#n if he takes one more picture of my sister when she asks him to stop istg ill throw my 10-tonne backpack at him

[januaryembrs]

TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa. 

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached. 

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up. 

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,” 

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,” 

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different. 

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug. 

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup. 

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct. 

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown. 

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought. 

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up. 

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?” 

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap. 

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned. 

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister. 

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered. 

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,” 

Spencer gulped quietly. 

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze. 

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman. 

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it. 

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors. 

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs. 

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,” 

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?” 

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,” 

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them. 

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter. 

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.” 

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student. 

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again. 

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words. 

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently. 

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore. 

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly. 

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse. 

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish. 

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod. 

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket. 

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours. 

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,” 

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more. 

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet. 

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt. 

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick. 

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her. 

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,” 

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway. 

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny. 

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them. 

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face. 

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder. 

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips. 

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them. 

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed. 

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol. 

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown. 

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze. 

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her. 

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her. 

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly. 

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in. 

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command. 

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,” 

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!” 

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?” 

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand. 

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be. 

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,” 

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep. 

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue. 

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent. 

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],” 

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses. 

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun. 

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],” 

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],” 

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car. 

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,” 

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips. 

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside. 

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,” 

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand. 

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened. 

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer. 

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera. 

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture. 

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good. 

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately. 

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language. 

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully. 

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair. 

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?” 

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,” 

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them. 

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them. 

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls. 

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door. 

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face. 

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice. 

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon. 

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers. 

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?” 

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant. 

-

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod. 

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,” 

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front. 

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost. 

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,” 

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk. 

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?” 

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”  

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh. 

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully. 

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did. 

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over. 

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile. 

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice. 

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat. 

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen. 

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,” 

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,” 

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs. 

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile. 

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,” 

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,” 

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face. 

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat. 

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding. 

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else. 

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from. 

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. 

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,” 

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,” 

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation. 

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately. 

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster. 

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction. 

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,” 

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head. 

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly. 

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do. 

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight. 

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself. 

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk. 

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her. 

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes. 

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.” 

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too. 

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that. 

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-” 

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant. 

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at. 

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,” 

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed. 

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,” 

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation. 

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing,  “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her. 

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?” 

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,” 

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly. 

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her. 

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-” 

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,” 

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself. 

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

-

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left. 

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes. 

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back. 

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer. 

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house. 

-

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes. 

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window. 

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-” 

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her. 

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,” 

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her. 

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number. 

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,” 

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him. 

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so. 

Yet so was Emily. 

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway. 

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?” 

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times. 

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,” 

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown. 

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad. 

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea. 

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat. 

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,” 

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront. 

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose. 

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb. 

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch. 

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear. 

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. 

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh. 

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

-

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan. 

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder. 

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her. 

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury. 

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke. 

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them. 

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,” 

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible. 

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out. 

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan. 

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,” 

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze. 

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,” 

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans. 

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never. 

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far. 

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,” 

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl. 

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,” 

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road. 

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,” 

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line. 

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms. 

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them. 

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,” 

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet. 

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,” 

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later. 

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,” 

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more. 

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,” 

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on. 

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought. 

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,” 

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off. 

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault. 

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block. 

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs. 

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,” 

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas. 

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. 

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth. 

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back. 

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life. 

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk. 

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face. 

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table. 

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again. 

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up. 

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough. 

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-” 

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words. 

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast. 

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing. 

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming. 

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered. 

“Bug-���

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation. 

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,” 

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down. 

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you. 

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,” 

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-” 

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

-

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-” 

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. 

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled? 

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her. 

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother. 

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery. 

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.” 

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it. 

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close. 

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab. 

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika. 

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps. 

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was. 

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her. 

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them. 

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat. 

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand. 

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs. 

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close. 

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer. 

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team. 

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,” 

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand. 

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer. 

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy. 

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling. 

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss. 

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready. 

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound. 

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?” 

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,” 

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy. 

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup. 

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path. 

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on. 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first. 

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye. 

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?” 

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing. 

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,” 

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track. 

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses. 

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm. 

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand. 

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,” 

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers. 

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head. 

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long. 

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant. 

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,” 

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound. 

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing. 

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there. 

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back. 

-

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before. 

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery. 

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye. 

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

 Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it. 

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off. 

That was when the shooting started. 

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening. 

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye. 

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church. 

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised. 

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen. 

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister. 

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person. 

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall. 

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.” 

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine. 

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting. 

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed. 

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,” 

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away. 

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax. 

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze. 

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes. 

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered. 

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said. 

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push. 

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,” 

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,” 

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did. 

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals. 

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving. 

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,” 

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again. 

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,” 

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,” 

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,” 

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly. 

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude. 

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious. 

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness. 

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them. 

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou. 

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her. 

 “The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick. 

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage. 

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive. 

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice. 

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms. 

This was not good. 

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression. 

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach. 

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy. 

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily. 

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won. 

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple. 

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight. 

“It’s me,” 

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving. 

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head. 

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise. 

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture. 

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull. 

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them. 

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was. 

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least. 

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her. 

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds. 

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating. 

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand. 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl. 

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,” 

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,” 

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed. 

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action. 

��

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over. 

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless. 

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now. 

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority. 

2:53 stared back at her. 

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened. 

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle. 

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor. 

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them. 

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical. 

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost. 

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth. 

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free. 

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet. 

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine. 

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why. 

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight. 

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps. 

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle. 

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more. 

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her. 

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her. 

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared,  still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs. 

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly. 

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his. 

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved. 

“You saved mine,” 

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay. 

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying. 

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes. 

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building. 

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors. 

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse. 

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran. 

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state. 

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight. 

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius. 

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister. 

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-” 

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug. 

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner. 

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body. 

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric. 

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!” 

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave. 

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days. 

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,” 

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog. 

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back. 

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll. 

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,” 

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat. 

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more. 

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-” 

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings. 

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?” 

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,” 

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,” 

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess. 

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. 

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,” 

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off. 

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist. 

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess. 

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,” 

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be. 

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through. 

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

THIRD EDIT: we are now balls deep into this universe here's th link for the masterlist

[readychilledwine]

hello!! please could i request one where the reader is an OG member of the IC and very close to azriel (she knows that he’s her mate, he doesn’t) and sister-like to the rest of the IC. once feyre and her sisters come about, she often confides with feyre so they’re also close.

anyway, there’s an important event for the reader on day and she expected the rest of the IC would join her (she invited them?) but no one turned up and she’s absolutely exhausted, emotionally and physically, by the end of the day.

when she’s back, everyone is together at the house having fun and one of them notices she so dressed up but looked exhausted. maybe someone says something snarky and there’s an argument. azriel defends the snarky person so reader and azriel have an argument (hurtful words towards the reader) and that’s when the mating bond snaps for az and he’s regretful. things happen but happy ending for the reader, az and the IC. thank you 🫶🏼💗

Odd One Out

Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Warnings - I warned you all to watch out for angst, right? Elain being catty, reader feeling lonely, Azriel being an idiot

A/N - I promise Bound by Fate is still coming. I'm just constantly rereading it and not happy with where it's at. It's probably because I needed this out of my system. I hope this is close enough to what you were looking for! It wrote itself, so I'm worried it may stray too far from the ask! Please let me know if it did.

✨️ Azriel Masterlist✨️

Odd One Out pt 2

Maybe you had asked too much again. You looked to where the empty seats for the Inner Circle and Archeron sisters sat one last time before moving forward. You had worked too hard on this symphony to let this stop you. You were the last to go on stage, the conductor in her gorgeous sparkling gown and heels. You were the picture perfect face of composure as you bowed before turning and raising your hands.

You were introduced to Rhysand at a young age, and the two of you were quickly friends, so when he became High Lord, a place at his side was handed to you without question. You were eloquent, elegant, and kind. You were perfect for the position of emissary, and you single handedly won him friendships and alliances among every court aside from Spring.

He had never stopped you from pursuing passion, though. Your father had forced you into harp lessons from the tender age of 4 until his untimely death. He sat by your side for hours, teaching you to speak through letters written on a sheet that so fee could truly understand. It was an escape that turned into a career. One Rhysand specifically built the amphitheater you currently stood on for. The music you wrote woke emotion on the High Lord and all of Velaris, quickly making you one of the most popular females in the City of Starlight.

No one enjoyed your music more than Azriel's shadows, though. Nor did anyone enjoy you the way they did. How they knew you two were mates while he sat clueless and doting on Elain would never make sense to you, but the shadow turning your sheet music for you tonight was at least a small comfort, even if your family, mainly his master, was not here in their resevered High box seats.

You were exhausted when your arms lowered for the close of the show. You stood to the side, plastering a small faked smile on your graceful features as you held your arm to the orchestra, signaling for their bows before taking your own and leaving. You were the last one there, sharing thank yous and goodbyes as you musicians left. You chose to be alone for a while on the harp that sat in your sound room at the theater. You had a song in your mind, and you needed to let it speak before it left. Even if it was created from a place of raw emotion. It was near midnight when you finished, leaving the new composition to sit until you returned tomorrow.

You could hear the drunken laughter the second you walked into the old Riverhouse, the one you and Azriel made home as the mates of the Inner Circle began occupying the other houses, and signed as you removed your heels and picked them up into white tipped manicured nails. "Y/n!" Cassian's booming drunk voice slammed into you as he did. "Where have you been, baby?"

It was Nesta who gasped, looking at the clock on the wall before whispering a soft oh no as she saw your dress. Nesta who covered her mouth, eyes beginning to water as she shook her head and stared. Nesta who glared to Feyre.

"Why do you look so dolled up?" Rhys had a slight flush to his face, a wide smile as he took you in. "Hot date?"

You couldn't help but stare, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "You all seriously don't remember." Rhys knitted his brow thinking, and his face slowly fell.

"Y/n Darling, I am-"

You put your hand up to him before he could finish, shaking your head as the tears actually fell. "Save it. Spare me your lies and excuses." Cassian looked to Nesta and then Rhys, his own face falling next as he remembered.

"The symphony."

"Was beautiful, regardless of my support system deciding wine and board games were more important than the first live art performance in Velaris since our high lord was captured." Your voice was shaking as you looked up, avoiding Hazel eyes that were wide in shock as every single ounce of heart ache you felt hit him.

The bond finally snaps, his shadows hissed. We've been reminding you all day. And now you've hurt our mate. Ours. We went. Where were you?

"Maybe if you were actually good at writing music, we would have remembered." Mor's glass of wine hit the floor as your breath stilled. Rhys felt his hands fall from Feyre's lap as she audibly said Elain's name in an insulted tone. Amren was immediately held back by Varian. "Obviously, if the people who you claim you're so important to did not see making time to go a priority, we did not miss much."

Cassian heard your breath shutter. You stared to Azriel, waiting for him to come to your defense and not realizing his silence was due to shock from the bond and Elain's sudden cattiness. "Very well. I see I am no longer wanted, and I will not stay where I am not wanted," the whisper was all anyone could hear as you turned and walked away. The door shut behind you, and as if the Mother truly hated you, rain began falling softly, and you made your way back to the amphitheater.

Azriel had never shoved someone off his lap as quickly as he did Elain in that moment. But it was Rhysand who spoke, "How. Dare. You." The High lord went to stand, grabbing his jacket. "When your sister was dying, I sent her y/n's music. The mobile you play for our son every night, is y/n's music. The music that plays in Hewn City is y/n's music. She is an essential part of my circle, my family. How dare you tell her that her passion, her joy, and her career mean nothing to us."

Azriel backed away from Elain. "Your true colors disgust me, Elain Archeron." He studied her, truly studied her for the first time as the door slammed shut following Rhysand's exit. "That is my friend, my closest friend. You just hurt her like it was nothing. Cut her so deeply you will never be able to repair it."

"Well, if she mattered so much you all would have remembered."

Feyre spoke then, between heavy sobs, "I wrote down the wrong date. I wrong down tomorrow night for opening night. We were going to take her to dinner. It was supposed to be Nyx's first concert. This is my fault."

"Again, proof it didn't matter." Elain sipped her white wine as if Feyre had all but solidified her opinion.

"Get out," the growl from Azriel took everyone by surprise. "Get out of my home. You are no longer welcome here."

He was out the door, running to catch up to Rhysand in the rain, but missing the High Lord. He entered the amphitheater drenched and in silence, sitting next to where Rhysand was in the dark.

You were on stage playing violin as you always did when your heart was breaking. Every stroke of the strings had the bond growing tight before you dimmed it on your end, as if each movement of the bow, each note, was you whispering goodbye. "She told me she is leaving," Rhysand rubbed his face next to Azriel. It was then he saw the tears staining the perfect features of the High Lord. "She said this is my last performance before she leaves for Dawn."

"There's nothing we can do then?" Rhysand shook his head at the question before his head fell into his hands and his shoulders wrecked into sobs. "She's my mate."

"I know," Rhysand looked to the stars. "I've known for years. She never said anything, and now she never will. What little piece we had left is gone. Her light had been blown out by Elain's statements."

"Let me-"

"Just please stop talking and let me enjoy this."

It was the song he had sent Feyre under the mountain. A score that read of hope through pain.

And hope was all Azriel could hold on to as you stood and bowed, winnowing away as soon as you were finished.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[kagehisanotsu]

living vicariously thru my sisters first year drama

[itsthecline]

one conversation

maybank!reader x rafe cameron

summary rafe comes to pougelandia looking for sarah and finds you

warnings profanity , season four spoilers , use of marijuana , allusions to alcoholism , rafe being good at conflict resolution? , our girl is not standing on business at all

a/n initially , this had smut at the end , but i’m just finna two part ts for y’all<3

18+ minors dni

you were left alone to man the shop while the rest of your friends went to charleston. kie stayed behind as well , but she was driving all over the island trying to find jj. so here you were , doom scrolling behind the counter. you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking the worst when it came to what jj was up to or how the trip to charleston was going , but you could distract yourself and get high.

half of your blunt was gone when you thought you heard footsteps. you sat up straight , looking around the pillar you were leaned up against to see if anyone was there. pulling your headphones off , you took a deep breath. “no one’s here. no one’s trying to kill you. ghosts aren’t real,” you assured yourself before taking another hit of your blunt.

another puff and you heard more footsteps along with one of those eerie creeks from the wood. the scuba killer dude is so after me now. you hold your breath , not wanting him to hear you , but now your heartbeat was pounding more.

your hand fiddled around under the counter , feeling around for the knife you knew was there. it wasn’t the only one in the shop. the cool edge of the blade catches your finger and you grab it quietly , preparing yourself to fight a grown man who was dead set on killing you. the footsteps are getting closer , pausing every now and then like the man was looking around for you too.

“sarah?”

the all too familiar voice got your stomach to drop , your hand loosening around the knife entirely before you come out from around the cashier counter. “rafe?” you breathed out. the sweat that formed on the back of your neck had cooled , sending a chill down your spine.

your ex boyfriend turned at the sound of your voice , eyes softening at the sight of you clearly disheveled. “y/n , are you okay?” he instinctively asked , stepping toward you.

“i’m fine,” you answered shortly , backing up, “what’re you doing here?”

rafe chuckled , looking around the store. “what? ya can’t picture me just stopping by at my local bait shop?” he joked , fingers fumbling with one of the keychains that dangled on its hook.

“i don’t picture you at all anymore , rafe,” you simply replied , crossing your arms.

“agh! right— well , i came here looking for… my sister. i’m looking for sarah,” rafe explained , taking steps in a small circle just dicking around, “and you.” he stopped and a smile almost pulled at his lips. god , you missed his smile.

“well , sare isn’t here , so you’ll have to come back another time,” you shrugged , moving your way back behind the counter, “or not! sure you’re busy with sofia anyways. you should probably head out.”

rafe audibly groaned , bending back in frustration. “god damn it , y/n! could you— could you stop being difficult for one fucking second?” he cursed , rolling his eyes, “i’m— i’m tryna talk to you , baby.” your heart pinged at the nickname and the way rafe’s voice cracked just a little. the last time he called you that wasn’t even a part of your memory anymore. he leaned on the counter , resting his arms on the countertop and flicking at the pens in a metal tin.

and then you could smell it on his breath. to be fair , it was obvious the moment he started talking with his slurred words. “you’re drunk , rafe.”

“and? you’re high ; i can smell it,” he countered , finger coming up and booping you on the nose with a small laugh, “so what?”

you didn’t want to have to tell him to leave in the state he was in , but he could not be here when kie or jj got back. “i think you need to leave , dude,” you sighed , rubbing your forehead with your palm, “you can’t be here.”

“you used to beg me to come around the cut!” rafe whined , sniffling shortly, “now you don’t want me to?”

your eyes locked , and it was like time stood still. you thought you couldn’t read him anymore , but up close again , you know you could. he missed you. “i do,” you whispered , eyes still not leaving his, “but that doesn’t change anything.”

“one conversation,” he pleaded , grabbing your hand when you went to pull back again, “please.”

you always had trouble saying no to him. “fine,” you agreed , picking his keys up from the counter, “one conversation while i drive you home.” moving around the counter , you gently guided rafe back outside and to where his truck was parked. you helped him get in the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel and starting the truck. you heard the chime of your phone connecting to the bluetooth , and you cracked a smile. “sofia ever drive the truck?” you questioned , backing up and driving down the road.

“hell no,” rafe scoffed , reaching in the back seat for something. you eyed him , trying to figure out what he was doing. “i did something,” he announced , pulling a beer out and cracking it open.

your lips curled and you grabbed the bottle from him. “what did you do?” you asked , rolling the window down and chucking the beer out, “besides form a bad drinking habit?”

“i don’t have a bad drinking habit , y/n,” rafe groaned , letting his head hit the headrest behind him, “i made a deal. a business deal , y’know?” you looked at him , wanting him to continue. “so , you remember mrs. robinson? well , she’s not mrs. robinson anymore — whatever. so she proposed this business opportunity to me , and i’m doing it.”

“okay?”

“for us.” his voice was quieter than before , eyes flickering up to your face , gauging what you were thinking. if he even could anymore. but you didn’t say anything , so rafe continued, “i’ve been having these , i don’t know what to call ‘em , but i’ve been thinking a lot. about everything. me and sarah. me and you. and i wanna have my family back,” he admitted, “i want you back.”

you were quiet for a moment , your music the only noise in the truck. “rafe…” you sighed. your heart wanted nothing more than to forgive him for everything and take him back like you always did. but things were so different now. “you have a girlfriend. i have my life here , and i— nothing has changed.”

“what do you mean ‘nothing has changed’ , y/n? come on! i have!” rafe argued back.

“no , you haven’t!” you laughed , volume matching his, “you haven’t changed at all. the last time we all saw you was when you were aiming a fucking gun at us after you kidnapped me and sarah! and then the other day at the enduro , and let’s not forget the swell day’s activities , rafe. you haven’t changed.”

you watched rafe sit up straight before adjusting to face you entirely. “i want you! i’m sorry for the shit that happened. that — that wasn’t me , and i think you know that. i’d never do anything to hurt you , baby.”

“stop calling me that , rafe,” you begged , looking at him for just a moment with tears in your eyes, “i can’t come back to you this time.”

“you don’t understand! with this deal with hollis? i’ll have enough money for us to go away and start our own life. just like we always wanted,” he explained , hand reaching your thigh, “it’s what you wanted. i’m doing it. for you.”

you could see rafe’s place come into view and let out a deep breath. “i didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled , pulling truck into park, “i’ve asked you to get your shit together. to not be a fucking mess all of the time. i’ve asked you to just be nice to me a thousand times! you’re too late.”

“no , but i’m not,” rafe rushed out , grabbing your hands in his, “this deal is perfect timing. you’re home ; i’m apologizing. this is good,” he countered , hopeful smile on his lips, “c’mon.”

it was taking everything in you to not just start bawling. about how much you missed him when you shouldn’t , about how fucked up everything is , about every single thing that has happened in the last two years.

“rafe , i love you,” you said , taking his face in your hands and looking him in the eyes, “i love you so much that i could forgive you for everything—“

“so forgive me,” he interrupted softly , slipping your hands into his again , missing the way they fit together.

“i can’t,” you shook your head, “i was legally a missing person for six weeks because you kidnapped me , and i had to jump off a fucking boat into the ocean to get away. you — you drugged me and took me , rafe. that isn’t something i can just get passed. and while i was gone fighting for my life , you started dating my coworker! do you think those things are easy to forgive you for? i have been trying to do that since i’ve been back. i have come up with every logical excuse that would help me forgive you , so i can come home. but you haven’t been doing the same , and you come to me now like you couldn’t have come earlier , rafe!” your rant was going on longer than you expected, “i love you , but right now you’re not the same person. look at yourself for a moment and really think if all of this shit you get yourself into is worth losing me ; because i’m getting to the point where i believe you think it is.”

rafe sat quiet for a moment , truly taking in every single word you spoke. you could see the gears grinding and sat patiently with his hands in yours while he thought. “i love you,” he started, “i have done a million things wrong , and i know that. i’m trying to sort those things out now. that’s why i came today! to talk to you and sarah,” he explained opening his truck door, “just come inside. we can talk everything out. i promise. just give me a chance.”

“okay,” you whispered , closing your eyes for a second before getting out of the truck with him. you heard the breath of relief come from rafe. “girlfriend not here?” you quipped.

“shut up,” rafe laughed , opening the front door for you, “welcome back.”

“been awhile,” you nodded , stepping into the house with your arms crossed over your chest. your bikini top became more notable when you stepped into the air conditioning. “uh , where do you—“

“we could go to my room,” rafe suggested , raising his eyebrows at you with a smirk before you reached over and smacked him. you tried to hide your own smile. it had been so long since you and him had talked like this— joked around. “kidding!”

“living room,” you decided , heading that way on your own. you climbed over the couch and plopped down , getting comfortable as if you had been here the day before , like nothing had changed. “get to talkin’ , big guy,” you huffed , gesturing for him to sit down as well.

rafe rolled his eyes before he came into your line of sight at the directions and that stupid nickname. he hated when you called him anything other than baby or my love or if you were mad rafe. “okay , bud. the fuck?” he mumbled quietly back as he took a seat.

you were quick to defend yourself from his tone. “why are you getting snippy with me?” you asked , eyebrows furrowing as a pout overtook your lips.

“never mind,” rafe sighed lightly, “okay— first thing’s first : sofia is not my girlfriend. she was never my girlfriend,” he started off , looking at you were more sober eyes now that the conversation you’d both been wanting to have was happening. “we met at a party , and we hooked up. it , ugh , we kept hooking up , and it’s just that. i don’t want to be with her ; i don’t have feelings for her. it’s not like that.”

“you wanna start off with this topic?” you questioned , knowing it was the most sore spot for you in the moment. yes , everything he did was monumentally worse than his thing with sofia , but this was picking at you constantly.

“yes , i want to start with this because it affects us the most. if you think i’m with sofia or whatever you won’t want to come back to me,” rafe explained like it was obvious, “and the most important thing to me right now is you. it always has been.”

you bit your lip , thinking about how you want to word what you’re going to say. “i… do not care what you think you and sofia’s label is,” you admitted with a shrug, “i think you found somebody else that doesn’t know you to fill a void that i left whenever i was stranded on an island. i think you found someone that you knew would bother me if i ever came back. and i think that it’s disgusting that you’re sleeping with the only person i got along with at the club. you know that i’ve seen her posting you all of the time.”

“i thought you were dead!” rafe argued, “i was drowning myself in liquor one night when she was working and we —“

“i don’t care to hear how you started fucking my friend , rafe,” you interrupted , holding your hand up, “why didn’t you wait for me? we have been through so much shit together. things we’ve done to each other or whatever the fuck argument we get into. shit with my brother. i just don’t know why you didn’t wait this time around.”

“i thought you were dead , y/n,” he repeated , quieter this time as though the words alone were making him think that way again, “and you came back and everything was already so different.”

“because you were fucking my friend,” you said again , trying to get your point across.

his hands came up and rubbed at his face , clearing accepting the fact that this was going to be an argument conversation not a talk this out conversation. “i fucked your friend , yeah. i was horny , and you had screamed at me that you hated me and jumped off of a ship in the middle of the ocean to get away from me. and then the next time i saw you , you let kiara fucking carrera shove me off my boat as we were getting away from singh. excuse me for wanting to let off some steam,” he shouted , standing up and pacing a few feet, “oh and then we’re all back home and you scream at me in front of everyone at the enduro and then again at the beach , so… yeah.”

“letting off so much ‘steam’ that your friends are letting a pogue hang out with you all of the time? i get sofia is nice , but rafe , you’re surrounded by jackasses twenty-four seven. they’ve gotta be under the impression you’re dating if they’re letting her come around,” you argued also standing up so he wasn’t towering over you as much, “that’s the problem!”

“would you rather me go around and fuck every girl on the island?” he scoffed , confused with the situation now.

“yeah! that would be more in rafe cameron fashion,” you answered, “you told me i was the only girl you’d ever let step foot in this house with you again!”

“and you promised me no matter what! we’ve made promises and we’ve broken them. that’s nothing new to us,” rafe countered quickly before taking a deep breath and holding your hands. he moved you both to sit down again. “i don’t want to fight , y/n,” he admitted, “i want us to talk.”

you looked into his eyes , really looked , and all you could see was rafe. you could see the sweet boy that used to take you to all the way to charleston for farmer’s markets and the boy that always made you laugh. you didn’t want to argue either ; it wasn’t fun for you. you were just so mad.

“i don’t know how to talk with you when i’m this angry , rafe!” you huffed , dropping your face into your hands, “i am so fucking angry all of the time.”

“how about we talk about what you want to then?” he suggested , hand reaching your thigh and rubbing it soothingly, “i want to talk , so if it’s hard for you , we’ll do what you want. all i want is you back. i’m willing to make this work.”

you eventually looked up again , a soft smile at the feeling of his warm hand forming. “i don’t want to talk , ray,” you confessed , covering his hand with yours, “i just wish things were the same as they were before all of this happened.”

“it can be,” he responded , a smile lighting his face, “we can be.” rafe scooted closer to you on the couch , gently pulling you into him. “i’m on your side. whatever you want to do.”

and you didn’t even realize that you had moved your head to kiss him. you were already kissing rafe deeply when you came to the realization that this was the dumbest thing you could’ve been doing at the moment , but he was there and you loved him as much as you shouldn’t. “i don’t want to talk,” you echoed , shifting to straddle rafe’s lap. and he let you.

“i don’t deserve you,” he mumbled in between kisses , letting his hands feel you for the first time in so long.

you pulled back for a moment , taking his hand in your face again to make him look at you. “don’t say that ; it hurts my feelings,” you smiled , pressing a kiss into his cheek, “i love you. let’s drop everything that’s happened. if you say you’ve changed , i’ll believe you.”

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt @inlovewithmorales

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[loggiepj]

Crush

Cheerleader Wanda x Nerd Fem Reader Short Stories

Wanda walks in, wearing her school's cheerleading uniform, along with her friends Natasha, Maria and Carol. Every student in the hallway stares at them as they pass along, books falling from grasp, whistles from all corners and sound of clapping from the basketball team.

You on the other hand is busy with your camera, a vintage Olympus Pen EE-3. You are to meet Pietro in the school's darkroom to have the pictures you have taken earlier that morning developed. You are a senior transferee from a neighboring school and have only started three months ago, yet you have no problem finding friends like Pietro and Yelena.

Unaware of the popular girls heading your way, you accidentally bump into Wanda as they begin to turn around the corner.

"Watch where you're going!" Wanda yells when her uniform is ruined by the cup of coffee she is carrying.

"Shit, sorry, Wands," you apologize. You take tissues from your bag as you attempt to wipe the stain off her uniform.

"Oh, it's you, Y/n," Wanda says. Her demeanor has softened when she sees your pretty face, smiling from ear to ear. "It's okay, I brought a spare uniform in my locker. Why don't you buy me a cup of coffee instead as payback? Later at 4pm after cheer practice?"

You nod, breathless. "Yeah, sure, Wands. I'll see you later then."

Wanda smiles before leaning in to kiss your cheek, making you blush and frozen on the spot.

The girls then walk away, Natasha laughing with others. "Gosh, why is she so oblivious?"

Wanda sighs, wiping her uniform with the tissue you gave. "I don't know. I don't know if she even likes me."

"Come on, Wanda," Carol interrupts. "You're everybody's type."

"Not hers," she complains as as she arrives at her locker and takes the extra uniform she brought with her to school.

Wanda thinks it was love at first sight when she saw you in her house months ago, playing video games with her brother Pietro. You are in the same class as him. Wanda has heard about a new student starting that day and she has been so ecstatic to meet you and endorse her candidacy as the class president. She has no idea that you will take her breath away when meeting you.

Wanda is used to have a number of suitors, both boys and girls, but no one has caught her attention yet. Wanda thought being a cheerleader would help her romantically, but somehow she was never interested in anyone after a single date. She will probably die a virgin.

But when she hears you laugh, it is the most beautiful thing Wanda has ever heard in her life. And it has become her mission to get to know you and be hers.

The only downside to it is you never seem interested in her. In fact, you are the only one who hasn't asked her out. She tried to ask Pietro if you were dating someone and if you liked girls, but he was also unaware of the answers.

Unbeknownst to Wanda though, your cheeks never return back to normal as you head to the darkroom to find Pietro. You have been crushing on his sister for too long now, but you know you have no chance.

You're barely a nobody. While Wanda is part of the popular girls, you are just the school's newly assigned photographer.

You fell in love with Wanda when you took a picture of her in one of their cheerdancing practices, as ordered by the principal for the school newspaper.

You are basically a nerd, standing on the very last level of the food chain. She won't see you that way.

Wanda nods then turns back to her locker. She smiles as she brushes the selfie of you two together taped in her locker before closing.

But Wanda has seen you in every way.

"Come on, Wanda," Natasha calls, bringing Wanda back to the present. "We're going to be late for cheer practice."

Author's note: This will be a part of a series of short drabbles about Cheerleader Wanda, because I want to read more about Cheerleader Wanda but I don't have enough words to turn it into a fanfic. 😂✌

"Girls! Wait for me!" Wanda shouts as she runs towards her friends.

[teddypines]

Fleep

------------------------------------------------------------

sumary: Y/N wanted something, she didn't have enough money, Jason being a sweetheart and buying it for Y/N.

Note: I really wanted this fleep, i don't have the money for a fleep, so we write about Y/N getting a fleep.

All credits for the fleep and bumble corn plushies go to Meg's Mashables. The picture above is their's too.

------------------------------------------------------------------

A little while back Y/N saw a tiktok of a fleep plushie, a sheep flamingo hybrid. Damian let her his phone to entertain her a bit. And the moment she saw it, she wanted it. She didn't know it was expensive. She thought she could use her pocket money from her piggy bank.

So finally after begging everyone for weeks to look up the fleep plushie. Jason finally helped her look it up, also because Damian was complaining about the constant fleep videos on his fyp. They looked and Y/N saw the price, looked at her money and cried. She couldn't get the fleep plushie.

Jason didn't think the plush would be this expensive. He hated seeing Y/N’s so upset. The 35 dollars plus shipping didn't seem like a lot to Jason, but to Y/N with a mere 13 dollars and 75 cents to her name, it was a lot. She understood she couldn't get it and just put her money away and sadly left Jason and his room. 

On impulse Jason bought the fleep plushie the moment Y/N left his room. He even bought the double pack with a bumble corn in it and stickers. He just couldn't see his baby sister so sad.

During dinner everyone knew and saw how upset Y/N over not being able to get the plushie she wanted. She did cry about it a bit more before bed, Bruce needing to hold her a bit longer then normal to calm her down. She did fell asleep after a while and lots of crying. Bruce hated this and quickly, but quietly left her room.

“We really need to do something about this, I hate seeing my princess like this” Bruce said as he made his Way to the living room. “No need, I already bought the plushie, and extra's” Jason said as he pulled up the order conversation. 

“When did you do that?” Tim asked as he looked at the bright pink plushie and the other blueish one. “Right after she left my room. I couldn't deal with those sad eyes. I need to see her happy again and if that means spending almost a 100 dollars and so be it.” Jason explained.

Dick rolled his eyes, but he knew he would have done the same for Y/N. Bruce sighed and sat on the couch with his boy's. “That is very sweet of you Jason, I was going to say we could let her do some chores, give her some extra money so she could buy it herself.” 

“That would have been the reasonable option, yes. But this is better” Jason answered, he was rather proud of his actions.

“We could also just have bought it and saved it until her birthday” Damian said out of nowhere. He looked up from his phone. “There were a lot of options, demon spawn, but I chose this option!” Jason hissed at his younger brother. He would have done the same for Damian if it ever were to happen, but he didn’t need to know that.

<---------------------------------------------------------------->

A few days went by with Y/N being sad, but it got better with time. Jason's order was still on the way and would probably still take a while. Steph saw the order Jason placed when Dick was explaining the story to Duke and the girls. Steph was the most proud of Jason, and thought Jason said he disliked the praise he secretly liked the praise. 

Damian on the other hand was still getting fleep tiktok videos on his fyp. It's been more than a month and they still showed up. They were hunting him and he hated it.

<-------------------------------------------------------->

Finally the day arrived that Alfred carried a big package into the living room. “For the young misses” Alfred said, already knowing what would be in the packages. Y/N was surprised as she looked at the big box. Both Dick and Duke were smiling as Y/N tried to open the package on her own.

“Why is it so big and hard to open!!” Y/N yelled out of frustration. She ripped some of the tape and the box was now open. “Ow… that was easy…” 

Y/N looked inside and froze before giggling in excitement. She grabbed the fleep first and then the bumble corn. Holding both plushies up to Dick and Duke while jumping in the air. “It's fleepy!! And the unibee!!”

“DADDY!!” Y/N yelled as she ran up the stairs towards Bruce's study. “Daddy! Look!” Y/N yelled as she bursted through the door. Scaring both Bruce and Tim as they were discussing bat business. “I fleep make with the Alfred mail!!” Y/N yelled as she waddled up to Bruce and Tim. She quickly settled onto Bruce's lap with the plushies In her arms. 

“Wow Princess, that is amazing. Did you order those yourself?” Bruce asked Y/N as Tim tried to hold back his laughter. Y/N froze for a moment and then got off Bruce's lap and ran towards Jason's room.

“JAY!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs. Jason quickly opened his door as Y/N crashed into his legs. Hugging him with both the plushies. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!” she kept saying over and over again. Jason smiled down at his baby sister and picked her up. “Anything for you Princess. Did you see the stickers and coloring books that came with it?” Y/N gasped and shook her head. “Well, let's go check those out.” Jason said as he carried a very happy Y/N down the stairs.

[chheolie]

[🩷] mingyu realized he had fallen in love, despite never having exchanged a single word with you

like a flash, you passed by mingyu, leaving in the air the unique and striking scent of jasmine and sandalwood, which made his heart race. your destination was a smiling seokmin, who stood with open arms, eager to hug you. finally, you nestled into your brother's embrace, one you hadn't felt in years. the warmth and firmness of his hug were like a safe harbor, and you felt a wave of relief and happiness.

because you and seokmin didn't share the same mother, various circumstances had made you grow up apart, but you always got along well, even from a distance. you and seokmin were alike in many ways. just like him, you were captivating. a mere sprint to your brother was enough to capture mingyu's heart.

of course, he knew of your existence. seokmin talked about you all the time, especially in recent weeks. but mingyu could never have imagined that someone with such an enchanting smile and captivating laugh existed.

"i know you guys already know, but, well, this is my sister," seokmin introduced you to the members who were there.

"hello, everyone," you responded shyly, with your bright, mesmerizing eyes – at least for mingyu.

"we're finally meeting y/n," seungkwan commented excitedly. you laughed softly.

"how was the flight?" your brother asked, gently pinching your cheeks, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

"it was fine, i slept the whole way," you replied, looking up to meet your brother's eyes.

mingyu couldn't take his eyes off you. every word that left your mouth, every gesture you made, seemed to enchant him even more. the shyness you displayed only made the experience more adorable in his eyes.

"do you have a lot of stories together?" hoshi asked, as curious as ever.

"actually, not many," you replied with a shy smile. "we grew up apart, so we didn't have many opportunities to make memories together. but i used to visit the grandparents often."

"i see," said seungkwan, interested. "and how is it finally being here with him now?"

"it's incredible," you responded, looking at seokmin with affection. "we've always gotten along well, even from a distance. now, being here in person is really special."

seokmin smiled, clearly happy to have you there. "now we can finally make new memories together."

mingyu watched everything, enchanted. he loved hearing your voice, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your relationship with seokmin, the natural interaction between the two of you. he knew he was falling in love, even without having exchanged a direct word with you.

the other members continued to ask questions, each wanting to know more about you. mingyu was happy to stay in the background, absorbing everything. he felt blessed to hear your voice, to see your smiles and laughs. each moment made his heart beat a little faster.

as the evening progressed, seokmin suggested that everyone move to the living room to relax. the house of seokmin's paternal grandparents was cozy, full of memories and old stories. dark wooden furniture, soft rugs, and family pictures on the walls created a nostalgic and welcoming atmosphere. seokmin's grandmother appeared in the room with a tray of fresh cookies and a warm smile.

"these cookies are y/n's favorites," she announced proudly. "i made them especially for her."

"halmoni, you're the best!" you exclaimed, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. "always the best cookies in the world!"

seokmin's grandfather entered the room next, carrying an old photo album.

"we have to show the childhood photos," he said enthusiastically. "y/n, you were the cutest child!"

you blushed slightly but accepted the album with a smile. sitting on the couch next to seokmin, you began to flip through the pages, showing the old photos.

"unfortunately, i don't have many pictures with seokmin since we grew up apart," you explained, showing some photos of you with the grandparents. "but i always loved visiting here and hearing their stories."

"there's one here that's one of my favorites," said the grandmother, pointing to a photo of you with a giant hat, laughing next to a cute cat. "she always did funny things like that."

"you and seokmin are alike in that aspect," added the grandfather, laughing. "always doing funny things and bringing joy to everyone."

everyone laughed at the photo, including mingyu, who was enchanted by every detail.

the night continued with many laughs and funny stories. mingyu watched you all the time, taken by your interaction with the elders in the house and the way you made everyone laugh. he knew he needed to find the courage to talk to you directly, but for now, he was content just to admire from afar.

the hours passed, and everyone felt at own house. in the center of the room, you, seungkwan, and seokmin danced with the grandparents, laughing and having fun. the music filled the atmosphere with joy and nostalgia, and everyone was delighted with the night's energy.

at one moment during the dance, while you twirled happily with the grandfather, your foot hit one of the photo albums on the floor. before you could realize it, you lost your balance and started to fall. luckily, mingyu had been watching your every move, and in the blink of an eye, he was by your side, holding you firmly.

"wow, careful!" mingyu said, with a worried smile. "are you okay?"

you looked at him, feeling the warmth of his hands on your arms, and smiled shyly. "yes, thank you, mingyu. i guess i got too excited."

seungkwan and seokmin, seeing the scene, started laughing, as did the grandparents. "always doing funny things, y/n!" seokmin joked, winking at you.

it was then that seokmin's grandmother, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, commented loudly: "y/n and mingyu make a beautiful couple, don't you think?" everyone in the room paused for a moment, and an immediate blush took over your faces. mingyu turned even redder when seokmin's grandmother asked, "mingyu, are you single?"

the room exploded in laughter and teasing while mingyu, embarrassed, tried to respond. "yes, i am single, halmoni."

"great!" said the grandmother, winking at you. "you two seem to get along very well."

you laughed, still feeling the heat in your cheeks, but something inside you knew that seokmin's grandmother might be right. mingyu smiled at you, and for a moment, it felt like only the two of you were in the room.

◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡◡

[🩷] later i will post part 2, let me know if you want to be tagged.

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part ten

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine

“You’re insane,” Oscar tells his teammate when he sees you walking towards Lando and him. “Actually insane,” he mutters when he gets an even closer look on you. When you feel Oscar his eyes on you, you know for sure what he’s looking at. He looks at the same thing that everyone else is looking at when they see you. Lando his love bites. Why did he even leave them so out in the open? You tried to cover them up with make up, but it didn’t work. If you brought a turtle neck with you, you would have worn it for sure right now. But since you’re in another hot country, you only have summer clothes with low necklines. Which means that everyone can see the marks on your skin that Lando made two days earlier. You curse him for leaving them on this place, but you continue to walk closer to him. 

“Insane?” Lando asks Oscar. He notices the way his teammate looks at you. 

“Is this to show Pierre that she’s taken or something stupid like that?” Oscar continues to scold Lando. He didn’t even think about it like that, but now that he does… The hickeys might help with Pierre backing off a bit. “You can’t claim something you don’t own,” Oscar sighs, “just remember that before you do more stupid shit.”

Before Lando can say anything to Oscar, you’re already standing in front of them. He notices the way you try to cover the hickeys with you hair, but he stills sees the red love bites. Now that he thinks about it, let everyone see them - maybe then everyone will figure out that you belong to him. 

“Hey baby,” Lando greets you.

“Don’t baby me, I’m mad at you,” you sigh, “I should have brought a turtleneck with me. Everyone is looking at me.”

“Sorry,” Lando jokes. He watches around you and notices the way people are watching at you. You’re right. Everyone is paying attention to you. He notices some press workers as well. Normally the track isn’t busy on Wednesdays, but today seems different. He hears cameras clicking. Are people taking pictures of you? He starts to stress a bit. Lando pulls you closer to himself and drapes his arm around your shoulder, using it to hide your hickeys a bit more. 

“I might have a crewneck sweater laying here somewhere,” Lando tells you. 

You nod at Lando. Together you walk inside the McLaren motorhome. You notice the way even some mechanics are watching you. You’re going to kill Lando. This is all his fault. Lando doesn’t pay attention to them, he takes your hand and pulls you with him the his drivers room. There you finally get his sweater. You’re quick to put it on. Happily you watch in the mirror, almost no love bite is still visible now. The sweater is way too hot, but you rather become sweaty then have people look at you for the whole day. You can only hope they’ll fade away quickly. In silence the two of you walk back to the track. 

Together with Lando you’re strolling on the track. It’s relaxing to walk around with him like this. Lando is holding your hand. You like the peaceful silence between you two right now. It feels comfortable and relaxing. You realize that you don’t feel like this around other people. Lando has always been your safe place. It reminds you about how special things are between Lando and you, but it reminds you most about how you can’t fuck things up between you two. 

Your feelings are already coming in the way. They have always done, but since you have been experiencing the sexual stuff with him it has become worse. Maybe it’s because you have a tiny bit of hope that Lando also feels something for you. It’s the first time you have ever had that hope. Partly because of his jealousy, that must mean something right? But still, you wonder if it’s worth it if it can also ruin your friendship? What if you’re wrong and Lando doesn’t feel the same? 

When Lando grabs your hand, he pulls you out of your thoughts. “Don’t look to fast,” he says, “but I think Pierre is coming this way.” Fuck. You’re not in the mood for that. Slowly you watch around you, it doesn’t take you long to see that Lando is right. Pierre is walking towards the two of you. In only a couple seconds he’s standing in front of you. 

“You could have told me,” Pierre says to Lando without any context. 

“Told you what?” Lando asks confused. 

“Come on,” Pierre sighs, ��All the gossip accounts are full with it. The two of you are dating.”

“Sorry?” You ask confused, “Are gossip accounts stating that we’re dating?”

“Yes!”

You let out a sigh. Gossip accounts have always been a thing. They always suspect that there’s something going on between Lando and you, but they never had any proof. You drop Lando his hand. This is a mess. You don’t even want to see your socials right now, they’re probably full with hate. Fuck. 

“Since when do you believe gossip accounts?” Lando asks Pierre.

“Since she has been spotted with hickeys all over her and she’s now wearing one of your crewneck sweaters,” Pierre answers annoyed, “I don’t get it why you didn’t tell me. I made a fool of myself by asking her on a date. You could have said something.”

“I told you that you weren’t her type.”

Lando continues to argue with Pierre. You on the other hand can only wonder when the gossip accounts are going to share the pictures of your love bites. Fuck, what are ‘fans’ going to do then? You grab your phone and look at the way your notifications are already blowing up. Reactions keep coming, you read a couple of them. Most of them are calling you a slut. Whenever you see a nice one, there are more negative ones beneath them. You search on a gossip page, wondering what they already posted. Then you see one of the pictures.

It’s you in your former outfit. The hickeys on your neck and collar are hard to miss. Suddenly you start to feel watched. It feels like everyone around you is looking at you. 

“You should have told me that you two are dating,” Pierre scoffs angrily.

“We’re not,” you sigh. It’s the first time that you’re saying something again. “And even if we were, it’s none of your business. Can you take me back to the motorhome Lando?”

When you’re finally back in Lando his drivers room, you grab your phone again. Your notifications are blowing up. It seems like everyone is talking about Lando and you dating. You have never gotten this many comments under a Instagram post, you’re above a thousand now on your most recent post. You try to read as many as you can, but a lot of them are the same. People are calling you a slut for “parading” around the track with the hickeys. Others are saying that Lando deserves better, that you’re only with him for the fame. As if you weren’t with him before he even started in Formula One. Sometimes you read a positive comment. Some people seem to like it that Lando and you are “finally” together, not that it’s true. Some people are even reacting about the true love between you two. All of it makes you sad. You don’t even notice the tears that are falling down on your cheeks, until Lando wipes a couple of them away.

Lando doesn’t know how to act. He takes you into his arms and tries to comfort you as much as he can manage. He doesn’t know what is wrong, but he can guess. When Pierre said something about the gossip accounts, he didn’t even think about the consequences for you from those accounts, but now he remembers. Every time they post about you, your notifications are blowing up. People know how to find your Instagram and how to leave horrible comments. He doesn’t even want to read it. 

“Nothing of what they’re saying is true babygirl,” Lando shushes. You let out a soft sob. “Everyone thinks I’m a slut,” you tell him, “or a gold digger or just an awful person.”

“You’re not.” He presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most wonderful person I know,” he continues, “So stop letting this get to you babygirl, they’re not worth it.” 

“Lan?” You ask softly. He nods and waits for you to continue. “This is all your fault,” you softly joke, “fucking hickeys.” Lando lets out a soft laugh. 

+++

“Fuck, babygirl,” Lando grunts when you lower your body onto his. He feels himself enter you. “You feel so fucking good.”

You’re sitting on top of Lando. He’s not even more then ten minutes back from the second free practice. It didn’t went like he wanted to. When he got out of the car, he let everyone know about that. The moment he started to scold multiple mechanics you were quick to intervene. Normally you don’t, but Lando kept going on and on. It was getting too much. He really lost his temper this time. You wonder why, normally he’s rather patient. 

Slowly you move your body on top of Lando. This position makes you feel more fulled up then the first time. With slow movements you fuck him. When you let out a soft moan, Lando shows you a small smile. His hands are all over your body. He kneads your boobs while pressing his lips against your collarbone. Softly placing kisses all over it. 

You didn’t know what got into you when you grabbed Lando his hand while he acted rude to his team. He gave you a surprised look and even shut his mouth for a bit. When you stood on your toes to reach his ear, he turned all of his attention to you. “If you stop whining,” you whisper, “I’ll have sex with you in your drivers room.” Lando shut in within seconds. He even apologized to his crew before taking your hand and almost running towards his drivers room with you. Undressing you as soon as he turned the door behind him. When your dress was all up and his pants were down and he was ready to enter you, you surprised him one more time. “I want to be on top.”

Lando can’t stop himself from letting out multiple moans when you increase your pace. Faster then before you move yourself on top of him. He grabs your neck and moves your face closer towards himself so he can kiss you properly. His hands are still busy kneading your boobs. He gives your nipples a bit more attention by softly pulling on them. 

“Fuck Lan,” you whine when he pulls back from the kiss. He chuckles and let his hands slide down on your body. His lips are attached to your neck. “No more visible marks,” you instruct half jokingly, half serous. Lando grunts but moves his mouth a bit lower, making sure his new marks can be covered with summer clothes. 

You’re surprised when you feel Lando put his finger on your clitoris. He shows you a small smile when he notices your surprised look. Slowly he traces circles on the sensitive bud, making you feel all kind of things. You let out a loud moan. Lando adds a bit more pressure. You try to increase your pace as well, but you start to feel worn out. Lando helps you, effortless he moves himself inside of you. Picking up a fast pace. It causes you to let out more moans. 

“Fucking insane how good you feel,” Lando groans. He feels himself coming close to his orgasm, but he wants to feel you cum on his dick first. He increases his pace on both fucking you as on playing with your sensitive bud. Stimulating you as much as he can. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” Lando asks you, “Let me feel how good it feels to have your pussy clenching around my cock.” You don’t react verbally. Lando keeps talking dirty to you. “So fucking tight.” “Such a good girl.” 

“I’m close Lan,” you suddenly tell him, “Can I cum?”

Lando increases his pace as much as he can. “Please do babygirl,” he tells you. When he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, he lets go as well. When his cum enters your body, Lando tells you one more thing. “My good girl.” It makes you all flustered. 

+++

Days are going by quickly. Before you know it, it’s already Sunday - meaning it’s race day again. This is the last race of the triple header, meaning that after this Lando and you will go back home. You don’t know how to feel about that. Last weeks you have spent al your time with Lando, sleeping in his hotel rooms and being together almost every moment of the day. It has been extremely nice. You like living with Lando like this. That’s maybe why you don’t like going back home tomorrow. Then you’ll be alone in your own apartment again, without Lando laying next to you in the bed every night. 

“Good luck kiss?” Lando asks you. He holds his helmet. He’s almost ready to get into his car and to start with the race. You show him a small nod and press the standard ‘good luck kiss’ against his cheek. Like you always do when you’re with him at races. “Don’t know if that will bring me enough luck,” Lando jokes. 

You show Lando a confused look. What does he mean? Before you can ask about it, Lando presses his lips on your for a small moment of time. It can’t have lasted longer then a second, but it was long enough to wake up the butterflies in your stomach. You look around you. Did anyone see it? It can’t be. You don’t more negative comments on your socials. Now that you think about it, what did just happen? Since when is Lando kissing you in public places? 

Lando doesn’t say anything else, he walks off to his car. He can only think about what he just did. He realizes that if anyone saw, it will mean that you’ll get more hate. Maybe he should say something about it on his socials? He needs some help from his PR team. He wonders what’s going on with him. He just kissed you in a public place, practically on his work, where everyone could see. Since when are you doing that? If someone saw and shares it, the madhouse will be complete. He wonders what would happen if he would date you and share it online. People have been shipping the two of you for a long time, so some of them might be happy. But there are always so many haters. When he takes place in his car, he looks at the Alpine motorhome. He remembers Pierre his statements from earlier this week. Finally someone who understands that you’re not for him to take. 

He really should solve this problem and make you his. 

Then he remembers something else. Didn’t you have a date planned with some guy for after the triple header? He tries to forgot about it and focus on the upcoming race, but that seems to be hard form him right now. He can’t stop thinking about the guy who’s taking you on a date. Who is it? Will you fall in love with him? When he lines up to the start, he’s still thinking about the guy you’re going on a date with. 

You watch Lando race. All of your focus is on him, nothing new now that you think about it. Only this time it doesn’t feel like it normally does. It’s because of some weird feeling that you can’t seem to shake off. It almost feels like something is going to happen. Something bad. It feels off. You don’t know why you’re thinking like this right now, but you can’t seem to stop. You can’t take your eyes off the screen which shows Lando his car all the time. Multiple mechanics are watching the fight for second place, but you can only focus on Lando. Even the way he races feels off. It’s hard to say without any knowledge about it, but he almost seems unfocused. 

Then you see the reason behind your feeling. Lando misses his braking point. Within seconds he’s spinning into the wall. You let out a loud scream when it happens. Quickly you stand up and walk closer to the screen. All the attention of everyone in the motorhome is on the screen as well now. Everyone is waiting for Lando to say something. To let them know he’s okay. 

You need to hear Lando say something. You need to know if he’s okay. The crash didn’t look massive, but still bad. It doesn’t take long for a safety car to show up on the grid, leading the drivers. Many drivers are coming into the pit to change their tires. You don’t notice any of it, you just keep waiting for Lando to say something. The stress doesn’t leave your body. 

“I’m ok.”

You feel how you let out a lot of air at once with a relieved sigh. Thank god, Lando is okay. You watch how he climbs out of his car. It seems like he has no trouble with walking away from the track to get back to the motorhome. Within a couple minutes you see Lando showing up at the motorhome. The medical team is following him inside, you hear some talks about medical checks but you don’t follow it. All of your attention is on Lando. 

While walking to Lando you almost trip over your own feet. “Fuck Lan,” you stammer while rushing yourself into his arms. Lando doesn’t react verbally, he just wraps his arms around your body and holds you closely to himself. You don’t even notice that you’re making his race suit wet with your tears. “Are you hurt?” You ask him. 

“We would have known if he joined us for his medical checks,” someone tells you with an annoyed tone in her voice. You let go of Lando and look around you, only to see that the whole medical team is gathered around you. 

“You didn’t have your check up yet?” You ask Lando confused. “No,” he replies. “Fucking hell Lan,” you mutter, “Go with them you idiot.” Lando shows you a boyish grin, “Sorry babygirl, I wanted to see you first.” 

Lando and you are rejoined only a small hour later. He is still laying in a hospital bed. The medical team decided that he needed some rest before getting back out of there. The crash wasn’t hard and didn’t left much damage across for a few bruises and painful spots on his body. They gave him some pain medication, which causes him to feel a bit loopy. You’re sitting next to him, waiting until he wakes up. You have seen him on medication like this before, the Grand Prix in Las Vegas showed you how loopy and careless Lando can act with medication like this. You wonder how he will act this time. 

When Lando wakes up, he’s happy to see sitting right next to him. He is quick to remember the way he crashed during the race. He feels ashamed when he realizes why he lost his concentration and how it ended his race, such a rookie mistake. And probably easy to fix if he finally gets the nerve to tell you about his feelings. He feels himself getting mad at himself. Before he can think about it any longer you’re already taking to him. 

“How are you feeling Lan?” You ask him.

“Not great,” Lando sighs honestly.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you confess, “what happened?”

He can’t exactly tell you that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the date you’re going on as soon you’re back in Monaco. That would be stupid. Although it is the real reason. Lando wants to make up some sort of excuse, but he is already talking again. Those fucking pain meds. 

“Couldn’t focus,” he confesses, “I kept thinking about something.” He can barely stop himself on time from telling you that he was thinking about you and your date. 

“About what?” You ask confused. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lando quickly says before he can say anything stupid again. He needs to stop himself from confessing even more. “Okay Lan,” you softly say. You grab his hand and draw some figures on it. There’s a comfortable silence between you two. Lando enjoys your soft touches on your hand. He feels himself getting calm and almost falling asleep again. But right before he falls asleep, he can’t stop himself from saying something stupid again. He cam blame the pain meds, but he knows that he means every word.

“Babygirl?” He asks. “Yeah Lan?”

“Please don’t get a boyfriend,” he says. “And please don’t go on a date when you’re back in Monaco with anyone else then me.”

Fuck. Did he really just say that? How on earth will he fix this? Lando closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep instead of thinking what he just did. Lando doesn’t notice the way you have a small smile laying on your lips and how good you feel because of his words. 

“I already cancelled that date,” you confess to Lando, “After we fucked I decided that it might be a better idea to practice a bit more.” 

Lando opens his eyes and shows you a happy grin. “I don’t think you need a lot of practice,” he says, “but I’m happy to help.”

“That’s a deal.”

“My good girl,” Lando mutters before falling asleep.

part eleven

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes@barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector@ryiamarie @mickslover @sop-hie092 @miniemonie2001 @greymarvelskaikru @kapsylia@swiftiedrafts @thatchickwiththecamera @formulas-bitch @venisvendetta @t3a-3njoy3r @landowecanbewc

taglist p2: @chezmardybum @booksandflowrs @mineandneveryours @strawberryy-kiwii @noneofyourfbusinessworld @secretgal66 @trinity2058 @evieepepi08 @shutupmymomsc4lling @smiithys @nanamilkbread @hellowgoodbye @annie115 @random-1927 @sadmeal444 @christianpulisic10 @peachiicherries @toppersjeep @lovingaphroditesworld @kiskso @silentreader128 @lauralarsen @scopeiguess @trinity2058 @shy4turcs @moonlight-girls-posts @xjval @saachiep81 @leclercdream @adalynneva @swiftiedrafts @oscahpastry @customsbyjcg-blog @idontcare011 @f1fantasys @emyladia

[therealmylesmorales]

Don’t Take It Personal (part 2)

Part one

Warnings: more angst and all that good shit, kind of bittersweet actually. M*ddie mention masc4masc relationship if it matters

WC: 1.5k

I heard y’all loud and fucking clear. So here is part 2 🫶🏾

“So, she broke up with you?” Jayce asked.

”No! No, she didn’t break up with me,” Vi said, sending her friend a glare. “She—we’re just…on a break, I guess.”

”A break is just a step away from a break up, is it not?” Viktor mumbled, not taking his eyes away from his book.

A heavy sigh escaped Vi. “Why is he here?”

“Vi, it’s been a few days,” Jayce said, trying to bring her back to the original conversation. “Maybe you should accept the fact that she wants to break up.”

Vi could only mock him, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. She, once again, lifted her phone to see the string of messages she sent still being ignored.

Y/N??? 12:24 am

Pls just answer my calls 12:25 am

i shouldnt have said those things I’m really sorry 9:47am

I love you 10:00 am

“Would she break up with me over this?” Vi whispered to no one in particular.

”I would,” Viktor said, hiding a light smile.

”Okay, you both can leave now,” Vi snarked. “Absolutely loved talking to you guys.”

Jayce and Viktor left shortly after, Vi pretty much pushing them out of her apartment. When she got back to the couch she saw a notification and she hoped it was you. However, it was only Jinx. But the picture she sent made Vi grind her teeth.

Jinx was staring dead into the camera, middle finger raised. But behind her, Vi could see you presumably on your phone.

Jinx wtf?? 11:45 am

Her girlfriend was being a bitch so i was comforting her. 11:50 am

Believe it or not I’m trying to help you out cause you would probably try to kys if she left you 11:52am

So be nice when talking to me 11: 52am

🖕🏻 11:55am

Vi scoffed, tossing her phone on the table. “Bitch,” she muttered. Secretly, she was glad for her sister’s help seeing how you had a soft spot for the younger girl. She just hoped Jinx didn’t fuck it up even more than she already did.

Meanwhile, back at your parent’s house, Jinx finally left. She stayed for a few hours, letting you rant about her sister almost the entire time, only nodding at a few parts. You did feel a little better getting all of your feelings out. Before she left, Jinx only said one thing about Vi.

”Vi’s an idiot. We both know this. Either make her grovel or put her out of her misery, you’ve had enough time to cool off.”

She was right, you were only wasting time at that point. You glanced over the messages you had with Vi, thinking over what you were about to say to her when a different sight stopped you.

New DM from CCaitKiramman!

Hello, Y/N. I hope it’s okay that I messaged you but I really wanted to talk to you about Vi. Do you think we can meet up later today?

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you mumbled.

You could only stare at the message, accidentally leaving the girl on read for over ten minutes. What could she possibly have to say to you? However, maybe she was worth hearing out, seeing how she had a hand in Vi’s attitude.

Sure, Caitlyn. I can meet you at the cafe on campus in an hour?

She responded immediately.

That’s perfect! Ill see you there.

Caitlyn was already seated when you entered the cafe, looking calm and collected. However, you were nervous. Besides this being the first time meeting her face to face, Caitlyn was also the main reason for the fight between you and Vi. You just hoped that this wouldn’t waste your time.

”Hello, Y/N,” Caitlyn greeted with a slight smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you—Vi talks a lot about you.”

”Does she now?”

Her small smile fainted at your comment. “Yeah…especially since you broke up with her.”

”I didn’t break up with her,” you corrected.

”I still want to apologize for causing a rift in your relationship,” Caitlyn said, her voice taking a soft tone. “I will admit, when I first met Vi, I did want more than a friendship. But-but those feelings immediately stopped when she first mentioned you and we stayed strictly platonic.”

The small amount of tension in your shoulders lessened at Caitlyn’s words. Vi wouldn’t cheat on you, that much you knew even before this mess. But that ball of anxiety tried to convince you otherwise.

Caitlyn’s voice returned once more. “And if it helps, I am currently seeing someone.”

Oh, that was even better to hear. Albeit a little embarrassing that she felt the need to tell that to you.

”And if I may, Y/N, I think you should talk to Vi,” Caitlyn said. “She’s a fucking muppet but she does love you.”

You couldn’t help but agree with her. “I’ll have to eventually. Um, thanks for the talk, Caitlyn.”

She gave you a smile. “Of course. I hope you and I can be friends now, when you two figure everything out.”

Right, talking to Vi. A conversation well past due.

Thirty minutes later, you entered the apartment with quiet steps, not hearing anything when you stepped inside. Vi was normally loud so you suspected that she was out. But when you turned the corner to enter the living room, a sight stopped you. Vi was laying across the couch, both of her arms were tossed across her face. You would’ve thought she was sleeping if it wasn’t for her foot tapping almost impatiently on the ground.

”Vi?” You called out.

As soon as your voice was heard, Vi almost jumped out of her seat. “Babe? Y-you’re here!” She was pretty much running up to you by now, mouth running a mile a minute. “It’s been days! You haven’t been answering my texts or-or—“

“I came here to talk, Vi,” you said softly. A small sound came from her but other than that, she let you talk first.

“I don’t like what you said to me Vi,” you said, seeing her tense at your words. “I was just trying to explain my boundaries but you made it seem like I was overreacting.”

Unlike last time, Vi’s words seemed sincere. “You’re right. I was…I was a dick to you, and you didn’t deserve that. You told me— Jay, Viktor, fuck even Jinx said that I fucked up. And when you were gone, I did a lot of thinking; about what I said to you and how I acted when I first met Caitlyn. Babe, I even missed your game and I’ve never done that before!”

”I don’t care about the game anymore, Vi. This is about how you acted.”

”I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re the most important person to me, and I took you for granted. I just…got caught up with a new friend—that’s a stupid fucking excuse, I know— but we just clicked so fast. But I promise you, I only see Caitlyn as a friend!”

“Yeah, Cait and I talked earlier. She’s the one that pushed me to talk to you.” Vi seemed a little surprised but let you continue. “And you calling me jealous? Saying that I was overreacting?”

Vi suddenly looked bashful. “I’ll admit…before I came home…we stopped at a bar.“

”Violet—“

”I didn’t drink a lot, honest! I obviously wasn’t completely sober, and that really fucked me over when I got home. When you started yelling, I just got defensive and I didn’t care for hearing you out. I’m so sorry.”

Vi’s nerves only got worse the longer you stayed silent; you could see her picking at her nails.

“I won’t lie to you Vi, you really hurt me. And I never thought you would act like that in our relationship.”

“Are you…going to leave me?” Vi tried her best to seem strong if your answer was yes. But you could see the tears collecting in her eyes along with her shaky hands that she quickly stuffed in her pockets.

”No, I’m not leaving you, Vi.” You could hear Vi release a sigh at your words. “But, talk to me like that again we’re fucking done, do you understand me?”

Vi quickly nodded, and you saw a few tears escape her eyes. With a shaky voice, she asked, “Can I hug you? Please?” You only had time to nod your head once before she immediately tackled you, sending you stumbling back a few steps.

“I’m sorry,” Vi whispered again, digging her nose in your neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, making sure you couldn’t move. You could feel her lips press against your cheek multiple times. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

You didn’t answer Vi but, your hands did make themselves at home at her waist to pull her closer. Vi knew you didn’t forgive her, not even close, but as long as she had you in her arms, she’d be fine.

[missnxthingg]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝑆𝐼𝑋 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - We finally arrived to the last chapter. I'm so happy you guys came along this journey and this is a wholesome story (that you'll only understand if you read the actually fanfic. Thank you so much for coming along the road, I hope to see you in more of my stories soon.

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 1

yourusername

yourusername Life lately ❤

tagged: landonorris

username1 emma is growing up so fast

username2 Ollie is the best big sister ever!

username3 lando in daddy duty is so cute

username4 can't wait to see this beautiful family on track

username5 wedding when??? 💍💍💍

↪ username6 PLEASE y/n will look so beautiful as a bride

yourusername

Sicily, Italy

yourusername Mommy and daddy very needed getaway ❤ enjoying summer break and celebrating almost three years together and two daughters later

tagged: landonorris

landonorris I love you, hot momma ❤

↪yourusername I love you forever ❤

username1 When's the wedding guys???

↪username2 here we are BEGGING them again ↪username3 can't wait for this to happen tbh

landonorris

Silverstone

landonorris Back when I was a rookie, I begged my boss to bring the cute girl from the comms team to Silverstone, because we had become really good friends and I wanted her there. Today, I asked her to marry me on the same track. And she said yes. I'm marrying my best friend, the love of my life and the mother of my two beautiful daughters. Life is worth living ❤

tagged: yourusername

yourusername I love you, future hubby ❤ can't wait to spend the rest of my life with my best friend

maxfewtrell Can't believe you finally got the girl

↪oscarpiastri For real, I didn't think it would ever happen

username1 FUCKING FINALLY!

username2 mom and dad are getting married 💍💍 WAR IS OVER!

username3 I can't believe he proposed at Silverstone 😭 now he needs to win to crown this weekend

↪yourusername He better dedicate that throphy to me when he wins (he will)

yourusername

yourusername Today, I married my best friend 💍 Till nothing do us apart, because not even death will take me away from you

tagged: landonorris

comments are limited

landonorris My everything ❤ I love you wifey, you and me to eternity

landonorris

landonorris You & me ❤ always & forever

tagged: yourusername

comments are limited

yourusername So cool that you added a picture of me completely destroyed after the ceremony 😂 I love you anyway

yourusername

yourusername Surprise, surprise! Happy to announce we have another Norris in the oven. Say hello to baby Khai 🤍

landonorris Hello, baby Khai 😍

↪yourusername Baby Khai says: "Hi, daddy!"

landonorris The prettiest woman in the world! I love you so much, momma

↪yourusername I love you more, papa

username1 SHE'S A BABY MACHINE OMG

↪username2 we're not complaining though

username3 Emma is barely one and a half, and they are already popping another one out

↪username4 Can we now get a baby that's a little bit of both? ↪username5 For real, Em is so much like him and Ollie is so much like her. We need Khai to be a crazy mix of them. ↪yourusername Praying for that too tbh. If I have to carry another baby for nine months only for them to look like their father, I'm gonna riot

yourmother Another little one to make us all happy

maxfewtrell I'm so happy for you guys ❤

username3 The prettiest family indeed ❤ Congratulations

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

[initialchains]

teenage dirtbag, baby! | luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: there is nothing more exhausting than being known as the picture perfect daughter of aphrodite… luckily, camp half-blood’s resident teenage dirtbag luke castellan can’t relate at all. fake dating him to piss off your siblings and mother could never go wrong, right? (based on 18 by anarbor)

wc: 6.5k

warnings: smoking, mentions of drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, implied sexual content, drew tanaka being a bitch, and kinda ooc luke bcs hes meant to be well … a teenage dirtbag.

a/n: its still valentine’s day for me sooo happy valentines 💌💗 !! in mexico valentine’s day is also known as the day of friendship so this one is dedicated to my favorite people ever: @emiliehornby @love-that-we-were-in and @kestisvrse <3 !! hope you enjoy it mwah !!

The sounds of campers laughing and gossiping in the dining pavilion are drowned out by your siblings and their annoyingly loud whispers about the allegedly cute (you’d beg to differ) son of Ares who joined camp less than twelve hours ago. Sure, he seemed like a nice guy even though he's a child of the god of war, but you were certain the only reason they kept bringing him up was because they wanted to set you up with him.

“And his arms, oh my gods! Have you seen them?” one of your brothers chimed in, trying to get you to agree with him, but all you could come up with was a hum and a polite smile. 

It pissed you off a bit, the knowledge of you never being able to go against your siblings' wishes.. the fear of disappointing them and your mother being all-consuming and blinding you with fear.

There were times you’d think about it if you’re being honest. Times where you would let yourself dream of doing something so stupidly reckless for once. Something that would stop your siblings from walking all over you and treating you like their personal lapdog. 

Not only was it tiring but it was also humiliating to a certain point. You were older than most of them and you were pretty sure you were the only one that took being a demigod seriously, even taking your time to strategize for Capture The Flag with Clarisse, and yet… you rejected Chiron when he asked you to be a counselor and told him to ask Silena instead. 

And you loved your family—you really did, but it was getting exhausting. Always having to be perfect was draining you and you were afraid of the kind of person you’d become if you allowed this to keep going. 

“He totally wants to ask you out,” Silena’s voice snapped you out of the daze you were trapped in. You turned your head to the right, facing your half-sister with a small frown on your face.

“You really think so?” you replied, trying your best to sound excited. 

“Oh, I know so,” she answered before going on a whole rant about how cute you’d look with the newly claimed son of Ares. A son of Ares—that you badly wanted to remind her—had only been in camp for less than twelve hours and you knew nothing about. 

You stayed in the dining pavilion with your siblings until you found the strength to tell them you were tired and wanted to go to sleep (an incredibly blatant lie but it didn’t look like they cared) and stood up, brushing the dust off your jeans.

“Wait, I’ll go with you!” Silena said with a smile, standing up and moving closer to you. 

“You don’t have to. You can stay with them if you want to, really—“ you were cut off by your half-sister with an exasperated sigh.

“I want to go with you. Plus, I can walk back here once I drop you off at the cabin,” she stated with a playful roll of her eyes.

The two of you walked back to the Aphrodite cabin in a comfortable silence. You liked being with Silena, she was a few years younger than you but she carried herself with so much grace and love it was hard to feel uncomfortable or weird whenever you hung out with her.

You kept your gaze on the sky, noticing that the moon was out by now. “Hey,” Silena whispered, trying to get your attention.

“You okay?” you answered. Your mind was practically hardwired to always look after your siblings, so your brain was unwillingly making you think of the worst-case scenario.

“What? Yeah, I am okay,” Silena was quick to reassure you, “I just wanted to talk to you about—“

“I swear to all the gods, Silena. If this is about that camper..” you replied with a small sigh. The two of you stopped walking when you reached your cabin, deciding to continue the conversation outside.

“He’s not that bad! He is a nice guy and the two of you would look really cute together,” she insisted.

“You don’t even know him.”

“Ugh, fine. Good thing is there are other cute campers we can introduce you to. I met one of Charlie’s brothers a few weeks ago and I think he’d—“

“I can’t do this tonight,” you replied in an exhausted tone.

“Wow, okay. No need to be mean about it,” Silena muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been trying to help you find a boyfriend for months now and you always shut me down. It was fine at first but now you’re just being mean,” she explained.

“Mean? Silena, you said it yourself. I’ve always shut you down because I’m not interested in getting one.”

“Whatever,” she replied bitterly before turning around and walking back to the dining pavilion, leaving you alone outside of your cabin. 

You stared at her back as she walked away, going through the last few minutes over and over in your head. Were you being mean? All you did was stick up for yourself. You didn’t understand why you were feeling bad for standing up against your siblings just for once.

A snort made you realize you weren’t alone. You turned your head towards the noise just to be met with.. oh.

Luke Castellan was leaning against the side of your cabin, carefully hidden under the darkness of the night and the shadows of the trees, he had a cigarette in his right hand and an obnoxious smirk adorning his even more obnoxious face. 

“Hope you enjoyed the show, Castellan.”

Luke raised his hands as if he had been caught and blew the smoke away, “I’m on your side, she was being a fucking bitch.”

“Don’t call her that, she’s just a kid.”

Luke raised a brow before taking another drag of his cigarette, “Do not call your sister a bitch after seeing her.. be a bitch to you?” he shook his head. “Oh, princess, you need to work on getting rid of that altruism.”

“Do you even know what that word means?” you snapped, not being in the mood to indulge in whatever it was he wanted to talk about.

“Why? You want to teach me?” He said with a smirk.

“Don’t even start with your annoying stuff, Castellan,” you muttered, running a hand down your face, clearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. 

“Because you know you won’t want me to stop?” he pressed, but after a moment of silence his smirk fell and a frown took over his features. 

“Uh.. you want to...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, “you want to talk about it or something?” 

You squinted at him before eventually letting out a sigh and walking over to Luke, standing next to him with your back pressed against the wooden walls of your cabin. Luke extended his arm away from you to keep the smoke far from your face. 

“So, um... Silena wants to set me up with that new camper,” you started.

“Fuck. The Ares one?” Luke interrupted.

“Castellan.”

“Right, sorry. Please continue, princess.”

You decided to ignore the insufferable pet name he gave you and continued, “The thing is I do want a boyfriend, just not… him.”

Luke hummed before bringing the cigarette to his lips again and inhaling the smoke in, he kept his mouth closed as he thought of something decent to say before slightly tilting his head away from you and blowing out the smoke upwards. 

“Alright, and have you tried telling her to stop?” he cut himself off and shook his head. “Nope that was shitty advice, have you tried maybe describing your type or whatever it is you Aphrodite people say to describe the people you’re attracted to.” 

“My type?” you replied, almost offended by the statement.

“Yeah?” Luke answered as if it was the most obvious thing to do, “Just describe the type of guys you’re into and I’m sure that cult of yours you like to call siblings will be happy to help…” he trailed off when he noticed your gaze set on his right hand and your bottom lip in between your teeth as he flicked the cigarette, causing the ashes to fall into the ground. 

He looked up from his hand and burst out into laughter, shaking his head before whispering an amused fuck. 

“Oh?” Luke said with a bright smile and raised brows, “You find this attractive, angel?” 

“That thing is going to kill you,” you explained, “I’m not attracted to people that like to slowly kill themselves.” 

“Fucking bummer. I wanted to see you take a drag, that would’ve been really hot,” he said, his smile not wavering. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t drink, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Look at you, being such a good girl,” Luke teased before throwing the rest of his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. 

“Also, that thing you said about Silena being just a kid was really fucking stupid. She’s almost the same age as Annabeth and she doesn’t act like an asshole, I’m pretty sure your sweet little sister is just a bitch.” 

Annabeth. You forgot that even though Luke is an annoyance most of the time and prefers to stick to himself.. he still has a soft spot for the twelve year old daughter of Athena. It was kind of endearing. 

“Annabeth is a daughter of Athena, you can’t expect her to act—“

“You didn’t act like Silena when you were fourteen. You need to stop giving her excuses and allow yourself to get mad at her.” 

“I’d rather have my siblings get mad at me and just stop perceiving me as this perfect and weak person, maybe once that happens they’ll stop trying to mess with my life,” you explained, your gaze set towards the ground. 

Luke was about to open his mouth and try to come up with a funny one-liner to make you feel better, but he didn’t get to because you were quick to look up at him with a gasp and wide eyes.

“The fuck? Are you okay?” 

“I need you.”

“Shit, angel. Most girls say that after a few dates but I’m not against the idea,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. 

“Ew, no. I mean, I need to date you—fake date you.”

“I’m uh... not for sale?” Luke answered, clearly confused by the plan you were trying to explain.

“No, Castellan. Listen to me. My siblings despise you, I’m sure they’d set my bed on fire as a way of cleansing my soul from you if they find out we’re dating.”

Luke’s eyes got bright and his smile widened (if that was even possible), “Set your bed on fire? And what would we do in your bed for them to feel disgusted by its existence?”

“You’re disgusting. Anyway, if we fake date I’ll get to stop being perceived as their perfect sister and you’ll have bragging rights for dating an Aphrodite kid,” you said, moving your hands as you spoke. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” Luke asked carefully, trying to make you think about what was at stake. He didn’t give a shit about staining his already nonexistent reputation, but he couldn’t have you ruin yours. 

“I am so sure, Castellan,” you reassured him. 

“You know, for a good girl I’m extremely surprised you never say please.”

“Please, Castellan. Could you please be my fake boyfriend so I can finally stop being seen as my siblings' personal toy?” you said with a fake smile while bringing your hands together as an exaggerated way of begging Luke to say yes. 

“You’re so cute when you beg. But you need to prove to me you’re serious about this fake dating thing. Meet me tomorrow at the bonfire, no bullshit.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You had been on edge the entire day. Silena seemed to be past the argument, which made you feel better to an extent, but that didn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling that settled in your gut because throughout the day you could feel someone staring at you. You could feel Luke staring at you.  

You were walking past the sword fighting arena with Katie Gardner from the Demeter Cabin the first time it happened. The feeling of a pair of eyes completely set on you. You turned your head to the right just to be met with Luke’s exhausted figure, he was sweating and panting, but that didn’t stop him from running his eyes up and down your figure and smiling at you. 

To say Katie was disgusted would be an understatement. A “Castellan is a dick, you should stay away from him,” was enough to stop you from staring at him and turning your head back to Katie. She went on to explain how Luke was a “real shitty person” and only hooked up with her as a way of getting her to grow weed in the back of the stables. 

It happened around eight times in the last two hours (not that you were counting) and it only got worse when the moon came up and everyone was making their way to the bonfire. You were walking next to Michael Yew when you felt a hand on your lower back. 

Luke’s hand on your lower back, to be exact. He left it there as he walked past you, only turning his head back to say “It’s adorable to see you together, are you two a couple?” 

You had to hold yourself back from strangling him when you heard his irritating laugh after he saw Michael’s reaction to his statement. Michael tried his best to be polite and tell him he was wrong, that there was nothing going on between the two of you. 

But his reply only seemed to fuel Luke’s actions even more because all he did was answer with a cocky “Oh, I know. Our princess here is only into... what was it? People that like to slowly kill themselves with cigarettes?” before walking away.

You were going to kill him.

Michael left your side as soon as you arrived, moving to sit with his siblings from the Apollo Cabin… leaving you with two choices: sitting with your siblings or sitting next to Luke (who for some reason always sat alone and spent the entire time listening to the music coming from the MP3 player he somehow managed to get into camp). 

So this is what Luke meant, you thought. This was the only way you could prove to him and everyone that you were serious about dating him—fake dating him—but it's not like they would ever know the truth.

You dragged your feet as you walked towards Luke, clearly having second thoughts about your plan, but there was no turning back now. You tried to ignore the confused look Drew was giving you and the gasps you could hear coming from your siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” You weren't so sure anymore but that didn’t stop you from taking a seat next to Luke Castellan, who took one of his earphones off and looked at you with a smile. 

“Happy now? I just proved how serious I am about this,” you whispered to him, trying your best to not let anyone hear you.

Luke nodded before saying, “You could’ve done better, but I’ll take it.”

“Done better? I just sat next to you in front of the entire camp, isn’t this good enough for you?” you asked, indignation evident in your tone. 

“Promise not to beat me up?” Luke said before pulling your arm and manhandling your body so you were on top of him, sitting on his lap. He placed his hands on your hips and looked up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Wow, Castellan. How scandalous, I’m sitting on your lap,” you deadpanned. 

He chuckled, bringing you closer to him and pressing his lips against yours. Luke’s hands felt like fire against your skin, all you could feel was a heat taking all over your body as he continued to kiss you, only pulling away to catch his breath before bringing you in for another one, this time he kissed you deeper and faster. 

Luke dragged you closer to him by pressing your hips against his and all you could do was melt into him and the feeling of his lips against yours. In the distance, you could hear gasps and people gagging, and you were pretty sure the campers from the Ares Cabin were cheering and whistling, but all your thoughts were on Luke Castellan and how good of a kisser he is.

You pulled away first this time, trying to steady your breathing as you looked into his eyes. He licked his lips before whispering “We should go.”

Your eyes widened as soon as he said that, the implications of what the sentence meant making you feel nervous. Luke was quick to reassure you, “If we leave, your siblings will be even more outraged. We don’t have to do anything, but they’ll think we are doing…some stuff. Just come to the woods with me for a little while.” 

You nodded and grabbed his hand as he guided you through the woods. You could hear Silena calling out your name and warning you about the consequences of your actions, but her voice was drowned out by the loud cheers coming from Clarisse.

Once the two of you were far enough from the rest of the campers, Luke let go of your hand and sat down by the lake, nodding his head as a way of asking you to join him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes until Luke spoke first. “How long do you think we should keep this thing up?”

“Valentina and Drew will want us to be over by tonight,” you said with a smile, a laugh escaping your lips. You didn’t notice how Luke’s eyes got brighter when he heard your laugh or how the melody that came out of your lips went straight through his heart and made him feel more alive.

“But I think a week should be enough. We can say we’ve been secretly dating for like... five months? That way it won’t be weird if we break up in a week,” you explained while your fingers played with your camp necklace. 

Luke nodded before going silent again, staring at the lake with a look you couldn’t quite comprehend. Your gaze was set on him, your eyes traveling from his toned arms, all the way to the scar that sat right below his right eye. 

“I know it’s awful, I can feel you staring at it,” he murmured. You could physically feel your heart sinking when he said it. You cleared your throat, “No, I… I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re—” Luke turned his head to face you, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “I think you’re really brave, Luke.” 

“Beautiful?” Luke asked, confusion written all over his face. “You should hear what your siblings say about it, then. I’m sure your opinion would change in a second.” 

“Being an Aphrodite kid means you see beauty everywhere,” you explained, “And I think your scar must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Luke stared at you with an unreadable expression, making your heart almost beat out of your chest. 

“Are you flirting with me, angel?”

“Of course, you’d ruin the moment. Screw you, man.” You rolled your eyes. 

Luke threw his head back in a fit of laughter, it made you want to strangle him… again. “Did you just say screw you? Gods, princess, saying fuck won’t kill you.” 

“I don’t like to curse, thank you for pointing it out, Castellan,” you said, playfully shoving him, making him fake a gasp. 

“You went from trying to seduce me to trying to kill me, you’re so interesting, angel,” he said before letting out a sigh. “It, uh… It was really hard at first, getting used to the scar.”

“Having people call it all sorts of names, and looking at me with nothing but pity in their eyes was not easy to get used to. But after some time you just… stop caring. I mean, I’m not that big of an asshole to hold a grudge over a fucking scar, it even looks sick. But yeah, when it gets hard again all I can do is snort a line and move on.

“The coke smuggling was real?” you gasped, only focusing on the last sentence he said. Luke tried to keep a straight face but his facade fell the moment he noticed your wide eyes. Luke Castellan has the type of laugh that makes everything get fuzzy and makes you feel lightheaded, and all you wanted to do was to come up with bad jokes just for the sole reason of hearing him do it again. 

“Fuck, you really believe anything, huh?”

“Shut up, Castellan. I’ll literally stab you and let you slowly bleed to death,” you threatened, standing up from your place next to him. Luke followed you as you walked back to the cabins.

“You do know I’m the best swordsman in the last 300 years, right? Do you even know how to wield a sword?” he asked, matching your pace and walking next to you. 

“Low blow, just because I don’t like to indulge in violence it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to wield a sword,” you retorted. 

Luke snorted a laugh, “You don’t know, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Will you shut up now?”

“I only will if you accept to let me teach you how to fight tomorrow,” Luke said with a tilt to his head. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer because he walked away from you while saying a loud “Meet me tomorrow morning in the sword fighting arena.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You were sure you were seconds away from passing out. It's been around two hours of sparring with Luke and your arms and legs were about to give out. The sun was starting to come out, which meant this torture was nearly over. At least that’s what Luke promised. “We’ll stop as soon as the other campers wake up, that way you won’t have to be embarrassed if they see your… skills.”

The two of you circled each other, your swords were raised and Luke’s blade was pointing straight at you. Luke took a second to study your stance before lunging forward, his sword meeting yours as you quickly blocked his attack. “Not too bad, huh?” Luke teased before trying to get another hit, his moves becoming more calculated the longer you kept blocking his advances. Proving he wasn’t called the best swordsman at camp for nothing. 

With a disarming maneuver you weren’t aware of, Luke was quick to throw your sword to the ground and have you stumbling back, not being able to regain your footing. Luke gave you a smirk when your body hit the ground with a small thud, “That was easy,” he said, “We should do this more often.” 

“Nope, this is a one-time thing, Castellan,” Luke rolled his eyes before bringing the blade of his sword closer to you, reaching for your chin with a glint in his eyes. The blade met your chin and Luke lifted it, making you meet his gaze as he slowly made you stand up by raising his sword even higher. 

The two of you stood still, staring intently into each other’s eyes until you heard it—the sound of the Ares Cabin making their way to the arena. Luke let out a surprised shit, dropped his sword to the ground, and walked closer to you, cupping your jaw with his right hand and kissing you. 

Your lips met in a hurried collision, causing the same fire from yesterday to set in your stomach. Your hands moved to Luke’s hair, softly pulling it as the kiss got heated. You knew this was fake, you knew this kiss meant nothing to him… but you didn’t want him to stop. “Holy fuck, are you two always sucking each other’s faces?” Clarisse’s voice cut through the moment, causing you to pull away from Luke, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, that’s what being in a relationship entails. I don’t think you’d know much about it, La Rue,” Luke breathes out.

“Don’t you have weed to sell or a cheap bottle of vodka to down, Castellan?” 

“Aw, you know me so well,” Luke answered before picking up both of your swords and grabbing your hand, walking away from the arena. 

The following days were (and you hated to admit it) filled with the most fun you’ve ever had. Luke would come up with some insane idea for a fake date and it would always end with one of you lying about seeing a camper or hearing Silena’s voice as an excuse to make out with each other. 

There was this one time the two of you were having a picnic by the strawberry fields and the day ended with the two of you hiding in the empty forge while making out, running your hands over each other’s bodies, and doing the normal stuff fake couples always do… it all happened because Luke swore he heard Valentina’s voice near the fields. (You were sure Valentina had been on the stables that entire day because she had cleaning duty, but why wouldn’t you play along with something you also wanted to do?)  

It was Sunday–the last day of your fake relationship–when Silena finally found the guts to talk to you about Luke. You even felt slightly bad for the girl because she was so nervous when she sat next to you in the dining pavilion. 

“I..um... I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she began, “Well, there are lots of things for me to apologize for, but I think it’s pretty obvious what the main problem is.” 

“The way I’ve been treating you is not okay and I’m really ashamed of it. You shouldn’t have to feel pressured to be the person we want you to be, I used to see you as someone who couldn’t do things on her own and always needed someone to push her and help her handle everything… and now I see I was wrong,” Silena explained, running a hand through her hair. 

“It’s fine, Silena. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. You’re strong and more than capable of doing things on your own, and you don’t need me to try and help you or fix you.” She took a deep breath. “I didn't know you were dating Luke, and to be honest I didn’t even know he was your type. He is so… weird and I never would’ve guessed you were dating. I mean, Drew told me he does cocaine and—”

“He doesn’t,” you interrupted.

Silena raised a brow before continuing, “Anyway, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad for just... existing. And you always look so happy after hanging out with Luke, I truly hope the two of you stay together for a long time.” 

You didn’t even know how to explain the situation so you just blurted out “I broke up with him.” 

Silena looked shocked for a few seconds before letting out a deep breath, “Oh, thank the gods. Just because we trust you it doesn’t mean we trust him,” she spat the him with so much disgust it made you feel sick. “You deserve so much better.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

This is probably the first time you have ever felt ill at the thought of seeing Luke. Sure, you used to be annoyed by his presence before the whole fake dating situation even started, but at least you were a strange type of friends back then. Not really close but also not complete strangers. There were times you’d catch him hiding his secret stash of weed behind the stables and didn’t tell anyone, and he’d always pay you back by lying to Chiron about you practicing your sword skills with him. (You had only used a sword once and it was years ago when you were still a new camper, you had no idea why Chiron would ever believe him.)

Luke was sitting in his usual spot by the lake, a cigarette in his hand. It had become a tradition for the two of you to always meet up by the lake before curfew to talk about your day and practice your kissing so it wouldn’t look fake. 

“Hey,” you said, taking a seat next to him. Luke threw his cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and almost instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your temple. “Blink-182?” you asked, nodding at the MP3 he had on his lap. 

“The Smashing Pumpkins,” Luke answered, taking his earphones off. “Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness is one of the best albums ever made.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it,” you said. Luke smiled and poked your side. 

“So, there���s something I need to talk to you about,” you began, but Luke held up his hand as a way to get you to stop.

“Can I say something first?” he asked, looking shy for probably the first time since the day you met him. 

You nodded and let him take the lead of the conversation. “Alright, so… I’m kind of shit with words so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but this past week has probably been the best week of my life. And I’m not even fucking around, I don’t have many friends–apart from Annabeth, and getting to be with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Being your friend is the greatest gift the gods have ever given me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve it. I’m a mess of a person, and you’re well… you’re you,” Luke stared deeply into your eyes, “And I just wanted to let you know that—”

Luke didn’t get to finish his sentence because this time it was you who cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the cigarette on his lips as he brought you closer to him, running a hand down your back and deepening the kiss before pulling away and moving to kiss your neck. 

Luke began to trail kisses down your throat and only stopped to whisper a low “Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.”

Aphrodite.

You pushed him away the moment you remembered your mother. “Silena apologized. We can stop pretending now.”

Luke was silent and just stared at you, his fingers moving to fidget with the wire of his earphones. “Oh, right,” he cleared his throat. “It’s Sunday, I forgot.”

You knew he didn’t.

“Yup, so we can go back to normal now,” you said, looking away from his eyes because you knew it would only take one look into them for you to kiss him again.

“Good,” Luke stood up, not daring to even shoot you a glance, and walked away. Leaving you alone by the lake with the lingering smell of his cheap stolen cologne mixed with the cigarette he was smoking. 

It didn’t help that you were welcomed into your cabin with hugs and your siblings congratulating you for breaking up with the son of Hermes. Sure, you weren’t the perfect sister anymore because you dated Luke Friendless-Freak Castellan, but knowing they liked you just because you were with him and then broke his heart made you want to set the cabin on fire. 

The main rule of the Aphrodite Cabin was something your siblings were extremely proud of, but the thought of its existence made you want to storm into Mount Olympus by yourself and yell at your mother for putting all these useless ideas into their heads. 

For a child of Aphrodite to prove themselves, they must make someone fall in love with them and then break that someone's heart. 

Is it possible for the rule to backfire? For the child of Aphrodite to accidentally fall in love with someone and then break their own heart because of it? You didn’t even know if that was an option, but you were sure that’s exactly what you were going through right now. 

It was hard for you to go to sleep that night because your mind kept replaying the past week on a loop. Your conversation with Luke by your cabin. The night of the bonfire. The conversation by the lake about his scar. Sparring with him. Going on a million fake dates. The night on the forge. Your last conversation with him. 

“Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You could feel Luke staring at you. Again. 

You were helping Annabeth strategize for Capture The Flag, because she had the brilliant idea to have the Athena cabin team up with Hermes and Aphrodite. You didn’t know much about fighting and spent most of the time sitting with your sisters during the game, but that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy helping them come up with new plans. 

Once the three of you were done, Annabeth excused herself with an awkward “I think Malcolm wanted me to help him go through some maps. You two have fun… chatting!” and left as fast as she could, leaving you alone with Luke. 

You watched her leave the amphitheater and turned around to face Luke, “I can see why you like her. She’s so much like you.”

“Yeah, she’s like my little sister.”

The silence was so uncomfortable you almost broke down crying. You nodded and turned around, not being strong enough to face him, and walked away. You could hear him behind you, following you.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded.

You were about to open your mouth when Drew’s voice made you turn your head. “Gods, Castellan. It’s so embarrassing to still be hung up on your ex.” 

Luke sighed, “Hello to you too, Tanaka.” 

“Can you leave her alone? She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Drew said through a fake smile. 

“Oh, really? Did she tell you that?” Luke answered, tilting his head as he spoke and making eye contact with you. Wordlessly begging you to please talk to him. 

You stayed silent and looked away from him. Luke let out an incredulous laugh before nodding his head. “Good to know you’re back to being their little pet.” 

Drew rolled her eyes and walked away, shoving Luke as she walked past him. “So? You’re just not going to say anything?” Luke said. 

“What do you want me to say, Castellan?” 

“Tell me that last week didn’t mean anything to you,” Luke answered, his voice trembling. 

“Why do you care? I thought I was nothing but Drew’s little pet,” you replied, trying your best to not look weak in front of him.

Luke ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to you, “I’m sure you’re thinking the exact same thing about yourself.” 

You hated that he was right.

The truth made your blood boil. “I don’t want any of your shit,” Luke let out a genuine laugh this time, a mocking look in his eyes. “Oh, so now she can curse?” 

You hated him for seeing the real you. You hated him for knowing the truth. You hated yourself for loving him.

“Fuck you, Castellan,” Luke hummed before stepping even closer to you and placing a hand on your waist, leaning to whisper in your ear. “I’m sure you’d love to do that again, right?” Luke’s smell was taking all over your senses and making your knees go weak. He continued, “Because even if we do it in the darkness of the Forge… it is still two friends fake dating because your mother might be watching.” 

You found the strength to press your hands against his chest and push him away, “Don’t talk to me ever again.” 

You spent the rest of the day with your siblings and friends, too afraid to leave their side because you didn’t trust yourself. Because you knew that if you were left alone for a second—you’d run straight to him. 

You sat next to Silena in the dining pavilion. Helped Katie and the Dyonisus cabin grow more strawberries by keeping them company. Walked with Michael to the bonfire, and stayed with Drew throughout the entire singalong. 

As always, Luke was sitting by himself, his MP3 player in his hand and his eyes were set on you. 

You walked back to your cabin when the singalong was over and helped your siblings get ready for bed. You were about to go to sleep when Valentina whispered your name, saying she had something for you.

“We found it last night under your bed, Drew wanted to give it to the harpies but I managed to take it away from her,” a frown made its way to your face.”What do you mean?”

“We found this,” She pulled out a badly wrapped gift from under her pillows. You were confused until she told you to open it.

 It was a bright pink MP3 player. 

“Oh,” you whispered, your hands shook as you stared at it. “I’ve got to—”

“It’s okay,” Valentina whispered. “He’s probably by the lake.”

You gave your half-sister a hug before running out of your cabin, and making your way to the lake. You could see Luke’s silhouette in the distance, and the sight only made you run faster.

You took a moment to catch your breath before saying, “The Smashing Pumpkins?”

Luke turned around at the sound of your voice. “Blink-182” he answered with a small smirk.

“Uh, of course,” you said as you walked closer to him. “Alright, listen. You were right.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you continued with a smile. “So, it turns out I may or may not be in love with this certain guy, and he may or may not be my type or whatever it is my siblings say.”

Luke took a step closer to you. “There’s a chance this guy thinks I’m going through a phase and only fake dated him to piss off my siblings and mother but the truth is… I don’t even care about them whenever I’m with him.” 

His hand moved to caress your cheek, “That’s cute and all but how does this guy know you truly mean that?” 

“I’m not going to make out with him at the bonfire, so I guess all he needs to do is believe me,” you whispered, your eyes moving from Luke’s eyes to his lips.

Luke smiled before answering, “Believe you? That’s alright with me,” and pressing his lips to yours.

Luke was right. Aphrodite would be proud. 

[reidmarieprentiss]

Red: Part Two

Summary: Spencer is very happy with you, his new girlfriend. You two are experiencing firsts together, making each other happy as can be. But, secrets tend to unravel when you try to keep them from your loved ones. Your past haunts you everyday, Spencer knows that, and yet, he does nothing to let you into his. Falling in love is not for the weak. Neither is being forced out of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: heartbreak, angst, talks of drug use, talks of overdose, past death of parents, sister is an addict, keeping secrets, so much angst, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, Spencer's past addiction, drug tests, protective Erin Strauss, weed, alcohol, no happy ending

Word count: 28.9k

a/n: soooo fucking sorry for this one ://// it was never going to have a happy ending ... tbh if you don't want to cry maybe just stick to the first part !! — unedited NEVER be afraid to call me out!!

can't lie i put so many projects on hold just to write this beast -- i worked on it EVERY day

main masterlist part one

Additional warnings: oral (f & m), grinding, finishing in pants (m), fingering (f), protected PinV

The entire jet was filled with a quiet buzz of curiosity as everyone watched Spencer, who was completely absorbed in his phone, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips. His eyes rolled over the screen, scanning a picture he took of you with a level of care that had the whole team captivated.

JJ finally broke the silence. “Okay, Reid,” she said with an amused grin, leaning forward in her seat. “Tell us what’s going on, or I’m taking your phone.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden attention. His cheeks flushed pink as he realized the entire team had been watching him, all waiting for an explanation. He fumbled with the phone, quickly pocketing it as if trying to hide something, but the grin on his face gave him away. 

"Uh, it’s nothing," Spencer mumbled, clearly flustered, but the team wasn’t buying it for a second.

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, come on, Pretty Boy. This has gone on long enough. Spill."

JJ raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Prentiss. "We’ve all seen that look before, Reid."

Spencer sighed. "It’s… it’s someone I’ve been seeing," he admitted sheepishly, his eyes flicking down to his phone for a moment before looking back at the team.

The jet erupted with teasing laughter and questions, all of them delighted by the revelation.

“Well, Reid, you have to introduce us!” Emily chimed in, a playful grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy," Derek added with a teasing smirk. "When can we meet the missus?”

Spencer, for once, didn’t shy away from the idea. In fact, he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of introducing you to the team. He was proud that you were his girlfriend, and the idea of his closest friends meeting you didn’t fill him with the usual nerves. But there was one thing Spencer couldn’t deny—he knew the moment they saw the way he looked at you, they’d instantly know how deeply in love he was. 

And as much as he was ready for the team to meet you, that kind of vulnerability scared him just a little. 

He smiled softly, trying to play it cool. "I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough," he said, but inside, he was already thinking about how perfect it would be to bring you into his world.

—

“Y/N, darling,” Spencer mused with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling as he watched you across the dinner table. The warmth in his voice instantly caught your attention.

You giggled, squeezing his hand as it rested on the table, your thumb brushing against his skin. “Yes, dear?”

Spencer hesitated only for a second, his tone still light but a little more serious now. “Would you like to meet my friends?”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat at the question. A slight anxiety began to crawl up your throat, and you cleared it, trying to sound casual. “Your—um, your work friends?” you asked, though the weight of the moment hung between you.

Spencer nodded, his eyes soft and understanding, as if he could already sense your nerves. "Yeah," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand reassuringly. "The team. They’ve been dying to meet you."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The thought of meeting Spencer’s team made your heart race—not just because they were profilers, but because Rossi would likely recognize you. Maybe even Hotch. It had been years since either of them had seen you, but the possibility hung in the air. You weren’t sure if they’d bring it up, and you certainly weren’t ready to share that part of your life with Spencer. Not yet.

But then, you looked into Spencer’s eyes. The genuine excitement and pride he held for you was undeniable. It was clear he wanted this—wanted you to meet the people who were like family to him. The idea of disappointing him tugged at you, and despite the nerves gnawing at your chest, you couldn’t help but smile softly.

He reached across the table, gently squeezing your other hand too, offering comfort in that simple gesture. His eyes searched yours for a moment, as if sensing something in your hesitation but choosing to let it pass, trusting you to open up when you were ready.

The thought of Spencer’s trust in you helped calm some of the swirling anxiety. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to push aside the weight of your past for now.

You took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. "I’d love to meet them," you said, though you could still feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up. “You’re going to love them,” he assured you, his voice full of warmth. “And they’re going to love you too."

Later that evening, Spencer’s fingers traced gentle circles along your back, his touch soothing as you lay against his chest, both of you perfectly relaxed. The quiet of the evening had settled around you, a comfortable silence, until Spencer broke it with a question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a job?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden bluntness of the question. “What?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he quickly realized how it sounded. “I mean,” he corrected, his voice softer, “you never talk about work, and I—I’ve never seen you go to work. Do you work?”

You smiled, lifting your chin from his chest so you could look up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Yes, I have a job, Spencer.”

He looked down at you with his brows raised, making his chin tuck in a way that was so adorably endearing you had to fight the urge to kiss him right there. “Well, do tell, baby.”

The way he said "baby" sent a rush through you, making your heart skip and your core tighten. The new pet name caught you by surprise, and you could feel your pulse quicken. You wanted to answer his question, but something inside you hesitated. The job you had wasn’t something you brought up often, and certainly not something that most people would take lightly.

You bit your lip, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Spencer's chest as you considered your answer. “What if you think differently of me?” you teased, giving him a playful look.

Spencer chuckled softly, catching onto your teasing tone. “Depends on how you answer,” he joked back, his eyes twinkling. “But no, I would never judge you.”

You sighed dramatically, feigning annoyance. “Okay… fine,” you said, pausing for effect. “I’m a cybersecurity analyst. I just work from home.”

Spencer's face lit up with curiosity. “A cybersecurity analyst? That’s amazing,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, still grinning at how smoothly it had gone. “It’s not that exciting,” you replied, feeling relieved that you could finally share a bit of your work with him. "I just stare at a screen all day."

Spencer shook his head, a genuine smile on his face. “I think it's fascinating. But I guess you're right, staring at a screen is definitely something I can relate to." His fingers resumed their gentle strokes along your back, his gaze warm.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing patterns on his chest. “I just don’t have that much to talk about. I don’t interact with anyone all day long.”

Spencer smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “It’s okay, Red,” he said, stroking his finger gently down the bridge of your nose in a soothing gesture. “You know, my friend Penelope does something similar.”

“Really?” you perked up, excitement bubbling up at the thought of having something in common with someone in Spencer’s world. Your aunt had never mentioned anyone named Penelope before, but this new information intrigued you. “What does she do?”

“She’s a technical analyst for the BAU,” Spencer explained, a fondness creeping into his tone as he spoke about Penelope. “She handles all the tech and cyber stuff for us—tracking data, finding digital footprints, that sort of thing.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of her role. “That sounds so cool! Maybe we could exchange tips,” you laughed, already imagining the kind of work Penelope must be involved in.

“I’m so glad you want to meet them,” Spencer said softly, his voice full of relief and excitement. He breathed deeply, the rise and fall of his chest gently lifting you with each inhale. His hand stroked your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles as he looked at you with warmth and affection. “You mean so much to me,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. Spencer, who was usually so careful with his emotions, was being completely vulnerable with you now. It made your connection feel even deeper, like you were sharing something truly special.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips brushing his. “I can’t wait either,” you whispered against his mouth, feeling more at ease about meeting his team.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head, still in disbelief at how elated he felt. The emotions swirling in his chest were too much to hold back, and before either of you could say another word, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a deep, tender kiss, full of all the feelings he hadn’t yet put into words.

The kiss was different this time—more intense, more meaningful. You could feel the depth of Spencer's emotions through the way his hands gently cupped your face, the way he kissed you like he was afraid to ever let you go. It wasn’t just desire, but something deeper, something sweeter, like the connection between you both had finally settled into something undeniable.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft curls as you kissed him back just as deeply, wanting him to feel how much you cared too. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

When Spencer finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at you with such affection that your heart skipped a beat. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before," he admitted softly, his voice full of awe. 

You smiled, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. "Me neither," you whispered back, and in that moment, everything felt right. 

—

Hotch stood across from Erin Strauss, her expression cold and unforgiving as she paced behind her desk. Her gaze was sharp, and Hotch could already tell where the conversation was headed. 

“I’ve reviewed Agent Reid’s file,” Strauss said abruptly, her voice laced with disdain. She stopped pacing and folded her arms. “His performance has been... inconsistent, to say the least. And given his past—” She let the sentence hang, as though expecting Hotch to fill in the blanks.

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression impassive. “Reid is one of the best agents I have. His mind is invaluable to this team.”

Strauss’s eyes narrowed, dismissing his defense with a wave of her hand. “That’s not enough to excuse what he’s been through. His history with drugs, Hotch. We can't ignore it.”

“He’s been clean for years,” Hotch stated firmly, his voice steady though his frustration was clear. “Reid has worked harder than anyone to get past that.”

Strauss leaned forward, her fingers tapping the desk. “I’m not here to argue his work ethic. I’m here because I’m questioning whether Agent Reid can continue to perform in the field without becoming a liability.”

Hotch felt a surge of anger but swallowed it back. “He hasn’t shown any signs of relapse.”

“Not yet,” Strauss shot back. “But the risk is always there. And we can’t afford risks like him, not in a unit as high profile as the BAU.”

Hotch crossed his arms, his posture firm. “He’s earned his place. Whatever you’re insinuating—”

“I’m not insinuating,” she cut him off, her voice icy. “I’m telling you how this is going to go. From now on, Reid will be subjected to mandatory drug tests. Monthly.” She emphasized the last word, her expression hard. “If there are any slip-ups, any signs of relapse, even the faintest suspicion, he’s out.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened. “That’s unnecessary.”

Strauss tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk, her icy demeanor unwavering as she continued to challenge Hotch. “You’re defending him again,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing. “Just like you always do. Every time Reid’s decision-making is called into question, it’s you who steps in to justify it. How many times has he put the team at risk with his recklessness, his… emotional judgments? And every time, you shield him.”

Hotch held her gaze, his face impassive though his patience was wearing thin. “Reid’s decisions are not reckless. He’s a profiler, just like the rest of us. Sometimes we have to make judgment calls, and Reid—despite his past, despite his personal struggles—makes the right ones more often than not.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, her expression one of disbelief. “Judgment calls? That’s your defense? We can’t afford judgment calls, Aaron. Not when we’re dealing with murderers, terrorists, and serial predators. Reid’s personal issues cloud his judgment, and that makes him a risk.”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice firm but calm. “We work in the field. Every agent makes judgment calls—myself included. We don’t always have the luxury of time or all the facts laid out perfectly for us. Reid has an exceptional mind, and when he’s under pressure, he performs. Yes, he’s made mistakes, but so have all of us. He’s saved more lives than I can count.”

Strauss’ eyes flashed with irritation. “But his mistakes could have cost lives, Aaron. And you know that. How many times has he hesitated, overthought, or even worse, let his emotions dictate his actions? You’ve had to justify his choices to me and other superiors more times than you should have.”

Hotch’s face remained unreadable, but his voice grew harder. “I justify his decisions because they are the right ones. When you’re in the field, in a life-or-death situation, you need someone like Reid—a man who can think faster than anyone else in the room. His ability to process information, to read people, is unmatched.”

Strauss shook her head, her frustration boiling over. “You call it unmatched. I call it unstable. His mind may be brilliant, but it’s fragile. You can’t deny that. And you can’t keep making excuses for him. This is a dangerous game, and the stakes are too high for mistakes.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not unstable. He’s human. Every member of this team has had to make decisions under pressure, sometimes with incomplete information, and Reid is no different.”

“But he is different,” Strauss countered, her voice cutting through the room. “He’s the one who’s been to rehab. He’s the one who struggles with dependency. And let’s not forget the mental strain he’s been under for years. The rest of your team—Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi—they’re reliable. Reid, on the other hand, is unpredictable.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “He’s faced more than most of us could handle, and he’s come out the other side stronger. I trust him with my life, and so does the team.”

Strauss leaned forward, her gaze cold. “I don’t. And that’s why this is non-negotiable, Hotch. Monthly drug tests. If he slips, if there’s even a hint of a problem, he’s out. I will not tolerate another incident where I have to clean up his mess because you think his ‘judgment calls’ are excusable.”

Hotch stared at her for a long moment, the tension palpable. “And what happens when you push him out and lose one of the best agents this Bureau has ever had?”

Strauss didn’t blink. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The silence hung heavy between them, and Hotch realized no amount of reasoning would sway her.

Hotch left Strauss’s office, the tension from their conversation still lingering in the back of his mind. He didn’t like this any more than Spencer would, but Strauss had made her decision, and now it was up to him to break the news. The whole situation felt like a slap in the face to Spencer’s progress, and Hotch knew the young agent wouldn’t take it well.

Hotch found Spencer in the bullpen, hunched over some files, lost in thought. The usual furrow of concentration on his brow lifted as he glanced up and saw Hotch approaching.

"Hey, Hotch," Spencer greeted with a faint smile, but Hotch could see the weariness behind it. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he sat down across from him.

"Spencer, we need to talk," Hotch said, his tone more serious than usual.

Spencer’s smile faded, replaced by a look of curiosity, then mild concern. "What’s going on?"

Hotch exhaled, running a hand over his face before speaking. "Strauss is implementing new protocols. Effective immediately, you’ll be subjected to monthly drug tests."

Spencer blinked, his expression falling into confusion. "What? Why now? I haven’t used in four years, Hotch. I thought all of that was behind us."

Hotch leaned forward, his voice calm but steady. "I know, and I’ve made that clear to her. You’ve been clean for years, and we all see the progress you’ve made. But Strauss doesn’t trust that your addiction won’t resurface. She’s convinced that you're still a liability."

Spencer’s face twisted in frustration, and his hands fidgeted on the desk in front of him. He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I don’t understand. I’ve done everything right. I’ve proven myself. Why does she still think I’m going to screw up?"

Hotch looked at him sympathetically. "This isn’t about you, Spencer. It’s about Strauss’s own perception."

Spencer clenched his fists, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "I thought… I thought we were past all of that. Four years clean, Hotch. Four years. And she still sees me as a ticking time bomb."

Hotch’s gaze softened. "I know it’s unfair, and I wish I could change it. But Strauss has the power to enforce this protocol. I fought for you, Spencer. I’ll always fight for you. But this is one battle I couldn’t win."

Spencer leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he processed the information. The frustration and hurt in his eyes were evident. "Why does she hate me so much?" he muttered, more to himself than to Hotch. "Why am I always the one who has to prove myself over and over again?"

Hotch didn’t have an answer for that. Strauss’s animosity toward Spencer had always been unwarranted, and no matter how hard Spencer worked, it seemed she would never let go of the past.

"You’re not alone in this," Hotch said quietly, his voice firm. "The team knows how far you’ve come. We trust you. And we’ll make sure this doesn’t interfere with your work."

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was still etched on his face. "I just don’t get it. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do. Why can’t she see that?"

Hotch reached across the desk, resting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. "Because people like Strauss only see the risks, not the person. But we see you, Spencer. Don’t let her take that away from you."

Spencer offered a small, grateful smile, though the frustration still lingered in his eyes. He had been through enough, and this just felt like one more hurdle to jump.

As Hotch walked away, Spencer sat there, staring at the papers in front of him. He had thought the worst was behind him—that his addiction, his past struggles, were finally over. But now, with Strauss breathing down his neck, it felt like he was back at square one. And no matter how hard he worked, how far he came, there was always someone like Strauss, waiting to drag him back down.

—

“Spencer!” you screeched from your bedroom, the urgency in your voice sending Spencer into an instant state of panic. He rushed in, his mind racing, worried something terrible had happened.

But when he burst through the door, what greeted him was not a disaster—well, not the kind he had imagined. You were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by heaps of clothes, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. The sight made him chuckle, though he was also slightly flustered, his cheeks tinged pink at the sight of you in so little.

“What’s up, Red?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite how his heart raced.

You looked up at him, pouting, clearly distressed. Spencer, in his cozy sweatpants and hoodie, looked perfectly at ease while you were caught in a whirlwind of indecision. “I don’t know what to wear tonight,” you groaned, gesturing helplessly at the mountain of clothes surrounding you.

Spencer chuckled again, stepping further into the room. “Y/N, we’re not even meeting them for…” he checked his watch and raised his brow, “five hours!”

“I knowww,” you whined, your voice petulant as you flopped back dramatically onto the floor. “But I want to make a good impression.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how adorably worked up you were. He crouched down beside you, his eyes warm as he gazed at your scattered wardrobe. “You could show up in a garbage bag, and they’d still love you,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Trust me, you don’t need to stress.”

You sighed, sitting back up and grabbing a blouse. “Easy for you to say,” you mumbled, holding the shirt up. “You look good in everything.”

Spencer laughed softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek before leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. And honestly, they’re just excited to meet the person who’s made me so happy.” 

You looked up at him, his words warming your heart. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Spencer smiled. “That’s what you keep telling me.” He glanced down at the pile of clothes again. “Now, let’s figure out what outfit makes you feel as amazing as you are.”

After a lot of playful back and forth, Spencer finally helped you choose an outfit, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have the sweetest man alive by your side. You stood in your room, back in your bra and underwear, having set out the outfit for later, a black dress with red tights, duh. As you got ready, your heart swelled with affection for him—your boyfriend, the man who already seemed to know how to calm your nerves.

Standing in front of him, you ran your hands up Spencer’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the soft fabric of his hoodie. With a teasing smile, you tugged gently on the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “Can I show you how much I appreciate you, handsome?” you whispered, your voice playful but filled with sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He was always so adorably flustered when you teased him like this. But he smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his hands resting on your waist. “You already do,” he murmured against your lips, but there was no mistaking the way his breath hitched, betraying just how much he wanted you.

“Mm, but I want to really show you,” you breathed softly, your hands dropping to the waistband of Spencer’s sweats. His breath hitched immediately at the sensation of your fingers lightly teasing beneath the fabric, brushing against the coarse hair below.

“Wh—what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep his composure.

You smiled up at him, letting your fingers explore just a little, before you slowly began lowering yourself to your knees. “Well… I could tell you,” you said playfully, your voice dropping to a whisper, “or I could show you.”

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths as he tried to process what was happening. “Oh my god, uh…” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by the sudden intensity.

You firmly grasped the waistband of his sweats then, looking up at him for permission. “Can I?” you asked gently, always making sure he was comfortable.

Spencer didn’t respond right away. His voice was quiet, almost apologetic as he confessed, “I’ve never—no one has…”

You immediately understood, pulling your hands back gently. “Oh baby, we don’t have to,” you said softly, standing up and placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

Spencer looked at you with gratitude and an apology in his eyes. “Maybe later?” he offered, his tone tentative but sincere. “We… we need to get ready.”

You smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Of course,” you whispered. There was no need to push or rush anything. You had plenty of time, and you’d always respect his boundaries.

Later, after you and Spencer had finished getting ready, you couldn’t help but feel a bit pent up. Spencer looked good earlier, but now? Now, he looked downright irresistible. His button-down shirt paired with a checkered sweater vest, and those slacks—hugging him just right—had you practically drooling. But with Spencer’s earlier discomfort, you held your tongue, not wanting to push things too soon. 

After a quick kiss and a quiet pep talk, the two of you were outside, hailing a cab to meet his team at the bar. Your nerves were still buzzing. You were excited for Spencer, but the thought of someone recognizing you, of someone saying something, kept you on edge. You wanted to be the best partner to him, especially with how proud he was to introduce you to everyone.

As you approached the table, your nerves flared even more, but you plastered on a confident smile. Sitting around the table were Derek, Emily, JJ, and Penelope, all of whom greeted you warmly, each with their own playful digs at Spencer.

“Well, well,” Derek grinned, leaning back in his chair as he gave Spencer a once-over. “Pretty Boy wasn’t kidding when he said he was smitten.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, smirking as she gave you a friendly once-over. “Wow, Reid. No wonder you’ve been so secretive. I would’ve kept this hidden too.”

JJ nudged Penelope, who had stars in her eyes. “I’m so happy you’re real!” Penelope practically squealed. “I thought for sure Spencer was making you up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, laughing, as he proudly introduced you to his team, visibly glowing from how much they seemed to like you right off the bat.

You smiled, feeling more at ease, though still a bit on edge as you scanned the room. No sign of Hotch or Rossi—thank god, you thought, allowing yourself a moment to relax.

But just as you were about to take a seat, you heard it—the unmistakable voice from behind you. “Reid, is this your lady?” Rossi’s voice carried through the bar, calm and curious.

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you turned, your breath catching in your throat. As your eyes met Rossi’s, you immediately saw it—the flicker of recognition. Then, as you glanced at Hotch standing next to him, it was unmistakable. They both recognized you.

Your heart pounded as you pleaded with your eyes, hoping Rossi would get the message. Please, don’t say anything.

Spencer, none the wiser, smiled brightly as he introduced you. “Yes! Rossi, Hotch—this is Y/N.”

You extended your hand, swallowing your nerves as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Rossi took your hand, his grip warm and familiar as he gave you a knowing look. But instead of saying anything, he squeezed your hand gently and winked. "The pleasure is all mine," he said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing.

You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that for now, your secret was safe.

Hotch nodded politely, his expression neutral but his eyes scanning you, clearly making a mental note of the situation. But just like Rossi, he remained silent on the matter.

Spencer, completely oblivious, continued chatting with the group, beaming with pride as he showed you off to the people who mattered most to him. You smiled along, feeling the weight lift slightly, knowing that at least for now, your past could stay buried.

As the drinks flowed and the night progressed, you found yourself thoroughly enjoying the company of Spencer’s team. They were warm, welcoming, and great fun to be around, making it easier for you to relax. Even Hotch and Rossi, after the initial awkwardness, had lightened up, joining in the laughter and the storytelling.

It was a blast hearing them tease Spencer, recounting funny case stories and little moments from their years together. You were especially enjoying the bond you were forming with Penelope, both of you gushing over your shared love for tech and quickly finding an easy rhythm with one another. You felt like you’d made an instant friend.

But with every sip of your drink, your attention kept drifting back to Spencer. He just looked so good, sitting there, his eyes a little hooded from the alcohol, his jaw clenching as he excitedly explained some complex theory to Emily. His hands moved with purpose, fingers waving as he passionately discussed whatever topic he was on. The sight of him like that—so animated, so him—had desire steadily building in the pit of your stomach.

You bit your lip, watching him for a moment before giving in to temptation. Slowly, you slid your hand onto his thigh under the table, your fingers curling around him firmly. Spencer jolted slightly, his conversation with Emily stuttering as he tried to refocus.

He coughed lightly, glancing at you with wide eyes before quickly turning back to Emily, pretending to concentrate on the conversation while clearly trying to ignore your wandering hand.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. You smirked slightly, your thumb stroking slow circles against his thigh, inching closer. You could see the tension in his posture, how he was trying desperately to maintain his composure while you toyed with him.

Spencer stammered again, shooting you a look that was half warning, half pleading, but he couldn’t stop the flush creeping up his neck. His jaw tightened, and he shifted slightly in his seat, clearly struggling to keep it together as your touch continued to drive him wild beneath the table.

Spencer was briefly rescued by an unsung hero—Rossi.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Rossi announced, his tone casual as he looked in your direction. “Y/N, yours is looking light. Care to come with?” The look he gave you left no room for arguing. It was more of a command than an offer.

You nodded and stood, following him to the bar, your heart pounding. Once you were there, away from the laughter and teasing at the table, Rossi’s expression shifted. The warmth he usually radiated had cooled into something far more serious, almost stern.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Rossi asked, cutting straight to the point.

You sighed, leaning against the bar. “Not yet.”

Rossi’s glare was sharp, filled with concern rather than judgment. “You need to tell him, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a weight to his words you couldn’t brush off. “Come on, David. It’s not like it’s life or death.”

“No, it’s not,” Rossi agreed, his voice calm but firm. “But it’s going to matter to him. Especially now that you know. The longer you wait, the worse it gets.”

You hated how right he was. You hated that every day you kept this secret, the weight of it grew heavier. “I know,” you admitted, the frustration clear in your voice. “But what if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if it changes everything?”

Rossi’s expression softened slightly, his sternness giving way to understanding. “Spencer isn’t like that,” he said quietly. “But he values honesty. Keeping this from him… it’ll hurt him more than the truth ever will. If he finds out later, he’ll feel betrayed. And you don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head, staring down at the drink the bartender had just handed you. “No, I don’t.”

Rossi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I know it’s scary,” he said softly. “But trust me—Spencer cares about you. He’ll understand. You just have to give him the chance to.”

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as the weight of the conversation settled in. You knew what you had to do, but the thought of it still sent a nervous chill down your spine.

Rossi gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Better sooner than later, kiddo.” Then, with a wink, he turned to head back to the table, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. 

When you returned to Spencer’s side, he didn’t even notice that you hadn’t come back with a drink. Instead, he smiled brightly and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The warmth of his body instantly soothed you, but the mistake became apparent as soon as you breathed in his scent—clean, warm, and undeniably Spencer. The hunger inside you flared up tenfold, and you had to fight to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory.

Derek, of course, seized the moment, grinning mischievously from across the table. “Did Spencer tell you about the time a famous actress kissed him?”

Your eyebrows shot up, intrigued but also curious to see Spencer’s reaction. “What?” you asked with a teasing smile, nudging Spencer lightly. “No, he conveniently left that part out.”

Spencer flushed instantly, his arm tightening slightly around you as he groaned. “Oh god, not this story,” he muttered, glaring at Derek.

“Oh, come on, Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re basically a celebrity yourself for that one.”

You looked up at Spencer, eyes wide with curiosity. “I have to hear this,” you said, trying to keep the playful edge in your voice despite how distracted you felt by his proximity.

Spencer sighed, clearly embarrassed. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said quickly, as if trying to brush it off.

Derek scoffed, shaking his head as if Spencer’s modesty was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all night. “Not a big deal? Reid here was pulled into a swimming pool. She basically mounted him.”

You laughed, eyes widening in disbelief. “What?!”

Spencer buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in defeat, while Derek grinned like the cat that got the cream. "Yep, and the best part? The paparazzi caught the whole thing."

“There are pictures on the internet!” Penelope chimed in cheerfully, as if offering you a goldmine of information. "I saved them to my phone!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your curiosity piqued even more. “Oh, I have to see these.”

Spencer groaned, leaning back in his seat, his face flushed red. “Please don’t encourage them,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Derek leaned forward, enjoying every moment of Spencer’s discomfort. “Oh no, Y/N, you definitely need to look it up. It’s a classic ‘Reid in over his head’ moment. He’s all wet, confused, and awkward—it’s priceless.”

Penelope nodded eagerly. “He tried to escape, but the actress wouldn’t let him go. She had him trapped!”

You were laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “Oh my god, Spencer,” you giggled, leaning against him. “How did I not know about this sooner?”

Spencer, though clearly embarrassed, finally cracked a smile. “I didn’t think it was relevant,” he mumbled, shooting Derek and Penelope a half-hearted glare.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Derek teased. “Don’t let him fool you, Y/N. She was all over him.”

You giggled, poking Spencer’s side playfully. “Why do I feel like I’m going to need more details later?”

Spencer groaned again, but there was a small, sheepish smile on his face as he squeezed your shoulder. “We’ll talk about it… eventually,” he muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him again, the tension from earlier melting away slightly as you enjoyed the moment with him and his team. For now, the weight of your secret could wait just a little longer.

The group finally decided to call it a night, but you were buzzing with excitement, eager to get Spencer alone—all to yourself. Both of you had stopped drinking hours ago, switching to water to avoid any hangovers, but the anticipation had been steadily building. 

As soon as you climbed into the back of a cab together, your hand instinctively returned to Spencer’s thigh, your fingers squeezing appreciatively as they traced the thick muscle. You weren't planning on doing anything more, especially in public, but the closeness only fueled the fire inside you.

The cab ride felt longer than usual, the tension simmering between you two in the dim light of the backseat. Spencer seemed to notice it too, his eyes meeting yours in silent understanding. 

But once you had Spencer inside your front door, all restraint vanished. You pushed him against a bare wall with urgency, your hands gripping his lithe waist as your lips found his neck, planting hot, hungry kisses along his skin.

"Y/N?" Spencer gasped, his voice strained with both surprise and desire. His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his pulse. "What’s gotten into you?"

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the taste of his skin and the way his body responded to every touch. Instead, you kissed your way up to his mouth, pressing yourself against him. Between breaths, you mumbled against his lips, “Hopefully you.”

Spencer let out a low groan, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m not sure I can resist you right now,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, already losing the battle against the pull you had over him.

You grinned against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepened, the heat between you both simmering to a near-boiling point. “Please don’t resist,” you whispered against his lips, your voice low and filled with need. “You looked so fucking hot tonight.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and before he could respond, you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hand pressing against the growing hardness in his slacks. The pressure of your touch made him buck his hips forward instinctively, his eyes widening as the sensation shot through him.

“Is this okay now?” you asked, your voice breathy with desire as you looked up at him, your hand still teasing him through the fabric. “Please, Spencer. Please, I need to taste you.”

His mind raced, a jumble of thoughts and emotions, but all of them led to the same conclusion—how could he say no when you asked him like that, when the hunger in your eyes matched his own? He nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to form proper words, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

As your fingers deftly worked to undo his belt and the button of his slacks, Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands bracing against the wall behind him for support. He was already losing himself to the intensity of the moment, the anticipation building with every second.

Spencer swallowed hard, his nerves apparent as he shifted slightly under your touch. “What, um, what do I do?” he asked nervously, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

You smiled up at him like a vixen, your lips brushing over the now-exposed skin of his thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted you most. His breath hitched as you nosed along the front of his briefs, the friction sending a shudder through him that made him whimper.

Sticking your tongue out, you traced him through the fabric, feeling the heat radiating through it, and looked up at him with playful intent. “Try not to make me gag,” you teased, your voice low and sultry. ���Pull my hair if you like… and let me know when you’re going to come.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, the tension and excitement evident in his expression. His grip on the wall tightened as he nodded, trying to follow your instructions, but the way you spoke and the feeling of your tongue against him had him unraveling already.

The moment was intoxicating, your playful control over him leaving him helpless as he tried to hold it together. Every touch, every word, was pushing him closer to the edge, and he could hardly believe this was happening.

As you pulled off the last barrier, Spencer’s briefs sliding down, you couldn’t help but grin like you’d just unwrapped the most perfect present. You’d seen him naked before, but this was different—having his hard cock right in front of you, so close, filled you with an intoxicating sense of control and desire. 

You licked your lips, savoring the moment, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his head, tasting him for the first time. Spencer’s breath hitched, his back instinctively pulling away from the wall as a wave of sensation coursed through him. His hands found their way into your hair, his grip hesitant at first but growing more confident as the pleasure built.

When you finally wrapped your lips around him, Spencer’s entire body reacted, his hands tugging at your hair, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. He was already a mess, and you’d barely begun.

Pulling back for just a moment, you looked up at him with a wicked glint in your eyes and whispered, “Good boy.”

The praise hit him like a freight train, his hips bucking slightly as he let out a pathetic, needy whimper in response. He was completely at your mercy, lost in the sensation, and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. Every touch, every word from you was pushing him further under, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, completely overwhelmed by you.

You leaned back in, taking him into your mouth again, more confident now that you’d seen his reactions. Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair as his body arched, his control slowly unraveling with each passing second. You could feel the tension building in him, hear the way his breath quickened, shaky and unsteady, as he tried to hold back.

Every movement you made seemed to push him further toward the edge. The way you hollowed your cheeks, the small flicks of your tongue, the pressure—everything was driving him wild. His hips bucked involuntarily, but you were ready for it, holding him steady as you took him deeper.

“Y/N…” he gasped, barely able to find his voice. His breathing was ragged now, and he was doing everything he could to hold on. “I’m close…”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations almost sending him over the edge. He tightened his grip in your hair, his hips stuttering as he let out a broken moan, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

“God, darling…” Spencer whimpered, his voice barely a whisper as he prepared to ride out the waves of pleasure, his head falling back against the wall. 

Spencer’s breath hitched as you pulled back suddenly, leaving him teetering on the edge without release. His body betrayed him, a desperate whine escaping his lips as he thrashed lightly against the wall, trying to chase the pleasure you’d just denied him. 

You placed a firm hand on his hip, grounding him, while your other hand came up to stroke him slowly, teasingly. "Over so soon, baby?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement, watching his reactions closely. 

“I’m—” he hiccuped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m sorry, it just feels so good.”

You arched an eyebrow, teasing him further. “Thought you weren’t a virgin, Spence?”

His face flushed deep red, his breath ragged and uneven as he struggled to focus. “I’m n—not,” he stammered, his words tumbling over themselves as he tried to speak while your hand brought him back to the brink. “Just hav—ah—haven’t had this before.”

Your strokes were slow and deliberate, torturous in the best way, and you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his tip. “Is it too much for you?” you whispered softly, your voice low and seductive.

Spencer shook his head frantically, biting his lip as he tried to hold back. “No… no, I—I don’t want you to stop,” he gasped, his hands instinctively gripping your hair tighter, his fingers digging into your scalp as he tried to anchor himself. “Please…”

You smiled at his response, watching as he lost himself to the sensations, barely able to hold on as you continued to push him further. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's entire body was trembling under your touch, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as you continued to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. His head was thrown back against the wall, his chest heaving with the effort it took to hold himself together.

You smirked, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed, completely at your mercy. His desperation was palpable, and it made you want to push him further—to see just how much he could take.

“You look so good like this,” you whispered, your voice filled with both praise and desire. “Completely undone for me.”

Spencer’s hips jerked slightly in response, and he whimpered again, barely able to form words as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “Y/N, please,” he gasped, his voice shaky. “I—I can’t—”

You leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his hip, kissing and biting lightly as you kept your hand moving at a torturous pace. “What do you want, Spence?” you asked softly, your breath warm against his skin.

Spencer’s voice broke as he whimpered, his words nearly a plea. “You—your mouth, please,” he begged, his body trembling, the desperation in his tone unmistakable. He was so close to the edge, and you could tell he was barely holding himself together.

You smiled softly, relishing the power you had over him in this moment. “Okay, baby,” you whispered, your voice laced with both affection and desire. “You’ve been so good for me… you can have whatever you want.”

Without wasting another moment, and your hand still gently stroking him, you placed a soft kiss on his tip. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his entire body shuddered in anticipation. His hands tightened in your hair again after losing their grip, and you could feel how tightly he was holding on, as if letting go would make him lose control completely.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth, savoring the salty taste and the way his body reacted immediately. Spencer’s head fell back against the wall, a strangled moan escaping his lips as his hips instinctively pushed forward, gagging you.

“You’re so good,” he gasped, his voice breathless as he struggled to keep his composure. “So, so good…”

The praise only made you work harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, determined to give him exactly what he asked for. Spencer’s body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the tension building rapidly, his breaths becoming shorter and more erratic with each passing second.

“Y/N, I—” he managed to choke out, his hands tightening in your hair. “I’m gonna—”

You didn’t pull away this time. You kept going, your pace quickening and your other hand cupping his balls as you brought him right to the edge, determined to take him all the way.

And then, with a final, desperate moan, Spencer came undone completely, his body trembling as he released into your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening for a moment before he released it completely collapsed back against the wall, utterly spent.

You pulled away slowly, wiping the corner of your mouth with a smirk as you looked up at him. Spencer’s chest was still heaving, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, a blissful smile tugging at his lips.

But then Spencer’s eyes widened in panic, and his face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—to… in your mouth!”

You giggled, your mouth still full, shaking your head affectionately at his reaction. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you stuck out your tongue to show him exactly what he had done. Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, his breath hitching as he took in the sight.

He felt lightheaded, especially when you casually closed your mouth and, in one smooth motion, swallowed. “Jesus,” he breathed, his voice barely audible, the raw intensity of the moment catching up to him.

You grinned wickedly. “Just me, baby,” you winked, laughing as you stood up on slightly wobbly legs, your body still buzzing with the energy of the moment.

Before you could stumble, Spencer’s hands reached out to catch you, steadying you against him. “Whoa, careful, Bambi,” he teased, his voice finally regaining some steadiness.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at his comment, your smile still bright. “I could say the same,” you said, your gaze flicking downward where the hardness of him was pressing into your stomach. “Or should I call you Pinocchio? Again, Spence, really?"

Spencer’s face flushed again, and he laughed awkwardly, his hands tightening around your waist. “I—uh—yeah, sorry about that. It’s just…” he trailed off, looking sheepish as he tried to explain. “You’re kind of… really hot.”

You laughed softly, kissing Spencer sweetly on the lips. But just as you pulled away, Spencer abruptly jerked back, his eyes wide with alarm. “What?” you asked, confused by his sudden reaction.

“You have—me! In your mouth!” he sputtered, looking completely flustered.

You tilted your head, amused by his innocence. “Does that gross you out?” you teased. “Because I think you taste good.”

Spencer flushed even more, which you didn’t think was possible at this point. He stammered, his words tripping over themselves. “I don’t... I don’t know. I’ve just... never thought about it.”

You smiled playfully, shrugging as you turned and sighed dramatically. “Well, you don’t have to kiss me right now, Spence... I guess I’ll just go to bed alone.” Letting your dress fall provocatively from your shoulder, you made your way toward the bedroom, your steps slow and intentional.

Spencer’s mind raced, catching up with the teasing tone in your voice. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized what you were implying. Without hesitation, he scrambled to pull his briefs and pants back up, fastening them quickly before running after you.

“Wait!” he called out, his voice filled with urgency as he reached out to grab your hand, stopping you just before you could disappear into the bedroom.

You turned to face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?” you asked, your lips curving into a slow smile.

Spencer, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. “I—I’m not letting you go to bed alone,” he said, his voice a mix of determination and longing. “I want to be with you.”

You smiled warmly, pulling him close. “Good answer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a deep, slow kiss, letting him feel how much you wanted him too.

That night, however, the two of you decided to take it slow and just go to bed. You could tell Spencer had done enough exploring for one day, and there was no need to push him further. After all, the night had already been filled with its own excitement.

You handed him a spare toothbrush to keep at your place, something that made Spencer smile shyly. He changed into the sweats he had borrowed earlier, and you both settled into bed, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of each other.

With Spencer nestled against your chest, his head rising and falling gently with your breathing, you kissed the top of his head and sighed contentedly. The moment felt perfect, and you were certain Spencer had already drifted off to sleep when you heard it. The words were so soft, you almost thought you were imagining them.

“I think I'm falling in love with you,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible against your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, unsure if you’d actually heard it. But the warmth of his words lingered in the air, and you knew it was real. You could feel the way his body tensed slightly, like he was scared of what he’d just confessed, but you couldn’t help the wide, beaming smile that stretched across your face.

Your hand gently stroked his hair as you whispered back, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Spencer’s body relaxed against yours, and for the first time that night, you both fell asleep with the quiet comfort of knowing you were falling in love—together.

—

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, your hand reaching out instinctively for Spencer, but finding only cool sheets. A flash of panic surged through you until you heard his voice, faint but audible, coming from down the hall. You couldn’t make out the words, but there was a tension in his tone, a heaviness that made your chest tighten.

You slipped out of bed, still groggy, and padded quietly to the door, opening it just enough to see Spencer standing in the living room. The morning sunlight bathed him in a soft, golden glow, highlighting the slump in his shoulders. He was on the phone, and even though his voice was low, you could tell he was upset.

When he heard the door creak open, he quickly wrapped up the conversation. “Hotch, I gotta go. Yeah. Bye,” he said, his tone clipped as he hung up.

You took a tentative step toward him, concern lacing your voice as you asked, “You okay?”

Spencer turned to face you, and without hesitation, he let his body fall into yours. His chin rested gently on the top of your head as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Yeah," he muttered, though you could feel the weight behind his words. "Just work stuff."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, trying to offer him the comfort he clearly needed. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, not wanting to push but needing him to know you were there.

“Not right now,” Spencer murmured, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His smile was small but genuine, as if he was trying to reassure you that everything was fine, even if it wasn’t. “I was trying to make coffee, but I couldn’t find your grounds.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the mood just a little. “I use disposable pods, silly.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ahh, that would do it.” 

There was a moment of quiet between you as Spencer leaned back into your embrace, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. Even though he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, you knew he appreciated your presence. And for now, that was enough.

Once the coffee was made and the two of you settled into the comfortable chairs on your deck, the soft morning breeze creating a peaceful atmosphere, you knew it was time. Spencer sat beside you, sipping his coffee, lost in thought but content. The silence between you had been comforting, but there was something tugging at you now, something you needed to share.

You glanced over at him, watching how the sunlight danced across his face, and took a deep breath, feeling your heart pick up pace. Breaking the peaceful quiet, you spoke up softly, “Spencer… can I tell you something? About my past? It’s not exactly happy…”

Spencer’s attention immediately shifted to you, his eyes soft but concerned. He set his mug down on the small table beside him, turning his body slightly to face you. “Of course,” he said gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “You can tell me anything.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your coffee cup. It was hard, the idea of opening up this part of yourself, but if you wanted to move forward, to build something real with Spencer, you knew he deserved to know.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you began slowly, your voice faltering slightly. “It’s not that I’ve lied, but… there are things about my past I haven’t told you.”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand gently covering yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. Spencer’s hand was still resting on yours, grounding you, giving you the strength to continue.

“When I was thirteen,” you started, your voice low, “I lost both of my parents. It wasn’t... it wasn’t an accident or some freak illness. They both died from drug overdoses.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in concern, but he didn’t say anything, giving you the space to speak.

“My father had always been an addict. I barely remember a time when he wasn’t using something. He was... abusive. Violent, unpredictable.” You swallowed hard, the memories flashing in your mind like dark clouds. “I lived with my mom most of the time. We tried to keep away from him, hiding from him really. He was dangerous, and my mom did her best to protect us.”

You paused, feeling the lump forming in your throat, but Spencer’s thumb tracing circles on your skin kept you anchored.

“One day, when I was at school, my mom was home. She had called in sick that day, just a flu or something. But somehow, my dad found her. He showed up while I was gone.” Your voice wavered, and you closed your eyes for a second, willing yourself to keep going. “When I came home, I found them both... he had overdosed them. I guess he thought if he was going down, he’d take her with him.”

Spencer’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, and when you looked up, his eyes were filled with compassion and something else... empathy, perhaps. He didn’t say a word, just let you continue.

“That’s how I found them. Both gone, just... gone.” You could feel your breath hitch as the memories flooded back. “After that, my little sister and I went to live with my aunt. She took us in, gave us a home, but it was never the same. My sister... she couldn’t handle what our father did. She was so young, and it broke her.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly. Spencer leaned closer, his body almost enveloping you with comfort.

“Where is your sister now?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “She got addicted too, a few years later. I tried to help her, but she was... lost. She ran away when she was old enough, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

Spencer looked at you with a pained expression, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you, for both of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “It was... it still is. But I guess I’m just terrified of the past catching up to me, of losing more people to the same thing.”

Spencer’s thumb gently stroked your hand, silently encouraging you to continue.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you wiped the last trace of tears from your eyes. “I love my aunt dearly,” you said, voice soft but filled with warmth. “She’s an amazing woman. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be... I probably would have ended up in foster care, or worse.”

“She did everything she could to help my sister,” you continued. “Took us both in when she didn’t have to, gave us a home, stability. But... my sister refused treatment, refused help. My aunt tried, I tried, but she just... wouldn’t listen. I think... I think she was too broken by everything that happened.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he listened, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness he felt on your behalf. “Your aunt sounds like an incredible person,” he said softly. “She must have cared for you both so much.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “She did, and she still does. I wouldn’t have made it without her. She never gave up on me, even when things got really dark. But with my sister...” You trailed off, the pain still fresh despite the years. “She just couldn’t reach her, no matter how hard she tried.”

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled you a little closer, wrapping his arm around you protectively. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N. I wish I could take away that pain for you.”

You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace comfort you. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I’ve learned to live with it. It’s just hard, knowing that no matter how much love we gave her, my sister couldn’t be saved.”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he spoke. “You did everything you could. Sometimes... people just aren’t ready to accept help. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try, or that you didn’t love her enough.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to just breathe. You hadn’t shared this part of yourself with anyone in such a long time, and Spencer’s quiet understanding felt like a balm to your soul.

“She sounds like an incredible woman, your aunt,” Spencer added, squeezing your hand gently. “And so do you.”

You looked at Spencer with tears welling in your eyes, your emotions on full display. “Thank you, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with gratitude. His thumb gently wiped a tear from underneath your eye, his touch soft and reassuring.

"Not just for listening,” you continued, “but for being you.”

Spencer smiled at you, a deep, affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. His eyes shone with understanding and care, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming connection between you two. He leaned forward then, kissing you deeply, a kiss full of warmth and unspoken promises.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured softly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, more at yourself than anything, as you wiped away the remnants of your tears. "Okay, whew, that’s that," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "Now you know. We can stop crying now."

Spencer smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His eyes flickered with something more, a desire to share, to open up just as you had. “Do you want to know about my parents?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded your head, giving him your full attention, ready to listen just as he had for you.

Spencer sighed deeply, his gaze far away for a moment, as if gathering the words. “My mom… she has schizophrenia. It started when I was really young, and I spent a lot of time trying to understand her illness. It wasn’t easy growing up, knowing she wasn’t like other moms. She was brilliant though, a professor of literature. She used to read to me all the time, teaching me about everything she loved. That’s probably where I get my love for books.”

You listened intently, your heart breaking a little for the boy he once was, trying to make sense of a world so complex and painful.

“My dad left when I was ten,” Spencer continued, his voice quieter now. “He couldn’t handle it anymore—her illness, the responsibility. He just… left. And it was just me and her after that.”

Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, but he stayed composed. “I spent my childhood trying to take care of her, in my own way. She had episodes, but I didn’t want her to go to a hospital, so I hid a lot of it from people. I thought… I thought I could fix it.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. Spencer glanced at you, his expression softening as he took comfort in your presence.

“I’ve made peace with it now,” Spencer said after a beat. “But it wasn’t easy. There were days I felt like I was drowning, trying to take care of her and go to school, trying to make something of myself.” He paused, then added, “She’s in a facility now, getting the care she needs. I visit when I can.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting his words settle, understanding the depth of his pain and the strength it must have taken to survive such a childhood.

"Thank you for telling me," you whispered, echoing his earlier words. Your thumb brushed against the back of his hand as you gazed at him with admiration. "You’re a wonderful man, Spencer."

He smiled softly, his eyes brimming with affection as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

When the coffee was finished and the emotional weight of your stories had settled, you both stood up, moving inside together. There was no need for plans, no pressure to fill the day with anything grand. You simply wanted to be together, to spend the day wrapped up in each other’s presence, doing nothing but enjoying the quiet comfort of your shared company.

—

Spencer’s day had started off on a sour note the moment he walked into the testing facility. The thought of being watched during such an intimate, humiliating process had been enough to make his stomach churn. The presence of the other agent, someone he didn’t know, standing nearby as he tried to perform an already uncomfortable task had only worsened his mood.

By the time he returned to the office, Spencer was tense, his nerves frayed from the ordeal. His team—his friends—were used to his occasional bad moods, but this was different. He hated that the drug tests were a constant reminder of a time in his life he’d fought so hard to put behind him, a scar that Strauss and her protocols kept reopening.

Penelope was the first to try and talk to him, her usual bubbly energy shining through as she asked, “Hey, Reid, how was your weekend? Did you spend it with your girl?”

Without thinking, Spencer snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he could see the hurt flash across her face before she quickly masked it with a forced smile. He regretted it immediately, but in his irritation, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize right away.

Then, Derek, ever the good friend, set a fresh cup of coffee on Spencer’s desk—a simple gesture of kindness. But when a bit of the coffee spilled over the edge onto his papers, Spencer’s patience snapped again.

“Can you not?” Spencer bit out, glaring at the small mess. “It’s everywhere now, Morgan.”

Derek raised his hands in surrender, clearly not wanting to poke the bear. “Alright, alright, take it easy, pretty boy.”

Emily, sensing Spencer’s volatile mood, wisely kept her distance. She’d seen him like this before and knew better than to engage when he was on edge.

JJ, always the nurturer, tried her best to offer a soothing presence. “Spence, are you okay? You seem a little... off today.”

But instead of the comfort she usually brought, her words only stoked the fire. “I’m fine, JJ. Can everyone just stop asking me how I’m doing?”

Her eyes widened, taken aback by his harsh tone, and Spencer immediately felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t mean to lash out, especially at JJ, who was only trying to help. His apology came quickly, but it did little to ease the tension.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his frustration pressing down on him. “I just... I’m not in a great place right now.”

Hotch had been watching from his office, observing how Spencer was struggling to keep it together. He knew better than most what Spencer was going through, but it was clear today wasn’t a day Spencer should be in the office.

He walked over to Spencer’s desk, his expression firm but understanding. “Reid, go home.”

Spencer looked up, surprised. “I have work to finish—”

“You can take it with you,” Hotch interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You need some space. Go home, get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Spencer didn’t fight it. He nodded, collecting his things, knowing that Hotch was right. He wasn’t doing anyone any good by staying, and his snapping at the people who cared about him only made him feel worse.

As he left the office, Spencer felt a weight lift slightly from his shoulders. But the humiliation of the morning still gnawed at him, and he wondered how long this protocol would hang over his head like a dark cloud.

Things only got worse when you texted Spencer on your lunch break, sharing a silly story about a printer mix-up at work. Normally, Spencer would find your anecdotes charming, loving the way you broke them up into several texts as if you were telling the story in person. But today, the constant pinging of his phone was too much for his already frayed nerves.

He stared at the screen, watching the notifications pile up, the sound seeming louder and more grating than usual. The tension from the day—the frustration, the stress, the hidden weight of what he was dealing with—made every ping feel like it was vibrating directly into his skull.

Instead of waiting for more texts to come through, he called you. It wasn’t out of anger, but a desperate need to silence the noise and prevent the headache he felt creeping up.

“Hi, baby!” you answered, your voice bright and cheery, though you sounded a little surprised. “I didn’t realize you were on your phone. Sorry if I was texting too much—”

“I’m home. Hotch let me leave early,” he huffed, his voice sharp and tense, though he hadn’t meant for it to sound so irritated.

“Oh…” you paused, a little concern creeping into your voice. “Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?”

Your genuine worry, which normally would have soothed him, only felt like another weight on his chest today. He wasn’t angry with you, but the frustration that had been building all day finally spilled over.

“I’m fine,” Spencer snapped, his tone harsher than he intended. “I just… I’m having a bad day, okay?”

The line went quiet for a moment. He immediately regretted his words, knowing you didn’t deserve the brunt of his frustration. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and here he was, snapping at you over something as small as a few text messages.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly, the lightness in your voice replaced with a gentle, understanding tone. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He sighed, the guilt crashing down on him. You had no idea what he was really dealing with—he hadn’t told you about the drug tests, about Strauss's constant scrutiny. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to think any less of him, so he kept it all to himself. But now, it was spilling over into how he treated you, and he hated that.

“No, I know. I’m sorry,” Spencer replied, softer now, trying to reign in his frustration. “It’s not you, I just… today’s been rough.”

There was a pause again, your voice gentle when you finally spoke. “Do you want me to come over? We don’t have to talk about it. I can just be there.”

Spencer hesitated. The truth was, part of him wanted you there. He always felt better with you around, your presence grounding him in ways he couldn’t explain. But today, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being around anyone, even you. Not when he felt so close to snapping at the slightest thing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe… I just need some space right now.”

Your understanding was immediate, though he could hear the slight tinge of hurt in your voice. “Okay, I get it. Just know I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah,” Spencer muttered, closing his eyes and trying to push away the guilt and frustration swirling inside him. “Thanks, Y/N.”

When the call ended, Spencer sat in the quiet of his apartment, feeling the weight of his bad day pressing down on him. He knew he should tell you what was going on, but the shame and embarrassment kept him silent. He wanted to feel better, wanted to stop snapping at the people he cared about, but today everything felt… wrong.

—

Rossi stood in Strauss’s office, the door closed behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her with a frustrated expression. He had been simmering over this decision for days now, but he knew he had to say something. It was eating at him.

“You know, Erin, I think you went too far this time,” Rossi said, his voice low but firm. “Having Spencer drug tested every month? It’s uncalled for. The kid’s been clean for years now. He’s proven himself.”

Strauss didn’t look up from the file in front of her, her expression unreadable. “David, you of all people should understand why this is necessary.”

“I told you in confidence,” Rossi said, stepping closer to her desk, his voice gaining an edge. “Because of us. Not so you could turn around and use it against him. You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Strauss finally lifted her eyes to meet his, her expression calm and collected. “I’m trying to protect her.”

Rossi let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re punishing him for something that hasn’t even happened. He hasn’t slipped up, and I don’t think he will. He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

“He’s a liability,” Strauss said firmly, not backing down. “And I’m not going to sit by and wait for him to make a mistake that costs us all more than we’re willing to pay.”

Rossi clenched his jaw, frustrated by her unwillingness to see reason. “You’re not protecting her or the Bureau, Erin. You’re making it harder for him to succeed. You’re putting a target on his back.”

Strauss crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. “Sometimes, David, tough decisions have to be made. Whether or not you agree with them.”

Rossi sighed, knowing the conversation was hitting a dead end. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing before it’s too late.” He gave her one final look, disappointed but unsurprised, before turning on his heel and leaving her office, the tension lingering long after he was gone.

—

Spencer stood there, looking so tired and worn down, and your heart clenched at the sight of him. You could tell he was struggling, and the weight of whatever was on his mind was pressing heavily on his shoulders. You stepped closer, gently touching his arm.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your voice full of concern.

He looked at you, his gaze softened by exhaustion, and he sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for how I was yesterday… I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

You shook your head, stepping aside to let him in, your hand reaching for his as you pulled him through the door. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. But what’s going on? You’ve been so quiet. I’ve been worried.”

He gave a small nod, his eyes downcast as he stepped into your apartment, letting the warmth of your presence surround him. You led him to the couch, and he collapsed into it with a heavy sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck as if trying to ease the tension that had built there.

“I… I just had a really hard day,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Work stuff. It’s… it’s complicated, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Your concern deepened, but you didn’t want to push him. You could see in his eyes that he was holding something back, something that was clearly eating at him, but if he wasn’t ready to share, you would respect that. You just wanted to be there for him, however he needed.

You nodded softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about it,” you said gently. “But I’m here. And if you want to just… be, we can do that too.”

Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax a little at your words, and he let out a small breath, his fingers squeezing yours tightly as if holding on to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I just… I just want to be with you,” he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours, the vulnerability in them breaking your heart. “I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be here with you.”

You gave him a gentle smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Then we’ll just be,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes as you kissed him, letting out a long, shaky breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. For a long moment, you just held him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured after a while, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it clear. “For being here.”

You stroked his hair softly, your heart full of love for the man in your arms. “Always, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m always here.” 

And though the weight of his hidden struggles lingered in the air, for now, it was enough to just be together.

The laughter that filled the room later was like music, and for the first time in what felt like days, Spencer felt light again. You were both sprawled out on the couch, popcorn forgotten as Spencer had successfully wrestled you under him, his hands expertly tickling your sides. Your uncontrollable giggles filled the room as you squirmed beneath him, trying to bat his hands away.

“Spence!” you squealed, your voice rising in playful desperation. “Stop! I can’t—” 

He laughed, his own amusement bubbling up as he leaned down, pressing quick, ticklish kisses along your neck and cheeks, making you squirm even more.

“What?” he teased, pretending not to hear you, his voice lighthearted and mischievous. “Can’t hear you over all this squawking in my ear!”

Your laughter came out in breathless bursts, and you managed to shove at his chest lightly, still giggling as he finally gave you a moment to catch your breath. Spencer grinned down at you, his face flushed from laughter, his earlier heaviness completely gone, replaced by a playful glint in his eyes.

"Truce?" you gasped, still trying to stop your own giggles, your hands grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself.

Spencer tilted his head, pretending to think it over for a moment before nodding, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Alright. Truce. But only because you begged so nicely.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled up at him, your heart swelling at how much lighter and carefree he seemed now. Whatever weight he had been carrying earlier was gone, at least for the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you had been the one to help lift it. 

He stayed on top of you for a moment longer, both of you catching your breath, the warmth of his body comforting against yours. He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly, his voice gentle as he murmured, “You always know how to make me feel better.”

You smiled up at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “I just like seeing you happy,” you said softly. “You deserve it.”

For a moment, Spencer didn’t say anything, just looking at you with a kind of quiet admiration that made your heart flutter. Then, with a playful smirk, he rolled off you, tugging you back up to sit in his lap. “Alright, I’ll stop tickling you,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “for now.”

You glared and pointed your finger in his face, making him cross his eyes like a dork. “Tickle me again, and I’ll... I’ll…”

“Yeah? Go on, honey,” he teased, his smirk growing wider as his hands continued to rub your hips.

Flustered by his confidence, you blurted, “I’ll spit on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that the best you got?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice as your eyes locked on his. “Careful, baby… sounds like you might actually want that.”

Spencer's smirk faltered slightly, his eyes widening in surprise before he laughed nervously. You could feel the shift in energy between you, the playful banter taking on a new, teasing intensity.

“Wha—no,” he stammered, trying to recover, but the playful glint in your eyes had him flustered.

You leaned in closer, your hands resting on his chest as you whispered in a low, sultry tone, “Mmm, you sure about that?”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands instinctively tightening on your hips as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re… you’re just trying to get a rise out of me,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little breathless, but there was no hiding the way his body reacted to your proximity.

You grinned, feeling empowered by the effect you had on him. “And it’s working,” you teased, your lips brushing against his ear as you gently let your hips grind on his.

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to yours, filled with affection and playful frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You giggled, sitting up straight and giving him a satisfied look. “Maybe,” you said sweetly, “but you like it.”

He sighed dramatically, still flustered but clearly loving every second of your teasing. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Spencer’s hands slipped from your hips, wrapping around your waist instead as he pulled you closer. “But if you threaten me with spitting again,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, “I might have to get you back.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

He smirked, leaning in closer so his lips were just inches from yours. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” he murmured before kissing you deeply, the playfulness of the moment fading into something more tender and intimate.

“You want to show me?” you whispered against his lips, nipping softly at Spencer’s lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine.

He groaned in response, the sharp, sweet pain igniting something inside him. But as much as the dirty talk stirred him, he hesitated. Spencer wasn’t as experienced as his playful words suggested, even though he'd picked up more than a few lines from the books he'd read — including a couple of romance novels that had taught him a thing or two.

Still, feeling the heat between you, Spencer nodded, leaning in for a kiss. This one wasn’t gentle or tentative, but filled with passion, tongues meeting, teeth grazing lips, and it set off a fire in both of your bellies. 

Your hands gripped at his hair, pulling him closer as his hands moved up your sides, exploring every inch of you, unsure but eager. The kiss deepened, both of you giving in to the moment, feeling the intensity grow between you. It was uncharted territory for him, but he was more than willing to learn with you.

Feeling bold, Spencer let his hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing tentatively. The whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers dug into your flesh sent a surge of pride through him. He was still a little unsure, but that reaction told him he was on the right track.

But then you pulled back slightly, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Is this what I get? I might have to threaten you more often…”

Something primal seemed to take over Spencer at your teasing words, and before he knew it, his hand came down in a sharp, quick slap against your ass. The sound echoed around the room, but it was your loud, unrestrained moan that had his pulse racing.

His eyes widened, both with shock at his own actions and the reaction it had caused. “You like that?” he asked, his voice thick with a mixture of curiosity and raw desire, unable to believe what had just happened — and how much it seemed to affect both of you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice husky with need. “I do.”

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he might have just unlocked something new between the two of you — something he was more than ready to explore.

Spencer pulled you back in, capturing your lips in an even deeper kiss, his tongue teasing yours while his hand came down with another sharp slap to your ass. The moan that left your mouth vibrated against his, making his head spin as you ground down on his growing bulge, the heat between you two intensifying by the second.

You both moved together in a desperate, frenzied rhythm, as if the space between your bodies was too much to bear. The need for more overwhelmed both of you, pushing the tension higher, the air thick with desire.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he let out little grunts and groans, lost in the sensation. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he threw his head back, pulling you down harder into him, his whole body shuddering as he finished with a deep, guttural groan. 

Panting heavily, his fingers still dug into your hips, he slowly came back down from his high, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. The heat between you still simmered, but the moment of release left both of you tingling and a little dazed, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment.

You looked down at him with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him just a little. "Spence... did you just come in your pants?"

Still breathing heavily, he nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yup."

You let out a laugh, shifting slightly on his lap, causing him to groan at the sudden movement against his sensitive cock. "Oops, sorry, baby," you said with a mischievous grin, sitting back on his thighs. "I didn't realize you were so close."

Spencer leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. The angle gave you a perfect view of his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but admire how utterly spent—and gorgeous—he looked in that moment. "I didn't either," he admitted with a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Lots of pent-up emotions, huh?" you teased, letting your finger trail lightly over the wet spot on his pants. He twitched at the sensation, quickly grabbing your wrist and gently pushing your hand away. He lifted his head, playfully glaring at you, though there was no malice in his gaze, only affection.

"Not funny," he muttered, trying to stifle a smile.

You giggled, leaning down to kiss his cheek, unable to resist teasing him one last time. "Maybe not for you... but I find it pretty adorable."

“Adorable? Last time you said it was hot,” Spencer pouted, his expression turning to one of mortification as the realization hit him. “Oh my god, I’ve done this twice. Maybe I am a virgin.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart melting for him. Leaning in, you kissed him gently, hoping to ease his mind and distract him from his embarrassment. “It’s hot and adorable, Spence,” you whispered against his lips, your tone soft and reassuring. “And, trust me, very flattering.”

But Spencer still looked unsure, his brows knitting together in uncertainty. You could see his mind working, trying to make sense of it, and you knew he wasn’t fully convinced just yet.

With a sultry smile, you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Do you want to see how hot I find it? How hot I find you?” Your voice dripped with desire, and Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he nodded dumbly, ready and willing to follow your lead.

You took his hand in yours, guiding it down the front of your sleep shorts, pressing his fingers against the undeniable evidence of your arousal. His eyes widened even more as he felt just how wet you were for him, his lips parting in a quiet gasp.

“That’s how much I liked it,” you whispered, watching his reaction closely. Spencer’s mouth fell open, his fingers instinctively pressing deeper, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

“Oh wow, wow, you're really wet,” Spencer said in awe, his voice full of innocent surprise.

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you ground down on his hand. “I know, baby. You really turn me on.”

His eyes widened even more, his mouth dropping open as he took in the full extent of your arousal. “No, you’re soaking my hand, darling,” he murmured, the way he said that sending shivers down your spine.

A moan slipped from your lips as you instinctively ground down on his fingers, seeking more friction. “Oh fuck,” Spencer breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Are you riding my hand?”

You nodded, dazed and overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you. His fingers stayed inside, moving ever so slightly as you rocked your hips, riding him. The sensation was too much and not enough all at once, and the sound of his breathless voice only made you want more.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back and forth between your face and where his hand disappeared into your shorts, mesmerized by the sight and the sounds you were making. "I can't believe I'm making you feel this good," he whispered, more to himself than to you, the awe in his voice making you shudder in delight.

“Spence, this feels so good, my god, but… my knees are cramping,” you complained breathlessly, your body trembling from the sensation.

Without missing a beat, Spencer immediately pulled his hand away, giving you the space to move. You let out a soft whine at the sudden loss, and he smirked down at you. “Well, do you want to move or not?”

Rolling your eyes, you climbed off his lap and sprawled out on the couch, looking up at him expectantly. You were ready for whatever came next, your body still humming with anticipation. But Spencer did something completely unexpected.

Instead of wiping his hand off, as you had assumed he would, you watched as his gaze flickered down to the wetness covering his fingers. His brows furrowed slightly in curiosity, as if he were studying it. Before you could say anything, Spencer did the unfathomable—he brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly sliding them past his lips.

A deep, low moan escaped him as he tasted you, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he were savoring the taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, absolutely floored by the sight. Your heart raced, heat rushing through your body as you watched him, your own arousal building even higher. You couldn’t believe how much this innocent man was making you lose control.

“Fuck,” Spencer murmured when he finally pulled his now-clean fingers from his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste amazing.”

The look on your face must have been one of pure shock because Spencer quickly followed up with a concerned, “Was that okay?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Shut up right now and kiss me,” you said, your voice urgent and breathless.

Without missing a beat, Spencer leaned down, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was electric, fueled by the raw intensity of the moment. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, which only made you hungrier for him. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Spencer let out a low groan as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this level of desire, but with Spencer, everything felt heightened, like every touch and every kiss was sending shockwaves through you.

This was the filthiest, sloppiest, most passionate kiss either of you had ever shared with anyone. The intensity was palpable, your bodies pressed together so tightly it felt as though there wasn’t enough room in the world to contain the desire between you. You couldn’t get enough, your hands tugging at Spencer’s hair, sliding under his shirt to scratch his back, pinching his nipples, reveling in the way he responded—moaning into your mouth, his own hands gripping you with a hunger that mirrored yours.

It was hard to tell how long you kissed—minutes or hours, time seemed to blur—but eventually, Spencer pulled back, gasping for breath, his chest heaving. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of your hair spread out like a halo on the couch, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes darkened with lust and, though neither of you had said it yet, a glimmer of what could only be described as love.

“Darling,” he panted, his voice rough and thick with need, “can we go to your bed? I want to treat you this time.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were up in a flash, pulling your beautiful, sweet boyfriend with you, his hand wrapped in yours as you rushed toward your bedroom. You’d never moved so fast in your life, eager for what was to come, for the pleasure he promised.

Once in the bedroom, Spencer's hands wasted no time. He immediately tugged your shorts and underwear down, discarding them in a flash before pulling off your shirt with the same eagerness, leaving you completely bare before him. His eyes roamed over you with pure admiration, awe evident in every part of his expression.

“Did you get more beautiful?” he asked breathlessly, the sincerity of the compliment making you feel flushed.

You playfully slapped his chest, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up,” you teased, leaning up to kiss him as your hands found the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. But just as you reached for his pants, Spencer gently pushed you back down onto the bed.

“This is about you, my love.”

The words hung in the air, sweet and heavy with meaning. My love. It was new, but it felt right—natural, even. Before you could respond, Spencer pushed you onto the bed and lowered himself to your chest, his lips closing around one of your nipples. His mouth was soft, tender, at first, but then you felt his teeth sink in, sharp enough to make you gasp, a promise of the mark he was leaving behind.

Your back arched, pressing your body further into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you lost yourself in the feel of him—of his mouth, his hands, his love.

Spencer’s mouth continued its exploration, alternating between your breasts and sending warm pulses of pleasure through your body. His attention to detail was incredible, every touch, every kiss feeling like a deliberate act of worship. He took his time, caressing you as though you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed you, a mixture of tenderness and building desire swirling inside.

When his soft kisses finally began to descend down your stomach, a light giggle escaped your lips—it tickled, playful and gentle. But that laughter vanished the moment his lips found your inner thigh, sucking a mark into your sensitive skin. Spencer’s large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them open wide for him, his touch reverent but firm.

“Spen—Spencer,” you panted, glancing down at him. His big, beautiful brown eyes met yours, glazed with determination and lust, but also something tender. He kept his gaze locked on you as he kissed along your thigh, making your breath hitch. "Have you... done this before?"

He paused, releasing your thigh from his mouth with a small, almost playful pop. “No,” he admitted honestly, “but I have read plenty about the acts of cunnilingus, and I think I will be able to satisfy you. As long as you communicate with me, okay?”

The honesty in his voice, the seriousness of his intent, sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Spencer reached for one of your hands, which had been gripping the sheets so tightly. He held it gently, reassuring you, grounding you. You nodded eagerly, your breath coming out in shallow pants, giving him permission to continue.

And without further hesitation, Spencer dove back in, his kisses now dangerously close to your core. The anticipation was electrifying, and you could already tell—he was going to be good at this. Very good.

And good he was. The second Spencer's tongue touched you, it was like fireworks exploded behind your eyes, sending electricity shooting through your veins. The intensity of it all nearly overwhelmed you, especially when you heard his voice, low and mumbled against you. 

“Eyes on me,” he said, the words vibrating against you.

You forced your eyes open and looked down, the sight nearly sending you over the edge. Spencer, his head buried between your legs, met your gaze with intense eye contact as his tongue continued to explore you. The sensation, paired with the way he moaned into you, made your whole body tremble. It was impossible to deny how much he enjoyed it, the way he tasted you straight from the source, his pleasure evident in every sound and movement.

As phenomenal as it was, you still craved more stimulation. And Spencer had asked you to communicate, so you squeezed his hand, your voice shaky. “Baby?”

He hummed into you, the vibration making you whine and twitch involuntarily. “Can you... unghh—can you find the clit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused but also eager to show that his knowledge wasn’t just theoretical. Almost immediately, he hit the target, causing your body to jerk at the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Go–good,” you gasped, your voice thick with need. “Now suck.”

And he did.

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. The second you asked, he focused his attention on your clit, enveloping it gently between his lips. A low moan escaped his throat, vibrating against you as he began to suck softly, testing the waters. Your body jolted at the sensation, your back arching as an involuntary gasp tore through you.

"Yes, just like that..." you whispered breathlessly, your grip tightening on his hand, the other fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure rolled through you. It was overwhelming in the best way, and Spencer wasn’t just doing well—he was doing phenomenally. His tongue flicked and swirled as if with practiced precision, the moans he let out making everything ten times more intense.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips was bringing you higher, faster. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed, and the connection between you both in this moment felt almost sacred.

Your legs began to tremble, and your breathing grew more erratic. "Spence, I’m—oh my god, I'm so close," you whimpered, your hand instinctively moving to tangle in his hair, gripping tight as the pleasure threatened to push you over the edge.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes still locked onto yours, unwavering, making the moment even more intense. His grip on your hand tightened as if encouraging you to let go, to surrender to the pleasure completely.

And when his tongue applied just the right amount of pressure, his lips sucking gently but firmly on your clit, that tension finally snapped. Your body convulsed, a guttural moan escaping you as the orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

"That's it," Spencer murmured, his voice low and raspy, sounding both proud and a little in awe as he watched you unravel under him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, looking down at him with a dazed smile. He hadn't pulled away yet, still gently caressing your sensitive skin with the softest of kisses, making sure you were coming down from your high as gently as possible.

“Spencer...” you managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of disbelief and pure satisfaction. You hadn’t thought it possible, but he had completely exceeded your expectations.

He grinned up at you, his mouth still glistening with evidence of your release. “I guess the reading paid off, huh?” he teased, his voice full of affection and just a hint of smugness.

You chuckled weakly, your whole body still tingling with aftershocks. "Oh, it definitely paid off..."

“Earth to Y/N,” Spencer teased, coming up beside you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His warm breath tickled your skin as he added with a soft laugh, “Are you alright?”

You blinked out of your daze, still recovering from the incredible experience, and turned to look at him with wide, astonished eyes. “Anytime you need a study buddy," you said, your voice filled with awe, "anytime, you call me."

Spencer chuckled, his cheeks tinged pink as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a wink.

After you returned to earth, Spencer gently helped you up and led you to the bathroom, drawing a warm, soothing bath. He carefully eased you both into the tub, your back resting against his chest, the comforting warmth of the water surrounding you. The intimacy of the moment was in the simplicity of it—just the two of you, cocooned in the peaceful, quiet space.

As you both settled in, the conversation flowed naturally, a mix of everything and nothing. Spencer told you more details about his extensive schooling, sharing amusing stories about his early university days, while you, in turn, told him about how you ended up adopting Poof, your beloved cat.

At one point, Spencer furrowed his brow, realizing something. “Speaking of, where is Poof?” he asked, looking around as if your mischievous cat might suddenly appear. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while.”

You giggled, your hand absently stroking Spencer's leg beneath the water as you explained. “Oh, he’s become the building cat," you said with affection in your voice. "The townhouses are connected by fire escapes in the back, and Poof likes to explore. He moves back and forth between the different houses. I guess you’ve just been missing him.”

Spencer chuckled softly, resting his chin on your shoulder, clearly intrigued. “A little adventurer, huh? Well, hopefully, I’ll catch him in action one of these days.”

You smiled, leaning back more into him, feeling completely at ease as the two of you basked in the comfortable rhythm of your conversation and the quiet warmth of the water.

—

Spencer sat stiffly in the chair across from Chief Strauss’ desk, his hands folded in his lap as he waited for whatever new torment she had in store for him. He was sure his tests were clean, they always were. But he also knew Strauss had been gunning for him for years now, and this meeting was likely just another way to shake him down, to keep him on edge.

As he stared at the piles of neatly stacked papers on her desk, Strauss held up a finger, signaling for him to wait as she answered an incoming call. Spencer huffed internally, trying to push down the frustration bubbling up inside him. But when she answered the phone, something about her tone caught his attention.

"Chief Strauss," she said, her voice all business at first, but then, to Spencer’s shock, a smile broke out across her face. "Oh, hi, Red, how are you, dear?"

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing slightly. Red? It couldn’t be…could it? His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of it. The name, the affectionate tone—it sounded eerily similar to the nickname you had mentioned your aunt called you. But that was just a coincidence, right? 

Strauss continued her conversation, oblivious to Spencer’s sudden change in demeanor. "Yes, yes, of course. I’ll make sure it gets done. Oh, and how is little Poof doing?"

Spencer's heart stopped. Poof? No. There was no way this could be a coincidence now. His mind raced as he pieced it together. Red … Poof …Your aunt. His eyes widened in realization, but he kept his face neutral, trying not to betray the wave of shock crashing over him.

Strauss glanced at him briefly as she continued her conversation, still smiling. Spencer's thoughts were spinning. Was your aunt Erin Strauss?

Spencer was spiraling, his mind whirling with disbelief as Chief Strauss hung up the phone, turning her attention back to him. He was trying to maintain composure, but it was like everything around him was crumbling. She had called you Red. She had mentioned Poof. It was all too much.

“So, Reid,” Strauss began, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her. Her tone shifted back to business. “How have you been managing? With the recovery, I mean. I understand the tests have been clean, but I want to know how you’re really doing.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. His nerves were already shot, and now with this revelation about you weighing on him, he couldn’t hold back. His voice came out sharper than he intended.

“Why does it even matter?” Spencer snapped, glaring at her. “You’ve been waiting for me to slip up, to fail. You never believed in my recovery from the start.”

Strauss raised an eyebrow, her expression hardening. "I’m trying to protect you, Reid, as much as I’m trying to protect others from you."

Spencer's stomach twisted. “Protect me? From what exactly? You’ve been gunning for me ever since I admitted to my addiction. You hate me.” His voice shook, his frustration bubbling over.

Strauss took a deep breath, her face softening, but her words cut deep. "I don’t hate you, Spencer. But I know what addiction can do to a person, to a family."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, his voice thick with suspicion. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"My sister and her husband," Strauss said, her voice wavering slightly, "they died from drugs. Overdosed. My niece is an addict too, lost to us."

Spencer felt a chill wash over him, and his voice dropped as he asked, "Y/N’s parents?"

Strauss swallowed thickly, nodding, her eyes momentarily flicking away from his. "Yes. And do you think I’m going to stand by and watch her get hurt again? Watch another person she cares about spiral into that life?" Her gaze locked back onto Spencer’s, now filled with a fierce determination. "No, Spencer. I’m not going to let you ruin her life like her father did."

The words hit Spencer like a physical blow, leaving him breathless. His heart raced, anger and guilt twisting together painfully in his chest. This threat—Strauss’s belief that he was a danger to you, that his history with addiction made him a risk—was like a punch to the gut.

"I’m not him," Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. "I’m not going to hurt her."

Strauss’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "I hope you’re right, Reid. But I can’t afford to take chances when it comes to her. Not after everything she’s been through. So, yes, the drug tests stay. And if I see one misstep, I won’t hesitate to remove you from this team, or from her life."

Spencer felt his anger boil over, his fists clenched as he leaned forward in the chair. “You can’t stop me from seeing her, we’re both adults. You have no right to interfere.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, calm in the face of his anger. Her voice was low, but it cut through the room with precision. “Does she know about your addiction, Spencer?”

The question hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, and Spencer froze. His face told her everything she needed to know—he hadn’t told you. 

Strauss’s lips curled slightly, not in triumph but in grim acknowledgment. “Then you better not mess up,” she said, her voice cold and menacing.

Spencer stood up abruptly, the air feeling suffocating in her office. He was furious—not just with Strauss, but with himself. He knew he’d been holding something back from you, just as you had from him. He hadn’t told you about his past, hadn’t opened up about his addiction, the demons he fought to keep buried. And now he was in this twisted position, where your aunt knew more about him than you did.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

He stormed out of Strauss’s office, his heart racing, feeling cornered in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was upset that you hadn’t told him who your aunt was, hadn’t trusted him with that part of your life. But deep down, he knew he was no better. He had held back too—out of fear, out of shame.

As he left the building and stepped out into the cold air, Spencer’s mind whirled. He had to talk to you. He had to come clean before everything unraveled. You both deserved the truth.

—

You knocked on Spencer’s door that evening, a bottle of wine tucked under your arm and a loaf of fresh French bread in your hand. You’d spent the afternoon preparing his favorite pasta dish, hoping for a quiet, cozy night together after the busy week you both had. When Spencer opened the door, you gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

But the look on Spencer’s face made your heart drop. His eyes were dark, his expression serious. The atmosphere was heavy, and you could tell immediately that something was wrong. 

“When were you going to tell me that Strauss is your aunt?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. 

You froze, the smile fading from your face. “What?”

“I found out today,” Spencer continued, stepping aside to let you in but not looking at you. “From her, actually. I thought... I thought we were being honest with each other.”

You sighed, setting down the wine and bread on his kitchen counter, turning to face him. “Spence, I was going to tell you. I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” His eyes searched yours, looking for an explanation that could make this better, that could ease the confusion and frustration swirling in his mind.

You ran a hand through your hair, fidgeting slightly. “Scared because you work for her. I didn’t want things to get complicated or messy between you two. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping it from you on purpose.”

Spencer’s face softened slightly as he processed your words, but he still didn’t seem fully convinced. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, though? I wouldn’t have cared about who your aunt is, I care about you.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer to him, reaching for his hands. “I know, Spencer. I know. I just… I didn’t want things to get weird at work for you. And honestly, I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’ve been afraid of how it might change things, I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed a little as he listened to your explanation. He squeezed your hands, a silent gesture of understanding. He could see the sincerity in your eyes, the hesitation that wasn’t born out of deceit but out of fear of complicating things for both of you. 

“I get it,” Spencer said softly after a moment. “I just… I don’t want us to keep things from each other. It’s important to me that we’re open.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands back. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Spencer smiled slightly, his frustration easing. He let out a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his body. For a moment, he considered telling you about his past—about the addiction, the drug tests, everything that Strauss had thrown at him earlier. But when he looked into your eyes, remembering the way you spoke about your family, the raw pain in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. He didn’t want to burden you with it, not when things were finally starting to feel right between you.

“Let’s just... enjoy dinner,” Spencer finally said, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulled you closer into a hug. “I’m sorry for bringing it up like that. I should’ve waited.”

You sighed in relief, burying your face in his chest. “No, I’m glad you did. I don’t want to keep anything from you either.”

You both held each other for a moment longer, letting the tension fade as the warmth of your embrace brought back a sense of normalcy. Spencer kissed the top of your head before stepping back and heading into the kitchen, ready to move forward, even if some things were still left unsaid—for now.

—

Just a few weeks later, Spencer finally had a full weekend off, he decided it was the perfect opportunity for a little getaway. He packed up everything—yourself, Poof, and plenty of supplies—and whisked you away to a cozy Airbnb nestled by the lake. 

You could hardly contain your excitement, bubbling over at the thought of spending uninterrupted time with your two favorite guys. Spencer had asked you to drive while he took charge of navigation, and the car ride was nothing short of a delight. 

“Turn left here, darling,” Spencer instructed with an air of confidence.

"Are you sure it’s not right?" you teased, feigning confusion as you gripped the wheel.

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’m positive. I do have an eidetic memory, you know.”

“Well, if we get lost, I’m holding that memory of yours accountable!” you shot back playfully, a smile spreading across both your faces.

When you finally pulled up to the lake house, you couldn't help but gasp. It was picturesque—a beautiful, quaint cabin surrounded by towering trees, with the glistening lake stretching out in the background. 

The look of pride on Spencer’s face at your reaction made your heart swell. You were completely and utterly in love. As you stood there, taking in the stunning view and the sheer thoughtfulness of his planning, you felt like this weekend was the right moment to finally tell him how you truly felt.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Spencer moved seamlessly through the cozy kitchen, putting together the perfect comfort meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Poof danced happily around your feet, always at the ready for any fallen scraps. The two of you playfully bumped hips, stole soup-covered kisses, and teased each other in the warm glow of the cabin’s lights.

After dinner, which was full of laughter and mock arguments over who could make the better grilled cheese, you cleared the table together, setting up a chessboard for a battle of wits. You knew Spencer was a prodigy, but still, you had hope. The first few rounds were... well, an obvious defeat. But then, to your surprise, you managed to win. Once. Twice. And then three times in a row! What you didn’t know was that Spencer was letting you win, his resolve crumbling at the sight of your frustrated pout. He’d pretend to mull over a move for far longer than needed, before “accidentally” making a poor choice that would lead to your victory.

Eventually, you’d had enough of the mental sparring, and Spencer’s kisses grew softer and deeper. Together, you moved outside to the wooden deck, wrapped up under a blanket, the stars reflecting in the lake’s glassy surface. The night air was crisp and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing your cheeks as you cuddled closer. 

Spencer pointed upward, tracing his finger along the sky, excitedly talking about constellations, their names, and the myths behind them. But you weren’t looking at the stars—your eyes were on him, captivated by the way his face glowed in the moonlight, his passion lighting up every word he spoke.

Without thinking, feeling overwhelmed by the moment and the deep love that filled your chest, you whispered, “I love you.”

The words felt like they hung in the air, sparkling and true under the canopy of stars.

Spencer’s face lit up as he tilted down toward you, and in that moment, it seemed as if the stars had all come to rest in his eyes, twinkling brightly with wonder and adoration. His voice was soft but filled with an almost childlike excitement, the kind reserved for a Christmas morning surprise, “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, voice steady, your gaze never wavering from his, allowing the truth of your feelings to shine through. 

He swallowed, searching your eyes as if trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. “You love me?” he asked again, needing the confirmation, the words sounding so surreal to him.

“I love you, Spencer Walter Reid,” you declared, each word measured and intentional, and you watched as joy transformed his features, his eyes closing briefly in overwhelming happiness.

The next thing you felt was Spencer’s lips on yours, pressing gently at first, the kiss filled with all the tenderness and unspoken words you’d both kept hidden until now. It was sweet, slow, and beautiful, and you could feel Spencer trembling slightly, as if holding back everything he wanted to say with his lips alone. He pulled back just a breath, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispered with a trembling smile, “I love you too.”

And then he dove back in for more—kisses deeper, breaths heavier. Your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers tracing the contours of your back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you. What started as slow and sweet quickly turned heated, and Spencer’s kisses grew hungrier, his tongue tasting every part of your mouth, his hands wandering further down.

It was only when you felt the cool night air on your exposed skin that you giggled and gently pulled back, breathing heavily against his lips. “We’re outside, baby,” you murmured, your voice a mix of breathlessness and warning.

Spencer hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and with a playful smirk, he pulled you to your feet, not letting your lips part from his. “Then we’d better get inside,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the promise of more lingering in the air as he led you toward the warmth of the cabin, hands intertwined, the night just beginning.

As you were guided along by Spencer's eager hand, your laughter filled the small cabin, echoing off the wooden beams of the cozy bedroom. The room itself was warm, glowing with the soft hues of amber light from the fireplace, its crackling flames adding to the perfect atmosphere. The bed looked irresistibly inviting, its blankets perfectly rumpled in a way that made you want to dive right in. But what really made the room perfect was Spencer—his face lighting up in a way you’d rarely seen before, his exaggerated wink playful and filled with the purest joy. 

When Spencer sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his arms out for you, you wasted no time stepping into his embrace, your body molding perfectly into the space between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning into the warmth of him. He buried his face in your chest, his voice muffled but filled with emotion as he mumbled, “I love you so much.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head as you teased softly, “I love you more.”

Spencer shook his head immediately, hair brushing your chin and sending little shivers down your spine. “Not possible,” he declared, his voice firm, like he was making a statement that was undeniable.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby,” you taunted lightly, trying to stifle the grin that was spreading across your face. But Spencer pulled back, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel like the only person in the world. 

A look of challenge danced across his features, his brows lifting as he quirked a smirk at you. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, voice deepening with a teasing edge.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing, a playful glint in your eyes. And in a flash, Spencer’s face morphed into one of mischievous determination. “Oh, you little—” he began, his voice dripping with affectionate frustration as he quickly flipped your positions, pushing you back onto the bed and towering over you.

“Spencer!” you squealed in laughter, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him as he tossed his shirt aside without a second thought, revealing his smooth chest. He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your head, and his face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“Shh,” he whispered with a smirk, “I have to show you how much I love you.” And with those words, you knew that every second of this weekend together would be filled with a love so fierce, so genuine, that it was going to be impossible not to fall for him all over again.

Spencer's mouth moved eagerly down your neck, his lips trailing soft, warm kisses that made your skin tingle in their wake. He nipped at your earlobe, tugging it gently between his teeth, and the sensation drew a light, breathy moan from you, your back arching ever so slightly into him. The sound seemed to spur him on, and he continued his descent, pausing to suck gently on your pulse point as his hands explored your sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist.

When his hands found the hem of your top, he slowly pushed it upward, his palms grazing your ribs, sending shivers through you. You let out a sigh, already feeling yourself melt under his touch, and obediently raised your arms so he could remove the fabric entirely, leaving you bare from the waist up. Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, and you could see the way his lips parted slightly as he took you in, your form illuminated by the soft glow of the room.

“No bra?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice, though his gaze was nothing short of reverent as it roved over your body. One brow quirked up in curiosity, his lips twitching in a smirk.

You laughed, a breathy, contented sound, shrugging as you met his gaze. “I’m on vacation.”

Spencer's smirk widened, and he nosed his way down between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. His lips brushed against your skin in a whisper of a kiss. “I knew it was a good idea bringing you here,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with want and affection. 

And as he continued his exploration of your body with his mouth and hands, you were filled with warmth and a sense of belonging, knowing that this was exactly where you were meant to be—with him.

The sensation of Spencer’s mouth on your skin sent sparks throughout your body, your breath hitching as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking gently. You arched your back instinctively, pressing yourself closer to his mouth, wanting more, needing more. He hummed contentedly, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure right through you. 

His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, switching between flicking and gentle sucking that had you gripping the sheets beneath you, your fingers twisting into the soft fabric as your eyes fluttered shut. Every movement was slow, deliberate, and filled with devotion, as if he was determined to savor every second of your pleasure. 

As he worshiped your breast, his free hand trailed down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, fingers feather-light against your skin. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of your shorts, and when his fingers brushed the waistband, your hips bucked upward, desperate for more contact. 

Spencer’s lips left your breast with a soft pop, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered against your skin, “You taste so good... I could do this forever.”

His words, filled with awe and passion, made you moan in response, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you. And you didn't want him to stop; you wanted every touch, every kiss, every second of his attention to be on you, completely and utterly lost in the moment together.

Spencer’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply, hungrily, as if he was trying to pour all the love he felt into every brush and caress. You sighed into his mouth, your own hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. And then, as if reading your mind, you felt his hand venture downward, fingers slipping under the waistband of your bottoms, and you gasped at the intimate touch, the sensation so electric it made your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed against your lips, his voice heavy with awe and desire. “You’re so wet.”

The sound of his voice saying those words sent a shiver straight through your core, and you whined softly, squirming under his touch, desperate for more. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking his fingers, trying to guide him where you needed him most. “Spence, baby,” you whined again, your voice breathy and pleading as you pressed kisses to his jaw, “please...”

His eyes met yours, dark and full of hunger, and he gave you a little smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers teased just outside your lips, keeping you on the edge of wanting. “Let me hear you say it.”

Your breath hitched, his teasing making you ache with longing. “I need you, Spence,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I need you to touch me, please.” 

He hummed approvingly against your mouth, giving you a tender kiss before letting his fingers dip down, finally giving you what you so desperately craved. His touch was slow, deliberate, but his eyes never left yours, wanting to see every reaction as his fingers entered you.

You had anticipated the gentle, lingering touches from the last time, but Spencer had other plans. The tenderness was gone in an instant, replaced by an urgent, almost primal need to make you fall apart in his hands. The pace he set was relentless—his fingers moved in and out of you hard and fast, pushing deeper each time, and the sensation of his palm rubbing against you with every thrust was electrifying.

“Spencer—oh god!” you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you in a white-knuckled grasp. He wasn’t just touching you—he was consuming you, each movement of his hand pulling you closer and closer to the edge, a chaotic frenzy that left you breathless. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

His lips crashed against yours in a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth, as he groaned into your mouth. “I love watching you like this,” he whispered against your lips before sucking on your lower one, his voice a low, heady drawl. “Falling apart on my fingers...”

The overwhelming sensation of Spencer’s fingers moving within you, the roughness of his palm pressing against you just right with every thrust, made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, desperate for more, nails digging into his back, dragging red lines down his skin. You could barely speak, your words spilling out in choked, breathless cries. “Spencer—fuck—”

He leaned down, his mouth right at your ear, his breath hot as he spoke, voice dripping with husky intensity. “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded fervently, unable to form coherent words as you surrendered to the relentless pleasure. “Uh huh,” you managed to pant out, a whimper escaping your lips as your hips bucked wildly to meet the rhythm of his hand. 

His grin was wicked as he watched you unravel beneath him, knowing exactly how his touch was driving you to the edge. His fingers never faltered, pushing deeper and faster, and the friction of his palm rubbing against your sensitive skin was enough to make you tremble. “I can feel you tightening up around me,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust. “Are you gonna come for me, love?”

You let out a desperate, needy moan, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, and all you could do was nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut as the coil inside you tightened, ready to snap. “Yes, yes, I’m—I'm so close—”

You felt dizzy with the rush of it all, the world around you spinning as he drove you further toward that cliff of pure, euphoric release. You weren't sure how long you could hold out; your body felt on fire, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming. Each breath was a gasp, each moan louder than the last, and all you could think about was how badly you needed to fall over that edge. “Spence—I’m gonna—I can’t—”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough and laced with raw desire. “Let go, Y/N. Come for me, right now.” His pace quickened even further, and you knew you wouldn’t last a second longer. And you didn’t, completely unraveling at his words, your body arching up into his as waves of pleasure surged through you. Your moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained, and he never stopped, his fingers working you through the intensity of your release.

You trembled beneath him, your legs shaking as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you. Spencer looked at you, eyes filled with pride and wonder, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you coming undone because of him.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, gently caressing your trembling thighs as you caught your breath. He brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he cleaned them off with his tongue, tasting you again. The sight sent a renewed thrill through you, and all you could do was reach up and pull him down for a hungry kiss, needing to feel him against you, to taste yourself on his lips.

“Thought you couldn’t finish like that?” Spencer teased, his voice low and playful, recalling the first time he'd touched you like this.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head in pure bliss. “I didn’t think I could,” you admitted with a grin. Then, in a teasing tone, you added, “Have you been practicing? Should I be worried?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, and he quickly looked away, suddenly bashful. “N-nope. I just—uh, did some... research.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back another laugh as you saw the shyness in his eyes. “Research, huh?” you asked, leaning in closer. “What kind of research, Doctor? Did you... watch porn?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe... a little,” he admitted in a soft mumble. “But only to—to learn, for you,” he added quickly, his eyes meeting yours with genuine sincerity.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm, affectionate sound as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. “Oh, my sweet genius,” you teased gently, cupping his face and turning him back to look at you. “You did all that research just for me? That’s so... adorable.”

His eyes finally met yours, a mixture of pride and lingering shyness in his expression. “It worked, then?” he asked cautiously, almost as if he needed reassurance.

“Oh, it definitely worked,” you replied, grinning widely before leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “And for the record,” you murmured against his lips, “if you want to keep up the research, I’m all for it.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his earlier nerves melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “In that case,” he said, a playful gleam in his eye, “I have a few more things I could show you.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Whatcha got for me, big boy?”

The nickname made him blush a deep pink, but he just rolled his eyes in that familiar, affectionate way before letting his hands roam down to your hips. With gentle care, he slipped off your bottoms, leaving you bare before him. You stayed silent, feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation flood through you as Spencer stood and began to remove the rest of his clothes.

The moment his pants came off, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening at the sight before you. “Spence?” you breathed out, your voice filled with both surprise and desire.

He grinned sheepishly, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the boyish excitement behind his eyes. Then, as if remembering something important, he reached down into his pants pocket and pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up with a charming smile and revealing a condom.

“I thought... I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady but filled with tenderness.

Your smile softened at his words, and you felt your heart swell with warmth and affection. “Yeah?” you replied sweetly, opening your arms to him. “I’m ready too.”

Spencer crawled back onto the bed, moving into your embrace, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in closer, and with so much love in his voice, he whispered, “I want you to be my first.”

Your hand caressed his cheek, your thumb gently brushing against his soft skin. “Hopefully your last too,” you whispered back, sealing your words with a deep, passionate kiss, your bodies melting together under the glow of the soft lamplight.

“Do you need help putting the condom on, baby?” you asked, your voice sweet and full of kindness.

Spencer's cheeks flushed a light pink as he shook his head. “I, uh, I might have practiced,” he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart swelling with even more affection. “How is it possible to keep loving you more and more every second?” you asked, the sincerity clear in your voice.

Spencer chuckled, leaning in to kiss you deeply, letting his lips linger against yours for a moment before he pulled back. He focused intently on rolling the condom on, and you found the way he bit his tongue in concentration absolutely endearing. It was a small detail, but it only made you fall deeper for him. 

When he finished, he looked back up at you, his eyes filled with that gentle, earnest love you’d come to know so well. “How do you want me?” you asked softly, wanting to make this perfect for him, for both of you.

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and his hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth. “I want to see you, all of you.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, opening your legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, your bodies close and your hearts even closer.

As Spencer’s tip teased through your slick folds, you couldn't help but let out a high, keening sound, the sensation electrifying. Spencer’s own response was a low groan, the vibration of his voice adding to the intensity between you. 

His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to keep control, feeling how ready you were for him. “I’m... probably not going to last long,” he admitted, his voice laced with nervousness and excitement.

You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his gaze to yours, offering the softest smile. “I don’t care, Spence,” you said, your voice steady and full of love. “I just want to be with you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and he nodded, more to himself than to you, as if to reassure his own nerves. Slowly, carefully, he lined himself up, and with a gentle, deep breath, he began to push in. 

The feeling was overwhelming for both of you — he was entranced by the heat and tightness enveloping him, and you were spellbound by the fullness of having him inside you for the first time. You both let out soft gasps, your hands finding his as you squeezed tightly, tethering each other through the rush of emotion and sensation. 

He paused for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against yours as you both breathed together, as one. “You feel… unbelievable,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve never been this full,” you moaned, your voice thick with pleasure and awe at the way he stretched and filled you so perfectly. 

“Shit, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his hips already making shallow, instinctual thrusts as he tried to hold himself back. “You can’t say that—” he panted, feeling your words shoot straight through him. “This will be over way too fast.” He looked down at you, the flush of his cheeks meeting the pink of his lips, and the way his face was contorted in bliss made you tighten around him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was falling apart so easily was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his control slipping as he pounded a fist into the pillow beside your head, burying his face against your neck for a moment. “Can I—can I move?” His breath was ragged and desperate. “I need to move. Please.”

You nodded frantically, needing him just as much, your hands sliding down his back to grip his hips, urging him to let go. “Fuck me, Spence,” you whispered right against his ear, your voice soft yet commanding. And that was all the permission he needed. 

He started moving, pulling out just enough to feel the drag of your walls before thrusting back in, his rhythm quick and needy. He was lost in the feeling of you, and each movement sent waves of pleasure through both of you, driving him closer to the edge with every stroke.

Spencer’s hips moved steadily, finding a rhythm that left both of you breathless. He surprised himself, really, the way his body instinctively knew how to take care of you, how to give you everything he could in each thrust. The intensity between you built, hot and fast, with every roll of his hips, with every gasp and moan that filled the small, cozy room.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, anchoring him to you like you never wanted to let go. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing his forehead against yours as the pleasure built between you, the closeness of your bodies only deepening the connection you felt. “I love you,” you whispered right into his ear, your voice trembling as you said the words that were so true and so filled with emotion it made your eyes sting with happy tears.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his breath hitching before he responded, “I love you too, darling.” And then he kissed you—deeply, passionately, like you were his entire world and nothing else mattered. His lips moved with urgency, soft and fervent, as his pace quickened, thrusting deeper and more desperate, as if he was pouring everything he felt into you, wanting you to feel every bit of his love with each motion. The world outside seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, wrapped in love and warmth and the sweetest kind of bliss.

Spencer's mind was racing, but finally, his instincts kicked in, sending him a signal—an idea of exactly what you needed. He wanted to make sure that you felt everything, that he was giving you all the pleasure he could. With a slight adjustment, he pulled back just enough to slide a hand down to where the two of you met, his fingers deftly finding your clit and rubbing in quick, steady circles.

“Oh!” you cried out, your whole body jolting with the sudden burst of pleasure. Your back arched high off the bed, presenting your chest to Spencer like a gift he was eager to receive. Without a moment’s hesitation, his mouth found your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking, the combination of sensations sending sparks down to your very core.

The feeling was overwhelming—Spencer’s hips driving into you in a rhythm that felt just right, his fingers working you to the brink, and his mouth hot and wet on your sensitive skin. Your moans filled the room, your fingers burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer as your entire body trembled, the edge of release so close you could almost taste it.

“Oh my god—oh, god!” you screamed, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to its peak. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” And then it hit—your core clenched around Spencer with such intensity that he nearly lost his rhythm, almost slipping out of you as your body reached its climax. 

And if Spencer thought you felt amazing before, now? Now, with your release, everything felt heightened, your walls fluttering around him, tightening and then loosening in waves that left him gasping. The slickness of your arousal made every thrust so much easier, so much more electric, that it sent shockwaves through his entire body. It wasn’t long before the overwhelming sensation tipped him over the edge, and his pace grew erratic, desperate, until he reached his own peak.

“Oh, fuck,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure as he thrust one last time, burying himself as deeply as he could. “Shit, baby, fuck, I—I’m coming,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut as he let go, every muscle in his body tensing before his release washed over him in shuddering waves.

His head fell to the crook of your neck as he finished, holding you close, both of you breathless and trembling in the aftershocks, your bodies slick with sweat and blissed out from the intensity of it all. Spencer stayed there, still buried inside of you, both of you just holding each other in the soft glow of the room, relishing the warmth, the closeness, the love.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blissful haze, wrapped in kisses, long cuddles, and moments of intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. Spencer shared his own stories, some quirky, some heartfelt, while you let him into corners of your past that had remained sealed for years.

One evening, as you were snuggled into his chest, the comforting scent of him surrounding you, you whispered something that had been tugging at the edges of your mind all weekend. “Aunt Erin started the nickname Red…” you murmured, your voice soft against the rise and fall of Spencer’s breathing. He said nothing but tightened his arms around you, letting you know he was listening. 

“But Mom and Dad called me Red too,” you continued, voice cracking slightly at the memories. “For Mom, it was a term of endearment, something she shared with her sister. It felt special... warm.” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “But for Dad… it was manipulative. He used it like some sort of charm, thinking if he called me by a special name, I’d forget everything—the pain, the anger—and welcome him back with open arms.” You swallowed, feeling the lump in your throat. “And then my sister... she started using it too. Only when she needed something—money, a place to crash. For a long time, it was tainted for me, a reminder of everything I wanted to forget.”

Spencer’s thumb stroked soothingly over your arm as you spoke, his quiet presence grounding you. “But you… you revived it for me,” you said finally, looking up into his warm, understanding eyes. “When you call me Red, it feels like it means something good again.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “I’ll always make sure it means something good. I promise.” 

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and contentment washing over you. In that little lakeside haven, all that existed was the two of you and the love you shared—everything else just melted away.

—

The trip was exactly what both of you needed. A chance to unwind, to just be together without the pressures of everyday life. When you returned the next day, Spencer was quick to ask if you could drop Poof off at your place and then come back to his apartment. He claimed it was just in case he got called away for a case in the middle of the night and needed to be near his things. But you knew better—it was really because he loved the way his sheets smelled like you when you were gone.

You didn’t argue, though. After all, the feeling was mutual, and you cherished any excuse to be wrapped up in Spencer’s space. So you made the trip back home, feeding Poof, and then promptly returned to his place to settle in for a relaxed night. The morning came too quickly, and he left for work with a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead and a spare key taped to the fridge with a note: “For whenever you need it. –S.”

Later, after you finally pulled yourself from the cozy bed and began to get ready for your day, you found yourself wandering around Spencer’s apartment, making coffee and searching for your favorite sweatshirt of his—the one that was ridiculously oversized, the one you loved to wrap yourself up in. Usually, it was draped over the back of the couch or hanging near the door, but today it was nowhere to be seen.

Thinking it might have just ended up back in his closet, you made your way there, rummaging through his neatly hung clothes. And there it was, folded on a shelf like it had been waiting for you. You reached for the familiar fabric, feeling the comforting softness in your hands, but as you moved it, something else caught your eye—a small box tucked away behind the stack of sweaters.

Your stomach twisted into knots when you read the label: Dilaudid

No. No, no, no. You felt your blood run cold, and for a moment, you were on autopilot. Hands trembling, you reached for the box and placed it on the bed, the world around you narrowing to just that single object. When you opened the lid, a flurry of papers greeted you—hospital discharge summaries, case files, rehab forms, and NA slips—all bearing Spencer’s name. Each one a piece of a puzzle you didn’t know existed, each one revealing a part of Spencer you had never seen before.

Your breathing grew shallow as you flipped through them, the weight of their contents heavy in your hands, in your heart. You knew what all of this meant; you'd lived through the nightmare of addiction with your own family. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to send your world spiraling, you found it—an unopened needle and a vial of Dilaudid. Enough to kill someone, enough to hurt, enough to drag someone back into the darkness you'd spent your whole life trying to escape.

Your world felt like it had tilted on its axis, everything you knew and trusted suddenly thrown into question. One thing you knew for certain—you couldn’t spend another second in Spencer’s apartment. You needed space to think, and every second you stayed in the apartment, surrounded by the echoes of this newfound reality, the more suffocating it felt. 

Quickly, you collected your things—your bag, your phone, absolutely not the sweatshirt that now felt so wrong to hold—and with a trembling hand, you grabbed the key Spencer had left on the fridge. As you locked the door behind you, a cold finality settled in, but then you just stood there, staring at the little gold key in your hand, paralyzed by indecision.

Do I leave it? Take it? Do I even want to come back here? Could there possibly be a good reason for why Spencer had kept this from me, for why he had hidden this massive part of himself? Your thoughts spiraled, but you couldn’t find a single strand to cling to.

Finally, shaking your head, you made your decision. You slid the key under the door, hearing the tiny scrape of metal on wood as it disappeared into the apartment you had thought was your safe place. And then you ran, down the stairs, through the lobby, to your car. You didn’t let yourself feel anything until you were back in your own home, the door shutting behind you like the closing of a chapter you didn’t know if you could reopen.

Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest and sobbed. All the memories came rushing back—the nights of worry, the fear of losing someone to the relentless pull of addiction, the feeling of not knowing what each day would bring. Even if Spencer wasn’t using now, even if this was something from his past, it didn’t stop the memories of your family from crashing over you like a tidal wave, dragging you under.

Poof, sensing your distress, padded over to you and rubbed his warm body against you, a small comfort in the chaos. He curled up in your lap, purring as you wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady your ragged breathing.

After what felt like hours, when the tears had finally slowed to silent streams, you wanted to call Aunt Erin, to demand answers, to understand. But the thought of telling her how you found out—of potentially risking Spencer’s job and livelihood—made you hesitate. And so you stayed there, on the floor of your apartment, crying softly as Poof purred in your lap, the comforting vibration of his presence the only thing grounding you in that moment.

—

Spencer had been looking forward to this moment all day—the idea of coming home to you, imagining what it would be like to share a space, to fall into that soft domesticity he craved so much. He fumbled with his keys, finally getting the door open, and stepped inside. “Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the empty apartment. No response. Maybe you were napping? “Darling?” he tried again, a little louder this time, hoping to hear your sweet voice drift in from another room.

The silence felt heavy, like something was wrong, but Spencer tried not to jump to conclusions. He wandered to the bedroom to change, figuring he could call you and ask if you were just out running an errand. But when he walked in, he immediately saw it—the box. It sat wide open on the bed, papers scattered as if someone had frantically sifted through it. 

All the air seemed to leave the room in that moment. Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat heavy and frantic, echoing in his ears as if the walls themselves were closing in. He rushed to the bed, hands shaking as he tried to close the box, to somehow undo what had been done. But it was too late. You had found it. You knew.

Fumbling for his phone, he tried calling you, hand slick with sweat as he pressed your contact and held it to his ear. The line rang, and rang, and rang until your voicemail picked up. “Hey, it’s Y/N, leave a message and—” Beep. 

He tried again, then again, desperation mounting with each missed call. “Y/N, please call me back. Just—just call me back, okay?” Each voice message grew more frantic, more pleading as he left you one after another, interspersed with shaky, jumbled texts trying to explain, trying to beg for a chance to talk.

Eventually, when it was clear you weren’t going to answer, Spencer felt his heart sink to depths he hadn’t known existed. You had shut him out. He was drowning in his own panic, guilt clawing at his insides like a living thing, and he felt like he had nowhere to go—no way to reach you, no way to make this right.

Swallowing thickly, and feeling like his pride was an irrelevant casualty in the wake of losing you, he called the only person who might know how to get through to you. “Agent Reid?” Strauss's voice was clipped, professional, and instantly cold. 

He tried to speak, but his voice cracked on the first word. “Strauss, it’s—it's Y/N, she found... everything. It was an accident. Please, just—can you check on her? I don't know where she is, I—” His voice broke, desperation clawing through the line.

Strauss let out a long, slow sigh. “You’re a moron,” she said simply, and then the line went dead. No reassurance. No promise to help. And that silence was the worst of all.

That night, Spencer barely moved from his spot on the bed. He sat, still fully dressed in his work clothes, the fabric wrinkling under the weight of his exhaustion as he curled around his phone, holding onto it like a lifeline. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot from the tears that he couldn’t stop, the grief for what he feared he’d lost seeping into every pore. 

The box still sat on the bed, its presence an accusation. A reminder of everything he had hidden, everything he might now lose. And in that moment, it felt like the walls of his apartment were closing in, trapping him in the silence of his own regret.

The morning light brought no solace to Spencer as he dragged himself out of bed, the weight of the previous day hanging over him like a storm cloud. His eyes were gritty and raw from the lack of sleep, his mouth dry as he went through the motions of getting ready for work, each step automatic. Splash water on the face. Brush teeth. Dress. His phone sat on the counter, silent—no new messages from you. Just the one from Strauss.

My office, first thing.

The words filled him with dread, and as he walked into the office, each step felt like he was dragging lead weights tied to his feet. When he reached Strauss’s office, she was already seated behind her desk, her expression a vicious, unreadable mask. He took the chair across from her, his back stiff as he prepared for the worst. 

“I spoke with Y/N,” Strauss said, her voice clipped, cutting like ice. Even just hearing your name was a punch to the gut. He winced, bracing himself. He had to know—whatever the truth was, he had to hear it. “And?” he managed to ask, the word barely a whisper, as if speaking louder would make it all too real.

Strauss’s gaze was sharp, unforgiving. “I’m not speaking as your unit chief when I say this—you fucked up, Spencer.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Spencer’s worst fear was crashing down around him. He could already feel the numbness setting in, dulling the pain, shutting down every emotion except the guilt that gnawed at his insides like acid. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Strauss continued, and though the words were steady and cold, each one landed like a bullet. 

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. There was nothing else to say, nothing to do but stand and leave, holding on to the last shred of composure he had left. Every step out of Strauss’s office was heavier than the last, each stride echoing in his ears as he made his way to his desk. He threw himself into his work with ferocity, desperate for a distraction, any distraction, to fill the void.

Meanwhile, miles away, you sat staring blankly at your laptop screen, trying to focus on the lines of code that blurred in front of you. But your mind was tangled in a mess of thoughts and questions, none of which had answers. What was he going to do with that dose? Is he still using? Was he going to use it all at once? Was he going to use it on me, like Dad did to Mom?

You hated how the questions came unbidden, every fear of your past dragging itself to the surface like an unrelenting tide. You couldn’t help but remember the night you found your parents—your father, using drugs to take your mother away. The thought that Spencer could be carrying anything like that darkness, even the slightest potential for harm, made your heart twist in agony. You loved him, but did you really know him? Could you trust him, after this? 

Every answer felt just out of reach, and all you could do was sit there, heart heavy and confused, trying to make sense of it all while feeling like the ground had dropped out from under your feet.

—

Three months had passed, a stretch of time that had felt both impossibly long and painfully short to Spencer. Three months since you’d walked out of his apartment, since the wall he’d carefully built around his heart had crumbled, since he’d been able to see you, touch you, speak with you. The only thing that got him through each day was work, the relentless cases that pulled him into the minds of others and away from his own chaos. But even then, in the rare moments of quiet, you still lingered in his thoughts.

Today, however, even work couldn’t serve as a distraction. Derek leaned on the edge of his desk, the grin on his face faltering when Spencer didn't meet his eyes. “Look, man,” Derek said, his tone soft, with that note of understanding that made Spencer want to crawl out of his own skin. “I know you’ve been bummed after your breakup with Y/N, but the team is going out tonight. You should come, it might cheer you up.”

Derek’s words, although well-intentioned, felt like a punch in the gut. He knew Derek meant well, and that the rest of the team did too, but they didn’t know the real reason things ended. Spencer couldn't tell them; it wasn’t just his story to share. He couldn’t explain the heartbreak that came from the discovery, the misunderstanding, the silence. All he could do was shake his head, eyes downcast as he muttered, “I’m good, man. Thanks though.”

Derek sighed deeply, clearly not ready to give up. “I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, cracking his knuckles in a display of mock intimidation. “But if you don’t come out tonight, I’ll tell Penelope that you’re the one who spilled coffee on her favorite keyboard.”

Spencer’s head whipped around so fast he almost cricked his neck, his eyes wide with horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would, kid,” Derek nodded seriously, his expression deadpan but the mischief unmistakable in his eyes.

Spencer could see there was no way out. Derek had cornered him, and he knew Penelope’s wrath was something to be avoided at all costs. “Fine,” he conceded, huffing out a breath. “But only for a bit.”

Derek’s victorious fist pump made him chuckle despite himself. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Reid. We’ll have a blast, just wait.”

And so, later that evening, Spencer found himself tucked into a booth at the team's favorite bar, nursing a drink that burned his throat but warmed his insides. The atmosphere was light, almost buoyant—stories were exchanged, laughter flowed as freely as the drinks, and for once, he found himself genuinely enjoying the company without the constant ache that had settled in his chest since you left.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Spencer was starting to feel something close to relaxed. The chatter around the table and the warmth of his friends seemed to ease some of the tension in his body, if only for a little while. He could breathe, even laugh at times, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

As the team sat around their booth, the energy high and the laughter loud, Spencer was oblivious to what was about to unfold. It wasn't until Derek's loud whistle pierced the air, catching everyone's attention, that he noticed something had shifted. 

“Damn, who is that fine lady?” Derek smirked, his eyes fixed on a woman who was strutting across the bar in a purple dress that left little to the imagination. 

“God, that dress is basically lingerie,” Emily leaned in to whisper, sounding a mix of admiration and awe. “I want it.”

The team shared quick glances, some amused, some appreciative of the daring outfit that hugged the woman's body perfectly. Even Spencer's eyes lingered, caught by the vibrant shade of purple—his favorite color. She looked like she had stepped out of a dream, a vision of elegance and seduction that was hard to look away from. But her face was hidden beneath waves of hair, and the dim bar lighting made it difficult to make out her features.

After a few moments of admiring glances, the conversation returned to its usual flow—until a table of rowdy men called out loudly, catcalling and beckoning the woman over. As she walked closer, the team finally got a good look at her face, and all their eyes widened in shock. 

It was you.

Spencer’s heart dropped to his stomach, but he didn’t even have a chance to process what was happening before Derek nudged him sharply. He pointed in your direction, where you were now leaning over the table of men, the dress dangerously low-cut, and your cleavage all too exposed. For a moment, the sight of you, dressed so provocatively and surrounded by a group of ogling strangers, felt like a punch to his chest.

Without thinking, and fueled by the anger and confusion that came crashing over him like a wave, Spencer stood abruptly. He didn’t care about the table’s booing or the way the men protested as he stormed over. All he could think about was getting you away from them. He grabbed your arm and yanked you back, his grip firm, his eyes blazing. 

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice low and tight with emotions he didn’t know how to name.

You laughed as Spencer dragged you outside the bar, letting the breeze hit your face, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks. But as the realization of who was gripping your arm sunk in, the smile fell away. 

“Spencer! What the hell! Let me go!” you snapped, pulling your arm away and shaking him off with all the force you could muster.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, his voice filled with anger and... something else you couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe?

You only laughed bitterly in response, the sound sharp and humorless. “Oh, you mean besides getting dragged around by a liar? What are you doing?” You met his gaze defiantly, your words dripping with contempt.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he searched your face, noticing for the first time the redness in your eyes, the slight glaze that wasn't quite right. “Are you... Are you high?” His tone was almost disbelieving, as if he couldn't fathom what he was seeing.

You nodded exaggeratedly, barely stifling another giggle. “As a kite.”

His anger flared again, and he practically yelled, “Are you kidding me? You hate drugs! You hate everything to do with them, and now you’re... using?”

“It’s just weed, Spencer!” you shot back, your voice loud and edged with frustration. “Sorry if I needed to relax! I’ve had a lot on my mind, okay?” 

Spencer paused for a moment, clearly wrestling with how to respond, his eyes flickering between you and the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, your words spilling out with no filter, no restraint.

“What were you going to do with that dose, huh?” you challenged, your voice shaking. “Were you going to kill me, just like my daddy?”

The words hung in the air like a slap, and Spencer’s face paled, the color draining away as if you’d punched him. “Y/N, no. God, no—I... I don’t know...” He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess... I kept it around in case.”

“In case what?” you pressed, eyes narrowing, your anger boiling over. 

“In case I... wanted to...” He shook his head in frustration, unable to even finish the thought. “I don’t know! It’s stupid, but I just—”

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, disgust heavy in your voice. “How could you?”

“I haven’t touched it in years!” he protested desperately, his voice cracking with the weight of his plea. “I’m clean, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but you wouldn’t let me explain! I’m not like your dad—I’m not.”

The comparison made something inside you snap, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning in close, your eyes boring into his as you hissed, “Once a junkie, always a junkie.” 

Spencer stood there, stunned, your words slicing through him like shards of glass. The hostility radiating off you was something he had never witnessed before, and it hurt—hurt in a way that made it hard to breathe, to think, to respond.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice shaking. He wanted to believe you didn’t mean it. That this was just the high talking, the anger, the frustration. “Y/N, please. You know I’m not like—”

But you cut him off with a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, Spencer, you are. You kept that shit around like some kind of lifeline, like a fucking safety net. How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you’re hiding something like that?”

He could see the pain and betrayal in your eyes, and it tore him apart. Spencer felt the weight of your words settle in his chest, heavy like a stone. He reached out to touch your arm, trying to ground you both, but you yanked away, the motion sharp and final.

"Y/N, please, I know it looks bad. I know it seems like I’m keeping something from you, but I swear to you I’ve been clean for years. I swear that it was never about you, it was just—" Spencer’s voice cracked, struggling to find the right words. “It was a part of my past I was ashamed of. I didn't know how to tell you without losing you.”

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and anger. “And now you have.” Your voice was low, trembling with barely contained rage. “You know, I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to help you through whatever you were struggling with. But you didn’t let me, Spencer. You made a choice to keep me in the dark. And now I’m supposed to what? Trust that you’ll never fall back into that?”

Spencer’s eyes were wet, brimming with desperation. “I would never do that to you. I swear, I would never—”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” you said, your voice cracking, betraying the emotions you were trying so hard to hold back. “I don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't keep looking at you and wondering when you're going to relapse or if you're hiding something else from me.”

He shook his head frantically, panic setting in as he reached for your hands. “Please don’t do this. Please, Y/N. I love you. I know I messed up, but let me make it right. Just—”

“You can’t fix this, Spencer. I don't think you can," you whispered, and you pulled away, turning from him. Your body felt heavy, like it was weighed down by all the anger and sorrow. And for a moment, all you could do was stand there, willing yourself not to break down in front of him.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. Finally, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to walk away, leaving Spencer standing alone in the cold night air, his heart shattered, his world upended.

He called after you, but his voice sounded far away, like it was drowned out by the noise in your head, the whirlwind of emotions that wouldn’t let up.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the urge to get the last word in, knowing the wound it would leave. Slowly, you turned around, and your voice was ice-cold as you spoke. “Oh, and Spencer?”

He looked up, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes, desperate and raw. 

“For the record,” you said, the words burning on your tongue, “if you had just been honest about your past... I would've understood. I wouldn’t have judged you. No matter what happened, no matter how bad it was—I would've accepted you. I would've even helped you get rid of the box.” 

You watched as the hope drained from his face, the realization settling in. Then, without another word, you turned your back on him and left for good, leaving Spencer to stare after you, alone and devastated.

Your words cut through the air like a knife, leaving Spencer staring after you, the hope in his eyes collapsing into devastation. He felt like the ground beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t reach out, couldn’t make this right. 

As you walked away, the finality of your steps echoed louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest, and he couldn’t help but replay your words over and over: If you had just told me...

And just like that, the what-ifs became deafening. What if he’d been honest with you from the start? What if he’d trusted you with his pain, his struggle, his history? What if he hadn’t let fear dictate his actions? 

Spencer ran a trembling hand through his hair, his chest heaving with silent sobs as you disappeared from view, the night swallowing you whole. And with each step you took, he knew it was one step further from ever getting back what he’d lost. 

You had been willing to stay, to support him, to love him even at his lowest—if only he had given you the chance. 

But he didn’t. And now, the person he loved more than anything in the world was gone. All he could do was stand there, his hands trembling, his heart breaking, whispering into the empty night.

“I’m sorry... I'm so sorry, Red.” 

But it was too late.

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tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance 

[seunmong-in]

🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder. 

Words: 2.1k 

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N. 

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

365 days. 

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n. 

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽

Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined. 

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you." 

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet. 

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine." 

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds. 

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him. 

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes. 

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes. 

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence. 

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[filmbyjy]

ONE NOTE

SYNOPSIS > When you turned 18, you heard your best friend’s favourite song. Turns out, it was just one of the various signs to finding your soulmate. However, you couldn’t bring this up to jake. Not when he was in a happy relationship with your other best friend! Would you choose heartbreak or sacrifice your happiness for the sake of keeping the friendship?

EIGHTEEN – the first petal

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

WC: 0.9K words

a/n: please note there is a written part after these 6 pictures!! don't forget to read it because it is part of something important.

“breathe.” yvette says as she pats your back. it was suffocating. the sink was bloodied up, splatters of blood that you had coughed up in a span of 5 minutes. mae runs in with a bottle in her hands.

“here, drink up.” she quickly opens the bottle up and hands it over to you. you took the bottle and quickly drank it.

“why didn’t you tell us it was this bad. we obviously knew that jake was your soulmate but we didn’t think that your body would react this way.” yvette looks at you.

“you’d honestly think that this disease would be a mythical thing but it is very much true.” mae says. you felt the tears fall down your face. yvette wipes them for you. she looks at you with such pity and such care.

“man, fuck that bitch.” she declares. “making such a sexy girl cry? not very girl’s girl coded of her.”

“she doesn’t know. i don’t think jake would tell her. besides, he doesn’t even know i’m his soulmate.”

“well, i think she would find out either ways. she’s such a weirdo.” mae huffs. yvette nods.

“what are you going to do?” yvette asks.

“live with it.”

“but you’re going to cough out blood if you keep seeing them so loving and disgusting.”

“it’s okay. once it gets worse, i’ll just get the surgery.”

“to remove your feelings? (name), you can’t seriously be thinking of doing this.” mae sighs. “i’ve seen people decide to go through with the surgery, they aren’t like themselves. once you do it, there will also be complications in the end. you won’t live for long.”

“there is no other way. if end up dead then so be it. i can’t let jake know. he’s very much in love with aria. he would never love me.” you sobbed. yvette pulls you closer and keeps you in her arms.

“hey hey, let’s not talk about death. you’re alive and well right now. let’s live your life to the fullest and make the best out of it. you aren’t dying.” she mutters. mae grabs your hand and lightly squeezes it.

“yeah, who cares about jake and aria. you have sunghoon, your friends, your brother and us. we are there for you.”

you were thankful for the people who were close to you. you had wiped your tears and nodded. “you’re right.”

there were a series of knocks at the bathroom door. yvette rolls her eyes and opens the door. “we’re having a sentimental moment here.”

“sorry, girls. just checking in to see if (name) is okay.” jay says.

“that or are you already missing mae?” yvette folds her arms. jay awkwardly laughs a little.

“maybe but i’m more concerned for my best friend of course.” you laughed a little and sniffled. you pushed mae forward towards jay.

“take her oh my god. you find out she’s your soulmate and you can’t stop being away from her.”

jay shrugs. sunghoon steps forward and hugs you.

"I'm not dying, hoon."

"just let me hug you. you need it." he says. your smile falters a little. "you can cry, you know?"

"i already cried just now."

"and? you can cry again and I wouldn't judge."

"I know you won't, hoon."

your brother comes up to you. "okay, break it up. can I hug my sister?"

sunghoon lets you go, and leehan easily replaces him. "when did you get so big?"

"I've always been big." he says. you laughed.

"okay, but you're my baby brother."

"yes, i am." you ruffled his hair and he pulls back from the hug.

"let's go back. those two are probably wondering where we are." taesan says.

"the last i saw them they were making out-" *whack* ni-ki winces when sun whacks him.

"don't even mention that." sunoo warns.

"right, sorry noona." ni-ki pouts. you sighed a little.

"it's fine, ni-ki."

you could see jake and aria coming closer to the group. jake was mainly concerned about everyone but aria...she's just kinda following jake.

"hey, why is everyone gathering around here?" jake asks.

"oh, there was a slight mishap so (name) called the girls over. we were worried so we waited outside for them." heeseung explains.

"you could've told us."

"yeah, but you were busy making out with aria so we didn't want to bother the both of you." sunghoon says. there was a petty tone underlying as he tells jake.

"what the fuck is your problem?" jake comes up to sunghoon. sunghoon scoffs.

"nothing."

"nothing? you said that the other time and then you went on a tangent hating on my girlfriend." jake folds his arms.

sunghoon rolls his eyes. "well, I'm right either ways. you were sooooo oblivious and busy with aria that even when (name) got hurt or had an issue you didn't care."

"she's fine now, isn't she? you guys took good care of her. she's in good hands, so i trust you guys to care for her. after all, I'm just her best friend and I am busy with my girlfriend. You don't understand me because you don't have a girlfriend!" jake yells at sunghoon.

you start to cough up again. this time when you look down at your hand, not only was there blood but there was a petal. the first petal to have ever appeared. you had looked up to see everyone staring at you. jake's jaw dropped when he saw the blood in your palms.

you didn't know what else to do other than run away. sunghoon glared at jake once more before he runs after you.

this was moving too fast...

were you dying?

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