you so easily just built up his confidence when it was crumbling. Drives him crazy. 

His eyes are glued to the way your tits bounce, bringing his big hands up to cup them. Rolling the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. Pulling whines from your throat. Just laying back and letting you do all the work. Letting you put on a show for him, watching you swallow him whole over and over. His big dick buried in your sweet perfect pussy. Your hands stay glued to his chest as you ride him. His abdomen. His precious happy trail now sloppy and sticky now with your cum and slick. His hairy chest flushed and reddened just a twinge from your fingernails digging into his pecs. 

“Fuck fuck… ah…” You sigh, thighs burning from the workout and slowing down. But you just want to come so bad. You can feel the burn starting to cool. Until he juts up into you from below. Hitting your cervix and making you double over, splatting onto his chest. His thick arms, also scattered with dark hair, locking around your body laid on his. Keeping you locked down and fucking his hips up into you. You can’t help but scream and squeal. Your fingers desperately gripping into the sheets at his sides for dear life. Held down, your tits squished against his hairy pecs, his happy trail leading to the dark hair at his base, kissing your clit and creating delicious friction with every bed shaking thrust. “Mig… M-ah… Miguel!” You’re a moany mess, fucked to dust and back again. 

Soon enough the friction starts a fire, your eyes fluttering back and coming on him with groans of his name. How perfect he is. How much you love him. Every part of him. He growls deep and rough, one especially hard pound into your hole and he’s spurting deep inside. And whatever doesn’t fit dribbles back out mixed with your sloppy slick, staining the sheets. 

“More Miggy… I want… I want more…” You whine, nuzzling into his neck since he’s still holding your arms to your sides in a vice grip. He’s coming down from the high and you’re such a little needy bunny. He sighs, feeling you trying to move on him again. Trying to suck him back in for more. Clicking his tongue at your pathetic attempts. And yet he still gives in, rolling over, pressing you down into the mattress, sinking back in through your silky soft walls. 

“You’re gonna give me more gray hairs, baby…”

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[expensiveity]

i really am grateful for growth, guidance, and protection. i look back and see how God really extended grace, mercy, and favor upon me. i dodged so much. some of the choices i made were crazy, the people i chose to share my space with was even crazier. i’ve always been covered and protected by his blood and that won’t ever change.

[hoshifighting]

seungcheol as a sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, semi-public sex, elevator sex, fingering while driving (don't do it), office sex, hesitant cheol. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

it started with a laughable idea—a ceo and a sugar baby. who would’ve thought? but you saw something in seungcheol, beyond that stubborn pride of his, beyond the way his jaw clenched every time you handed over those thick stacks of cash. he hated it, you knew. it burned him inside to take your money, but he needed it, and more importantly, he wanted to succeed on his own.

“i don’t need you to do this, y/n,” he’d grumble, fingers brushing yours as you slid the envelope across the table. his voice was always a blend of annoyance and gratitude, as if saying thank you would taste like sand in his mouth.

“shut up and take it,” you’d say, rolling your eyes, hiding the way your heart picked up speed whenever his fingers lingered on yours just a little too long. “it’s an investment, remember? you’re gonna make it big, and then you’ll pay me back with interest.”

he never knew that you were already invested, not just in his company but in him. you’d been silently funding those little bursts of success he’d had—the ones he’d been so damn proud of. “i got another client today,” he’d say with that boyish grin, chest puffed out like he was on top of the world. it made you happy to see him so excited, even if the real reason for his sudden growth was because of you.

he wasn’t stupid, though. he’d show up at your place, dressed in clothes that you knew cost him a small fortune, and bring you gifts that screamed of desperation to impress. “i got you something,” he’d say, almost shyly, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not. and of course, you’d always smile and take whatever it was—a designer bag, an expensive watch, anything to make him feel better about taking your money.

“you know you don’t have to do this, cheol,” you’d tell him, pulling him close, your fingers trailing down his chest. “i just need you.”

he’d laugh, shaking his head like you were talking nonsense. “can’t let you spoil me without giving something back,” he’d mutter, lips brushing against your neck, making you shiver.

the day he showed up with a fluffy white puppy, though, that was when you knew it had all gone to hell. you took one look at that tiny, trembling thing in his arms, and your heart fucking melted.

“you serious?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, even as the puppy wiggled its way into your arms.

“you like it?” he asked, and there was something in his eyes, something soft and vulnerable that you hadn’t seen before. “thought you could use some company when i’m not around.”

you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, couldn’t stop the way your chest tightened with something warm and dangerous. “it’s perfect, cheol,” you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

that was it. you were gone. totally fucking in love with him. and the crazy part? he felt the same way.

“you know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you, “this thing between us…it’s not just about the money anymore.”

“no shit,” you shot back, your tone teasing, but your heart was pounding. “you think i’m in this just to throw cash at you?”

he laughed, the sound rich and deep, and it made you weak. “nah, i know you better than that.”

seungcheol wasn’t just playing the part anymore; he really knew you. it showed in the way he’d show up at your office whenever you were in one of those moods—pissed off and ready to tear someone a new one. you’d barely have time to close your laptop before he’d be there, locking the door behind him with that smirk on his face.

“you know what you need?” he’d say, already undoing the buttons of your blouse as he walked over to your desk, that swagger in his step making your breath hitch.

“cheol, i’ve got work—” you’d start, but it was a weak protest, and you both knew it. the moment his hands were on you, all coherent thoughts went out the window. he’d push you against your glass table, cool surface pressing into your bare tits as he yanked up your skirt.

“let me handle this,” he’d whisper in your ear, and that was it. you were done for. his fingers would find your core, already slick and ready, and the way he’d fuck you right there, leaving imprints of your heated body on the cold glass, would make you forget why you were angry in the first place.

and of course, he’d clean up after. every trace of your reckless encounter wiped away like it never happened, leaving you to pull yourself together and face the world like the unshakeable ceo everyone believed you to be.

but it didn’t stop there. the way he took care of you was relentless, even when you were driving home. he’d slip his hand between your thighs, fingers finding their way under your skirt, teasing you, pushing you to the edge. the car would swerve slightly as he played with you, and he’d chuckle, leaning over to take the wheel when your body shuddered with release. “focus on driving,” he’d tease, but the way his fingers stayed inside you, lazy and possessive, told you he loved watching you lose control.

and then there were the nights he’d show up at your place unannounced. he’d wait until you were on a call, talking business, before pulling you into his lap, lifting your hips just enough to slide his cock inside you, slow and deliberate. he loved testing your resolve, seeing how long you could keep a straight face while he fucked you slowly, making you squirm on top of him, trying to keep your voice steady.

sometimes, he’d wake you up in the middle of the night, slipping into bed beside you, his hands already working you open, kissing your neck, your back, until you were moaning into the pillow. “needed you,” he’d whisper, voice husky and laced with sleep, but you knew that wasn’t the whole truth. he needed you, yes, but you needed him just as much.

he even had a habit of pulling you into the private elevator in your building, pressing the emergency stop button just to have you to himself for a few more minutes. you’d be pinned against the mirrored walls, his hands all over you, mouth on yours, devouring every moan that slipped out. the ride would resume as if nothing had happened, but the way your clothes were a little more rumpled, the way your lips were a little more swollen, would always be a reminder of just how far gone you both were.

[iwanthermidnightz]

When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.

How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.

You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.

It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.

Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.

But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.

There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.

I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.

I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.

I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.

It’s been waiting for you.

[sweetbans29]

Feud - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin navigate a long-standing basketball feud (based on THIS, THIS, and THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of injury, slight angst, happy ending

Word Count: 4.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I am saying this now, I do not think I will be doing a part 2 for this. Not anywhere in the near future at least.

If someone were to tell you by your senior year of high school you would have a rivalry going on between you and some girl from Iowa, you would call them crazy.

You grew up in Southern California - attending Mater Dei High School and playing ball year-round. You were looked at as one of the most promising college recruits alongside girls like Paige Bueckers and Caitlin Clark. As exciting as it is to be named alongside these girls - it also came with its challenges.

The media caught wind that you were talking to Iowa. Talking initially all about how Iowa was going to be a powerhouse of a team having both you and Caitlin. When you announced that you committed to South Carolina - that is when they immediately pitted the two of you against each other.

It was all funny to you since you had never met the girl. You were encouraged to not look into what the media was saying but there were times that just wasn't possible. You saw how they compared the two of you - never showing the full truth. Even in the facts, they would only take bits and pieces of it and try to show the world how one was better than the other.

When you got to college - it only got worse. You remember your first game against Iowa. It had been all the media could talk about - seeing you go up against Clark for the first time. You saw headlines that went from saying how you didn't want to live in Caitlin's shadow or how you couldn't keep up with Caitlin's growth. Other headlines talked about how she hated you so much that she made you choose a different state to go to school. All of it was a load of bull in your opinion.

At your first game against the Hawkeyes, you were more nervous about all the talk surrounding you and Caitlin than the game itself. You couldn't get the last headline out of your head - 'Caitlin Clark to run circles around SC's freshman'.

"Hey, don't let any of what they are saying get to you," one of your teammates Aliyah says breaking you from the trance you were in.

"Ya, no. I'm good," you say coming back to reality. Aliyah just nods, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

The team goes and plays an incredible game. You were up at the half and were ready to take the second half which is exactly what you did. It was probably your best game yet and you couldn't be more proud.

At the end of the game, someone comes into your locker room and asks you to step outside. You follow before heading to the pressor to find Caitlin standing in an empty hall.

You are surprised and nervous all of a sudden but make your way over to the girl.

"Hi," you say not really sure what to say.

"Hi," she says back. As if just as nervous as you, she awkwardly extends her hand, "I'm Caitlin." You shake her hand and introduce yourself. She continues.

"I wanted to meet you in person in a controlled environment," she says with a little laugh eluding to hiding your first meeting from the media.

"Ya, they have been sort of insane," you say with a laugh of your own. "You had a really solid game today - I can see why so many people love you." You look at the girl standing before you and see her begin to fidget.

"Me?" She says on the verge of shock. " You dominated that court today - I was having a hard time keeping up with you. If anyone had a solid game it was you." She says.

"Well, thank you CC." You say with a smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

"Of course..." She says.

"I am really glad you came here," you begin. "If I'm honest - the media has been a lot recently and I know you are nothing like they are making you out to be. I don't know how you have felt about it but I truly appreciate this gesture. We don't need to be the best of friends, but we don't need to be strangers."

"I like that, although I will never stop trying to beat you on the floor." She says.

"Oh, I expect nothing less. Now knowing you are a sweetheart, I have no problem keeping up this 'feud' the media is creating - it's what the people want." You say playful giving her a little push.

"Oh that won't be hard considering the second we step onto the court my only goal is to bury you into the ground," Caitlin says with a smile. "I am sure we can keep this up and give them what they want with ease. Just know, it is all love off the court."

The two of you exchanged numbers and went on your way. Over the course of the next few years, both of your paths crossed several times. At games, award events, and random camps. Every time the two of you were in the same building the media would eat it up - always posting photos of the two of you giving each other death stares (which never really happened, they just timed it perfectly to make it seem like that or take snippets completely out of context). Since you first met her, the media hasn't taken such a big toll on you. It also helped that she would text you whenever something overly threatening or mean came out. It had you falling for the girl every time - deciding to push the feelings aside, thinking it was just her being sweet.

It was your junior year when things heated up in the media even more than they had in the past. Going into March Madness, all they could talk about was you against Caitlin so much that it brought back all the drama that started when you were going into college. Through it all Caitlin had reached out and reminded you none of it was real. It was very sweet of her.

Your two teams were facing off in the final four and you could not be more prepared.

The game was a close one the entire time - neither team had more of a 5-point lead at any time. It all came down to the final quarter.

Tied going into it - both teams fought to go to the championship game. Two minutes into the quarter things took a turn for the worst.

You were guarding Caitlin - staying vigilant on defense, ensuring she didn't get a good shot. When she went up on a jumper you hit her arm while trying to block the ball drawing the foul. You cursed at yourself for allowing her to go to the free-point line.

She makes the first one with ease and sets back to the line for a second. Everyone anticipates it going in but the second she releases, you can see how her eyes shift as she begins to make her wait for the ball. You cut in front of her, jumping up going for the rebound as she does the same. You get your hand on the ball trying to hold onto it as you make your way down to the ground.

What you weren't expecting was to be shifted so much that when you came down you landed directly on your knee, causing you to let out a murderous scream. Your hands immediately let go of the ball and make their way to the center of the pain - your knee.

The stadium silences immediately - leaving only your cries as you curl up into a ball.

Caitlin - being the closest one to you is hunched over you with her hands on your shoulder while your teammates run to get medical.

"You're okay, you're okay." She keeps muttering as she really doesn't know what to do to comfort you. She knows she is the one who knocked you off balance in the air but never imagined this to happen.

"They are coming," she says trying to restore hope in you.

The medical team comes up and instantly knows they need to get you out of there immediately. They call for a stretcher which comes within seconds of them asking for it. Your eyes are glued shut as you bite the top of your jersey to avoid letting out any more screams.

The pain has blocked out anything and everything happening around you. You can't even remember how it happened, all you know is the centralized pain.

Caitlin watches as they remove you from the floor. She has never been this distressed when it has come to someone leaving the floor due to injury - not even girls from her own team. Cait makes the mistake of looking up at one of the monitors as they replay what happened and tears begin to form on the brim of her eyes as she clearly sees she is the cause of your injury. The media is going to have a field day with this but even more so - all she could think about was how she could ever begin apologizing to you.

Kate makes her way over to the shaking girl and pulls her into a hug.

"That wasn't your fault," she says in her ear. "Don't carry this."

Kate had been the only person on the team who knew the friendship that had been growing into more than Caitlin knew how to put into words. Kate could also see, Cait was very much at fault for what happened but knows how much Caitlin keeps in her head and shouldn't shoulder this right now.

Once you are taken through the tunnel - everyone does the best they can to regroup from the traumatic scene that had just taken place.

Your team was trying to regroup as they had to make adjustments on the court after losing their star player, also just trying to remain composed after seeing and hearing you go down. Kate was trying to get Caitlin to calm down and get her head back in the game. The crowd at this point remained silent until play resumed.

Your team lost to Iowa by 4 and no one could blame them. It was a hard loss but everyone was more concerned what the outcome of your injury would be over the ending of March Madness.

Once you were taken back, they decided it would be best to take you to the ER to get checked out. Shortly after arriving, they determined it was a transverse patella fracture which meant your patella broke into two and it would require surgery to fix if you ever wanted to play again. It was a no-brainer.

The next few days were a whirlwind for you - they kept you in the hospital as they prepped for the surgery and you started recovery after.

Your team came to visit and took turns rotating so you wouldn't be alone. Your manager thought it would be best to stay off of social media which you didn't argue with one bit. The last thing you needed was someone saying how your career was over. You went so far as to get a secondary phone and phone number just to communicate with the team and your family.

Once you were let go from the hospital to recover at home, you finally got your phone back and it was filled with messages. You scanned through them stopping at the one that caught your attention the most.

Phone in hand, you stared at the dozens of missed calls and messages from Caitlin. You clicked into her messages and began to read about how sorry she was and how she wanted you to let her know when you were home. You fought with yourself to listen to all of the voicemails she had left and settled on listening to the last.

You click on it and bring your phone up to your ear.

"Hi," she sounds completely defeated. "I know I have left you countless voicemails but I just really want to see how you are doing. This was never meant to happen - I...I don't know what was supposed to happen but it was not this." You hear the shakey breath that she takes before continuing. "I don't want to keep bugging you if you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't even be listening to this and would have just deleted it but I know you are better than I am and just pray that this gets to you. That this gets to you before any of the media gets to you or spins the story into something it's not. Not that you owe me anything, but I ask that you don't listen to any of it. Don't do that to yourself because none of it is true. It is all lies that they have spun to their own narrative." She is crying now but does the best she can to cover it up. "This was never supposed to happen, I am so sorry." She struggles out and hangs up.

You imagined the first handful of messages were similar to this one and decided not to listen to them. It wasn't out of anger or resentment but you knew that in order for you to move on you couldn't hang on that moment.

The next few months consisted of recovery. You were determined to come back for your senior year and were going to come back stronger and more prepared than you have ever been. When the season started - you were back to training but weren't jumping back into games until the third week into the season.

Your manager did a really good job of keeping you out of the media - per your request leading up to the season. The first time you were brought back into the light was during your team's first game of the season. You were on the bench - coaching and encouraging your team. It wasn't the first time the media had seen you but the first time they got to talk to you. There were preseason training videos that were released that showed you back in practice but always highlighted other players on your team.

During this first game though, you were going to be mic'd up for a midgame interview.

"We are so excited to have you on the air as your team kicks off the season, can you give us insight on how recovery went for you?"

They were really just jumping in. You let out a little laugh and proceeded to answer the question.

"I am excited to be back - recovery was not easy and challenged me in more ways than I expected it would but I can honestly say it has grown me in more ways than playing would have." You say as your eyes are glued to the game happening in front of you. "That a way Tessa! Get back get back!" You yell to your team.

"We got word that you will be back on the court in a few weeks, are you excited to be playing for your senior year?" Was asked next.

"Of course. I have been itching to get back on the court - YES PAOPAO! AND ONE! - sorry, yes I am ready to get back out there and help my team on the court. We have a single mission and are ready to conquer." You say.

"Does that one mission have anything to do with Caitlin Clark?" One of the anchors asks, curiosity getting the best of them.

You take a second to compose your answer.

"I wish nothing but the best for the girl. She has really elevated the game and visibility of women's sports in general. If our paths cross again, which I can see happening - there are no ill intentions." You say and then give your exit, going back to the game.

Caitlin was watching and couldn't stop replaying the video. You never responded to any of her messages - even the ones that came further along in your recovery. You had cut her off knowing it was what you needed. She couldn't blame you but really wanted to pick up where the two of you left off - during your time of not talking she realized how much she wanted you in her life. You were one of the only people she met with the same mentality as she had and could share in the craziness that the media spat out. You brought out the best in her without even being in the building.

Cait watched you for what felt like the hundredth time and really hoped that your paths would cross this season.

Both of your teams went the whole season without playing the other. This only built the tension for the NCAA tournament. You had jumped seamlessly back in with your team and contributed to their undefeated season. Caitlin and the Hawkeyes fought hard coming back for redemption. As the tournament heightened and both of your teams kept winning - the media kept circulating articles about the faceoff everyone has been waiting a year to see, Caitlin and you on the court again.

Right before the Final Four - videos of your injury circulated again and pitted Caitlin as the villain in this completely made-up narrative. When hearing them - it took everything in you to not reach out to her. Everyone was telling you not to talk to anyone about Caitlin. Your manager also strongly advised you to not make any contact considering everything was under a microscope.

You did really well until you saw that Iowa was playing UConn in the final four. You had been friends with Paige for years now and knew they were ready to take on Iowa but something in your heart was rooting for Caitlin.

The morning of the Iowa v. UConn game you did it. You pulled out your phone and sent a quick message. It was a simple text but carried more weight than just the words present - it was the first contact you had initiated since before your injury.

Caitlin was still in her apartment when she got the message. She was straightening her hair with cameras on her for a documentary coming out on ESPN. She puts her straightener down and picks up her phone, trying not to show the message's effect on her knowing she was being recorded. Looking at the phone for longer than needed her eyes were glued to it.

[Other half: You got this.]

She doesn't know how to respond but she wants to. As she is thinking through how, her phone rings. It's Kate. She answers and quickly makes her way out of her apartment knowing she is picking up Kate before heading to the stadium.

Caitlin didn't mention the text she had gotten - not that she could mention anything with the camera crew still present but her mind was going crazy.

The Hawkeyes went in and took UConn by two points, sending them back to the championship and facing off SC in the championship. The face-off every sports fan has been waiting for.

The celebration was grand but Caitlin's mind kept wandering back to how she was going to respond to you.

When she was finally able to make it back to the locker room, she sat and responded to you.

[CC: Can we meet up after we play?]

Caitlin sent it and sort of regretted asking but she wanted to talk to you face to face. You responded faster than she had expected.

[Other Half: Yes]

The championship game comes faster than everyone anticipated. Both teams preparing for one final game. Up to this point - you alongside a Kamilla had committed to the draft. From Iowa - Caitlin had made her statement saying she was going to the draft. Both of you know this last game is a significant one. It would be the last of your college career.

The game is a crazy one - buckets exchanged with the leads fluctuating between your team and hers. At final buzzard it was your team that came out on top.

The celebration was epic as you saw Caitlin and her team make their way to their locker. Pictures were taken and confetti was thrown. When things begin to die down you see Caitlin emerge from the tunnel looking for something. You have an idea that she is looking for you and are proven right when she spots you, nervously making your way to you.

When she approaches you - the two of you nod to one another saying little good jobs. The amount of cameras surrounding you is insane as they get the content of you two together.

You want to put this college feud behind you as you both head into the W so in one swift movement, you remove your jersey. Caitlin takes the hint and does the same leaving you both in your undershirts.

You pass your jersey to her and she does the same with you. You both hold them up and let the media get all the photos they want of the two of you. Once you are done, you pull her in for a hug.

"Meet me in the coach's room," you whisper in her ear. She nods and the two of you part.

You finish the celebration and interviews and head back to grab your stuff. Before heading out, you make your way to meet Caitlin.

When you get there you see a girl sitting in a chair, looking down at her hands as she picks at her nails. She doesn't hear you enter but looks up when you close the door. She immediately stands and makes her way to you not really knowing what to say.

You look at her and pull her into a hug. You never said it but you missed her more than anything.

"I am so sorry," she says, her words muffled as they are spoken into your neck.

"Stop apologizing." You tell the girl in your arms.

"It was all my fault - I was mad and didn't realize my strength when I went up. You were out because of me and I will never forgive myself for that," she says not wanting to let you go.

"Caitlin lighted up on yourself." You say and pull away to look her in the eyes. "If I am honest, I blamed you at first. I was upset and frustrated and blamed you. But as time went on, I realized I only had myself to blame. You were playing the game - I would have done the same exact thing. As I was recovering - I started to be thankful for what had happened because it forced me to grow up. No one likes to be injured but I wouldn't be who I am today if I didn't have that time."

Caitlin nods along to everything you say. You bring your fingers to wipe away the tears that fall.

"If anything I should be the one apologizing," you say and Caitlin shakes her head from side to side.

"No, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I do, I cut you out and I shouldn't have. I am sorry." You say. "Friends?" You ask sticking your hand out in a joking manner.

She takes your hand and shakes it. "Friends." She confirms.

The next week is a whirlwind as the two of you part ways to get ready for the draft. You two talk at least once a day trying to figure out what the next chapter of your lives could possibly look like.

When the night finally comes, it is more than you can imagine. Seeing so many congregate to highlight the sport and get ready for another great season while welcoming the new rookies is something you will never forget.

Caitlin is picked first - heading to the Indiana Fever. You could not be more excited for her. You were mentally prepared to head to the Phoenix Mercury or the New York Liberty.

It comes as a complete shock when you are picked by the Indiana Fever as well. You head up to the stage and go through your initial interview.

As you make your way back - you barely get to the hall before you see someone running up to you. Before you know it, Caitlin is in your arms. Her body is flush against yours as her arms wrap around you, squeezing you with everything she has. You lift her off the ground and squeeze her right back.

You could care less about who is watching - the only thing running through your mind is that you are about to spend the next four years with the girl in your arms.

When you place her on the ground she doesn't let you go but rather buries her face into your neck. You smile and let her hug you for as long as she wants.

It's in this moment that things begin to stir inside you. Your heart swells and you feel whole. Your hand comes up to hold the girl's head. There is no way the two of you are just friends and this moment solidifies that for you.

Weeks pass after the draft and you are getting situated in Indiana. You and Caitlin decided to find an apartment together.

The night of the draft the two of you found your way back to each other after going your separate ways to celebrate. That is when Caitlin admitted to having feelings for you dating back to your sophomore year of college. You sat there in complete awe of the girl and admitted that you had just recently realized your feelings for her but could probably date it to your recovery. From then on the two of you decided to take it slow - knowing how the media has been towards the two of you up to this point.

That sort of flew out the window when she asked you to find an apartment together when you both moved to Indy. And you were sure as hell glad she did.

After four years of the media pitting the two of you against each other, you were finally able to change the narrative. You were no longer rivals but now the new power team ready to take on the W.

AN: Tried to get a little of everything in here, I hope you enjoyed it! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[candybarz]

Bigger is better

WARNING: prohero!Kirishima size kink, corruption(?), dacryphilia, pet names (baby + nicknames), he's massive AF, TWITTER LINK (I searched hard for this acc you better like it), NSFW, shower sex, mdni

author: I can't really do kinktober I wish I could but here's a kirishima smut it's not long tho and it's rushed and sucky

kirishima and you aren't the same size, your probably at his chest or just barely passing it. he's huge, always has been after the growth spurt he had.

the 6'7 hero stepped into your shared house, tired from work and even more tired when he remembers he has to wake up early for morning patrol and the brutal workout katsuki puts him through saying "don't be lazy."

his mood instantly changes when he spots you coming out your room to see him, he smiles widely as you walk up to him talking about work drama after saying hi.

he wraps you in a tight embrace while you wrap your arms around him. "rough day huh?" you laughed rubbing his back and he just hummed smelling your hair.

he felt your chest press against him and immediately knew you had no bra on, his face went a little red while you rubbed his back lightly, tickling your back with your nails driving him crazy. his pants suddenly felt tighter, his clothes felt too close to him like a barricade separating your skin from his.

"wanna shower together?" you asked feeling his erection with your hand getting flushed while you did it, he nodded quickly, desperate for your touch. "fuck please."

SMUT AHEAD.

his arms held you up from your legs over his cock as he slammed into you, the sound of your moans and skin slapping echoing of the walls.

"fuck eiji- ngh!" you moaned loudly, holding yourself up with his neck as a support while he pounded into you while fondling your ass at the same time. "That's it baby, you're so tight for me." he praised staring at your face as it contorted, you look into his eyes feeling weak.

the warm water making you both wet and steam filled the bathroom, you tried keeping your mouth shut as he praised you, calling you his sweet angel in the process.

that was until he started hitting your soft spot.

"Fuck right ther- oh fuckk." you screamed while the tears started rolling down your face and he pounded into the spot, he felt you getting tighter.

"it's okay baby you're doing so good for me, keep going angel." he kissed your face after every compliment, you felt like you were losing it. "stay with me baby- fuck." he groaned into your mouth as you released on his cock without warning, you sobbed at the overwhelming feeling whimpering at the slow speed his dick was moving at.

he groaned into your ear before releasing inside you.

"you did so good my love, I want to fuck my kids into you so bad baby." he stated the obvious as he moved you up and down on his dick, you nodded quickly looking at him and smiling.

"please, please do!" you cried making out with him, he laughed as you both made out with his dick inside you.

you must've forgotten your on the pill.

they're not always 100% right?

[bigification]

Haunted

Part 1: Remi

Remi was awed as he entered the house. It was way bigger than he'd imagined, and fancier than he could have dreamed of. He only recently came into a lot of money due the death of a wealthy relative, so he wasn't used to the opulence. He grew up in a small house with 6 siblings before moving out to a shoebox apartment with Nate when he was 21. Now that he has the money though, he figured there was no time like the present and decided to hunt for a house.

A man in jeans and a black button up greeted the two young men in the lobby. Remi could feel the awkward stares from the realtor, making him feel even more out of place in this house. But he bit his tongue and pretended like nothing was wrong.

The realtor toured them around the massive house, showing off room after room. "This is a painting of the original owners of the house, they built it together." The realtor said as they stopped at a large painting of three older men. "The story is that they were forbidden lovers who built this house to escape their previous lives." He continued. Remi seemed to be drawn to the painting. He looked at the bottom of the frame and saw "Remie and Nathaniel" written on it. It's a crazy coincidence that they have the same name as the previous homeowners. "What about the third man in the painting?" Remi asked. "That was their butler, it is thought that the couples relationship with the butler was more than just platonic. That is why he is in this painting with them." The realtor responded

"I'm gonna check out the backyard, if you want to stay and see the rest of the inside." Nate told Remi as he left for the back door. Remi continued the tour through the interior. "This was Remie's favourite room, he used to spend a lot of his time watching football on this tv." The realtor explained as they entered a living room with a couch and a tv. Remi approached the tv and stared into the blank screen. Something looked off, so he inspected it closer. There was a face reflected back at Remi, but it wasn't his own, it looked like the man in the painting. Suddenly a bright energy started bursting out of the tv. Remi stumbled back as the energy started to rapidly flow into his mouth. It made his stomach feel warm.

Remi got up and stumbled around for a bit, he felt nauseous and confused about what was happening. Unbeknownst to him, his body had already begun to change. His skinny arms turned into thick biceps and his flat chest grew into two juicy pecs that burst right through his shirt. His shoulders broadened and his waist thinned, making him look like a jock. His ass perked up and his thighs thickened, filling out his jeans. His face also began to change, as he started to look older. His jawline sharpened as he grew a thick mustache and a short beard. That was only the beginning of the hair growth, however. The rest of his body quickly became covered in brown hairs.

During the transformation, Remi stumbled his way to the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his aging body. The muscle, the hair, it filled him with a sort of confidence he had never felt before, it was intoxicating. He posed in the mirror and took a picture of himself, admiring his own body.

"Snap out of it!" He scolded himself. He found it harder and harder to focus, it's like he was losing control of himself.

He tried walking around the house to find anyone to help him, but it was no use. His body continued to age. His defined muscles got covered in a thin layer of fat and the hair covering his body became more and more dense every second. His mustache grew into a thick beard as his hair turned a pale grey, barely holding onto any colour. As Remi lost control of his body, he stumbled out the front door in a last ditch attempt, but it was too late. The now old man leaned against the telephone pole in front of his house and gained his composure.

"That's better, took' em long enough to find someone." Remie said as he stretched and cracked a few bones. He walked back towards his house and was greeted by the realtor, I mean, by his butler who was now dressed in a fancy tuxedo. But more had changed than that, the man now sported a grey beard and sizable gut that spilled out of his suit.

"Be a doll and go fetch Nathaniel, I need to talk to him." Remie stated with a wink. "Yes sir, right away." The butler responded as he heaved himself off his chair and walked toward the backyard.

Part 2: The Realtor

"This was the previous homeowners favourite room, he used to spend a lot of his time watching football on this tv." The realtor said as he entered the living room. He stood by the door as Remi looked around, but he was quickly distracted by a noise coming from down the hall. "I'll be back shortly." He told Remi, but Remi was too distracted with the tv to notice. The realtor walked down the hall and noticed the window in the butlers room was open when all of the windows should have been closed. He went to close it and stopped when he saw a glimpse of someone in the corner of his eye. He looked over to see the mirror in the butlers closet, but it wasn't himself in the reflection. A bright light coming from the mirror stunned him, as a stream of energy flowed into his body.

He stepped back and leaned against the wall behind him. He felt right around his torso as a warmth took over his stomach. He looked down and let out a yelp as he saw a small bump form under his shirt. The bump swelled until he had a pot belly that made him look pregnant. It became hard to breathe from how tight his shirt was hugging him, but that wasn't the end of his problems. His ass started to fatten, filling out the space in his jeans and straining his belt. He tried to buckle his belt so that it fit his growing waist, but he just kept outgrowing it. He was so distracted from his growing body, that he failed to notice that his face began to change. His beard grew out into a thick unkept beard as his hairline receded. His facial features started to age, making him look well into his forties.

He was growing too fast, his clothes wouldn't last much longer. His shirt was the first to go. One button popped, then another, then another until none remained. His hulking gut and soft man tits flopped out of his shirt as it ripped open. Next was his pants. His belt snapped in half as his fly flew open. The seam down the back of his pants slowly ripped open as his ass grew, the rip continued all the way down his jeans until they fell to the ground. Even his arms had gotten so far that they ripped through his sleeves, leaving him completely naked.

He continued to soften and age every second. The wrinkles grew on his face as the stretch marks grew on his gut. Hairs all over his body began to go grey. Finally, the transformation seemed to slow down, leaving him drenched in sweat. He must have been nearly 300 pounds by now with a giant gut, man tits, and thighs so thick that they constantly rub together.

He gains his composure and walks into his closet, finding one of his nicest suits. He struggles to put it on, but gets it eventually. The butler has gained a lot of weight in his old age, getting dressed isn't as easy as it used to be for him. He grabbed his favorite brand of cigar before walking to the front of the house and sitting on the porch.

"That's odd." He said to himself as he saw Remie standing out by the telephone pole, without a shirt on. "He always looked better without a shirt." He said as he smoked his cigar.

"Be a doll and go fetch Nathaniel, I need to talk to him." Remie winks at him. "Yes sir, right away." He heaved himself from his chair and heads back into the house, feeling a pinch on his ass as he went. He walked all the way through the house and to the back yard. "Nathaniel, Remie is calling for you!"

Part 3: Nate

Nate slid the glass door open to the backyard and couldn't believe what he was seeing. He walked down a set of stairs and walked through the lush garden that filled the backyard. He wandered around for a moment before stumbling across a small garage near the edge of the backyard. He walked in to see an old run down car. Just as he was about to touch it, the realtor screamed out "Nathaniel, Remi is calling for you!" Nate jumped and turned around to see the realtor dressed in a full tuxedo. Nate looked closer and realized that it wasn't the realtor, though he kind of looked like him. He was a fat old man in a fancy tuxedo. "Who are you?" Nate questioned. "I'm your butler." He says slightly confused. "Remie is calling for you."

"I'll go in a minute, I just want to look around a bit more." Nate responded. "Well alright sir, if you wish." The butler said. Nate was still confused as to why he was acting that way, but chose to ignore it.

"This was the previous homeowners favorite car, though it hasn't been functional in a long time. You can go inside if you'd like." The butler offered. Nate agreed and got inside the run down car. It felt oddly familiar, like he sat in this car often. It even felt like the seat was worn in by him. He sat in the car for a moment before catching a glance of something in the rearview mirror. He looked up at the mirror and saw an older man staring back at him. He was soon blinded as a bright light shone through the mirror. The light flowed into his mouth and settled in his stomach.

Nate felt a relaxed feeling take over his body, as if all his worries had disappeared. So relaxed he failed to notice his body had begun to change. His face started to age as his patchy stubble grew into a short beard and the hair on his head shortened to a buzz cut. Within moments he looked ten years older. He started to rapidly gain muscle as his arms became thick and vascular and his chest thickened. His pecs pressed harder and harder against his undershirt until they ripped right through, leaving him in just his sleeveless sweater. Nate could feel his perspective shift higher as his body grew, making his head nearly touch the ceiling. His hand reached for his crotch as his dick grew a few inches, creating a sizable bulge in his shorts. Big enough to be hard to hide, not that he would want to hide it, given his new found confidence.

Nate pulled out his phone and opened the camera. He was a bit shocked at first at the sight of his aged face and muscular body, but the worry soon left and he only felt pride for his looks.

His looks wouldn't last long however as began to age again. His face aged until he appears to be in his 40's as his hair thins and his beard thickens. His upper body continues to grow. His shoulders broaden and thicken with muscle and a thick layer of fat, ripping what's left of his shirt. His arms grow larger and stronger, but lose their definition under a soft layer of pudge. His pecs become hairier as they grow into soft but strong looking moobs. His six pack disappears under a small belly as love handles swell over his waist. His legs thicken until his shorts look like they're about to burst, and a large bulge forms under his skin tight shorts. His body continues to grow taller as his legs barely fit in the car and his head begins to touch the roof of the car.

Nathaniel smiled at his butler and licked his lips. There was nothing left of the young man, just the strong and confident man.

"Seriously Nathaniel, I insist that you must go see Remie. He wishes to speak with you." The butler pleads.

Nathaniel quickly exits the car and sees Remie waiting for him in the backyard. The two men run to each other and embrace with a kiss.

The two now reunited after so long, held each other for minutes.

"Isn't it beautiful, just how we left it." Nathaniel says, looking at the house.

"Should we check if the bedroom still looks the same?" Remie asks with a smirk.

As the two make their way back into the house, Remie grabs the butler by his collar and drags him inside too.

[ma1dita]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVEEEE <3

🐥 luke castellan x reader in a long distance relationship & he calls her after he’s had a few drinks bc he misses her (fluff or smut, whatever u want)

MWUAH

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: loser!luke? more like whipped!luke, very whiny.... i believe in my heart he's an ass man but that's me being self-indulgent anyways smut but he just masturbates because he's a needy fuck

wc: 914

frances made me do it blame her i'm putting my phone away in fear

At first it was a good idea.

Picking colleges an hour away from each other seemed like the right thing to do, a very mature adult thing even—especially after spending a good four years of being attached to each other at Camp Half Blood. Personal growth, you both reasoned, and college was a great way to branch out and be independent. You didn’t need to be with each other 24/7, and seeing each other on weekends wasn’t all that bad. Luke couldn’t give less of a shit now though—he’s tipsy after downing a few Heinekens and all he can think about are very R-rated adult things he did with you last weekend when he went to visit. 

Some things never change, and he reckons he’d settle for anything you give him, whether it be a picture of your ass or the sound of your voice over the phone. His hands fumble with his belt buckle as he sprawls across the couch in his apartment. The sound of the phone ringing adds to his anticipation until he hears a click and your voice filters through like music to his ears.

“Miss me, baby?”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” he sighs, noticing his cock stand at attention at the few words that have left your mouth. He’s convinced you’re a witch of some sort—that or he’s been pavloved to feel hot at even the idea of you. Cheeks flushing, he can’t help but stick his hand in his boxers and stroke himself as you tell him about the paper you’re writing, steady tap-taps of your keyboard in the background as he strokes himself slowly. Your voice is hushed to not wake up your roommate, but well, his dick is fully awake at the sound of your murmurs. Only you could make the Ides of March sound sexy, and you quickly notice Luke’s not paying attention when you hear a low groan through the phone.

“You’re not even listening to me, babe,” you giggle, “my boy feeling needy?”

“I’m a man,” he whines, your laughter trickling through from your end and tickling every one of his senses as he spits into his hand and gets down to business just wishing you were here to help him. He even tries to tease his balls like how you would, but thinking too hard about it makes him aggravated.

“You’re crazy, Lu…” you whisper, “can feel how desperate you are from all the way over here.”

“Crazy for you. Whatcha wearing, hot stuff?” 

He smiles when you tell him you’re in those leggings he likes and Luke closes his eyes tightly as he fists his cock. Through the stars that dance in his vision he thinks he can smell you–all sweat and sweetness just how he likes. His head lolls onto his shoulder in desperation as his hand moves up and down adding pressure as he imagines your hole fluttering around him and taking him so well, covering him in your slick instead of his own pathetic spit. Luke’s tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. 

Gods you’re pretty when you ride him—the curve of your waist when you bounce in his lap and the crescent-shaped marks he leaves when he grabs onto your hips, forcing you down harder so that all you can both hear is the slapping of skin. Luke moans, a broken, almost shameful sound until he remembers he’s alone in the apartment tonight. 

You’re still tapping away at your keyboard unfazed by your boyfriend’s arousal.

“Poor baby, you close? What’s on your mind?”

“Mmmph…How your back arches when you ride me…Like the way you let me pull your hair,” he grits, his hand moving faster as precum drips over the precipice of his cock, swollen and angry and he’s almost there. The veins in his forearm look like they’re about to burst and he’s dizzy with want, his heart beating faster with his movements.

“Yeah? You know I like it when you need me. Wish I could be there and do that thing you like.” 

He can hear the grin in your voice as he shakes his head, breathing harder and groaning. He can see it so clearly in his head—feel the swivel of your hips as your pussy clenches down on every ridge of his cock, and all he can do right now is rub his thumb over the sensitive area as he gasps for air. 

“Got you baby, just let go for me…”

Luke hisses, spurts of hot, milky cum hitting the chiseled muscles of his abdomen, before he takes a deep breath. He hears you shut your laptop and the sound of you shuffling in your room.

“Didn’t even make it to Facetime this time around. Sorry baby, missed you bad,” he chuckles, taking another sip of now warm beer.

“It’s been four days, Luke,” you tease, “but I was hoping you’d return the favor.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme see your pretty face.”

He presses the button to Facetime, but you don’t answer, and the sound of a car starting catches his attention.

“Babe?”

“Unlike you, I’d rather have the real thing. See you in an hour,” you laugh, pulling out of your driveway.

“It’s Thursday!”

“And it’s my turn to drive up anyway, so you better fuck me so hard I’ll have a reason to call in sick. I’m driving as fast as I can, Lu!”

And what type of rational adult would he be to deny that?

[cozzzynook]

Can I get Murderbot Bee in TFOne and the team finding out?

Mild spoilers

Murderbot bee being dumped into the 50th sub level because Sentinel Prime had him do a lot of dirty work.

He enlisted Bee to kill off any of the bots who dared speak out against his name and his rule. Those who questioned his story on what happened to the primes and poked the holes in his lies.

Bee murdered them. He murdered all of them.

Alongside Airachnid, Bee killed many civilians and the leftover high guard who learned or knew the truth.

Airachnid is completely guilty of her crimes.

But Bee is innocent in the fact he was only a young sparkling when he committed these acts.

In fact he’s still a sparkling when they find him.

He was a sparkling solider.

One Sentinel picked from the last remaining sparkling centers before the energon falls dried up and reproduction stopped completely.

He took out Bee’s cog and would only allow him to use it when murdering for him.

The constant removal shorted out so many important circuits and components in Bee that it stunted his growth and affected his memory.

It was only made worse when his goal was completed and Sentinel decided he didn’t need a dysfunctional sparkling or proof of his misdeeds running around.

So he threw Bee to sub level 50 with a false promise to come get him in a few days or weeks and just never went back. In fact he forgot about Bee and assumed the sparkling died or smelted himself on accident with the trash.

Bee was down there all that time awaiting orders until eventually he forgot everything and went a little crazy from being alone so long.

Thankfully D-16 & Orion find him when they’re thrown down to level 50.

Of course they question why he’s so tiny and upon remembering the archives and the stories older miners told they realize this is a sparkling.

This is the first push to D-16 becoming Megatron actually and a pretty big one the moment Bee stumbles while walking on pedes too big for him and holds his finger while looking up at him with his helm turned to the side and his little head ears flicking.

Its the push Orion needs to become a leader and they both escape the sub level after eventually stumbling upon the call from Alpha Trion.

Of course the events happen somewhat the same but instead they have a sparkling with them and are a bit more careful about things.

The former high guard aren’t as violent in the presence of a traumatized sparkling and Alpha Trion has more steam in him at the sight of Bee and knowing he was basically cog tortured.

Bee cried really hard after receiving his cog and it took Orion and d-16 a long time to calm him down.

Poor Bee doesn’t know any of the high command thats still living but he does have flashes of memory come back as he sees holo pictures of the mechs and femmes he’s killed.

The high guard is familiar with sparkling soldiers and they can begin to see whats going on as Bee begins to fuss and cry.

The majority don’t blame him and those that do are really just overcome with grief at the loss of their missing loved one.

They know Bee isn’t at fault.

They just have more reason to hunt Sentinel down and kill him.

So this time, when Megatron kills Sentinel, Optimus doesn’t banish him.

He asks Megatron if he can destroy their home, the home Bee never got to see. The home they can now finally explore, together.

Megatron still has anger and hatred in his spark that needs tending.

But he doesn’t become a tyrant.

He becomes the freedom fighter instead.

[saeist]

to my first ── s. itoshi

synopsis: words i'll never get to say. from me, to you, my first genre: childhood lovers(?), mutual pinning, angst? word count: 3.9k warnings: the interactions with sae is basically just memories of the reader? hopefully i can pull off whatever writing style this is. pls bare w/ me!! notes: this is a little personal for me to write. i just felt like i needed to write this out of my system (T—T) i keep having reoccurring dreams about this specific person and i'm going crazy reminiscing what we could've been (i was literally 11 years old) listening to: about you – the 1975 & you were beautiful – day6

as much as you hate to admit it, you do believe in the saying "first love never dies"

first love, 

first love is something you’d describe your relationship with sae itoshi. 

you don’t really remember how it all started. everything seemed hazy to you now. like a long, lost forgotten memory you buried deep inside your mind. you swore you’d never relive those memories, as it felt like reopening an old wound

it's been almost a decade since you both left with unspoken words and feelings but you're sure that you've moved on. you're sure you are. you have moved on long ago when you realized you'll never see him again

it was silly really. it only took you a photo to remember everything about what you had with sae. maybe agreeing to catch up with old distant family friends was a bad decision on your part. apparently catching up with distant family friends also meant looking through old photo albums, reminiscing the good memories

looking back through the years, there were just moments in your life where you thought to yourself that maybe, just maybe everything wouldn’t be as shitty as it was now if you two were still together. times where you wished and prayed that everything was just a dream and as soon as you wake up, you know he’s still there.

with you.

it was in elementary school where you first met sae

among the other kids in your class, you and sae just strangely clicked. except for the times sae just felt the need to comment and insult the way you do things but despite that, there was a strange but comforting feel between the two of you

you've just recently moved to the neighborhood and coincidentally right next to the itoshi's. that meant that you lot would walk home together after school which prompted you and sae to get to know each other a little day by day

surprise was an understatement when sae first asked his mom if you could come over after school. mrs. itoshi was more than delighted that sae actually made friends in school but what she didn't expect was it was you who came over, the new girl next door

sae had felt something different about you and you knew that. he treated you differently than the others. he was more gentle and more light with his words with you. if it was anybody else, he would’ve already lashed out on them calling them prickly names to get under their skin

ironically enough, you two first bonded over minecraft.

“honey, i’m home” sae called out in a bland sing song voice, his player entering the house that you specifically made for the two of you

“what was that about” you giggled, whacking his player with your own

“nothing” sae says quickly placing his minecraft bed next to yours. “c’mon let’s sleep”

maybe you two were just naive as kids, not knowing what the warm feeling in your chests really means

it was the summer of sixth grade when you started to see sae in a completely different light

at this point, you and sae were known as childhood friends and nothing more. over the summers, you hung out with sae less frequently

it was no big deal, though. it was just kids going through personal growth. even if you and sae didn’t hang out like you used to back in elementary school, the family hangouts continued. over the years of you and sae being inseparable, both families had also bonded and formed a close friendship, becoming what one would call family friends.

there was a math training camp that your school holds every year and your dumbass decided to join for the baseless reason that your friends were also joining that same year

in your defense, you only joined because you didn't want to be left out on what they did over the weekends at school. so much that you eventually signed up even if you couldn't be bothered to answer math questionnaires that you don't even understand

however, towards the end of the training camp, you found a completely different reason on why you decided to stay

turns out sae had also signed up (probably because his parents and teachers encouraged him to join after seeing him excel in academics especially in math) for the math training camp

you will never forget the look on sae's face he saw you enter the classroom. he didn't think you were the type to join these type of things. when you catch his stare, you gave him a small wave and sat right next to him — to which he pays no mind, he was busy paying attention to the proctor up front anyway

—

the long day filled with reading different levels of math has come to an end when the proctor leaves the classroom

you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on the armchair, brain completely fried from exhaustion. what the fuck did those symbols even mean? could you six graders really answer all those questions?

sae snickered beside you, glancing at your exhausted face

"tired already?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. the way he said his words almost felt like he was mocking you but you know he means well

"haha. very funny mr. genius" you laughed obnoxiously, waving him off as you look up at the ceiling

"just saying" sae puts his hands up in mock surrender. you can already see the smirk on his face but for now, you don't fight back. not now. you were too tired to come up with a snarky response

amidst to your small talk, your classmates had began flinging each other's shoes. tomfoolery, as you'd like to call it. how they still have the energy to make fools of themselves like they didn't just go through psychological warfare learning about a whole new world of mathematics hours before is beyond you

you sat up straight, attention now at your friends, “look at them.. what idiots” you commented, stifling a laugh as you watch friends and classmates run around the classroom just minutes after the proctor had left

sae bit back a laugh and nods in agreement. “yep”

you both shared a look before bursting into laughter.

you like to think that was the start of everything. the start of fire you two unknowingly ignited.

you don’t regret attending that damned math training camp your school held that one year. you don’t regret wasting your precious afternoon trying to answer those damn questionnaires that you don’t even understand. you don’t regret sitting next to him that day, 

you don’t.

—

the night after the first day of your school's annual math training camp was never the same ever again

that was the night you and sae began talking online for the first time. after hours, as you'd like to call it. the initial message popped up on your screen, and soon, a stream of text flowed seamlessly between you two

it all started with just a simple 'hello, what are you doing right now?' to discussing basic interests, to different niches you two are into, and before you know it the birds were chirping and the sun was already been up. the quiet of the night had been filled with the soft tapping of your keyboard and controlled laughter, creating a private bubble where your friendship deepened and kept in the digital realm for years to come.

this went on for a good month before you realized that he had became a daily routine to you

despite all of that, it was still pretty hard to believe that you got close with sae again in just a short amount of time. you two were drastically different. you didn’t particularly stood out as you just liked to keep things to yourself and close friends. sae on the other hand, he excelled both in academics and sports. even going as far as taking piano classes during the weekend just because

you like to think that maybe it's just fate, a twist of life’s unpredictability, or maybe it's something deeper that neither of you could yet understand?

who knows?

it was in your homeroom classroom where you felt butterflies for the first time

you two were now freshmen in high school. fresh off middle school, fresh off that summer where you and sae had the whole world in your hands

the transition to high school brought with it a mix of anxiety and anticipation, the new environment buzzing with energy and the promise of new experiences

you and sae were deskmates at the start of the semester. you can't tell if this was on purpose by the teachers or fate was just doing it's thing

up until now, your unlabeled relationship with sae was going steady. just the usual chitchats and banter after school in the comfort of your two homes

you were just sitting beside him, listening to the teacher up ahead when you suddenly feel a hand snake their way on top of yours. the hand quickly intertwined its fingers with yours, and you’ve never felt that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach before

what was that?

you turned your head to look at the only person who could do such a thing

it was sae

it was sae, who was looking directly at the teacher in front of him like he was the only one present in this room. completely disregarding your curious stare beside him.

all of a sudden it felt like everything has gone into slow motion. the classroom around you seemed to blur, the chatter and movements of other students fading into the background as the touch of his hand anchored you in the moment

before you could've reacted further, the bell rang

sae untangled his hand from yours and walked away to move on to the next subject as if nothing had happened, leaving you to process the lingering warmth on your skin amidst the bustling noise of students packing up and the chatter filling the classroom. the abrupt return to normalcy felt jarring almost, the ordinary sounds and movements of your classmates contrasting sharply with the intimate moment you had just shared.

you can only stare at his back in complete shock on what just happened

what the fuck just happened?

little did you know, that was just the beginning of everything

—

you were starting to think you were going crazy. you're convincing yourself it was just some sick twisted dream. it has to be, it had to be. there was just no fucking way that just happened

asking sae directly was a bit too much, and you knew that. you knew that he wouldn't give you a direct answer– hell, you're lucky if you'd even be given an answer about that

so instead, you decided to test the waters again. if you could somehow lure him into doing it again then, you'd have your answer

your class was at the library for some reading exercises when you decided to put your plan into action. It was simple, really. you placed your hand at your side under the table, hoping sae would take the bait.

he did.

sae tightened the grip on your hand when he intertwined them for the second time today. it was like he was trying to tell you a message through that little action

this time, you dared to look at him. you lightly tugged on his arm, hoping it would catch his attention

to think your little plan had actually worked the second time, you knew something was up between the two of you.

sae decided to play coy, much to your disappointment. he began writing down in his notebook using his left hand while his dominant hand was busy holding yours under the table, yet he still showed no other signs of acknowledgment what-so-ever

it almost felt like he was tormenting you

sae feels a small smile tug on his lips when he catches you looking away while pouting.

how cute, he thought to himself

you didn't know how to bring it up to him later on when you two get home but you don't miss the way the tips of his ears have a slight tint of a red hue when he held your hand under the table

whatever this set up you two had, it went on for awhile without anyone noticing. sae would randomly hold hands with you under the table and shake you off once the bell rings as you move on to the next next class

sometimes you think he’s doing it on purpose to mess with you but at the same time, you don’t. 

it was during science class when sae blushed for the first time

it's times like this that you were glad your teacher made you sit at the back row

instead of listening to your teacher's discussion, you had your own discussion with sae, who was seated right next to you about movies you've both watched growing up

“that’s not how it goes though” you hushed, trying to not raise your voice as the science teacher was in front of you, teaching a lesson

“you’re wrong then” sae argues back, jotting down notes on a piece of paper. 

you clicked your tongue in annoyance, “did you even watch the movie?” you asked, raising your voice a bit. sae suddenly looks up from his paper and looked at you, annoyed

“i should be the one asking you that” he argues, diverting his attention back to his messy notes. you wonder how he could still be at the top of the class when his notes are all over the place

before you could argue further, it seemed like the entire class including the teacher was listening to your little argument

“would you mind sharing your heated discussion back there to the class?” your teacher chimes in, halting your heated argument at the back.

you and sae both freeze in your seats. you slowly turned your head to see the rest of the class staring at the two of you with knowing smiles and smirks.

sae opened his mouth in an attempt to defend himself but the furious blush creeping up from his neck to his face says otherwise. 

“kids these days..” your teacher teased, obviously up to date with the rumors circulating around you and sae. the class giggled as sae shifted awkwardly in his seat with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

your ‘relationship’ with the red head has been slowly progressing into something more. that of which didn't go unnoticed by your fellow classmates and teachers

whatever your status was with sae has already spread among the class. the innocent teasing of your fellow classmates, commenting how cute you two were as a couple spread like wildfire. 

you're not too sure if what propelled your relationship with sae was caused by the innocent teasing by your classmates

it was in his room when you asked sae what you two were

you were almost akin to the itoshi household that it didn't bother them that you'd stay over for multiple periods of time. you were like the daughter they never had and they've always welcomed you with open arms.

you held hands with him again that night. you were lying down on his bed with him, a few inches of space in between. “distance” is what he says as he intertwined his hands with yours – again.

“this is weird.. what are we?” you asked.

sae shrugged, holding your intertwined hands up high, almost like he’s inspecting it.

“i don’t know”

you don't miss the small smile on his face when you waved goodbye to him when your mom picks you up after work

there were times where you just wanted to ask him, “why me?” but you knew he would just throw a backhanded compliment saying that you were more tolerable than the others he knew. 

instead, you didn’t think too much of it. you’ve already brought up the question to him in your daily conversations. to which he usually just dismisses it as nothing

after all, he himself wasn’t sure if you two were even a thing.

[10:45 PM] you: sae, seriously.. what are we?

[10:46 PM] sae itoshi: i don't know

it was in the hallway when sae accidentally lashed out on you

sae was addictive

sae had became a drug that you couldn't stop taking. ever since that night, you couldn't end your day without at least talking to him. sae had become apart of your everyday routine. you had grown accustomed to his daily commentary about anyone and anything

it turns out not only his teachers can make sae flustered, but also his own set of friends

they were teasing sae again when you walked right past them. there was an unspoken rule between the two of you where you two act like you weren’t that close outside the classrooms, something you never really understood the concept of

you rolled your eyes per usual and ignored the obvious innuendos thrown about the two of you. 

“why do you look constipated?” you laughed as you two finally got some alone time at the back of the classroom, just a few minutes before the classroom gets filled with students after lunch “it’s my friends, they’re being stupid as usual” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“why? did they say anything about us?” you joked, swinging your feet off the table

sae visibly stiffened at the question, “yeah but it’s nothing to be concerned about” he huffed after giving it much thought

“i want to know what they said” you whined, pouting in front of him. somehow it occurred to you that he actually gives in when you throw the puppy eyes at him.

sae flicked your forehead, “no.” he says flatly. you grab onto his hand, swaying it slightly. “sae c’mon just tell me i swear i won’t be offended” you pestered him, poking his chest til he gives in. 

“they said disgusting things about us okay?! happy now?!” sae snapped. “i won’t get into detail but i really wanted to wipe the smirk off their faces” he seethed

“oh..” you squeaked, feeling small

sae picks up on your sudden discomfort and pulled your head against his chest. “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to yell" he murmurs, "don’t worry though. they won’t bother us anymore. i already told them off earlier”

it was during rin's 14th birthday when sae realized he liked you

you were at his house again. it was his brother’s birthday and your family came over late due to the fact that your younger brother also had his kindergarten graduation on the same day.

“you’re well dressed today, y/n-san” his brother, rin comments as you enter their house.

“that’s because i came after brother’s graduation” you retort, tapping rin's cheek, not forgetting to greet him his birthday wishes

“yeah right” his brother scoffs, pushing your hand away. he was exactly like sae at the end of the day “use protection or whatever..” rin says when you knock at sae's room before you enter

you were about to tell rin off for saying such things about you and his older brother when sae yanks the door open

“what the hell was that dumbass talking about— woah” sae's eyes peered over to the dress you were wearing. " you look pretty" he mumbles, grabbing your hand and dragging you inside his room

it was almost midnight when you realized that you talked the night away with sae in his bed, under his covers

"oh shit, it's almost midnight" you pulled out your phone to check the time that reads 11:11 PM

sae took a moment to listen for his parents laughter outside his door. he pats your head and intertwined your fingers under the covers

"it's fine. they're still having fun outside so let's continue what we were talking about" sae says, going back to the topic that you lost track of

you pulled your intertwined hands as you take a good look at it

"sae, i think i like you" your little naive self admitted

sae smiled but you didn't see it

"i like you too"

before you could’ve said anything, the door to sae's room bursts open to reveal rin and your little brother.

in that moment, you and sae sat up and tried to fix yourselves. not like you two did anything inappropriate but the mere thought of it just sent shivers down your spine. not when rin and your little brother were at the age where they would tattle to their respective parents

"i think we're going home" you murmured to sae, patting his leg before standing up and walking over to your brother and rin

"i'll chat you when i get home, sae" you waved goodbye, closing his door on your way out

you missed the big smile on sae's lips when he realizes that he liked you back

it was the following summer when you unexpectedly had to move away

it all happened too fast

some complication had happened between the jobs between your parents that resulted to having no choice but moving far away to the countryside

from what you've heard, your parents and sae's parents had a falling out amidst everything. your dad was convinced mr. itoshi had something to do with his job then word got out then one thing led to another and now you're here, being told off by your mother that you had to cut all contact with sae

"just for a couple of months til we get back on our feet. we don't want them to know where we are" your mother tried to convince you. she tried so hard. she inevitably had to take your phone and deactivate whatever social media you had on there to keep your locations a secret

this was stupid, you thought to yourself. this was between the adults but you still lived under their roof so you had to do what they said

you never saw sae ever again after that

they say fate can be the most cruelest thing

it's been almost nine years since the incident that you had to leave the life you spent years yearning what you could've lived

nine years of radio silence from both ends of a string you call fate

your family had reconnected with a mutual friend that didn't take sides when your family and the itoshi's had a falling out

you met up with the mutual friend and had a good long conversation about how life has been treating you since then

one could say you never got the closure you wanted after that day. even if nine years had passed, the little girl in you who sae had on the palm of his hands, still firmly believes that if you two were destined to cross paths again after all these years, it would all still be the same

your mutual friend had graciously showed you a recent picture of sae itoshi over the years and all you could say was

wow.

it's too late now, you think to yourself. nine years too late. you already had your life figured out. you were finally happy and in a committed relationship for a couple of years now but yet, the feelings you didn't know you still had in you, all crashed around you with just a single picture of the first boy you think you've ever loved

── they say first love never dies

maybe in another life time, in another universe, maybe you two will cross paths again. this time, in the end it will end with you.

[m0chisenpai]

P.Y.T ( Pretty Young Thing)

Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

42!Miles Morales x black!reader

Warning(s): nothing too crazy. just a bit of cursing

Honestly it’s giving Poppy and Branch

You stuck out like a sore thumb in Miles’ life. A bright pink, bedazzled thumb. He’ll never forget the first moment he saw you, well saw you again. He was out after school with some of the boys, and he saw you with your girls. You two crossed paths once or twice in middle school before you transferred for a bit to one of those downtown academies.

He recalls how you were the oreo that could answer any chem question without flinching at the sheer amount of conversion and what not involved.

You didn’t bag an eye or flinch at the harsh comments, the nickname that made Miles grind his teeth. How’s it your fault you were top three in the science department?

Yet here you were, your hands covered your glossy pink lips that spilled with a laugh that Miles wanted to hear more of. Your nails gleamed with bright charms and some cartoon characters and your other hand tossed a loose bang from your face.

You changed but he still saw the bright pink braces girl with various cartoon charms dangling from her purple kanken.

You all headed into the bodega and he and his boys followed in behind you. One of them said he needed to hit your friends up about something and it was coincidence because the two of you were reintroduced.

Miles found it endearing how despite your loud and boisterous behavior when the two of you got introduced, here you stood quiet as a mouse looking anywhere but at Miles.

You held a pack of candy in one hand and a bottle of water in the other while your groups spoke behind you as you stepped up to pay. But Miles caught your frustration as you dug into your purse.

“I got you” he stepped in and tapped his phone before you could protest.

“Thanks Miles I’m so sorry, next time it’s on me” you give him a smile as you slide the back into the book of your arm.

And it's then when he realizes how much he's missed you since middle school.

“Nah it’s all good you know I got you” his eyes watch as you fidget with your nails and he can’t help but smirk and gently bump you. “Why you acting shy? Used to hear you all the time in the halls.”

You gawk up at him and smack him in the arm. And he notes how your hand lingers a bit. It’s all the confirmation he needs.

“Morales how dare you! You look annoyed I didn’t want to bother you.. and who said you could get so tall.” You crossed your arms.

“I don’t think you could bother me.” And the way you look up at him is enough to know he’s got you wrapped around his finger just as you do him.

“And no one told you to stink your growth with all that coffee.”

“Hey!”

Before you part ways Miles gets your new number and makes sure to save his into your phone.

You slowly find yourself bleeding back into Miles’ life. Short texts get longer. You’re sending hearts within four months, and Mama Rio knows your special knock when you enter the apartment to wait for Miles. She feeds you when you stay the long nights and Mr.Morales doesn’t want you going home for your safety.

When he comes home from his shifts he would stop you before you were heading out and tells you that you might as well stay the night. He was the same gentle giant you remember from back in middle school and he welcomes you into his home with open arms just as he did before.

He’s always quick to give your pops and mom and text when you do stay the night and they’re more than appreciative.

Miles bought a blanket just for you when you slept over on the couch. It’s fleece, pink and covered in a my melody pattern. He even provides a silk pillow in a matching shade cause he knows you won't sleep with a mix matched set. He pulls it up and tucks it in when he sees you fast asleep coming in from a job, and fixes your bonnet before it slips off.

You go from Y/N in his phone to Mi Tesoro.

You’re leaving lip gloss and lashes on his desk and taking jackets of his with you. He’s walking you to the bus and won’t leave till he sees you on it safely and watches your location till you’re in the house.

You begin to show back up in his sketches but he won’t show you. His sketchbook is intimate and when he does slowly show you his pieces your heart swells up.

You always were done up, but on the days when you weren’t Miles still swore you were beautiful. With lashes and without. With a full face or bare. Nails on and off. You were his whole world.

Miles knew about the dudes you used to mess with. He was smart when he could apply himself and he knew that while the relationships ended in good terms and there was no bad blood you settled. And he wasn’t going to build your relationship with him off of settling.

No, you deserved the world and therefore he was going to give it. Because you have him the same treatment in return with zero hesitation.

So when he’s planning to ask you to be his girl. He goes all out.

After school, as always, he asks if you can come by tonight. You agree but today he wants to go up on the roof and you quickly agree. But when you go up it’s different. It’s illuminated and the trail of candles lead you to your usual spot near the edge. But it’s set up with a blanket and atop it are a bouquet of roses and the large strawberry hello kitty you were raving on the phone about last week.

“I’m not the best with words or my emotions. But I know that I couldn’t let this feeling est me anymore. So I had to draw it.” Miles nods his head and you look up at the brick wall and gasp at the sight of…you. But it’s more ethereal, you want to ask Miles how he did such a beautiful portrait but he’s guiding you to look back at him with misty eyes.

“Be mine, please? My girl, my baby.”

And your hand covers your mouth like the first time but your nodding quickly and throw your arms around him and tuck yourself under his jaw.

“Miles you're lucky I used my good setting spray!” you smack his chest as he pulls you into his chest and guides your lips to his in a gentle peck.

“Sorry love I couldn’t help” he smirks down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that” you pout and push softly against him. And he tilts his hand to look down at you.

“Like what hm? How am I looking at you?” And you rolls your eyes and pull him to plant another kiss to his lips.

Tonight he doesn’t chide you about the residue your gloss leaves behind. He’ll wear it with pride. Tonight and the next days to come.

He wonders if they’ll always be like this. He hopes they are.

Because moments like this are always fleeting.

[the-newlymadeweeb]

Sacrifice

Luke Castellan x female!reader

Percy Jackson & female!reader

Description: Set after Titan's Curse before BoL, you rendezvous to meet Percy before heading back to Luke and he contemplates the intensity of your love and sacrifice.

A/N: I read the books like 7 years ago so I'm not super duper canon compliant

Percy notices the grey in your hair first and a phantom pain rushes through him. It's more discolouration than either he, Annabeth or Luke has and it's striking.

It aged you so much and he wonders how long did you hold up the sky? Why did you hold up the sky?

But your fatal flaw had been self-sacrifice. You'd given yourself up before anything, before Luke would be forced to take Atlas' place.

And the sky lay on your shoulders for days before Luke realised that the plan was going slower than expected and he needed to give you some respite.

That's why he thought of Annabeth, that's why he took on the sky as a trap. And the only reason you didn't push her out of the way and take the burden was because you spent much of those days unconscious, drained.

Percy thought he should hate you.

But his own flaw was loyalty and for so long you were running interference, a buffer, to slow down Kronos' ambitions. And you were too devoted to Luke to leave him behind just yet.

Anyway, your decision to play double agent was riskier still and here you were. Sacrificing. Again. The other side could find out, and the consequences would be gory and painful but you came to meet Percy, to prepare him.

And all he could look at was how grey your hair was.

A vainer person would've coloured their hair.

Your eyes are tired, entire body tense as if preparing for sudden attack. But you smile bravely at him, and Percy gets whiplash with how weirdly similar you resemble his mother back when she was alone and suffering bravely for him.

"You don't have to go back, you know," He suggests.

It's a bad idea and you both know it. But

"We could keep you safe."

"You've gotten quite the growth spurt recently," you say instead, "thank you Percy, but I'm meant to be at his side in battle. I promised him that much."

Is it worth it though? He thinks bitterly.

You love him so much, it's going to kill you.

But Percy has yet to realise that you're counting on that. That you will die at his hand, and Luke who'd burn the world and destroy all souls for you might finally see the destructive nature of his ways– see clarity through grief.

It's horrible plan.

Or maybe he does realise it but hasn't truly understood.

Regardless, he moves forward and pulls you into a hug. His first sister, his crazy friend and foe. Gods, he's as tall as you now.

Your hand brushes the grey locks on his head and you slowly back away.

"See you around Percy. Take care."

*****************************************************************************

[blasphemousclaw]

ok so I watched Vaati’s new video on Rykard, really liked it overall but I wanted to go into more detail about what I liked and what I disagreed with. 

Gonna start with a list of the things I loved/found super interesting:

The way he laid out the evidence for Rykard’s inquisition having been on behalf of Leyndell was really really well laid out!!! 

I laughed at the “FAMILEEE” soundbyte 

His discussion about the origins of “hexes” was super cool 

I had never heard of the cut item description linking the Serpent Arrows to Shaded Castle! 

The idea that poison was involved in Rykard’s desecration of the Minor Erdtree… he didn’t mention this, but this idea could explain why there’s sickly greenish growths at its base?  

(Gelmir Minor Erdtree vs. Consecrated Snowfield Minor Erdtree)

Talked about the idea that the Great Serpent grew because of the sacrifices it was fed, then was killed, then came back as a normal-sized snake, that Rykard fed himself to and then grew large due to once again devouring sacrifices

Pointed out that the snakes inside the Abductor Virgins look like metal!!! I thought I was crazy for thinking this

1.0 Daedicar mentioned ‼️

His overall characterization of Rykard and his motivations is really good. he gets it

Now here’s some arguments he made that I disagree with:

Early in the video, Vaati makes the argument that the blue-robed Officials originate from House Marais because the blue robes are a part of Maleigh Marais’s garb as head of the House, because Inquisitor Ghiza wears bandages, suggesting that he’s “sickly born” like the rest of the Marais family, and because the unnamed guy in the Volcano Manor portrait also wears a metal mask like Maleigh Marais. He argues that House Marais were assimilated into Erdtree society, and presumably that the Official’s blue robes were a precursor to the other robes associated with the nobility (the Ruler’s robe, the Upper Class attire, and the Consort’s robe). 

There are several reasons why I disagree with this theory:

Masks aren’t unique to the Marais family: the Ruler’s set comes with a Ruler’s mask, said to be “customary dress among lords,” and Tanith also wears a mask with her Consort’s robe. I speculated that masks are simply part of the noble fashion alongside the particular style of robe. 

I don’t think it makes a ton of sense for pompous noblemen to have adapted their style of dress from a robe associated with a family of executioners carrying out “the darkest duties of mankind”

The Volcano Manor portrait guy does not have bandages under his mask like Maleigh does.

Maleigh and Ghiza don't really look alike at all:

Also, a different explanation for Ghiza’s bandages could be that he’s a remnant of the 1.0 version of Daedicar, a torturer in Rykard’s inquisition: “he would test new methods of torture first upon himself."

Overall I think a better explanation for the Marais attire is that, since their ancestral duty was serving as executioners on behalf of the Erdtree's justice system, they simply incorporated the Official's attire (worn by magisterial officials carrying out "surveillance, executions, gruesome rituals") into the garb of the head of their house.

I absolutely think House Marais is connected to Volcano Manor though; I've suggested that as executioners they serve as a branch of the Erdtree justice system working in tandem with Rykard's inquisition.

2. Later in the video, Vaati makes the argument that the Abductor Virgins were made after Rykard snakeified himself. I personally think that they were made before the snakening, but I can see the evidence for the contrary and I definitely think it’s possible. However, Vaati later says that the Abductors were used to transport people to the Underground Inquisition Chamber to be interrogated, which contradicts his argument that they were made after Rykard’s snakening… if Rykard is now a serpent, no longer a Praetor, what use is there for interrogation? And who is doing the interrogating, if Tanith was the only human left loyal to Rykard, and his inquisitors have long abandoned him? If the Abductors were made after Rykard became the serpent, the victims are probably just being fed to him. 

3. Towards the end of the video, Vaati says that the serpent displayed in the Temple of Eiglay is the flayed skin of the Great Serpent, and that might explain the Godskin’s presence there. But it’s not the flayed skin of a snake, it’s a snake shed:

It’s a pale, milky, almost translucent color, with some ragged edges and holes. Snakes shed their skin as they grow, and we know the Great Serpent “devours, grows, and lives eternally.” Rykard even has some shed skin stuck to his body and tail:

4. Lastly, I’ve beat this horse to death but you can’t say with 100% certainty that Rykard was born with red hair because he has pale hair in the present day. I will die on this hill

[laauranenn]

A whole three four (4) people have said they'd like for me to talk about Nirei, so here we go!!

Starting off with how he's first introduced! He falls face first on the floor. (Which I love him for, he's the guy ever.)

He's introduced as this really goofy, dorky guy. He still has the tags on his uniform, falls again trying to get them off, and asks Sakura if his looks are caused by stress.

He then proceeds to run into the doorframe as he's leaving, and trips as soon as he's outside of Pothos.

This all paired with how he talks about Bofurin makes Sakura disregard him as someone who's all bark and no bite, as someone who'll run soon as a fight breaks out, which Kotoha then argues against with her coffee bean metaphor about not judging people so quick.

(It's honestly a little crazy how this was Sakura's first impression of Nirei, considering how close they've grown throughout the manga! )

Nirei, however, proves this wrong immediately. He saves a girl from a bunch of guys that are harassing her, and he doesn't back down. Even when running away would probably be the wisest decision with his complete lack of fighting ability or self defence skills.

He clings on to the guy, continuing to get back up despite getting thrown across the pavement multiple times. His perseverance is something that Sakura quietly acknowledges as well!

Something we also get introduced to very early are Nirei's reasons for joining Furin (and Bofurin by extension) as well as his backstory!

Nirei is someone who's been mistreated in the past. He describes being beat up and used as an errand boy, talks about how he had no choice but to obey them, until someone from Furin stepped in and saved him. This sets up his reasons for joining Furin, as he wants to help others like how that student helped him back then.

This is also where we first get to see Nirei's insecurity. Despite his determination to help others, he unfortunately lacks any fighting experience or skill. This is something that plays a role in his insecurities and his low self-esteem.

Because Nirei is insecure. Or at least not as confident in himself as he could be. When Sakura saves him from the guys, Nirei is the first one to criticize himself before Sakura can even say anything. He thanks Sakura and immediately follows it up with how much of a disappointment it must be to have someone like him in Furin.

Nirei also downplays his usefulness and skills multiple times throughout the series.

He memorizes the names and faces of the entire school in what's implied to be a single night.

"I borrowed the school list yesterday."

He doesn't downplay it too much, just a little when Suo praises him for it. He does something similar after the fight with KEEL, where he doesn't seem to think him calling for backup was anything special at all.

It's not something that shows up a lot, nor is it something big. It's just him lacking the confidence to take credit for what he's done.

I think it's worth mentioning though, as I think him memorizing the names and faces of the entire school is incredibly impressive.

As soon as Nirei gets himself together after Sakura saves him, we get introduced to his notebook! A small notebook that he collects data of "the guys he finds cool" in. He asks Sakura questions about himself, such as his height, weight, blood type and birthday. He also seems to have data on specific fights people have been in.

His notebook, as well as his lack of fighting ability, set him up as something similar to your typical mission control, or "the guy in the chair" sort of role, as well as the coward. Though he lacks the tech genius typical of the former and is more geared towards providing Sakura and the others with relevant information on the opponent.

But what makes his growth so satisfying, that sets him apart from other similar characters, is his strive to become stronger and help others.

Something I find so satisfying about Nirei's development is him being the one to drive it. He's the one to seek training, to strive to be better.

He's never told to stay behind despite someone needing to protect him, never cast out for it. The others, especially Suo, are entirely willing to take on the workload of protecting him. The only person to say anything about it is Tone Hansuke when fighting Suo.

Nirei is also willing to put himself at risk in order to help someone else out. We see this in almost all the major fights. First when we meet him, again when against KEEL, when he takes over for Suo on the bridge, as well as when he volunteers to take on Endo at the school.

(Honorable mention for him attempting to stop Shizuka from giving herself up)

This all paired with his role as Sakura's vice captain, as well as his promise to help Sakura to the top, eventually lead him to ask Suo to teach him to fight. Not because someone told him to, but because he himself wanted to.

And the training has seriously paid off! I have to bring up the bridge again, just because of how significant that fight is for him! Because not only does Nirei manage to cover for Suo while he's busy fighting with Obiki Kaito, but he also throws his first real punch!!

Sure, it's not a good punch, barely does anything. But that doesn't matter, because just the act of him throwing that punch is so significant!

And that brings us to where we are in the manga right now! He hasn't really been in a fight since Endo, and is instead helping Sugishita out!

I've officially run out of things to talk about, but I'd be happy to talk more about specific arcs or moments for him if someone wants to!! I'm desperate to talk about Wind Breaker at this point!!!