#she said the new one she kept for 'just in case'

[thisonehere]

To Deal with a Judas

A/n: Thank you so much, @unknown-niko, for this amazing idea. It is long over due that I write it for you.

Summary: You are there to witness Bi-Han's betrayal, and you act accordingly.

Tag: Mk1, MK AU, Request, long fic

C/w: Mention of blood and killing, Betrayal, Good-Bad ending

"Kuai Liang and I will capture him," Bi-Han's voice hung low as he stared at the entrance he saw the necromancer Quan Chi walk into, his new target. "Stay here, do not let them activate the soul stealer." Bi-Han ordered Tomas. He had had just clashed with thee of Shang Tsung and Quan Chi's most powerful lackeys, a vampire, a demon, and a collection of souls. He could feel his blood pumping, his heart racing, the adrenaline flowing throughout his body, and Bi-Han loved every second of it. He wanted to go after the sorcerers next, he couldn't wait to get his hands on the sorcerers. He'd them under a mountain of snow.

"And me, Grandmaster?" He turns and there you are, eagerly waiting for instructions. Bi-Han narrowed his eyes. "You..." He trails off, what to do with you?. Bi-Han was unsure on bringing you with him on this mission, you should be home, where you'd be safe. He thought you too inexperienced to join him, you might slow him down, hinder his efforts. But Liu Kang insisted, and now you're here. He looked you up and down with his judgemental eyes, not sure what to do with you, no doubt picking you apart and seeing every possible weakness you have that would make you a liability.

"You will stay here. Stay with Tomas and keep watching just in case any more minions come." His voice was stern and his gaze forbidding. Your shoulder slumped at this, you had hoped to go with Bi-Han and fight by his side. Make up for the earlier defeat. When Nitara swooped down and attacked, she had knocked both you and Tomas aside, you remained somewhat unconscious during the fight while he and Kuai dealt with her and Sareena. You felt so ashamed of it, you embarrassed yourself in front of him, mad yourself seem weak to him, that was one of the last things you wanted. "O-oh... Very well then. I won't let you down." Conviction and passion in your voice. Behind turns his back from you as he and Kuai climbed the steps and entered the building.

You and Tomas quickly went to work ensuring that the soul stealer remained inactive. You started lookout and Tomas took care of anyone who came close, which wasn't often, everyone seemed to stay in the building. Time went on longer and longer and there was no sign of Bi-Han or Kuai, you started to worry. "What are they doing in there?" You wondered out loud causing Tomas to know shrug. "No doubt Kuai and Bi-Han have already dealt with them." He said hopefully. But something kept tugging at your heart, something was wrong. Something happened to them.

---

"Soul Stealers are deadly, but they're not enough." Bi-Han growled to Shang Tsung. He and Kuai's hand were bound in chains, they had failed and they were captured. Kuai hated the smug look on Tsung's face as they were carried away. But he stopped thinking about that the moment the sorcerer began to try to tempt his brother to join him. Worse, Bi-Han seemed to be interested in this. He tried to intervene, he begged his brother not to listen to this snake, not even as much as the entertain the thought the server was trying to pour into his mind, but he was silenced by his own brother, his Grandmaster.

The halls were filled with the marching of General Shao's and the clanging of chain around his and Kuai's wrists. Kuai was desperate, not about breaking free from these chains, but stopping his brother from being beguiled by the serpent holding them captive. Tsung mused about Emperor Ying, specifically about his army. They entered a tomb, Emperor Ying tomb filled to the brim with a silent cold warrior. Kuai's eyes went this way and that as he eyed every statued warrior, the Dragon army. Mindless automatons that could unleash unknown destruction and the subjugation of realms. It all horrified Kuai, but the look on Bi-Han face horrified him more. He looked...impressed.

Bi-Han stared at this, he climbed the steps to meet Shang Tsung, and he offered his restraints to him. "BI-HAN, NO!!!" He cried, Shao's men jump to retrain him as he calls out to his brother. His ignored his brother as he shook hands with Tsung, a pleased smile hung on the sorcerers face. "Father would turn in his grave if he saw this!" Bi-Han froze at this, he quickly wiped around to face his brother, a vile sheer on his face. "He was a doddering old fool. He did us a favor having that accident, and I was right to let him die."

"Let him die? YOU SAID YOU TRIED TO SAVE HIM!" once again Kuai lunged forward and the Soldiers pulled him back. He felt evey dizzy. Kuai felt his heart slowly break, it felt like the world was going to madness. "A lie. Because you couldn't and still couldn't face the truth. Father had...had..." Upon instinct, Bi-Han caught a knife aimed at his head. All heads turned to see where it came from and there you were standing there, tightly gripping another of your throwing knives, ready to launch it. "Y/n?! What do you think your doing?" Bi-Han's softened for a second when he realized it was you who threw the knife. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, then they slowly narrow in fury spat at you as he throws the knife to the ground. "You...You..." but he couldn't find the words. You just stared there as you locked eyes with your grandmaster and both of you stared at each other. You felt your blood run cold under his gaze.

Kuai immediately took advantage of everyone being distracted, he elbowed one soldier in the face and slammed his chains against the others. Blood spattered everywhere and everyone put their attention on Kuai now. The room erupted into chaos, everyone in the room didn't know who to focus on. You both raised hell, Kuai slammed his chains like a mad left and right while you threw your blades at every person you could make out as a target.

During the calamity, Kuai found Bi-Han and he charged at him. Kuai slammed his chains against Bi-Han so hard that Bi-Han slammed to the ground. He didn't get back up. Kuai raises the chains over his head and brings it down for another strike. He does it again and again, if he keeps this, he'll kill him. Rage filled him, all he could see was red at the moment as he was stuck in some sort of a berserker rage. A soldier ran at him, his sword thrown. Kuai spun around about strike but acted first and threw your knife clean into his head. "KUAI, COME ON, WE NEED TO GO!" You shriek at the top of your lungs.

At that second Kuai became aware of the now awakening Dragon army. Tsung activated them and now they had their eyes on him. He bitterly looks down at his unconscious brother, there's many things he is feeling right. But he can't figure them out right now, now he needs to escape. You both rush out of the chamber, as you do you hear multiple footsteps behind you but neither of you look back.

---

"This way!" You let Kuai into the Treasure Chamber. With his pryromancy, Kuai managed to melt the chains allowing him to free himself. Kuai spotted the unconscious bodies of Quan Chi, Rain, Havik and Darrius lying on the ground. You could feel his eyes fall on your quizzically as you both rush through the room. "I followed you into the building, they found me, I left them like this." You quickly explained to him as you guided him through to the nearest exit. He knew you were a competent fighter, he always did, but he never knew you were capable of this. He wants sti impressed by this, proud of you, but his mind was racing thinking about his brother. He tried not to think about it, it hurts to much to think about. He just forces himself to run faster.

In no time you were outside the main building where the cold wind greets you. By now you could hear the yelling of hundreds of soldiers scattering here and there trying to search for you. "Y/N, THERE YOU ARE!" Tomas called as he ran up to you. He was so worried for you, one minute you were right next to him, the next you were gone. "Where have you-" he froze when he saw Kuai was behind you. "Kuai? Where's Bi-Han?" At the mention of his name both of your faces darken. "He has betrayed us. We're all in imminent danger." With that, he rushes past you both, leading the way as you both run after him.

Kuai told Tomas everything, how he was captured, Bi-Han's betrayal, his involvement in their father's death, everything. You stay quiet the whole time. "Letting father die... Forsaking Earthrealm? He's abandoned for all reason." Tomas's eyes widen at every news and revelation. You noticed the cold wind beginning to pick up, it was like it was furious and was unleashing its wrath upon you all.

"I knew Bi-Han's frustrations run deep. But I never thought--" Kuai continued to talk but your mind began to wonder as you thought of Bi-Han. You threw a knife, you made an attempt on his life. Your blood still ran cold at the thought of how he looked at you. A look of both rage as well as hurt, as if your treachery hurt him on a deeper level. What was he going to do to you the moment he got his hands on you, you knew how brutal your Grandmaster could be. Your heart began to race, you felt confused, so lost, so scared. You were in over your head, you could just feel it.

"--But we are still brothers...and you, Y/n..." You hadn't realized that was still talking until both he and Tomas stopped walking. He had turned to you both, a hand on both your shoulder as he gave you two a warm look in his eyes. "Y/n, you have proven yourself today. I am fortunate to have you by my side." You stare at Kuai, unable to speak. You gently lay a hand on his, the warmth comforting you, almost making you forget your fears. No one has spoken to you like that in years. Bi-Han's words were always harsh and critical, it seemed to be the only way to show he cared, but Kuai's words were filled with love in every word.

"Do your Oaths mean nothing!" You all freeze as the snowy winds begin to clear and calm, and there Bi-Han. His fits clenched and a scowl on his bruised face. "It is your duty to obey my will!" Kuai immediately steps forwards determination and rage in his eyes. "Not if it betrays Lin Kuei principles. We won't sacrifice them to serve your ambition." Bi-Han's fists clenched even harder, you were scared that it would draw blood. Your eyes wandered all over Bi-Han, they fell on his fist. In one of them, he tightly held your knife. He growls as he steps forward just a little. He stares all of you in the eye.

When they fall on you, you felt your blood run cold. Who knew what he was thinking about. Maybe how he'd punish you, perhaps. Give you to Shang to be his new test subject, lock you in a deep dark cell and leave you there to go die alone, or maybe he'd kill you right now if he was feeling merciful. You gulped hard as you took a few steps back.

Not waiting another second Bi-Han lunged forward with your knife. Kuai charged as well, you and Tomas stayed as you watched brothers begin to battle. Bi-Han slashed at his brother with the blade this way and that while Kuai dodged here and there to avoid them. It was like the two were dancing, Bi-Han spun and slashed with his blade, leaving a flash trail of sliver as Kuai went here and there as he avoided the blade.

He tried to avoid every strike but he found himself getting cut. For a second, Kuai thought he had caught his brother's arm before where brought it down on him. But he realized too soon, Bi-Han had the blade in another hand. Kuai is slashed across the left eye. He screams as he falls to the ground clutching his. "End this brother, embrace the future!" Bi-Han said as he extended his hand to his brother, a crazed look in his eyes as Kuai stumbled to his feet. "I want no part of it. You pervert all that it means to be Lin Kuei!" Pulling his Kunai, Kuai clenched his fist and he tries to catch his breath. He clenches fist and attempts to steady his breath, fresh blood dipped from the cut over his eye. He clenches his fist over the Kunai as he stares down his brother, anticipating him to make the next room.

But you beat him to it. You rush forward and throw another knife; Bi-Han freezes as the knife lands...right into Kuai's right shoulder.

With a cry of pain, Kuai stumbled as he clutched at his shoulder. "I... I'm sorry..." Your voice cracks as tears ran down your face. He slowly looks back at, horror slowly turns to you. "Y/n...?" You fail to meet his gaze. He looks past you and he sees Tomas, barely conscious as Rain and Havik retrain him. "I said I left them like that, never that I beat them" you mumble under your breath. Kuai angrily rises to his feet. "Y/n, what are you doing! What is the meaning of this!?" You struggle to even look at Kuai, both out of fear but also because your vision was blurred thanks to your tears. Kuai's gaze softens on you for a second. "Why?" He asks, his voice filled with pain he clutches at his soldier "I-I love you Kuai, always...But my loyalty, so much of my love...is to your brother." The fortress feels like everything has gone silent. A betrayed and broken hearted look is painted over his face, first his brother, now you. Kuai didn't know how much more he could take.

The entire fortress shakes as the skies turn green, Tsung has activated the soulnado. In the distance Kuai can hear the marches of thousands of soldiers coming down to take him. Kuai stares at the sky as he realizes everything is crumbling around him. "Kuai, please. Surrender, I don't want you or Tomas to get hurt." Kuai clenches his jaw as he lowers his gaze to the ground.

---

The soldiers came and they took Kuai and Tomas away. He didn't look at you as they bound him and led him to no doubt a cell. But you didn't care, all you knew was he and Tomas wouldn't die and you found some level of peace with that. You stood there alone with Bi-Han as the cold winds blew your hair in the breeze. You back was to him, you didn't know what to say, what could you say? You had no idea what to do next, you just betrayed your home, Liu Kang, Kuai, Tomas, all for him.

"Y/n, look at me." Bi-Han's demanding voice finally breaks up the silence. Your heart beats against your chest as you face him. "Now, I want you to, kindly, Explain to me what in Elder Gods you were thinking! Making an attempt on my life, siding my brothers escape only to capture him again. Explain, Now." His eyes beat you down with sneer, it made it so much harder for you to speak. With a shaky breath you explained that after waiting so long outside and got worried, so you followed him into the building. Quan Chi found you and he told you that Bi-Han and Kuai were captured, that Tsung was plotting to tempt Bi-Han into joining his side. You knew Bi-Han would join him but Kuai would protest, You knew he would somehow break free and stop Bi-Han. So you came up with this plan to get him and Tomas captured.

"And why did you do all this? Did you not think I could handle my own brother." Bi-Han eyed you, offended. Making it much harder to say this next thing. "Grandmaster, I think you are a marvelous man, the greatest warrior I've ever known...but Kuai is stronger than you." You could feel the rage emanating from Bi-Han as you said this. "How dare you-" he began to storm towards you. "Kuai, easily overpowered you, General Shao, and Shang Tsung while his hands were bound!" Bi-Han now stood towering over you as you defended yourself, his eyes violent. "I am your Grandmaster! I had everything under control, how dare you think so little of me?" Normally you would cower in fear of your Grandmaster when he was upset, but not today, too much adrenaline rushed through you.

"No! I think the world of you! You are the greatest thing I've ever had the privilege to be around. I count my blessings every day that I have the privilege of serving you. I adore you, Grandmaster, I will stay loyal to you until the day I die and even then my soul will be yours." It felt so odd to finally confess to Bi-Han like this. But you were desperate, and scared even. You just wanted Bi-Han to succeed no matter what. As you sigh as you finish, you lower your head to catch your breath. Bi-Han just looked at you, his eyes narrow as if he's disgusted. You hold yourself as you begin to feel so crazy. "Forgive me, Grandmaster, I shouldn't have-"

"Bi-Han." He calmly interrupted you. "I-I'm sorry?" You noticed he's holding your knife by the blade now as he hands it to you. "You may address me as Bi-Han, you've earned the right." Your body shivers slightly as Bi-Han places a hand on your shoulder. He now looks at you differently, as if he's seeing you in a new light. He then walks past you, but before he leaves you, and turns to you, impressed. "Perhaps it was a good idea for Liu Kang to send you with me. I look forward to your continued service. Now, come, we have much to do with our new allies." He turns and walks away and you quickly race after him.

A/n: Don't lie, you were shocked by the twist. Just call me Miss direction... Or miss trust... Or miss demeanor, or miss serable

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Tomorrow's Stars [Spencer x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@nietxsche) Center (@444vampireluvv) Right (@milla984)

Prompt: Spencer is struggling with his desire to stay clean from his addiction. He ends up wandering into a new store and getting his tarot cards read for the first, as well as meeting the reader concerned for him. The cards foretell both sadness and happiness, but not for who. 

Pairing: Spencer X Non-BAU-Reader

Category: Angst/Comfort 

Word Count: 5.9K 

Content Warnings: Mention of drug use and addiction [Spencer], brief mention of death due to drugs [part of a case], food and drinks are mentioned, alcohol is mentioned, and mental health concerns. If I missed any, anything please let me know!

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! Yes, it is whump-tober, but I bring you a Spencer comfort fic before we dive into the pain that is to come. And it is coming. I have had this Spencer fic idea for so long, and I am happy with how it turned out. I am still busy, but as per usual, I’m also still writing. Thank you to everyone who has kept up with me, or to any new readers or followers! Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l = your last name 

y/f/f = your favorite flavor 

Diss = dissertation

It hadn’t started this way. Not with y/n in his arms as she drifted off into sleep. It had started with the Diluted and trying to get off of it. After the worst slump of his life, Spencer had been in desperate need of distraction. His brain wouldn’t slow no matter how many topology equations he solved, or how many digits of pi he could memorize (89,004); his brain wouldn’t stop. And though he knew it was killing him and his career, the drug had slowed him down and had let him breathe for the first time since adolescence. 

The drugs had stopped, of course. Even in the throes of his addiction, Spencer knew that he’d either die from the habit or be made to stop. Thankfully the latter had happened and Reid spent the first few weeks trying everything to distract himself or do the opposite. He’d been swimming at 5:00 AM in his apartment pool, to all the coffee shops, to running, but Reid didn’t love the exercise and if he drank too much caffeine and sugar, it only made his brain and anxiety worse. 

After one of his tougher mornings, full of aches, cravings, and wandering like a vengeful spirit, he passed onto a side street that he’d never been on before. If he was in his car, he would have missed it every time. Something about the oddity of the shop offering Spiritualism advice, books, tarot cards, art, crystals, and more, as well as the fact that it was a new thing in a place he’d been for years drew him in. 

The small bell on the door chimed as Spence entered the small shop. The walls were black, and the older lamps and light fixtures were polished brass which shined in the antique mirrors placed on the walls. A voice from the back of the shop said, “Welcome in. Make yourself at home. If you have any questions just shout.” Reid couldn’t help but smile as he looked over the shop. Spencer didn’t believe in this kind of New-Agey belief system, but he didn’t believe in standard religion either. To him, if it brought someone comfort and it wasn’t hurting anyone, people could believe whatever they wanted. It just had never been a comfort to him, but the shop seemed to have some unique books and art, plus he thought it was nice that the proprietor was comfortable enough to be in the back and not worry about any of their things being stolen. That normally meant the products were all junk or the owner had a good clientele. Spencer assumed it was the second option as he caught sight of a special case with more expensive products unlocked. 

Spencer drifted around the shop, looking at the crystals first and discovering which were fakes and which weren’t. Reid slightly raised his head as the bell rang again and a gust of cool air entered the building. A soft voice called out, “Hey Helen, I’ve got bad news.” A response came from the back, “Really, y/n? What happened?” The sound of footsteps passed Spencer and he watched as a woman moved past him and toward the back. She shot him a small smile as she moved to find the owner. Spence now half looked at the crystals and half listened to what the woman had to say. The sound of a chair scraping on the floor was quickly interrupted as the young woman said, “Well, I went to Brixton’s like you recommended to try and find  Kriessals' translation and the owner told me that he had just lent it to a private collection. I assume that’s code for, he sold it.” The store owner sighed and replied, “Damn, I’m sorry, y/n. That was the last lead I had for that text. Finding copies is notoriously hard, but that sucks.” 

Now Spencer was invested, and he peaked his head around the corner. As a scholar and an academic, he had to know what this book was. He hadn’t heard of the author before. Spence stepped into the aisle and cleared his throat before saying, “Sorry I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I’m a bit of a bibliophile, maybe I could help you find the book you’re looking for?” The woman who was standing next to the owner of the store blushed slightly either from embarrassment, or surprise before replying, “Well, at this point, I have really looked everywhere, but it’s a horrible German translation of The Necronomicon, translated by Joseph Kriessals in 1910. It’s a disaster of a translation that most copies were thrown away or forgotten.” 

Reid nodded his head. He hadn’t heard of that translation, but he had read the original and a few other translations. The topic of the book made sense in a place like this, so he joked, “So, are we trying to summon some demons of Germanic origin?” y/n laughed and looked at the floor before looking up, saying, “Unfortunately not. I am trying to look at mistranslations and intertextual references in occult documents during the 1900s for a postdoc that I am very much regretting at this point.” 

Spencer understood this struggle well, and excitedly asked, “Oh, is it one of your core documents for your dissertation? I made that mistake once and I had to have an hour-long conversation with my chair about why I moved from an Old Germanic text to an Old English poem. She didn’t think it was funny that I said they were the same thing.” y/n let out a little chuckle as the store owner looked between them, mild surprise painted on her face. 

y/n looked up and said, “Wow, people rarely get so excited about an old book. Have you heard of it before?” Reid nodded his head no, and replied, “No. I haven’t heard of that translation, but I can see why it might be hard to get a hold of. I guess I was just surprised when you said your topic it’s…” Spence cut himself off before he finished his sentence, not sure if the comment would be appreciated. However, both women raised an eyebrow and Reid laughed softly before saying, “I guess I was surprised that you were a skeptic is all. I would have guessed that not a lot of non-believers would come to a store like this.” The comment was mostly directed to the store owner who wore a sly smile as he made his statement. The older woman said, “I assume you're a skeptic as well then? What brought you in?” 

Reid reddened and said, “Well, to be honest, I was a bit bored. I don’t mean to offend you.” The woman smiled before replying, “Oh. I’m not offended, dear. I think no religion or belief system is worth believing unless it can hold up to some scrutiny or doubt. I most certainly don’t know everything and I don’t pretend to. Little miss y/n over here probably does, but she’s holding out on me.” y/n rolled her eyes at the woman and said, “Oh Carrol, please, you know I’m an idiot.” The three of them shared a short laugh before y/n stood straighter and extended her hand to Spencer, saying, “Hey, I’m y/n, y/l/n. And this is Carrol-Anne. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Reid smiled and said, “I’m Spencer, Reid, it’s my pleasure. I am really interested in your research. Maybe I could help you find that book if you’d like me to.” y/n nodded and said, “At this point, I’d take any help I can get. I’m desperate enough to have my tarot cards read, maybe they could tell me where to find that damn book.” 

Spencer had eyed the dark and decorative card on the folding table. Carrol-Anne noticed his gaze and asked, “Have you ever had your cards read, Mr. Reid?” Reid nodded his head no, and replied, “No. I’ve never really been in a scenario where it was appropriate.” Reid thought back to all of the cases that dealt with the occult, the Satanic Panic, or New-Age religion, where there had been tarot cards involved. There weren’t many but a few stood out. Once Spencer had his head cleared of those violent memories, he realized that Carrol-Anne had offered to read his cards for him. Caught by surprise, Reid nodded and took a seat at the empty chair across from the store owner. 

Carrol held the deck out for him and said, “Please shuffle these for me. Try and focus your energy on them. I’m just going to do a basic reading for you.” Spencer nodded and did a few simple shuffles of the deck. He didn’t do anything fancy that I might have done if he was at a poker table in Vegas. Even if he didn’t believe in this kind of thing, it was clear that Carrol-Anne did, and he wasn’t going to disrespect her by playing some of his card shark tricks on the deck. When he was finished, Spencer handed the deck back and Carrol began to spread twenty-four cards in a circle on the table. When this was done, the woman placed the extra cards aside and looked up saying, “Alright, Spencer, I’d like you to pick three cards. It can be at random, or if you feel pulled to certain cards that’s alright as well. Please just point to the cards you’d like to pick. Don’t turn them over.” 

Spencer looked at his options. He didn’t have any specific draw to any cards. He considered picking three cards right next to each other, but out of interest, he decided to pick cards that were equidistant from each other. He went counterclockwise and selected each card. Carrol smiled at his choices, clearly she’d seen the pattern before. Caroll picked the first card Spencer had picked. Flipping it and placing it in front of Spence: The Hermit. The next: The Hierophant reversed, and last: the card directly in front of him - The Tower. He looked at them not sure what he was supposed to divine from the pieces of paper. 

Caroll looked at the cards for a moment longer before saying. In front of you is your past, present, and future. The first card you picked, The Hermit describes obedience, dedication, and intellect. The next card, The Hierophant reversed, indicates that you have a strong moral code and ethical approach to life. I sense perhaps a bit of Stoicism and Utilitarianism. Lastly, your future is The Tower. This indicates that your life might change suddenly and not in a pleasant way either. This could be a mental, physical, or spiritual shift, and it’s likely to come when you don’t expect it.” 

y/n looked between the cards and Spencer to see if he looked convinced but his face was mostly void of emotion. A system of his drug withdrawal that neither woman would know about. Wanting some insight into what her sitter thought, Caroll asked, “So, do the first two cards seem close to you, even just a bit?” Reid’s eyes met her and he said, “Yeah. It does. But I guess it could fit loads of other people too.” Reid said it with false confidence, the last card, even though he didn’t really believe it, had him worried. He heard the store owner heave a small sigh like she’d heard that a thousand times before. He noticed her hands reaching to put the cards back in their case but he said, “Wait, can you pull two more cards?” 

Caroll looked surprised and then pleased, nodded her head, and replied, “I’d be happy to, but this time, I’d like you to at least give me a direction. What would you like the cards to tell you about? If it can be broad, that's generally better.” 

Spence took a moment, he’d panicked and asked before he’d thought that would be a question he was asked. He contemplated what he wanted to know the most. At the moment his biggest fear was the unknown, so he finally decided, “I’d like to know if I make it.” This response got slightly worried looks from y/n and Caroll, but she motioned for him to pick the next reading, which he did. Caroll removed the cards from the first reading and placed the last two in front of Reid. The first was the Sun reversed and the second was the seven of wands. Caroll didn’t wait this time as she said, “The first card, the Sun in reverse means sadness or negativity.” Spencer did react to this card. He looked troubled. Caroll tried to reassure him by saying, “This isn’t always our sadness. It could be someone else's, like a friend or neighbor. You never know with the cards. And the second card is the seven of wands. This is good. From what I’ve seen so far it seems you’ve struggled in some way, but this card talks about perseverance, you maintain control, even in difficult situations.” Reid nodded and felt a bit reassured. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he needed something positive before he went back on his meandering walk. 

Reid looked at Caroll and said, “Thank you for doing that. At least I’ve learned what reading is like now. And the cards weren’t wrong.” Caroll smiled and replied, “Anytime you want a reading, you can come right in, dear.” Spencer nodded and stood up from his chair. y/n touched his shoulder and he turned to look at her. It was like while during the reading, everything else had disappeared and he smiled at her as she handed him a slip of paper and said, “Here’s my number and school email if you do have any luck finding anything to do with that blasted translation. I wrote the name of it on here again in case you forgot.” Spencer smiled and said, “Thanks, y/n. I do have a pretty good memory, but it never hurts to have a reminder.” y/n nodded and said more softly, “You know, you can call me if you ever need anything, or you like, need to talk.” 

y/n tried to say this in a way that didn’t sound like she was patronizing Spencer. She knew the feeling well, and it was one of the worst feelings she’d had as an adult. Other friends, family members, and mentors asking you what you were doing with your life, and having no answer didn’t feel great. It wasn’t like y/n had wanted to finish school without a clear path. It frustrated her to this day. She looked at the tall man to make sure that he hadn’t taken her offer that way. He just seemed sad, and maybe he needed a friend. Thankfully, he smiled and said, “I might take you up on that. Thanks, y/n. I better head out or I might get hypnotized or something.” y/n chuckled and waved him off saying, “Bye, Spencer.” She watched him walk out the door, wondering if she’d see him again. Little did she know that the reading that had just happened would bind them closer together in time. 

Life kept moving as it always did and Spence kept wandering through it. He did have the added benefit of having a text to find. When he had depleted his resources in the States with little to no help, he finally reached farther afield. One of his friends and a fellow academic, John Fisher, who was looking at extant texts in Germany at the Benedictine Archabby of St. Martin, was one of the people he reached out to. However, John was infamously bad at checking his emails. But Spencer was hopeful that he’d have an answer. 

As he waited, the days got darker and his depression sank lower and there was a moment when he almost slipped into using again. He was so close but his future card came into play when a new case came up in Ohio. The Unsub was targeting teens in middle and high schools with tainted drugs and the look on the victim's parents' faces, and their utter grief at how their children had been stolen from them was a reminder enough to Spencer that his life was worth more than a momentary high. Later that night, he poured his stash into the toilet of his hotel room and dumped the bottle in the motel’s dumpster when he pretended to take a call so the team wouldn’t think he was just wandering off. That was the first big change that happened to him and it was a sudden upheaval. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy to never want that feeling again, but he now had some new motivation. 

In the New Year, Reid heard back from John who had good news. He had a friend who had a few pages of the text that y/n was looking for, and he would send them to Spencer once he had them scanned and had access to Wi-Fi. When he received that email, he texted y/n. He’d kept her number just in case he could end up helping her. He hadn’t forgotten how kind she had been to him at a low moment last year, and even though he hadn’t called her for help or encouragement, he still appreciated her. He hoped she remembered who he was after the months that had separated them. 

Thankfully. y/n did remember him and was very happy to hear from Spencer. Reid had planned on just emailing her the file, which he warned wasn’t a full copy of the text, but y/n asked if he’d like to grab a coffee that weekend before he could propose an all-electronic handoff. Spencer paused. He smiled and agreed, happy to be out of his apartment, which he had been doing more of in the new year. His life had actually been looking up so far. 

When Reid walked into the cozy coffee shop y/n had recommended, it only took a moment for him to spot her. y/n’s face was buried in a pile of papers which she had spread across a small table with two seats. Spencer cleared his throat and y/n looked up at him; her eyes shining when she realized it was him. 

“Spencer. Oh my God, it’s so good to see you. You’re such a lifesaver.” Reid chuckled at how accurate y/n’s statement was as y/n started quickly trying to neaten her piles to make space for him to sit and set his wallet and keys down. Reid asked, “Am I interrupting something important here?” y/n sighed and said, “You know, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do any work on the diss while I was waiting for you, but I got here early and, well, the things just seemed to come out of my bag on their own. I swear, this is the second dissertation I’ve written and you’d think I’d have learned how to not have procrastinated with the first one.” Spencer sat down and said, “Oh, I understand the struggle. Suddenly any time is good writing or reading time.” y/n nodded and said, “You get it alright, I’d say it’s a chronic condition for academics.” She looked at Reid and asked, “Can I get you a drink? I do owe you more than one for this.” 

Spence smiled and replied, “Okay, can I get an oat milk latte with vanilla syrup and an extra shot of espresso?” y/n nodded and moved back to the counter, pulling her purse with her. While she was ordering, the agent peaked over at y/n’s hurried notes, and after a few seconds, he noticed some interesting trends she had picked up in the manuscripts she was reading. He quickly skimmed the text to better understand the context of her notes. By the time y/n got back with his latte, he had loads of questions and suggestions for her. He saw her smile and as per usual, he expected that she might want the small talk that many did when just meeting for a chat. He didn’t want to seem rude, but once he was handed his drink he said, “Sorry, I couldn't help but skim some of your comments and I had some questions about some of your notes, particularly the ones from lines 110-135.” 

y/n like most researchers lit up at being asked about her work and she asked, “Are you sure? I could talk about this for hours.” Reid nodded enthusiastically,” which allowed y/n to speak about one of her passions. The pair talked without even looking at the time, but a ping from Spencer's phone made him look at the missed text, and call from Derek asking him where he was. “Shit,” Spencer muttered, stopping y/n midsentence. He flushed and said, “Sorry, I totally lost track of the time. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend right now. He’s giving me running lessons allegedly, so I better go.” y/n smiled and said, “Oh sorry. I didn’t know you had other obligations I would have shut up half an hour ago.” 

Reid brushed off the comment and said, “Don’t mention it, this was more enjoyable than runnings gonna be. I had a great time.” y/n beamed again as Spencer got up and said, “I might have to call you to ask for advice, you could have told me you were some kind of genius the first time you offered to help me.” Reid chuckled and replied, as he got up, Derek was calling him again, “Call me. I’d love to talk again, but I’ve got to run.” The tall agent waved before quickly making an exit out the door and finally picking up saying, “I’m coming, I’m coming. I got distracted.” Derek laughed on the other end of the line and said jokingly, “Was it a girl or… let me guess, a new book?” Spencer flushed and said, “A girl this time, actually. Now hang up, so I can drive without getting a ticket.” 

It was y/n who reached out to Reid again. She had a feeling that he maybe wasn’t the type to ask for repayments for favors, even as big as one he had done for her with finding the text she needed. That wasn’t exactly the case, Reid did think about y/n often, but Derek and Emily’s teasing along with a busy start to fall had left him little time or energy to text or call her. But when the 2007 Beowulf movie had its tenth anniversary and came back to theaters for a limited run, y/n couldn’t stop herself from asking Spencer to come with her. She could only imagine how the genius would react to seeing an almost nude Angelina Jolie as Gredel’s mother trying to seduce Beowulf. y/n was secretly hoping Spencer had never seen the film. When she proposed a tentative plan, Reid jumped on board and agreed. 

The movie was as bad, and funny as y/n had remembered it and Reid was rendered almost speechless as they walked out by what he’d just seen. y/n smiled into the cool evening and said, “That bad, huh?” Spence let out a long breath, before replying, “I can’t believe it. I feel like I need a strong drink to shock me back to reality.” y/n smiled, but she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. It took Reid a second to realize that y/n didn’t know how to respond. Spencer flushed and continued, “I’d actually like to do that if you’re down for a drink? I have a lot to say about what we just saw.” y/n beamed at him when he clarified his intentions, and she said, “Sweet, you wanna ride with me? That way we both don’t have to overpay for downtown parking.” Spence nodded and followed y/n toward her car, trying to keep his academic thoughts at bay long enough to not scare y/n off the instant he got in the car with her. 

After that first night out of not so much dating, but geeking out about shared passions, y/n and Spencer spent more time together. They’d watch Dr. Who and Star Trek at his place, and meander around old book shops and hidden coffee joints, trying to see if they could make it to everyone in D.C. in under seventeen months. Spencer had done the math, but y/n thought they could do it faster than that. When she had said this, Reid joked, “What, you don’t want to spend seventeen months with me?” y/n had laughed but didn’t fully know how to answer. It was hard for her to tell if what they had was just a strong friendship that had started unusually, or something more. She and Spencer had almost all but forgotten his tarot reading a few months ago. Sadness had been promised, and it was coming, but not for him. 

It was late May and Spencer hadn’t heard from y/n since their last meeting at a game shop where they had started a D&D campaign. They’d spent a fair amount of time together in the past month. It was enough to have the team say a few things about his new “friend,” but not so much that they could say anything about it more than simple teasing. But the lack of communication was beginning to worry him. Finally, on Friday night, he got a text from y/n saying, “Hey Spencer. Sorry, I’ve been MIA. There were some issues at the end of the semester that I had to deal with, but I’ve also been feeling a bit down recently. 

Spencer had remembered how down she felt when he’d first met y/n and something in his gut told him he should be there for y/n like she had been for him, even when he was just a stranger. Reid typed up a quick reply, hoping it didn’t sound like he was too worried about her: “y/n, I’m sorry to hear that. Want me to pop over and bring some snacks and drinks that might make you feel better?” Spencer had only been to y/n’s place twice. They normally opted for his apartment when they were together. However, y/n’s apartment was nice but strange for sure. The first time he’d seen it he thought she was joking. 

It was in the downtown district in an old-looking dilapidated building. From the outside, it seemed like it could have been a set piece from Blade Runner 2049. When y/n had badged herself in and moved toward the elevator at the end of the hall, Reid had looked at the old lobby that was dusty and had sheets draped over any remaining furniture. y/n had seen Spencer’s sceptial expression and chuckled, replying, “Yeah, it’s ‘unique.’ The building is owned by one of my old roommate’s father. He keeps saying he’s going to renovate it and turn the rest of the buildings into apartment units, but hey, I get the entire top floor and roof access, and you can’t beat the rent.” When they’d gotten to the top of the elevator and the doors opened, her space looked normal. There were lots of floor-to-ceiling windows and y/n had decorated it in an eco-brutalist style that worked with the current architecture. Spencer really liked the space, but he assumed y/n was a bit self-conscious about where she lived, thus why they didn’t spend much time at her place. 

When y/n texted back: “Sure, Spencer. I think I’d like some company.” Reid smiled, encouraged that y/n would let him come over. He quickly grabbed his wallet and keys, got in his car, and went to the store. He picked up a pint of y/f/f ice cream, some flowers, and a bottle of red wine. With those things purchased, he went directly to her place. y/n had texted Spence in the store the key code to get the elevator to come down, and that she was on the roof. She had told him to just come up and then on the roof when he got there. 

Spencer felt weird going up to y/n’s apartment without her beside him. When he got inside, some of the main lights were on, but the space was mostly lit by lamps scattered around the room casting a warm glow on her art, plants, and furniture. Reid put the flowers on the counter and the ice cream in the freezer, before taking the wine bottle and moving quickly to the short flight of steps at the back of the kitchen that would take him to the roof access door. Once he stepped outside, a warm breeze tousled his curly hair. He took the last few steps two at a time, and at first, in the darkness, Reid couldn’t see y/n at all on the roof. He felt a panic rise inside his stomach before he finally saw y/n lying in the center of the building. She was oddly still, and he rushed over to her, kneeling to make sure she was okay. 

y/n opened her eyes when he got close and said, “Hey Spencer. Sorry, I wasn’t downstairs to greet you. I didn’t feel like moving.” Reid caught his breath, knowing that y/n was okay, he sat down next to her. y/n moved her eyes from Spencer and back to the night sky. There were a few moments of silence before Spence asked, “What’s going on, y/n? How long have you been out here?” 

y/n sighed and said, “What’s not happening might be a better question. And I’ve been out here for about half an hour.” After hearing the emptiness in y/n’s voice, Spencer wanted to reach out and brush his hands over her shoulder, but he spotted herself. Wanting to be on the same level as y/n, Spencer set the bottle of wine down and lay down next to y/n asking, “You want to talk about it? You were so nice when you met me and I was going through shit, I’d be happy to listen to anything you're feeling.” y/n closed her eyes and looked at Spencer again as if checking to make sure he was serious. After whatever assessment she needed, y/n said, “My dissertation just passed my committee. I get to add another Dr. next to my name.” 

This seemed like the kind of thing to celebrate, but y/n didn’t seem to be happy about it, so Spencer didn’t make a big deal about it. Instead, he asked, “Why is that troubling you, y/n?” y/n bit the inside of her lip before saying, “I don’t know. I was happy to hear that I passed because that was a fiasco, but I just kind of feel empty. I wonder if I’m just going to spend the rest of my life hoping to get degree after degree after degree and never find what I’m passionate about. I can keep learning forever, but I don’t know if that’s going to make me happy anymore. 

Reid felt her admission personally. As someone who had also gotten plenty of degrees, that were helpful to him, he also had done it as a way to distract from the rest of the pain and loneliness in his life.  y/n looked back at the dark sky and Reid did too for the first time. The stars were surprisingly bright with all the light pollution around the building. Reid assumed that it was because y/n’s apartment was higher than the other buildings around it. 

y/n softly said, “When I was young I’d look up at the stars and be so inspired about the future. And in highschool, I once went to Guatemala with some of my friends and we’d go up on the roof of our hostel and look at the stars like this, and I felt so comforted, but I was wrong.” Reid turned his head to look at her as she continued, “*When I got older I realized that the light that we see from the stars is from dead things, all burned up in space. They died out thousands and thousands of years ago. The light we see is just their last message that they once existed.” y/n sniffled, and Reid couldn’t help but put his hand over hers and give it a tender squeeze. y/n stiffened at first, but quickly rolled over, not able to hold back her tears which she cried into Spencer's shoulder. Reid softly shushed her and ran his hand through y/n’s hair with his long fingers. 

When y/n composed herself a bit, she pulled back and said, “Sorry, this is so embarrassing. I’ve been an emotional wreck all day if I’m being honest.” Spencer gave her a small smile and sat up, helping y/n up with him. “Don’t apologize y/n. I understand.” y/n nodded, inside knowing that Spencer wasn’t just saying that because. “So what do I do now?” She asked. When y/n asked this question, Reid knew at that moment that he loved y/n. He wanted to support her more than he had before. He wanted to help build her up to a place of happiness. 

Spence let out a small, nervous, breath, saying, “y/n, we can’t always keep wishing on tomorrow’s stars. At some point we have to wish about now. I don’t have all the answers for you, but I do have a question.” y/n looked at Spence, “What is it?” Spence took his chance and asked, “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? We could do anything that would make you happy, even for just a few minutes. I’d like the be there for you during that.” y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment to process, she nodded her head yes, saying, “I think I’d like that too. It will give me something to look forward to.” 

Hearing this, Spencer smiled genuinely, and y/n finally saw the bottle of wine beside Spence. She gave Reid’s shoulder a small push and she said, “Hey, you didn’t say you brought wine. If you’d brought that out at the beginning I think I would have been happier.” Spencer chuckled as he grabbed the bottle and twisted the metal cap off. He replied, “Well then I’m glad you didn’t see it until now. But now that you’re feeling better, I think we can afford to imbibe a bit.” y/n shook her head with his choice of words before saying, “Are we going to be heathens and drink straight from the bottle, or are we going inside to get glasses.” Spencer said, “Well, I think inside, because it’s starting to get cold, and there's ice cream in there.” y/n’s eyes widened again and she jumped up replying, “Well you’ve got me convinced. Come on slow poke.” Reid laughed as he got up and took y/n’s hand as they moved toward the door. Neither of them would think about it, but the cards had been right. As the pair moved toward the stairs, the stars seemed extra bright.

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

*I can't take full credit for this concept as it comes from an episode of The Waltons called "The Minstrel." I try and give credit where ever it's due, so if you liked that line/scene you might check out that episode. Beware, it is a bit sad.

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[pookalicious-hq]

gold rush... isagi yoichi x reader

| pt. 2 invisible string... | prev | next | masterlist |

synopsis: isagi yoichi can't help but see the girl at his bus stop as a good omen tags/tws: meet-cute , swearing, realistic isagi (this guy doesn't pull any girls tbh) , mc eye colour is mentioned but it's part of the plot guys word count: 1000~ a/n: just a little more fluff before the plot takes place.

The sky was still a muted grey, streaked with soft pinks and pale golds that hinted at the sunrise yet to fully bloom. The air was sharp, biting against Yoichi’s skin as he walked to the bus stop, each breath hanging like a ghost before disappearing into the cold. The streets were quiet, enveloped in the stillness of early morning, save for the occasional rustle of fallen leaves skating across the sidewalk. The bus stop stood ahead, bathed in the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp, its light battling the encroaching day.

Yoichi had left his house earlier than planned, his usual morning routine rushed in a blur of anticipation he wasn’t quite ready to admit. The crisp morning air nipped at his cheeks, sharp and refreshing, as he zipped his jacket up higher. Today, he didn’t linger by the window to catch the sunrise; instead, he found himself hoping for another kind of sunrise—the one that seemed to live within her, warm and soft, yet inexplicable. He frowned at the thought. It wasn’t love at first sight, and he definitely wasn’t in a fairytale. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that no movie could ever replicate the quiet warmth of her smile or the gentle way she spoke, as if her words carried the same softness as the morning light.

He was in deep shit. Whatever.

Now, he waited twenty minutes before the first bus of the day would roll down the hill, the stillness of the morning wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. Maybe he had been a bit too eager to reach the bus stop this early. Sitting alone on the wooden bench, the cold air nipped at his skin, urging him to shiver. He exhaled slowly, watching as his breath formed a cloud of fog that quickly dissipated into the crisp morning air, signaling the impending change in weather. The distant songs of birds filled the silence, their gentle melodies weaving through the chill, creating a delicate harmony with the quiet surroundings.

Five minutes had passed, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she was just a one-time encounter—a random person who had crossed his path for only a moment. No, that was most definitely the case. With a sigh, Yoichi reached inside his pocket, his cold fingers brushing against the earbuds he kept nestled in the warmth of his jacket. There was nothing else to do at a time like this.

Just as he pulled them out, he heard the soft rustle of footsteps approaching. He looked up to see her coming into view, a gentle smile gracing her lips that caught him off guard, its warmth cutting through the morning chill. “Oh..! Morning,” she said, surprise flickering in her voice.

He couldn’t help but smile in return. “Morning.”

She slid onto the bench beside him, leaving a seat in between them, as if they were both uncertain about crossing that invisible boundary. As she settled in, a faint hint of vanilla wafted through the air, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. It was comforting, an unexpected sweetness that made his heart flutter slightly. They sat in silence, the world around them beginning to stir with the promise of a new day.

Based on the soft smile she wore, a tranquil glow that lit up her face, Yoichi realized the awkward tension hanging in the air was all his own. The comfortable morning chill surrounded them, yet it felt charged with an unspoken weight as he shifted on the wooden bench. Her presence was warm, an inviting contrast to the cold biting at his cheeks. As the silence stretched between them, he focused on the gentle rise and fall of her breath, hoping to draw comfort from it, but instead, it only amplified the fluttering in his stomach—something he convinced himself was just hunger.

The time they spent sitting felt like an eternity, equally as much as it passed too quickly, like sand slipping through his fingers. The world around them began to wake—soft rustles of leaves and the distant hum of early morning activity merged into a gentle symphony that played in the background. Yoichi could hear the rhythmic tapping of footsteps on the sidewalk, the occasional chirp of birds, and the whisper of the wind, but all of it faded as he focused on the warmth radiating from the girl beside him.

Suddenly, the deep rumble of an approaching bus cut through the stillness, echoing off the nearby buildings like a heartbeat, loud and promising. The vehicle turned the corner, its headlights piercing through the morning mist, illuminating the street with a brief flash of brightness. As it drew closer, Yoichi could see the faded blue paint of the bus, worn from years of service, glistening with dew in the early light.

The doors swung open with a soft hiss, releasing a puff of warmth that contrasted sharply with the crisp air outside. With a small yawn, the two grabbed their bags from the concrete and stood up. Instinctively, Yoichi took a step back, prompting the girl to enter the bus first. She flashed him a small nod and a smile of appreciation, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she stepped ahead of him.

As she moved to the doors, Yoichi couldn't help but notice the way her confidence radiated, her posture relaxed yet purposeful. She approached the bus driver, exchanging a few friendly words. “Didn’t have to honk to wake you up this time, huh, (Y/n)?” the driver teased, a warm smile spreading across his face.

Yoichi’s ears perked up at the mention of her name. (Y/n). It rolled off the driver’s tongue with an ease that felt familiar, and suddenly, he was struck by a fleeting memory. (Y/n). He had heard that name before, perhaps whispered in passing during soccer practice or mentioned in hushed tones among his teammates. The realization hung in the air, a subtle connection forming in the back of his mind. Hopefully, they would cross paths sooner than later.

Her breathing came out in ragged huffs, her lungs searching for air that wasn’t present. They had just finished the first stage of fitness training, and the effort left her feeling drained. Sweat dripped down her forehead, stinging her eyes, but she blinked it away, pushing through the fatigue that threatened to engulf her. The sounds of laughter and shouts echoed around the field, mingling with the rustle of leaves in the late afternoon breeze, but (Y/n) was in her own world, focused on recovering her breath.

She leaned against the cool metal of a nearby goalpost, using the brief moment of stillness to observe her surroundings. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the turf like fingers reaching for her. Nearby, teammates gathered in small huddles, exchanging stories and banter, their joy evident in the way they tossed playful insults and shared laughs. It was a stark contrast to her own silence, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the sting of exclusion.

But (Y/n) shook her head, dismissing the thought. She had never been one to rely on others for validation. Instead, she focused on the reason she was here—the drive to prove herself, to surpass whatever expectations loomed over her. A flash of her earlier performance flickered in her mind: the satisfaction of executing a perfect pass, the adrenaline that surged through her as she sprinted across the field, challenging her limits. That’s what mattered.

With a few more deep breaths, she finally felt her heart rate begin to stabilize. The scores from the fitness test were already buzzing among her teammates, a mix of excitement and apprehension painting their faces. (Y/n)’s eyes flicked to the makeshift scoreboard, where her name lingered among the others. Not good enough.

Determined to break through, she pushed herself away from the goalpost and began to jog lightly, the rhythmic thud of her cleats against the turf a steady reminder of her purpose. The cool breeze whispered against her skin, carrying the earthy scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the faintest hint of sweat—a reminder of the countless hours she had put into training. Each drop of perspiration trickled down her back, a testament to her commitment and hard work.

A sharp whistle pierced through the field, its sound cutting through the cacophony of shouts and laughter like a knife. The noise faded into a hush as all the players turned toward their coach, who stood at the edge of the turf—a commanding presence amidst the chaos. The sunlight glinted off her hair, creating a halo effect that made her seem almost ethereal, and the warmth of the sun mingled with the coolness of the air, creating an almost electric tension among the girls as they gathered around her, anticipation palpable in the air.

“Listen up, everyone,” the coach called out, her voice slicing through the lingering echoes of banter, clear and authoritative. “Tomorrow, after our fitness training, we’ll be facing off against the boys’ U-20 team in a scrimmage.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the girls, a mixture of excitement and apprehension coursing through the group like an electric current. (Y/n) felt her pulse quicken at the thought of competing against a different pool of players. It was daunting but exhilarating, a surge of adrenaline propelling her forward.

“I know they’re a tough squad,” the coach continued, her gaze steady and encouraging, burning with conviction. “But I believe that we can be better.”

(Y/n)'s heart swelled at her coach’s words, the fire within her reigniting like the glow of a fading ember. She exchanged glances with her teammates, their eyes sparkling with determination, a shared understanding that they were on the cusp of something significant. This was it—this was the opportunity to prove themselves. Fuck gender-based stereotypes; they would be the best team in Japan, no matter what.

“Remember,” the coach added, her voice rising slightly with enthusiasm, “the scrimmage is just as important as our training. It’s a chance to show what you can do and to get a sense of your baseline rank. So I want you all to give it your all out there. Show everyone what we’re made of.”

The declaration sent a shiver of exhilaration down (Y/n)’s spine, igniting every nerve ending in her body. She nodded vigorously, excitement coursing through her veins like fire. She wasn’t about to back down; this was her moment.

With the weight of the challenge settling on her shoulders, (Y/n) felt an urgency to prepare. The vivid imagery of the match flashed through her mind, a kaleidoscope of strategies and movements swirling together as she strategized every play she would make. The thought of competing against the boys made her nerves tingle, a delightful mixture of fear and anticipation that fueled her ambition.

As the team began to disperse, she lingered for a moment, letting the anticipation wash over her like a wave. The distant sounds of the field—the echo of shoes on turf, the laughter of her teammates, the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees—created a backdrop to her thoughts. Tomorrow would be the day she made her mark.

a/n: hope you liked it lovelies <3 lmk if you wanna be tagged

[yuseirra]

Oh, this is a thought that just occurred to me after having skimmed my copy of volume 14 right,

So there's this continuous idea of Ruby going she's going to surpass Ai and that she's "going to be different from Ai", the latter being achieved through expressing her feelings as she truly feels,

Of course they are different people, so it's good that she wishes to be herself and it's desirable to push to be the better person compared to one's parents too than being just a replica. I've always taken this in that pretty positive direction, but-

This makes me think...are they trying to make Ai's life a bad example that should be "improved" by the better version that is Ruby? That can't be it, right? I do not think the author would be intending for this but I'll just jot my thoughts on this: Ai's lived so vigorously, and I don't think it was her fault that she had to lie. That was due to the environment she lived in, and she did the best she could as an indiviudual thrown in that field as a child. Ruby has a different personality, but would it really be that she could have done better than Ai in that situation her mother had to go through? I don't think so. Although being a "liar"is a huge part of her identity, the love she had beneath it was genuine after all- that's what I got from her whole catchphrase "lies are love". It was indeed a form of love. What many celebrities put out there, I think that was pretty insightful. It's sad that people can't entirely be themselves, but actually, we ALL put on personas not just for ourselves, but for the sake of others, out of consideration. In a way, it's like dressing up properly for an occasion. It could be proper manners to fit in a situation and get along. Ai's case was a bit extreme, but she really did it out if concern and love towards others.

Ai lived really hard. I feel like.. She was so selfless. Of course she lived to her fullest but she kept saving other people of the pain they could feel about her by keeping every negativity she faced within herself. She went out and saved her boyfriend. She sent out love. She cared and loved everyone around her. If anything, she's not a bad example although I do feel she had it so hard...being a "person" she is. I feel Aqua still does not have a clue about her, he was like that throughout the movie arc, he said he'd help fulfill her wish but he gives up on that, the one thing she's wanted as a human being that she strongly kept in her mind enough to ask her own children about. I am a bit annoyed with him being all about Ruby with Ai's wish being out of his focus now although their bond IS special and seeing how he was, I actually saw that coming... It does make a contrast of how her boyfriend is all about her(whether it be twisted it not)while Aqua cares about the living. Again, though. Ai... The main focus of this story was always... Sort of about her, whether it'd be about finding the truth about her death and revenging it, or about what she wants, the narrative seems to have shifted off from it for now but I hope that is brief for the sake of consistency.

I have my hopes about this character because if I'm the writer, Ai is the one character I use as the backbone of the whole plot. I'd give her what she wants. I' m really sure that's what's going to happen, and so...I want her to be relevant and acknowledged. She isn't perfect, but I also don't think she ahould be a figure that's supposed to be overcome into a better version because I don't see Ruby's version of an idol being so perfect either. It has its good sides, but is she the really better, new and improved ways of what an idol should be? Aqua seems to think so from how he is in the recent chapters,

But should Ai have never lied? Is the idea of "lies are love" something that simple enough to be dismissed? I don't quite see it being the case either. I feel like there should be a middle ground if there just HAS to be one take on this. The world isn't so simple that everything would magically turn out better if you reveal everything about yourself although it's healthy to do it to a degree. There's a reason why there are superegos as well as ids.

So yes :) I root for Ai and her wants. She might not be ENTIRELY right, no one is really, and it's natural because she's a person like any other. However, I feel she'd be right in the most important parts. I want her wants to see light. It will. That's how I see this being a good story. I'm not entitled enough to say it should be this way or else but I just see it happening. So I'm not so worried about the story as a whole. Just very tense in between from the little things really.

I don't talk a lot about Ai or the other characters as much, but I do think about them.. It's more like I don't feel a need to try to make sense out of them as much so I don't write about them in an attempt to do so, Ai IS my fav. So here I dedicate a post to her this time! She's certainly a character that's made me gain insight about something I didn't think of as much compared to when I didn't encounter the character, and I really appreciate it!♥

If everything turns out the way she wants, I will be happy. She's greedy, isn't she~ and she has all the right to be. I support that. It's one of the major reasons why I'm so passionate and intrigued about that ship involving her and kamiki too! It's what she wanted to happen, and I see he wasn't half bad. He really loved her and SHE wanted to be with him(the latter bit had me sold especially). She'd want him to be happy and well, so I do too!

I want to see it happen~ and, it will. Like what her song implies. She always gets what she wants in the very end and I love to see it.

[lieutenantlashfaz]

To be loved is to be changed

18 years of love

[izzy-b-hands]

today should be a t break day

bc I'll need it to be more effective in the coming days if we see family, and then I'll have the survey shifts

but since late last night i keep randomly nearly breaking into tears and thinking abt the stupidest shit that needs to stay in the box in my brain

so idk. maybe it will be. it is thus far. but I'm not leaving my room without a container of some edible or another in my pocket either

[queer-reader-07]

.

[miniimight]

3AM sukuna underestimated just how much sleep he'd lose after having a kid (dad!sukuna x fem!reader)

the soft pitter patter of your baby's feet was enough to alert his senses. he didn't move—didn't even open his eyes—but his ears were tuned to the sound of your daughter's heavy breathing and the occasional babble.

he could hear her fiddle with the drawer handles, a soft rumble causing her to hum as she pulled the drawer out. a thud meant she bumped into it as she drew closer, messing around with the paper and cords inside.

he peeked one eye open. you were fast asleep beside him, and he was inclined to keep it that way. he didn't like to see his woman exhausted and seconds away from falling flat on her face because his little girl was, apparently, nocturnal.

"mama." she huffed as she finally turned her attention to the bed, fussing as she attempted to climb up.

he sighed. that was his cue.

he groaned as he rolled over, peering over your resting body at his daughter. she paused for a second, staring up at him with those shiny eyes that reminded him so much of you.

he raised an eyebrow.

she ignored his judgement and bounced in place, stretching her arms out to be picked up. "mama."

"mama's sleeping." he grumbled.

oh. oh, no. she didn't like that. she pouted, eyebrows furrowing in what seemed to be anger. her fingers curled into tiny fists and sukuna's lips twitched upwards in amusement. how adorable.

"mama." she said more adamantly.

he glared right back. "if you're coming back up here, you're gonna go to sleep."

whether she understood or not, she kept fussing to be picked up. he rolled his eyes and scooped her into his arms, rolling onto his back. baby was on his chest, leaning up so that she was sitting upright.

sukuna held onto her back, in case she toppled over and fell over like the bobblehead she was. "lie down."

"no." she chirped, looking out the window at the moon against the midnight blue.

"sleep."

"no."

he scrunched up his face. his life was much easier before she learned that word.

growing bored of the night sky, your baby rolled off sukuna's chest, scooting her way through the mess of sheets over to you. she glanced back at him as if to see if he was watching.

he gave her a look, observing her carefully. "don't you wake her up," he warned, propping his head up by his elbow.

her round eyes showed no trace of acknowledgment before she turned back to face you. there was a pause before her hand lifted in the air.

"okay." he sighed, catching the tiny hand in his before she slapped you awake. "come on."

she whined, writhing in his grip as he pulled her off the bed by the leg, dangling her in front of his face. "you really are little menace, aren't you?" he scoffed, flipping her over and holding her just like you taught him to.

she just babbled as her finger pulled at her mouth, the other hand resting on his shoulder.

he dragged his feet out the bedroom, into the kitchen. "what is it that you want, hm?" he rifled through the cupboards and pantry tiredly. "want a cookie?"

she squealed happily and pat his shoulder, a good enough answer for him to pull the package out. he dropped onto the couch, handing her one.

she nibbled on it, the chocolate staining her hands and mouth. he watched her fondly. to think he'd have a child of his own still confused him to this day. for all his wrongs, he must have done something right.

"wan' one?" she slurred, holding up the half-spit cookie to him.

"...no." he said plainly, though he did pick up a new cookie and took a bite out of it. might as well, he thought.

his eyes drooped until he felt his cookie being snatched out of his hand, replaced by the spitty cookie with most of its icing dug off.

"daddy take that one." she giggled, feasting upon her new cookie.

sukuna... what could he do? he ate that thing.

when you woke up the morning after, you just shook your head at the sight—your daughter resting on your husband's chest, cookie crumbs and chocolate smears all over the both of them. fast asleep. sugar coma.

you saved that picture for later <3

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ Rom-Com Gone Wrong

˚ · . bakugou katsuki x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ takes place during their third year, mentions of injuries and blood, forced intake of aphrodisiac, unestablished relationship, mutual pining, love confession, both characters are 18, protected sex, implied unprotected sex, virgnity loss, misunderstandings, a bit angsty, bakugou is lowky ooc and gentle, this is really long

following a rough battle with a rather inconvenient villian and his quirk, y/n finds herself induced with aphrodisiac against her will. she wins the encounter, only to be told if she doesn't relieve her sexual desires within 24 hours with another individual she will die.

"i'll be the one to do it," mineta says, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation, flipping his non-existent hair off to the side if his shoulder. the girls, in unison, disagree verbally, knowing of his creepy tendencies.

"can't she just do it with a girl?" tsuyuri thinks aloud, attempting to find an easy way for you to feel more comfortable with the situation. "if that's the case, then i'll do it!" ashido declares, raising her hand in the air.

this has been the subject of conversation for the past hour or so. yes, your classmates and even teachers are conversing on what to do about your current state, on who will be the one to sleep with you. it's almost heartwarming, to know that your classmates care so much about you that they'd be willing to sleep with you if it means you'll live.

which is exactly what it means. exactly nine hours ago, you had a confrontation with a well-wanted villian. you knew of the risks, you knew of his horrendous and taboo quirk. you knew that he used his quirk to take advantage of women who were defenseless and practically leaving them for dead within 24 hours of interaction.

quirks like these were rare, none of your classmates nor teachers had any experience with this type of thing. originally, the teachers were going to discuss of this situation privately, but after almost three hours had gone by with no real possible solutions, they had decided to involve your dearest classmates to come up with something, anything to help save your life.

"no, according to the villian and the tiny information we were able to get out of him, it has to be done with a male." midnight had said, rubbing at her temple to ease her stress. your female classmates groaned with frustration, side-eyeing mineta with disgust.

"t-then i'll do it!" a new contender had volunteered. "y-you? y/n needs a real man, denki—," jirou had said, trying to play of her nervousness with a chuckle. "i agree." momo said sternly.

"no offense but.. how about the boys leave this discussion to the boys." she added on, having distrust in the intentions of her male classmates. "i know you boys just want to do what you can to help her, but we also have to think about how this will affect her mentally."

the topic carried on with the girls, occasionally one of the boys attempted to give a idea, but were almost immediately shot down due to it's risk.

admist to all the tension and debate, there was one who was uncharacteristically quiet. bakugou katsuki.

all of the boys were huddled into a circle, behind the girls, listening into their plan. however, it was bakugou who stuck out like a sore thumb. he kept his hands in his pockets, a rather stoic expression written onto his face as he stared up to the ceiling.

"i'll do it! you guys just gotta trust me!" mineta yelled once more, his body jolting with fear when he was met with clear resistance from the girls.

everyone was too wrapped up in figuring out a game-plan to even notice that bakugou had taken his leave, muttering a scoff at his classmates's immaturity and perversion.

he made his way to the dorms, his hand rubbing at the tense skin of his nape. bakugou stopped in his tracks, seemingly he wasn't the only one who had the same idea. his hands returned to their place in his pockets, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of his classmate, todoroki shouto, standing a few feet away from your dorm room.

"what are you doing here?" bakugou asked, resting his body weight on his right leg. todoroki looked back at bakugou calmly, observing the blonde's stiff movements. "i want to help y/n-san." todoroki stated, glancing back at the door of your room.

bakugou scoffed at his answer, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "yeah right—you?" he hissed, coming up to todoroki and shoving him away from your door. "don't make me laugh. i'll be the one to do it."

todoroki stayed in place for a moment, blinking at bakugou's aggression and determination. he glanced once more at your door, and then back to bakugou before sighing with defeat and turning around to head god knows where.

bakugou scoffed once more, not taking his eyes off todoroki until he was well out of his sight. bakugou turned around, his red eyes staring intently at your door. he chewed on the walls of his mouth, wondering how to go about the situation.

as brash as he may be—he's not an idiot. he knows that if you don't end up getting any help within a few mere hours, you'll die. and thats not what he wants. to stand and watch while his dumb classmates argue over who will be the one to have the honor of having sex with you is something he won't abide with.

ೄྀ࿐

a soft moan escaped your lips at the feel of your fingers caressing against your sensitive folds. a drop of sweat ran down your flushed face, running down to your collarbone and dampening the sheer tank you were wearing.

there was a knot in your abdomen, a very tight knot, that has been yet to be undone. normally, when you had this kind of urge, you'd be able to satisfy it yourself. but it's been nearly eight hours since you'be been drugged, and the effects only get more and more intense with every passing minute.

you're tired. your body is coated in a thick layer of sweat, the room smells grossly of your own scent, and it's been eight hours—yet no release. tears sting at your waterline, your hand coming up to cover your pathetic whines and cries as your fingers scissor their way into your cunt, trying to find relief to your frustration.

you gasp with pleasure when your finger nails press ever so slightly against that one spot, hazy eyes going wide when you finally find it. your back arches off the bed, toes curling when you can barely press your fingerpads against that sweet spot, but nonetheless it's something.

your body jolts when you hear a light knock at your door, hands flying to grab onto your blanket to hide your half-naked body. you sat frozen on your bed, eyes watching the door.

a couple of moments later, once again the visitor knocked, snapping you out of your haze. you rushed to find any pajamas or clothes to wear, eventually settling on a pair of grey pajama shorts. the visitor knocks again once more, earning a groan from you. "g-give me a second!" you hiss loudly, dusting off your body and finally walking up to your door.

with a deep inhale, you open up your door a few inches, hiding your sweat-ridden body behind the large frame and peeking out your head to see the visitor.

your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of the familar blonde, his red eyes lidded low at you. "b-bakugou?" you stutter out, your cheeks blushing intensely when you feel your core throb at just the sight of him. "what... are you doing here?" you say, swallowing down the fat lump in your throat.

bakugou stares at you, his facial expressions uncharacteristically calm and unreadable. "..isn't it obvious?" he says nonchalantly, taking a step towards the door. his low tone heats up your body, making you impossibly warmer with embarrassment to top it off with your seemingly insatiable desire.

still, you don't move from the door, and if anything, push it forward so only a few centimeters remain between the frame and the door itself. your forehead rests against the wood, contemplating your options.

bakugou katsuki has come to your door to do the obvious with you. for many others, this would be a dream come true—and it almost is, for you, almost. tears cloud your vision once more at the thoughts that run throughout your head, he's only here because you'll die.

"let me in y/n,—", "no, i don't want you here." you interrupt, still hiding behind the door. bakugou's eyes widen slightly at your refrusal, not expecting you to shut him down given the situation.

to you, it's almost insulting—bakugou katsuki is here to have sex with you, to save you. your crush of many years, is here to have sex with you, but only because he feels the need to save you, not because he wants to.

bakugou sighs silently, he knows its a sensitive matter, that you're practically forced to have sex with someome that you possibly don't like just to live. his fists tighten up into a ball, his eyebrows furrowing at your stubbornness. but he won't have you die, he won't knowing he could help you.

"y/n. open the door or i'm going to break it down myself." he says sternly, his voice raising slightly. it sends shivers down your spine, but still you hold your ground. alas, you find it within yourself to close the door, only for it to be held open by bakugou who most definitely overpowers you when it comes to strength. with a grunt, your already weak arms give in, quickly dropping back to the floor as the door slams against the wall now that bakugou has won the short game of tug-o-war.

bakugou makes his way into your room, not even caring to check if the door handle has made a new hole in the wall. his mouth opens, ready to say something, only to purse into a straight line when he sees the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"i don't want you here." you mumble out, attempting to hide your tears by wiping them away as quick as they came.

with a grunt, bakugou is pulling you up to your feet, his hands gripping onto your shoulders while his lips smash against yours. the kiss is rough, almost uncomfortably stiff. and yet, you almost let out a moan of satisfaction just by him giving the worst kiss ever. he pulls away a moment later, his hands keeping you in place.

not like you'd be able to walk away even if you wanted, your gaze was fixated on his soft features, eyeing those lips of his. this time, it's bakugou whose walking away—and it's you who is running after him.

with haste, you push yourself forward to the blonde, your hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back to you. bakugou breathes out a grunt when your lips collide with his once more, desperate and clumsy, more teeth than tongue. you can't help but grab into bakugou's broad shoulders before finding better purchase by wrapping them around his neck, feet on all toes in order to reach his lips.

bakugou pulls away from you, quickly shutting the door and locking it. though, he barely has time to do the second, as soon as the door is closed, you're pushing him against it and shoving your body against his, encapturing his lips with yours once again. he swallows your desperate whines, his tongue fighting for dominance against yours. it's messy, it's not at all in sync—but just that alone has your body heating up than what you thought was possible.

and bakugou can feel it. his hands find purchase on the small of your waist—your skin is hot to the touch, almost fever hot. he raises an eyebrow when the feel of his skin on yours alone has you letting out a soft moan, much to your embarrassment. experimentally, bakugou's hands travel down to the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh lightly, earning a gasp from your lips.

seeing this, bakugou pulls away from you, a fat string of saliva connecting the two of you. his red eyes watch you tortuously, watching the way your delicate features contort with pleasure as his hands explore your ass, his squeezes getting more and more rough as your body reacts. his finger glides up to the hems of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings and eventually pulling on one to untie the knot, allowing your flimsy excuse of so-called shorts to drop and lay around your feet.

your cheeks burn at the way he stares closely at your half-naked body, eyes darting down to the ground when you realize that you didn't even put on any underwear. to you, bakugou is eyeing your body, looking for any imperfections and unsatisfying marks.

but to bakugou, he has to hold back a groan by biting on his lower lip at the sight of your bare cunt. his hands tighten it's grip on your hips, attempting to keep his composure. bakugou finally pushes himself off the door, leading you quickly by the small of your waist to your bed.

with a gentle shove, you're laying down onto your back, your legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. your eyes widen when bakugou's hands grab the hems of his shirt, pulling it up to his head and discarding of his shirt, revealing his rather toned abs and few scars he's gained in the various fights he's gotten into as a hero.

your mouth is agape in awe, practically drooling at the sight of his fit muscles and small waist. without another word, your hand subconsciously reaches for him, generously touching the muscles of his abdomen. for the first time of the night, bakugou finally shows some emotion, smirking widely at your infatuation with his abs.

"i know i got some great abs, huh?" he grins, his hand coming up to rest on the flesh of your thigh. his grin flattens to an slightly agape 'O' when your hand travels down lower to his lower pelvis, your nails caressing the skin, sending shivers down his spine. dangerously, it continues, your fingers meddling with the edge of his baggy pants, circling the metal button.

before you could do anything else, bakugou is grabbing your hand away, and much to your surprise, settles himself inbetween your bare legs, eyeing your exposed cunt. naturally, you rush to close your legs, but are stopped by his hands that rest on both of your inner thighs.

"don't try to hide yourself from me." he growls lowly, his cock growing hard in his pants at the fuller sight of your glistening cunt. a yelp leaves your throat when you are pulled closer to the edge of your bed, cunt mere centimeters from bakugou's face. your eyes close shut, palm hiding your face in embarrassment.

"open your damn eyes, you're gonna watch as i eat this pretty pussy." he hisses out before blowing lightly onto your folds, enjoying the way your thighs shiver. with a lick of his lips, bakugou dives into your cunt, his tongue dragging across your folds and into your core. you let out a rather loud moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your cunt, your hands diving down to entangle themselves in his short blonde locks.

as told, you watch bakugou devour your poor pussy through tears, moaning into your palm to not let anyone hear the way you're getting eaten out by one of your classmates. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel bakugou enter his index finger into your tight walls, massaging your gummy walls without mercy.

"bakugou.." you mewl out, back arching off the bed when you feel the knot in your stomach begin to unravel. the fingers tied in his hair pull tightly on his roots, earning a hum of satisfaction leave his lips, vibrating against your clit so deliciously it has you sobbing out his name within seconds and squirming within his tight hold as you cum. tears run down your cheeks as your body convulses with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed intensely as your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

a minute later, you finally come down to earth, chest heaving heavily as your eyes focus down to bakugou who licks up the remains of your delicious juices. it's so over stimulating, but it feels so good, the way his tongue laps up your cum as if he was a starved man.

for a second, you close your eyes, basking in the sweet after-glow of your orgasm before a familar vibrating sound snaps you out of your bliss. bakugou holds up the pink bullet-vibrator within his hand, cocking his head to the right. "this yours?" he asks teasingly, a sly grin painted into his face.

before you could respond, bakugou is pressing the bullet against your clit, sending waves of overstimulated pleasure up your spine. you wiggle and shift on your bed, attempting to get away from it, from him, but in the heat of the moment you seem to have forgotten of bakugou's trained strength. he pins your hips onto the bed with ease with one hand, and holds the bullet to your clit with the other.

he evilly chuckles into your cunt, his tongue gliding into your tight hole. your cries and pleas are melodies to his ears, and he only stops when your thighs are shaking for a second time around his head and your pussy walls are tightening up around his tongue. he hungrily laps up your fluids once more, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit as he discards of the vibrator in order to grab onto the back of your thighs and practically smothers himself into your pussy.

finally, once he's deemed you cleaned up and not an ounce of your cum wasted, he pulls away from your drenched pussy. his chin glistens with your juices, his tongue lapping up any remains on his lips. his ruby red eyes watch as your chest heaves up and down, his hand grabbing your wrist that was covering your flushed face and discarding it to the side.

he passionately kisses you, not like the kisses you two shared earlier. rather, your inhaling his heavy breaths as his hips roll subconsciously into yours, his hard-on poking against your inner thigh. "bakugou.." you exhaled against his lips, your hand sliding inbetween your close bodies to palm his confined cock.

bakugou lets out a almost pained groan, his eyebrows furrowing at the feel of your hand brushing against his cock's tip. "fuck.." he groans, his head dipping down to your chest when your hand slides below his trousers and over his confined boner. "wanna help you too bakugou," you mumble shyly, batting those pretty eyelashes at him.

the tempered blonde seems to have been frozen in place at your unexpected boldness, his cock growing impossibly harder at your words. he curses under his breath when your hand glides in between the gap of his boxers, your fingers coming into contact with the skin of his cock.

you're so unexpected. it's all bakugou can ever think of. unlike all the others, you've surprised him the most. you've surprised him with your wits—instead of strength and speed. no matter how mean or offensive he's been to you, you've been nothing but a saint—going so far to even nurse him back to health after a particularly aggressive battle with a villian.

thats why he had to be the one to help you. after all you've done for him, he had to return the favor in the one time he could save your life, even if it meant having sex would save you. he wasn't about to let those ungrateful, clueless extras do it with you either when they didn't deserve the opportunity to have you so vulnerable for them.

and having sex with you doesn't seem too bad, not in the slightest. especially not when your hand is pumping his cock so deliciously. bakugou's lips apart slightly, a sharp gasp escaping when your palm tightens around his sensitive cock.

you jolt when bakugou's own hand wraps around your wrist firmly, practically slapping it away from his cock. you look up at him with filmy eyes, looking for an explanation within his own. "gotta focus on you," he mumbles under his breath, his hands coming down to your hips and dragging you down to him.

bakugou finally begins to undo his belt, the metal buckle causing your ears to tingle. he pushes down his pants to his lower thighs, for a second he glances up at you, to which you can see a small glimpse of the red tint that covers the apples of his cheeks and the way he stares intently at your features, most likely waiting to see your reaction.

he slides his dark red boxers down to the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock of his uncomfortable confines. and, just wow, maybe it's because you're quite literally drugged with a sex drug, or maybe he's just that perfect—but just the sight of his cock has your pathetic pussy walls clenching and throbbing around nothing.

your mouth salivates at the mere thought of his cock, and just now seeing it—god you just want him to fuck you already. without a thought, your hand reaches once more for him, only for bakugou to pin your wrist down to the side of your body, his own climbing on top of the bed. your legs come to rest on each sides of his hips, his thighs underneath yours while he sits on his knees.

it seems you're not the only one so horny, afterall, as bakugou wrapped his hand around cock, his hips inching closer to yours, his body jolted, eyes widening. his sudden movement has your heart dropping in your stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on your body. "w-what? what is it?" you stutter out, your hand crossing defensively over your clothed chest.

bakugou's cheeks seem to bloom more a shade of red as he leans back, searching for something in his pocket. "hah.. i almost forgot the condom.." he says, taking out the unmistaken small square packet out of his pocket.

you chuckle lightly at the mistake, feeling embarrassment for yourself as well. to think that you two were so wrapped up in the heat of the moment that you almost forgot the condom gives such a strange feeling in your stomach.

finally, bakugou puts the condom on, a bit shaky with embarrassment as he slides it on. all prepared, he looks up at you—possibly the calmest you've ever seen him, but there's a hint of seriousness and maybe even care with the way his eyebrows are furrowed lightly or how his eyes never leave your face.

"ready?" he asks cautiously, his hand gripped onto the underside of your thigh with the other resting on the side of your lower stomach. with your nod of approval, bakugou meets his thighs to your ass, his cock tip pressing lightly against your virgin hole.

before bakugou could go any further, your soft sobs stop him. his head immediately snaps up to yours, his eyes wide with shock. your eyes are once again wet with tears, eyebrows arched and lips frowning.

"i know this is not very convenient, y/n, but if we don't do this, you'll die-", he tries to say before he's interrupted by your sobs and hiccups. through fat tears and incoherent sentences, you finally manage to say something clear.

"it's not that." you practically hiss, surprising the blonde. "..then what is it?" he urges, a confused expression forming on his face. with a loud sigh, you groan loudly with anger and sadness, practically throwing your hands to your face as you try to wipe away your never-ending tears.

"i d-didn't want it to be like t-this!" you sob loudly, your shoulders jumping with every hiccup. before bakugou could press any further, the years of untold suffering and thoughts just came rushing to you, spilling out of your mouth like vomit. "i-i didn't w-want it to be l-like this! to happen like this!"

"oh my g-god! bakugou i've been in love with you since i've m-met you—and it–it hurts—for it to happen this way—you're only doing this just b-because you f-feel obligated to do i-it—not because you l-love me—" you mumble out, hands covering your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.

"for it to ha-happen this way—it's like a whole prank..! like a fucking—slap in the face!" you say, practically yelling the last part as your hands fly down to the bed with frustration, finally meeting bakugou's gaze. your sobs quiet down, stomach churning at the realization of the word vomit you just had.

you thought he would be weirded out, maybe even make fun of you for it. but instead, bakugou is now looking at you with an unfamiliar gaze, full of something that seems to just be more than politeness and friendly care. sure, he's not smiling, but the way his red eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated so big they might as well just be black, his eyebrows no longer furrowed but instead arched upwards with what seems to be surprise.

before you could say anything else, waves of sharp pain are shot up your spine as bakugou unexpectedly pushes in the tip of his cock, his arms now finding purchase by wrapping around your waist, lowering himself closer to you.

his lips press yours, slow and steady as he inches his fat cock into you. he pulls away from your lips with a grunt, his eyebrows arched downwards as he tries to set aside the way your cunt feels so heavenly wrapped around the end of his cock.

"i'm sorry for how i've been treating you." he says lowly, his teeth nipping at the pristine skin of your collarbone. "i just didn't know how to tell you—didn't think you felt the s-same," he breathes out, stuttering the last word when your walls clench around his cock. bakugou curses under his breath, trying to ground himself by pawing at your clothed breasts, sliding his hands under your tank to feel the bare skin.

bakugou's words has fresh tears forming once again at your water line. "the same..?" you think out loud, a hiccup escaping your throat at the realization.

"f-fuck, y/n—," he chokes out, his balls becoming flush with the curve of your ass. "bakugou.. the same?" you urge on, a small gasp leaving your lips when his cock tip glazes against your sweet spot. it takes bakugou to find the strength to answer, but he does with a groan, rising his upper body to have a better look at the sight of you.

"..yes the same you dummy." he finally confirms, his eyes unable to lock with yours, instead choosing to glue themselves to the sight of your tight pussy swallowing his cock. without wasting another second, your hands fly to his nape, pulling him back down to kiss him roughly. the two of you moan into the kiss, your hands desperately exploring the skin of his back while his continue to grope and massage your breasts.

"hah—i just couldn't allow it.. i didn't want the others to have you.." he groans out, his hips speeding up against yours. his teeth bite at your breasts possessively, leaving dark red marks over the unmarked flesh. his possessiveness sends a shiver up your spine, making you impossibly more hornier than you thought possible.

"baku—katsuki," you mewl out, your fingernails digging trails of red into the skin of his back. his head nods silently at your use of his first name, his ears tingling intensely.

his head tilts up to face yours, unprepared for what you were about to say. "please fuck me. i need you."

with a few words of heavy profanity, all previously known touches of gentleness are thrown out the window and bakugou is throwing your leg over shoulder and practically folding you in half. bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, if not your screams of pleasure would be heard by all the other people in these dorms—and he's not quite on board with any nobodies hearing your pretty moans.

bakugou practically jackhammers his hips into yours, his cock tip bullying your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head at the foreign feeling of your cervix being fucked, of your cunt being mercilessly destroyed by a fat cock. your hand flies up to the head board, desperately attempting to find purchase on anything to keep you grounded.

his cock grazing your sweet spot has you screaming once more into his palm, creaming around him for the first time that night. "f-fuck—" bakugou curses loudly, his teeth drawing blood on his lower lip in an attempt to hide own moans.

your cunt walls have a vice grip on his cock, practical almost leaving him unable to move as you cum around him. still, bakugou works his hips in and out, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from cumming just yet.

in an last ditch effort to do so, bakugou lifts his palm up from your mouth, flipping your body so you lay onto your stomach. he's quick to shove his cock back into your overstimulated cunt, rutting into you like a dog in heat. bakugou doesn't find it within himself to care when you're moaning so loud that the first floor can probably hear you, neither does he care that he's fucking you so hard that the bed frame begins to slam against the wall.

all he cares about is destroying your cunt, destroying you, something he's been wanting to do since he's met you. "fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n you feel so fuckin' good—i'm gonna cum," he babbles, his cock growing hard at the sight of your fat ass bouncing with every impact of his thrusts.

you're no better off than him, moaning his name desperately like a mantra. bakugou finally comes with a sharp and deep thrust, pushing his cock so deep it has the tip flush with your bruised cervix. he groans incoherent words, most likely profanities, as he cums into the condom, his hands gripping on the swell of your hips as he tries to ground himself.

you cum just at the unmistaken warmth that pools inside of you, tongue lolling out of your mouth pathetically. your body twitches underneath his weight, hands weakly grabbing onto his biceps. "katssshuki.." you mewl out, stars practically twinkling in your eyes.

bakugou pulls out of you with a sharp inhale, taking off the filled condom. his cock twitches when you stop him just as he's about to throw away, taking the cum-filled latex from his hand and holding it over your mouth, allowing the cum to drip onto your tongue and into your throat.

he watches you with wide eyes as you practically suck the cum out of the condom before throwing it into the trash bin on the side of your bed. you look at him with a grin, licking your lips generously before giggling.

bakugou's face twitches uncontrollably, any remains of the composure and the obvious "better safe than sorry", he has left is discarded before he practically pounces on you like a wild beast.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bakugou is jolted awake, his eyes darting to the door of your room. theres a couple of knocks, his eyes look for your clock, '5:04 AM'.

he shuts his eyes, fully okay with ignoring the late visitor before theres more knocks. bakugou, begrudgingly, gets up, only because he doesn't want you to wake up.

he wraps his lower body in a spare blanket, taking a few seconds to rub awaken more before he's inching the door open, just barely enough to see who the visitor is. though, his shoulders relax when he sees it's just mr. aizawa at the door, most likely checking up on your state.

mr. aizawa blinks unexpectedly at bakugou, surely not expecting him to answer the door. his expression softens at the realization, being quick to offer an explanation. "i was just coming here to see if y/l/n was alright.. but i see it's under control, right?"

aizawa punctuates the last word of his sentence with the tilt of his head, his eyes pointing out bakugou's half-naked body. bakugou in response sheepishly shrugs, muttering out a groggy 'yeah' before closing the door.

he stands at the closed door for a second, rubbing his eyes tiredly before turning around to go back to bed, your bed more specifically. he stops in his tracks for a moment before continuing, seeing that you're now sitting up and staring at him.

"katsuki.." you breathe out tiredly, practically purring when you feel his hand settle onto your hip, bringing you back down onto the bed with him.

the two of you share a chaste kiss, departing only to get a short breathe in before you're pushing your body against his, deepening the kiss once more for the nth time that night.

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[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,” he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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[phant0mth1ef]

the feeling that i’m losing her, forever.

bakugou katsuki x childhood friend hcs! pt 2

- you’d both met in kindergarten when you had complimented his quirk which had just manifested, and in return, he asked to see yours.

- your quirk wasn’t anything too flashy, you could manipulate the terrain beneath you, or anything that was considered part of earth for that matter. (think of toph from atla).

- he straight up told you that your quirk sucked and so you hit him in the head with a rock. he got set to the infirmary and you had a lengthy chat with your principal about why you shouldn’t use quirks on other students.

- sought you out after that encounter because he liked that you weren’t scared or took what he said to heart because you knew you were good.

- even as a kid he was a cocky little shit so you consistently kept him in his place whenever he started his “forward march and here we go!” chant.

- over time, you two simply just stuck by each other because you were almost always in the same class, so you never really had any reason to ignore the boy, and he found himself not completely hating the feeling of having you right by his side.

- in middle school he found out that you put shiketsu instead of ua down as your top school and he threw a fit because he didn’t want to lose one of the things in his life that was consistent and stable, but got over it when you told him that you’d come visit.

- when he got into ua and you got into shiketsu, your parents joined together and had a celebratory dinner for you both, and he could swear he had never been happier than that moment.

- when your family had to move so you could go to shiketsu, the boy went over and pretended he wasn’t about to cry because truth be told, you were his best friend.

- at first, you’d both called each other almost every night to gain daily updates on how your new lives were treating you, and it was something bakugou had looked forward to after having to deal with those extras all day.

- the first time you guys didn’t check up on each other was the same night that the usj had been attacked by the league of villains, something that you had seen on the news as you immediately dialed up your friend, who texted you that he was just too tired to talk right now.

- the second time was after ua’s sports’ festival, when you called to congratulate him and he just completely ignored the call, no explanation as to why, just instantly getting sent to voicemail.

- you pretended like you didn’t care, obviously you knew he was busy and that he probably just didn’t have the time in between classes and trainings, but then again, you were doing the same things and making time for him, why couldn’t he do the same for you.

one time he accidentally butt dialed you before class had started and when you picked up you could hear the bustling nature and conversations going on in his classroom, the sound of the boy pulling out his seat and sitting down was heard.

“hello? katsuki?” no response.

you recognized izuku’s voice coming into earshot.

“kacchan, i’ve been meaning to ask. how’s y/n doing?” the boys positive attitude even conveyed itself through the phone as you waited to hear how bakugou would respond, because truth be told, you had a major crush on your best friend.

“i dunno.” and you could hear him taking a bite of something, like an apple or something crunchy.

“y/n?! if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you had a girlfriend bakugou!” an unrecognizable voice boomed through your headphones.

“s’not the case. she’s just a friend. i don’t like her like that. always callin’ me and shit, gets annoyin’ y’know?” he grunted as the sound of your bell ringing had filled your ears, you quickly hung up and turned off your phone. pretending that what just happened didn’t sting a bit.

- from there you stopped calling him so much, figuring that if he wanted to talk, he’d call you up first.

- eventually you stopped talking altogether because you stopped starting the conversations, refusing to make him feel as if he had to talk to you.

- bakugou of course was unfortunately a firm believer of “the phone works both ways,” so he never decided to start a conversation up either. matter of fact he refused to ever think of hovering his finger over your contact, instead opting to just tell kirishima about his thoughts.

- when ua moved into the dorms, bakugou had a bulletin board filled up with a variety of different things that seemed so out of character for him, like pictures of him as a kid, pictures of his family, newspaper clippings from the sports’ festival, and a few select pictures of you both through the years.

- the first time kirishima was let into the blonde boy’s room, it was like the first thing his eyes locked onto as he sat down at bakugou’s desk, seeing a genuine smile on his friends face.

“who’s that?” his voiced laced with curiosity as he unpinned the picture, taking it down to show his friend.

“eh? friend of mine.” his reply was short and concise, as if he didn’t want to talk about it. so kirishima just pinned the photo back up, and looked at the rest that littered his wall.

a picture of you both at your kindergarten graduation, a few candid pictures from grade school, and a picture of just you from middle school graduation, but you can tell bakugou took it because a tuft of the spiky blonde hair hung in front of the camera lens and left only half your face visible.

kirishima had to stifle his laugh when he saw a childhood picture of you and bakugou playing in a sandbox, the boy getting sand thrown into his face, and on the back of the photo read “katsuki’s first friend!” clearly something mitsuki had done for him.

- he felt his breath getting separated from his body when he saw you stepping off the bus at the provisional licensing exam, your shiketsu cap taunting him, teasing what could’ve been.

- of course he didn’t miss how your second year classmates all walked with you huddled between them, they’d known of your foul relationship with someone from ua, and as the one of the only first years that were attending the exam from shiketsu, they felt as if they had to protect you.

“oh, look kacchan! she’s here.” midoriya was excited, because after all, you were his friend as much as you were bakugou’s.

“i know.” and that was all he said before angrily walking off, he saw your phone in your hand, he knew it still worked.

he was acting as if he didn’t miss you. and even if his eyes lit up as you essentially dominated the piece of earth terrain, he’d never admit that he wanted his best friend back by his side.

“seiji was eliminated? no way!” you spoke to inasa after the first part of the exam, true disappointment in your voice as you found out bakugou had eliminated your classmate.

“he likes you, y’know.” inasa’s voice was naturally loud, so you weren’t shocked when people’s heads begun to turn at the sound of romance in the air.

“who?”

“shishikura.” all inasa wanted was for his friend to gain the girl he’d been pining for since the first day of school, even if his friend was a certified dick to some people.

katsuki hadn’t once bothered to look your way since you’d gotten to the exam site, but his knuckles were turning white as they gripped the table in front of him.

he didn’t realize it, but he had lost you a long time ago back when he had called you annoying.

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!!!

what about bau!reader who’s super affectionate with spencer (and he just takes it with a blush and sugary coffee)

example; jawline kisses that are supposed to be cheek kisses instead of hello’s and goodbye’s & reader having her arm around spencer’s waist at all times cuz she’s just so used to his body warmth!!!

(for some reason i’m imagining s9 reid & new-ish reader but u can do what u want ofc!!)

FUGITIVE AFFECTIONS | Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

description: fugitive (noun) meaning escape, runaway. (adjective) meaning fleeting, brief, passing.

Length: 1.1k

warnings: fluff fluff FLUFF.

He knew what was coming the second he heard her footsteps. The coffee machine spluttered with effort as it churned out his third cup of the day, and he was already perched with the sugar waiting for the appliance to do its thing. Spencer barely had chance to acknowledge the approaching figure when he felt arms wrap around his waist, someone attaching themselves to his back with a feather light kiss to his spine. 

“Good morning,” He called over his shoulder, and you hummed, quickly squeezing the soft pooch of his stomach and releasing him. 

“Morning,” You said, and he leaned up to open the cupboard door, which wasn’t a big feat for him with his heinously long limbs. Plopping a mug down on the side, he poured coffee in your cup first before he started on his own, “Reports due today?” 

“Hotch wants the Minnesota and the Nevada cases wrapped up,” He said, sliding the milk and sugar over to your side of the counter and keeping his head down. Spencer felt his ears run hot, like they usually did whenever you got so close to him, which just happened to be always. 

He doubted the words ‘personal space’ were ever a thing in your vocabulary. It had started with Garcia, with the two of you linking arms and braiding each other's hair after two weeks of you moving to the BAU, and he’d figured that Garcia had won you over with that natural, bubbly charm of hers. But Spencer was perceptive, and he’d quickly realised the behaviour was not strictly limited to Penelope and her chirpy attitude. You tended to walk close to everyone, like you were trying to mesh you bodies in with them and the shoulder bumps and hands brushed against one another didn’t matter. In the end, rather than push you away, Morgan had taken to wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you waltzed around the office together. Even Blake was succumbing to your touchy-feely attitude as you liked to cosy up next to her on the jet, usually falling asleep with your head on her shoulder, and she thought little of it now, just continuing with her crosswords unbothered. 

And then you’d set your sights on Spencer. 

He supposed you hadn’t quite got the memo about his germaphobia, or perhaps the transference of bacteria between humans during simple hand holding just never occurred to you. Yet after just a month of being desk buddies with him, he nearly jumped out of his skin the day you slipped your fingers in between his when the two of you had been paired up on a case and you were heading down the witness’s driveway to interview them. 

He’s been about to ask what the hell you were doing, or perhaps scramble to shove you off, and sanitise his hands with the emergency gel he kept in his bag at all times. But by the time he’d looked over at you, his cheeks a flaming strawberry colour with what he’d thought of as annoyance, you were simply smiling at him, and began swinging your joined hands back and forth, nudging your temple into his shoulder affectionately. 

“You look really pretty in that purple shirt, Spencer,” You said simply, and whatever scathing remark about how eighty percent of pathogens are transferred during hand holding was robbed from his gullet and he was stunned into silence. The way you’d said his name alone made his lips part in wonder, because he’d never heard it said like that. 

“T-thankyou, I like your jacket.” He cringed as soon a he said it, and the two of you looked down to your government issued FBI vest, the same one he wore, the same one Hotch wore, the same one they’d all worn for the past nine years. 

You sniggered, bumping him again with your forehead like you were a cat purring up against him, marking your territory. 

“You’re cute,”

You were full of sweet, loving words like that he realised, all buttercups and candy floss and honey and sweetie and my love and he felt himself expecting it now, biting his lip in worry if you were ever just the tiniest bit too busy to fluff him up with affection.

Like when you’d been called out by Blake on an emergency, the two of you scrambling to grab the SUV keys to go meet Morgan and JJ where they were moving into the building  after the suspect. 

The two of you had all but ran out of the precinct in the effort to catch up with the other agents, leaving Spencer, pen still in his hand as he mapped out the geographical profile, and he hadn’t realised anything was missing until he heard the door slam shut and he hadn’t felt the warmth of your hug, your hand in his hair ruffling it lovingly, not even a ‘goodbye, sweetie!’

Spencer pouted, despite the fact he’d spent the first few weeks wondering if he should be shying away from your touch because he was quickly running out of sanitizer and had yet to want you to stop. He felt like his routine had been interrupted, because that’s definitely what the source of his disappointment was, not the fact he wondered if he had done something wrong, and yet before he could think too hard about it, the door swung back open, Blake yelling something from the hallway that he could just about make out was your name, before a body crashed into his side and your lips were on his jaw, kissing him lightly through laboured breaths. 

“Bye, Spence.” You murmured, kissing up his cheek a few times to apologise for the wait, and he hadn’t even had the chance to return the favour through the fish out of water gape as he watched you run back to the door, Blake looking at you incredulously. 

“I just watched you run up three flights of stairs for that?” She asked, the door slowly closing behind you and giving him unfiltered snooping on your conversation. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt, the same one that you had just kissed over and over again like it was a normal thing for you two, and he wondered if he could coordinate you rushing out of the office every time if it meant he’d have that again. 

“It’s Spencer, it was important,” You insisted, and he squoze his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palm, because it was too late to tell you just how much you’d made him feel in such a tiny gesture, and the electricity from your kisses had to come out somewhere. If not, Spencer worried he might explode. 

His hand sanitizer sat empty in his pocket, the same way it had been for months, and Spencer couldn’t care less.

[milkloafy]

SILENT BUT RECKLESS — TODOROKI SHOUTO

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which pro hero!shouto saves you from getting run over by a car and finds himself immediately enraptured by you.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: pro hero!shouto, fluff, gn!reader ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.3k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: aka…pro hero!shouto is a pr nightmare and no u cannot convince me otherwise ! ahdjskc but frl this is so unserious but i miss the og anime loml so here we are :>

Shouto wasn’t exactly known for his talkative nature. 

It was quite the opposite, in fact, with news agencies and magazines often referring to him as the quiet one of the Big Three. Though, he supposed that was better than being known as the one with the family trauma. 

But people often mistook his silence for thoughtfulness, he realized. Or an intense observation of sorts. And while at times that was the case, most times, it was simply because he didn’t have anything to say. 

Shouto blinked as he realized the situation he was in. 

He had just stopped a villain from robbing a luxury clothing store for the third time this month, nothing too exciting, yet the journalists showed up each time for an interview with him after. 

“Sir, we are live,” the reporter reminded with a nervous laugh. “We asked if you had a message for any…”

She kept talking, but Shouto was unable to concentrate. Not because he had heard it millions of times before, but because he noticed a strange movement from the corner of his eyes. 

This was one of the times he was both silent and observant. 

Shouto spotted you crossing the street on your phone, staring at your screen and completely oblivious that a car was headed your way with little to no sign of stopping. 

Without thinking of how it would look to the public for him to ditch an interview mid-sentence, he ran over to you before he even processed his legs moving. Throwing his right arm out in front of him, he sent a wall of ice up to block the vehicle’s predicted path, reaching you just in time to sweep you off your feet and carry you away from the road as the ice began to shatter from the impact. 

The ice wall was thick enough that the car slowed before fully breaking through, but that didn’t stop Shouto from instinctively shielding you with his body in the event that ice shards propelled towards you. 

Once he heard the sound of a crash and alarms, he figured the vehicle was fully stopped and the authorities arrived to assess the situation themselves. Would he get scolded by his agency for putting up an ice wall and potentially damaging someone’s vehicle? It was likely so. But that was better than someone actually getting hit by a car instead. 

The world wanted heroes, but only when they fit into their ideal mold. And while rules and regulations helped keep order in the world, in moments like these when someone’s life was in danger, Shouto couldn’t be bothered to care.

Slowly, his body relaxed and he was able to finally take a look at you. At the person who, for some reason, was so focused on their phone they didn’t notice a car coming at them. 

Any criticisms that threatened to come out of his lips stayed there once he got a good look at your features. He found himself taken aback by how beautiful you looked, though he quickly cleared his throat and recovered from his blatant staring. 

“Be careful when you’re crossing the street,” said Shouto, walking over to a section of grass and away from the commotion that was happening on the road, with you still in his arms. “What was keeping you so occupied?” 

You looked up at him guiltily, your phone clutched between your hands. “I was trying to order my food…” 

He blinked. As a pro hero, he shouldn’t be one the judge victims. But he couldn’t help but raise his brow just a bit. 

“I was really hungry,” you said sheepishly, hiding your face in embarrassment. “But I can’t believe I was so focused on my order I didn’t realize the car wasn’t stopping!” You sighed to yourself before meeting Shouto’s eyes once more. “Thank you for saving me, Shouto. I’m sure you had much more pressing matters to attend to instead of saving some random person off the street.”

He shook his head. “That’s the most important part of the job. Saving people.” 

You smiled gratefully at him and he almost had to look away from your dazzling grin. “Well, thank you for saving this idiotic person right here.” You gestured towards yourself. “Still, I hope my order went through…”

A mixture between a snort and a laugh escaped his lips. You had almost gotten run over and your biggest concern was whether or not your dinner was on its way? 

“It’s didn’t!” you cried in exasperation as you peeked at your phone. “Well, I might as well get a convenience store meal at this point.” Sighing, you leaned your head against his chest for a brief moment of comfort. “By the way, you can set me down now. I think people are taking pictures of us.” 

“Oh,” said Shouto, “right.”

Carefully, he loosened his hold on you and set your feet carefully onto the floor. Before fully letting go of you, he made sure you were stable and steady. For some, it took a while for the events to process and the panic to settle in, and he wanted to ensure you were truly okay. 

You had a worried look on your face as you noticed the video cameras still focused on the two of you. 

“Will you get in trouble for this?” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. 

“For rescuing someone from a getting hit by a car and talking to them after?” He considered things for a moment. “Most likely. But it’s okay. The most important thing is you are safe, both physically and mentally.”

Giggling, you nodded, reaching up to pat him on top of his head. Shouto was startled by the sudden touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Who knew Shouto was such a worrywart,” you teased. “I’m safe and unharmed, all thanks to you. In fact, to show my gratitude… Why don’t I treat you to some convenience store dinner? On me, of course!” 

Shouto was silent for a bit. There were plenty of things he should be thinking about right now. The headlines that would be made about Pro Hero Shouto saving someone and then going on a “date” with them right after. The damage it could do to his reputation. The overtime hours the agency would make his public relations team work.

Instead, his silence was used to think of what he exactly he wanted to get at the convenience store. 

“Okay,” Shouto said once he made up his mind. “I’ll take a curry bun.” 

You laughed and gestured for him to follow you to the nearest convenience store. “I like that, too. You have good taste.” 

He followed along beside you, pleased with himself when he heard your captivating laugh. 

“I think I want an egg sandwich tonight,” you stated, a thoughtful look on your face. “Or maybe some fried chicken. Or an egg sandwich and fried chicken? And a smoothie for a drink and dessert all in one item! But maybe I want a crepe instead…”

As you rambled on, Shouto suddenly understood how you were too engrossed with trying to order food on your phone that you didn’t realize a vehicle was approaching you earlier. And while that was dangerous, he found it slightly endearing. Just as long as you were away from any cars. 

Shouto was so focused on listening to you that he hardly paid attention to the look of shock on the reporters’ faces and the influx of calls he was receiving from his agency. 

Right now, he simply wanted to hear you talk more and eat a curry bun. 

The rest, he could deal with later. 

[reiderwriter]

🫂 Transference 🫂

Pairing: Spencer Reid x virgin!Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: He saves your life, and he keeps saving it every day, but Spencer won't let you love him until you finally beg him to. Is transference really that much of an issue?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Case details - reader is the unsub victim, mentions of rape and attempted rape, gunshot, death, kidnapping, imprisonment, parental neglect, abandonment, loss of virginity (positive), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), missionary, praise kink (good girl), moaning kink (?), safe sex, slight cum play/ oral, aftercare.

A/N: I wrote a virgin reader fic for kinktober that people loved a lot (thank you all!), and I had a lot of requests for something similar, so please - enjoy!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd met him at the library, as if the world wanted you to forever associate the comfort you found in between the pages of a worn book with the man that tried to end your life. At first, you'd thought it a coincidence, then he'd flashed a smile at you, and you'd believed it to be fate, drawn in by the charm he wore as a disguise. 

Your first date was sweet, flowers and dinner. Your second date was sweeter, and they kept on that way. Sugar dropped into your ears until you were floating on cloud nine, right as he turned his charm off. 

“Really?” He started one day, his tone accusing from the get-go. 

“What?” 

“You're really going to eye fuck that man in front of me?” His voice was loud enough to catch notice in the small café you'd joined him in for the morning, and all the life drained out of your face. 

“I'm not- what?”

“No, forget it,” he chuffed, taking another sip of his drink and turning away from you. 

You noticed it more and more from then on, how he would accuse you of small things like looking at other men, like you had the choice to ignore them when they were shop clerks, bus drivers and just fucking people living their lives. 

Your friends were even weirded out when you joked with them about it, telling them all about your silly boyfriend who ripped a poster off your wall because it had some actor or singer or something on it. It wasn't even that important to you, but as you laughed, you were greeted with silence, with sideways glances and concerning questions. 

It was all starting to crumble, and there was nothing you could do to stop it but cling on. 

The next thing was his pushiness. You'd been up front with him at the beginning of the relationship that you were a virgin, something that he was more than happy about. 

He'd said it was because he was a man of God, and he understood your commitment, which confused you as you weren't a virgin for religious reasons. But you brushed it off as everything else about him was so… gentlemanly? 

Until he started pushing his hands up your thighs when he kissed you. He tried multiple times to push his fingers into your underwear as you tried to pull back, each time apologizing immediately when you displayed more panicked displeasure. 

“I'm sorry, something must have… The devil got to me for a second there, Y/N, but I won't let him win.” He kissed the top of your head, and he walked you to your door before giving you another chaste kiss and leaving. 

They found the first body the next morning.

She was young, maybe 16 or 17. Beaten, raped, mutilated, and asphyxiated. They said he'd kept raping her body long after she'd taken her last breath. It took them two weeks to notify her parents because of the way he'd left her. 

You'd watched the news report the same week with your boyfriend, shocked and horrified at the news and cuddling closer to him for comfort. 

Each step you came closer to him, each time you allowed him to touch you, he took it as a sign of his ownership, his claim on you. Not a single other person could get in between him and his prize. Each time you rejected him, he killed another girl. 

By body five, they'd called in the BAU. 

“Did you hear they're bringing in the FBI to solve that Cathy Renaud case? It's all over the news. Apparently, the team is super special.” 

You'd brought up the words while cooking him breakfast. He didn't live with you, but any good girlfriend would feed their man, so he woke you up every day on his way to work to let you prepare him something. 

His whole attention was on his phone, though, as he nodded through your conversation, grunting and moaning at each word. 

It was only when you brought him his plate of pancakes that you realized that he was just as interested in the subject as you were. Because he was staring at the photos of the girl he mutilated the night before. 

You didn't want to think about everything that happened after that. After the plate fell to the floor and cracked, splintering into your foot and causing you your first injury in a long line. 

You didn't want to think about the things he showed you, the way he touched you, or at least tried to. You heaved and wretched and emptied your stomach every single time you thought about the restraints on your wrists, how he'd tried to rape you but couldn't bring himself to do it because you weren't young enough anymore. You weren't dead enough.  

Instead, every time you thought back to that week, you found yourself back at the end. You replayed the bullet lodging into his brain as a comfort, which told you more than you needed to know about your mental state. It was Spencer Reid who'd shot him. He'd been quick enough to realize that the man would never have been talked down, and he'd fired the shot as a mercy to you. He may have killed your boyfriend, putting him down like he was a sick animal, but you were the one put out of your misery. 

He didn't stop to watch the body hit the floor before falling to your side, the other agents clearing the room and checking the corpse. He'd helped you to your feet, drawn an arm around your waist and pushed your head into his chest so you didn't have to see the carnage on the way out, didn't have to deal with the camera flashes as the press scrambled for pictures of the monster's willing victim. 

“One step at a time, this isn't your fault. Just stick with me,” he said, moving you from the house to a waiting van as you clasped his vest desperately, needing the lifeline he'd thrown you. 

“Ma'am, ma'am. I'm a paramedic, I won't hurt you, I just need to take your vitals, make sure you're okay.” 

The voice was vague and in the distance, and you were so sure it wasn't directed at you that you simply let yourself wrap around the man who'd saved you when you got to the ambulance. Nothing else was around but his chest, his hand on your back, your legs wrapped around him as they finally gave out. 

“Ma'am… Please, you're injured-” 

“Y/N,” he spoke finally, and you grabbed him tighter, nails digging into the skin at his neck. 

“You're Y/N, right? We've been looking for you for a long time. I'm not going anywhere, I won't let anyone hurt you.” 

The words were enough to reassure you, pulling back slightly as the paramedics began working on you, but not enough for you to embrace their touch. You clambered away from the paramedic the moment you saw he was a man, close in build and coloring to the corpse in the building behind you. 

You screamed, you cried, you pounded at the doors as Spencer held to you him, letting the paramedics sedate you, rocking you to sleep on the step of the emergency vehicle.

He was by your bedside every time you woke up, too. It was funny seeing him there when you still didn't know his name. Your parents hadn't visited, too ashamed to be associated with the entire thing to even check in on you. 

He had himself assigned your emergency contact after six days of your parents not showing up. In all that time, he'd sat patiently by your side as you wailed and raged and went numb, and the cycle repeated itself in perpetuity. 

He was there, too, with a bag of clothes and a fresh start waiting for you when you were ready to be discharged. 

His team had since moved on to another criminal of the week, putting the lives lost behind them as they traipsed through more cases and corpses and killers. He was still there, though. Somehow. 

You were old enough to be able to discharge yourself from a hospital, old enough to not need a guardian to take care of you. Spencer stayed anyway, and you didn't bother asking why. 

“I don't want to leave the hospital,” you said, climbing back into the bed you'd forced yourself into for the last week. The same bed where the nurse had ran your rape kit even after you'd told her he'd never touched you like that, after you'd explained and denied and shouted to high hell that no-one had touched you like that and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first. 

Spencer had put a stop to the traumatic experience when he'd returned with your coffee, always picking up something for you when he went out. 

The nurse had gripped and moaned and murmured an apology, and you knew you'd not been an easy patient, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

That didn't mean you wanted to leave yet, though. 

“I can't leave, I have nowhere to live.”

“Y/N, you can't stay here forever.”

“Spencer, I can't go home. My apartment is a crime scene, I almost died there, and there are reporters posted there 247 waiting for me to come back. They think I'm evil, they-” 

“They think you're a victim,” he said calmly but firmly, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “Which you are. And you'll be a victim forever if you don't get out of that hospital bed and start moving on.” 

He dumped a bag on your bed, a bag you recognised as one of your own overnight bags from your apartment. He looked at you again, the question in his silence. 

Are you going to keep being his victim?

You huffed as you got out of your bed, throwing off the covers and standing in front of him. He didn't budge. 

“Well?” You asked, looking at him as he stood still, not moving even an inch. 

“Well, what?” He replied, eyebrows knitting. 

Instead of replying, you rolled your eyes and reached behind you to the ties in your hospital gown, opening it until you could pull it off your body before pulling out the clothes he'd left in the bag. 

You didn't glance at him again until you were fully naked, readying your underwear so you could pull it on. When you turned back to him, his gaze knocked the wind out of you. 

You'd stopped feeling like a woman the minute he'd carried out of that room. You were a child, a fragile doll, a specimen to be studied. For some of the nurses, you were an infection they could catch. 

Spencer Reid, against his better judgment, was looking at you like you were a woman. Like you were the object of his every desire. 

“S-Spencer…” you said suddenly feeling the shame and embarrassment of being naked suddenly in front of another person. You pulled the sweatshirt he'd packed you over your torso, covering all of your intimate areas as you stammered out your apology. 

“I- shit, I'm sorry-”

“I'll wait - I’ll wait outside. If you need anything you can… you can do whatever.” He said, dragging his eyes off of your body and letting them fall anywhere that you weren't. His eyes darted from the floor to the wall, to the air next to your head and finally to the door where he took himself out. 

You dressed in a hurry and followed him. 

“Spencer? Spencer, I'm ready,” you said, running down the hall to him and grabbing his arm, holding it for support and comfort, but mostly just to be close. 

Since waking up from that first sedation of many in those first few days, you hadn't been more than a few hours without having him hold you. 

His team had sent many warning looks watching you wrapped around him like a scared child, hiding behind him like a small, shaking dog. You hadn't seen a problem in it, truly clinging to him like a lifeline. 

After whatever the hell had just happened in your hospital room, though? Now you felt each solid ridge of him. You hadn't felt like a woman, sure  but you equally hadn't acknowledged Spencer as a man until then. A very attractive man. 

The stubble on his jaw only made it sharper. His gentle, curving eyes, cut at the corners by the start of laugh lines, his mouth straight and… and kissable. For the first time in months, definitely for the first time since you'd met your monster, maybe even for the first time ever, desire heated the depths of your stomach. 

Your breath hitched, and you held him tighter as he led you out of the ward and ushered you into your new life. 

“We're not going to your apartment. Your landlord released you from the lease for…obvious reasons after some persuading. Your parents-” 

“My parents?” You asked in disgusting, halting in the hall. For the first time since you'd left the room, he had to turn and look you in the eyes. He'd done his best to dampen the desire, but some part of you still recognised it, even as your logical brain fought to be heard. 

“Your parents agreed to fund three months in a new apartment. After which time, you will have a job and some stability, so you'll be able to pay for it yourself.”

You tried to argue and tried to talk back, but your tongue was thick. 

A new apartment. Living alone, being alone, for any amount of time, felt daunting. 

But Spencer took one more step towards the door and then another, and you had no choice but to walk with him, hand slipping down and grasping his like it was your lifeline. 

The drive to whatever new apartment your parents had leased for you was silent, and the storms in your head grew until they'd taken up so much space they erupted forth, darkening the actual skies. A crash of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance just as he pulled into the building. Luckily for you, there was underground parking, so you didn't even need to contemplate letting the lightning hit you. 

There was one space left, and Spencer pulled his car in, flipping the engine off and getting out without another word. 

He led you up the stairs, then he led you to your floor, then he led you to your door and handed you the keys. 

You felt cold as you opened the doors, knowing you were about to confront items of boxes that had watched you be burned, cut, slapped, beaten.

There were no boxes behind the door. Everything had, to your shock, been unboxed and staged already. 

You recognised magnets on the fridge, stuffed animals on the bed when you made your way to your bedroom. Your toiletries were neatly tidied into your medicine cabinet, hell, even your bookshelves had your own dog-eared copies of books well past their prime. 

You had every comfort and joy without having to push yourself through the pain of thinking about where these items had last been kept. 

There were new things too. The couch was definitely second-hand, but it wasn't the one you'd brought at Goodwill the week after your college graduation. That one was stained red, no doubt, somewhere in a tip. There was bedding and sheets and blankets and plates and forks and knives - a whole household of items that someone had chosen. 

You turned back to Spencer and cried. You buried your face in his chest and wrapped yourself around him again as he held you. 

And then, realizing he'd been the one to orchestrate this, if not the one who had arranged everything himself, you pushed up on the balls of your feet, and you kissed him. 

For the few seconds it lasted, it was brilliance. The pressure on your lips after a second had your heart singing as he kissed you back, your hands balling into his shirt as you stepped closer and closer, needing to be wrapped around him, buried in safety and warmth. 

He pulled back and stepped out of your reach too quickly, the back of his hand reaching up to his mouth as if checking that it was still there, that he'd actually just been kissing you back. 

“Y/N, you don't…we can't do that.” 

“Do what?” You said, creeping forward, needing to feel him beside you again. 

“You're not… you don't feel about me the way you think you feel about me,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear as you wrapped your arms around his waist again. 

“How do I feel?” 

“Grateful. Y/N, this is gratitude. I saved you, and so you think you are in love with me. It's called transference, and you will deeply, deeply regret this one day.” 

The urgency in his tone had you flinching, even if he was trying to talk to you as softly as possible. For a moment, you'd done as he'd asked and forgotten you were a victim. It was apparently something he himself would not forget anytime soon.

You stood around awkwardly for another minute or two. 

“What…what now?” You asked, avoiding the kiss and whatever lay in that direction.

“I'll walk you through the emergency contact numbers. The apartment building is pretty old, so there's a wall phone in the kitchen, but there are some modern amenities, too. The laundry room is on the first floor, next to the porters office. I'm in apartment 23 on the second floor, and-” 

“What?” Your entire body buzzed, hearing him speak, and you almost forgot to breathe, rushing to stand straight again.

“I… I live on the floor below,” he said, almost cautiously now that you'd thrown yourself at him. “I thought you might enjoy the company.”

He gave you a weak smile and you wanted to kiss him all over again, to press your lips again and again into the soft flesh of his skin, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, his chest. 

You wanted him to hold you. You stood by the sofa and let your grip on a cushion tighten to stop from throwing yourself at him again. One rejection was enough for the day. 

Not that you stopped in the weeks to come. 

Spencer had himself relegated to office work for the first month as you rode out the waves of your grief, sticking by his side for comfort.

Your friends came and went, but they wore the stench of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I saw that coming,’ and you suffocated on it after so long. 

Every day after he returned home, you arrived at him door and threw yourself into his open arms, sitting with him for hours. Most days, you read together, ignoring that the man flipped pages three times as fast as you did. Some nights, you watched shows or movies, making your way through three companions worth of “New Who” in a week.

Each time you came, he took care of your food, ordering or cooking simple pasta dishes for you. 

He told you about the time his coworker had taught him how to make the perfect pasta, berating him for putting oil in his pasta water, and damn near drawing his weapon while he made sure he salted it. 

You laughed together and ate together, and you forgot together. 

Your life was back to normal when you got your first job interview. It's nothing spectacular, but it was enough that it would pay the bills to the apartment whose lease is a ticking bomb counting down to 0. It was a normal office, where you would be doing normal work that you had absolutely done before. 

The interview was normal, the female employee that meets you first reassuring you that the company is safe, their employees vetted and supported. 

And the company makes feminine hygiene products anyway, so they don't attract too many men, or at least none like the monster you'd known. 

All in all, the interview went well. 

It went well all the way until you reached the bus stop. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements, but you couldn't see anyone else focusing on you particularly.

You felt the stares on the bus, and the stares when you got off the bus two stops early. You felt the stares walking around the block three times to throw whatever was following you around off your track. You felt the stares as you sat outside Spencer's apartment until 6:45pm, when he came home and found you there. Your interview had been at 1pm.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He said, immediately holding you and guiding you into the apartment. 

Your anxiety and fear had settled into self-loathing and disappointment. You let him hold you quietly, rejecting food and conversation. 

You sat quietly with him on his sofa as he held a book in one hand, stroking your hair with another as you laid on his chest. 

The emotions of the day were overwhelming, consuming the part of your brain that had started being happy again for the first time. You grew angry at the sadness for seeping back in, and in an act of rebellion, you pushed back up and kissed Spencer once more. 

His brain was slower to react this time, even if his body wasn't. 

You straddled his hips as your lips joined his, melting together in a hot embrace. He dropped his book quickly, hand resting on your hip as the one that had been stroking your hair angled your jaw up so he could set the pace. 

All your emotions were swept away in a wave of desire as you slowly rubbed against him, butt shifting as you clumsily followed your arousal past your worldly knowledge. 

You couldn't even think about what was next because your tongue was clashing with Spencer's, and your brain was short circuiting. 

The second you let out your first whimper of pleasure, he pushed you away and stood up, crossing the room to put distance between you, just as he had a month beforr. 

“Y/N, you had a bad day, but this isn't… This isn't how you should make yourself feel better.” 

“Spencer-” 

“I told you about transference before, Y/N, you need to listen to me. I'm not… I'm not the one for you.” His voice shook as he ran his hands through his hair in stress, body tense in a way that informed you he was holding himself back. 

“Transference. Transference…” You sat upright on his couch and let all the logic rush back into your brain at once. 

“Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as he watched you zone out of the conversation, almost afraid that he'd damaged you again. 

“Is there… Is there something wrong with transference?” You asked, voice impossibly calm as you still stared straight forward. 

He moved towards you again and knelt at the floor in front of you, clutching your hands in his. 

“Y/N, you don't really want me like that, you don't, you can't-”

“Love you?” You asked, your voice finally breaking, eyes finally meeting his.

It was as if you knocked the wind out of him. He sat there completely dumbstruck. 

“It might not be love, okay, I'll admit that. But you're… you're strong and smart, and you take care of me. And you're attractive, and you make me happy, which is something I didn't think I'd ever be again-” 

“Y/N, something happened to you today, and you threw yourself at me. You threw yourself at me when you moved into your apartment. You felt stressed, and you reacted, Y/N. You don't love me.”

You sat calmly listening to his words again, your body still aching for his touch, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

“Okay. Okay. So if I do…this when I'm not feeling vulnerable, then what? Then you'll believe me?” 

“Y/N…” he sighed in defeat, hand again raking through his hair. 

You grabbed your things and stood up off the couch, bending to press another kiss to his lips before you parted. 

He was shocked silent, but that didn't stop him from chasing your lips as you rose, rising to his knees and then his feet as you walked away from him.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer. Get some sleep,” you said, letting yourself out or the apartment and carrying yourself, heavy and dejected, upstairs. 

If Spencer was anticipating seeing you again the next morning, he wasn't anticipating seeing you in his office.

“Spencer,” you called out as you walked into the bullpen, clipping your visitors badge into place again, making sure it wasn't crooked.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and rose to meet you, ignoring the looks from his coworkers as his hands landed on your arms, immediately checking on you. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He whispered, checking for tears, or injuries, or something to show him your motive for seeking him out. 

You just smiled at him, brushing a hair behind your ear when you saw him hesitate making that same gesture. 

“I was summoned. They need my statement to corroborate your weapon discharge paperwork, and Agent Hotchner called earlier.” 

His hands dropped as he breathed a steady sigh of relief, trying to make his reaction smaller than he knew it was. He was afraid something had happened to you again, and he was so caught up in his relief, that he didn't notice you moving closer until your lips were on his cheek and you were waving him off as you ascended the stairs to Hotch's office with your escort. 

“Spencer,” Morgan's voice called from behind him, and he turned hesitantly. 

“What was that?” 

He felt the eyes on him, and he pushed all thoughts of you to the side in place of total rationality. 

“I explained transference to her but… she doesn't seem to - she doesn't care.” 

“Spencer the last time I saw that girl, she was practically the walking dead. She just smiled.” Morgan said, shaking his head. But Spencer was watching you, and not his friend, and really, he wasn't even listening.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Morgan said again, rising to get in the man's face some more until he finally looked at him again. 

“She thinks she's in love with me.” 

“How do you know she isn't?” 

You kept working on him, little by little, day by day, until Spencer's field work started again. 

A little part of you was sad that he wouldn't always be around every day anymore. But you'd got that job and got over yourself as you started going out more. You made friends at your office, and you went out and laughed and joked with old college roommates. You felt like a human being again, and to no one's surprise, you still wanted Spencer Reid. 

He left every Monday on a case, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, you missed him. Going out to drinks with some coworkers after clocking off certainly didn't sate your appetite for him. 

“Spencer,” you said, breathily into the phone when he picked up, throwing yourself onto your bed. 

“Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, Spencer, I just-” you hiccupped and giggled before continuing. “I just missed you so much.” 

The silence on the line was suddenly so funny to you, and you giggled again. Feeling hot, you stripped down to your underwear and started talking again. 

“I miss cuddling up to you and crawling all over you. You're really soft, you know?” You sighed, hands trailing up and down your stomach lightly. 

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. 

“I miss your face. I'm switching to video call,” you announced and fumbled with your phone. 

“No, Y/N, wait-” he said, but pulling the phone away from his ears, he realized his protests were too late to matter as he took in your half-naked form. 

Though your face took up the majority of the view on the camera, he could see the soft trim of your lace bra poking into the camera, and the generous push of cleavage your angle facilitated to boot. 

Checking around him for people looking, he tucked himself into a corner and scowled back at you. 

“Y/N, this isn't a game. Turn the call off and go to bed.” 

“But I miss you,” you whined. 

“Y/N,” he hissed, eyes falling to your hands where you'd begun massaging your heavy breasts. 

“When are you coming home?” You asked, whining again like a petulant child as the alcohol flushed through your system, bringing all of your desires to the forefront. 

“Soon,” he said, not trusting himself to say more than a word. 

“Good. Because I miss you. Spencer, I- I think I want to have sex with you.” 

His eyes shut as he tried to remain calm even as your words rang in his ears from 1000 miles away.

“We'll talk soon, Y/N. Good night,” he closed, finally hanging up and covering his face in his hands. He made his way quickly to his motel room, threw his phone down on his bed, and ignored as best he could his throbbing cock in his pants and the three pictures you'd sent him since he hung up. 

He didn't resist for long. 

Three nights later, you found yourself at a bar, living life to the fullest. You'd taken back to society like a swan to water, and you weren't letting the stern words of Spencer Reid keep you down. Knocking back another shot, you smiled and cheered with your friends until you felt the eyes on you again. It was different this time, though, hotter, and closer. You turned to look at the door and saw Spencer Reid and the other people who'd saved your life walking to a booth. It was Spencer's eyes on you. 

You definitely did not believe in a higher power - how could you, after all - but you did believe that this was fate. 

You blew him a kiss as he watched you walk back to your table with another cocktail in hand, letting a man who'd been trying to flirt with you earlier follow you to your friends. 

When you went for your next drink, you found him at your side in a heartbeat. 

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said, even though he was. “I'm ordering a drink.” 

“Two drinks,” you said, shooting him a flirty smile as you pressed yourself against him again, chest to chest. 

“You're ordering two drinks, Spencer,” you whispered into his ears as his head dropped down to within an inch of your own. The air felt changed, but you refused to move to close the gap. You'd put in the work the last few times. You needed Spencer to be the one to take the chance this time. 

He ordered your drinks, and still you didn't move apart, huddled together as if you were whispering conspiracies to one another. 

When your drink was firmly in your hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you to a dark corner of the bar. You sipped your drink quickly, managing two swigs before he took it and placed both drinks down - right beside Penelope Garcia - and dragged you out into the hall. 

The bathrooms were empty when he pushed you inside, and your heart throbbed as his hands pushed you into a stall, lifted your legs to wrap around him, and then his lips finally crashed into yours. 

Transference or whatever else it was supposed to be, you didn't give one shit in that moment as his tongue coaxed your lips apart.

His hands didn't stay in place for long as he dragged them up and down your body, exploring every part he'd memorized from the pictures. Every curve or inch he'd previously held tenderly, gently, he now raked over with the hunger of arousal, pushing your short skirt up until it was past your hips and his fingers could sink into you instead. 

You were soaked before he even had one digit inside you, his thumb rubbing roughly against your clit as you turned to jelly in his hands. 

You'd masturbated before, sure, you were a grown woman. But the feeling of someone else's hands, someone else's hest, the knowledge that someone else desired you so badly that they'd drag you into a bar bathroom just to sate their lust? That was new, and it was exciting. 

His lips covered yours as your legs shook, silencing every moan, every whimper with his tongue. It was wild, messy, your tongues clashing wildly and messily as your hips rocked violently, trying to reach that high, but also trying to make this last past his fingers. 

It wasn't to be though as you shuddered around his three digits, your orgasm ripping through you silently, leaving you wide-eyed and wide mouthed. 

“We're done,” he said, gently kissing your cheek as be stood you up, letting you stretch out the soreness in your muscles. 

“For now?” 

“Forever, Y/N. This was a mistake.”

Your heart hit the ground, and he stomped on it, but the anger filling your gut pushed up and out before he could completely bow out. 

“No,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

“Y/N, you aren't in love with me. You feel grateful that I saved you, you feel attracted to me because I'm older and you think I can protect you, and a little part of it is that you've always been attracted to men who are dangerous. You're not in love with me, so-” 

“You sound like him.”

Shocked, he paused, and his grip on your hips tightened until his nails were biting into your skin. 

“What?” 

“You're telling me how to feel, you're telling me what to do. You sound like him.” 

“Y/N, that is unfair-” 

“Unfair is denying that I'd know how I'm fucking feeling to let you wallow in self sacrifice, Spencer. Unfair is playing the martyr when we can both see that you want this as fucking badly as I do.” 

You didn't give him a second longer to react, but grabbed him by the wrist and, making sure your skirt was once again in place, pulled him back out of the bathroom and into the club. 

Stopping by Penelope, you put his drink in his hand and grabbed yours, downing it quickly. He followed your actions, taking a sip until you were done and slamming your drink back on the table. 

Then you kept him moving, pushing doors open, hailing a cab, and climbing in with him hot on your heels.

You kept your grip on him tight until you'd marched him to his apartment. Releasing him, you flattened your back against his door, letting him slowly unlock the door as you spoke to him again finally.

“Do it, Spencer. Be my first.” 

It was like he was a different man walking over that threshold. His hand were on your face, his tongue again fighting yours as you stumbled back into the apartment, crashing into the wall, then the coffee table, and then the couch. 

You cursed in anger hitting his closed bedroom door and pushed him away to open it yourself, but his arms wrapped around you from the back and he sucked bruises against your neck as his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them.

His cock was rigid in his pants, and your body ached for the unknown, the soon to come pleasure that he was to deliver. 

He pushed you down onto the bed quickly, and you rolled yourself over, pulling your own dress off as quickly as possible. 

“That's my job,” he moaned, meeting your lips again as his hands fell to your underwear once again. 

“You have a long to-do list, Spencer, I'm just helping,” you smirked as he kissed you again, your hands shakily working down each button of his shirt as you acted to tear it off of him. 

“We have all night,” he replied, fingers once again rubbing at your bundle of nerves, hips pushing up and into his hands. 

“No, Spencer. No, we don't. I need you now.” 

His mouth covered yours again as you finally, finally got his shirt off, letting him throw it to the floor as you started working on his belt. Your legs spread as he inched closer, sitting between your thighs comfortably as he waited with bated breath for you to finally touch his cock.  

You knew what dicks looked like, you knew what they were supposed to feel like, but you never realised you'd want to touch one so fucking badly until his sprung from his pants. 

He took your hand and spit in it before you wrapped your fingers around him and felt the heat of his cock pulsing against you. 

He was big, long more than girthy, and you wondered how thousands of years of women had managed to survive coupling if this was the weapon meant to numb them into horny submission. 

One stroke, and you were a mess, his fingers hooking into you as you flicked your wrist up and down. 

You watched his precum rise and swiped it up in one finger, tasting it as he groaned and started thrusting up, fucking your hand as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

He stretched you out, readying you for his thick cock, and you gladly sat there, letting him use you and ready you all at once. 

When you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you onto the bed properly and laying you down softly in the sheets. Kneeling to roll on the condom he'd grabbed from his bedside table, you watched in curiosity as you tried to memorize every movement, every second of him sinking into you. 

The tears in your eyes were emotion just as much as pain, your heart hammering in your ears as he whispered praise into your ear, dropping confessions like bombs. 

“You're taking me so well, Y/N, that's good…” he moaned, pushing in one inch. 

“That's it, Y/N, just a little more. I love you, you can do it,” he said, sinking in two more. 

“You feel so good, Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he finally hit your limit. 

You knew the stretch wasn't the end, and he rested there for a second, letting you get used to him before you lost patience with him. 

“Spencer just, just push through,” you grit out, and he did, snapping his hips up just that.inch or two more and sending that spark of pain through you. 

In an instant, his lips were on yours, his fingers on your clit, flooding your nerves with pleasure as all you could think of was the pain. 

But when the pain faded, there was still him, and his cock neatly sheathed inside of you. 

His hips moved languidly at first, his entire body weight pushing down on you, lazily twisting and writhing as of this were just one of your cuddles on the couch. 

You whimpered, and he moved faster, and you learnt quickly that your noises and sighs to him were what his praise was to you - motivation.

You moaned, and he picked up his pace, moving faster as you whimpered a lustful ‘yes’ into his ear. 

“Good girl, good girl, Y/N, that's it. Good girl,” he repeated, unable to say more as you whimpered and cried under him, speech lost as he split you in half with his dick.

You grew louder, and his cock buried itself deeper, your moans dragged on longer and he picked up speed. 

He whispered that you were his perfect little slut, and you jolted in his arms, cumming on his cock and screaming his name. 

He kept pumping into you, careful to make sure the condom stayed in place as he finally bottomed out and let pleasure roll through him again.

Coming down from his high, your tongue pushed into his mouth, and you rolled him over, sitting yp on his dick as he watched. 

You rose off his cock, letting him stare in wonder as your own arousal dripped off of your skin, his cock coated in arousal, and spit from his fingers and, yes, a little bit of blood. 

You crawled back and peeled off the condom, tying It quickly and discarding it before you tasted his cum quickly. 

It was just a soft lick, but it had him declaring his love for you again, and you decided that there were very few things you wouldn't do to hear those words. 

As delightful as your lips felt, though, he quickly bundled you up and forced you to the bathroom, turning on the taps in the bath and placing you on the toilet before leaving. 

Even now, after everything, he was still taking care of you. Maybe especially now. 

You finished, and he came back. More stolen kisses and moans and a bath that turned into more later, and you found yourself bundled into his spare clothes and wrapped in his arms on his couch again. 

He clicked play on another episode of Doctor Who (you'd finally reached Donna, and he was excitedly introducing you to the new character), and you finally looked up at him again.

“I love you,” you said again, loudly this time, with no fear. 

Though his training told him the response he should give, Spencer just looked down at you again and gave in to his heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

You fell asleep quickly after that, head resting over his heart, the sound of the steady beats lulling you to sleep. 

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

kisses over handshakes | s.r. x fem!reader

“who’s the new guy?”

jj turned to you before looking in the direction your eyes were focused on. standing outside hotch’s office was derek accompanied by a mystery guy, well he looked more like a boy. tall and lanky with a short haircut that was starting to grow past his ears and curl to his skin. he was wearing a short sleeved button up that looked a size or two bigger on him, practically swallowing him in the fabric, and he paired dark brown stacks for his office attire.

“that’s spencer reid. gideon helped bring him into the unit when he brought him in as an apprentice, also he’s a genius. graduated high school at twelve, has three phds, a 187 iq and can read fast and remember well. own our human internet.” jj listed off his qualifications for the job at- “how old is he?” “only twenty three.” boy genius indeed.

you followed behind jj as she walked towards the two, “hello boys. spencer i wanted to introduce you to y/n, she’s my assistant.” skirting you closer into his directions, teeth biting into your bottom lip from slight nerves.

“hi it’s a pleasure to meet you,” sticking out a waiting hand. spencer looked to your hand then directly into your eyes as he said, “the number of pathogens passed between a handshake is staggering it’s actually safer to kiss.” and you could tell he was completely serious.

so you shrugged, “okay,” and leaned in to peck his cheek. you saw how derek smiled widely as he shook his head, “told you someone would be bold enough to do it.” reaching out to flick at your shoulder, you swatted his hand away with a frown.

eyes back to spencer, his cheeks turned flushed and his mouth was opening and closing, eyes slightly bugged. “sorry, that was unprofessional of me.” apologizing for overstepping, not wanting him to hate you already.

“no- no it’s alright. just the first to do so, caught off guard.” he smiled nervously, lips quirked. “i- i wouldn’t mind if you- if you kept doing so.” rolling his lips once the sentence settled over the four of you, you smiled back at him.

“looks like you got an admirer, pretty girl.” derek pipped in snapping you from your staring contest with spencer’s profile. you just rolled your eyes to the older man, “guess i know how you feel now, playboy.”

jj pulled you along, “alright, well we have some cases to look over and i’m sure you two have paperwork to fill out, so we’ll see you later.”

“bye pretty ladies,” derek bid you goodbye. you waved at spencer over your shoulder and he held his hand up in reply. you chuckled quietly at his awkward nature.

“by the end of the year, i’m gonna date him.” sounding confident in your statement. you turned to jj and she furrowed her clean brows, “why not sooner?”

“cause i want him to ask me and i know it’s gonna be awhile, but im in it for the long game with boy genius. he’s a special one.”

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt.2 | spencer reid.

When you hadn't heard from Spencer in 3 weeks you thought you'd jumped the gun a bit... Or maybe he was just nervous.

pt. 1 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

cw: fem!reader, mentions of periods, mentions of alcohol, kissing, fluffy <3

a/n: i got carried away :,)

The bar bathroom smelled of booze, sweat and another third thing you’d rather not think about.

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink to fix your lipstick with your finger and thumb. You fished around in your purse, pulling out the black tube of lipstick and plucking the cap off. You puckered your lips, admiring the matte colour in the smudged bathroom mirror that you dare not touch.

You were trying to be social for a change, perhaps meet some new people and make some new friends. After all, you didn’t know anyone and the cute FBI agent you met and gave your number to hadn’t called you since your interaction 3 weeks ago. You tried not to mull over it but you thought you landed a cutie, thinking he found you attractive too; he did find your boobs fascinating, the least he could do was buy you a drink. 

A pub crawl probably wasn’t the best place to start with making friends, it wasn’t really your thing. But after some of the new hires who started along with you invited you out to a pub crawl (you just happened to be sitting in the break room at the same time) you decided to just give it a shot. You soldiered through dinner and the first two bars you followed them along to, but when they left without you at the third, you were ready to down one more drink, call a cab and curl up with Tofu on the couch. 

You leaned over the sink, adjusting your black mini dress over your shoulders before grabbing your purse, letting out a tired sigh at your failed attempt at establishing some much needed friendships in this huge city.

“Shit, shit, shit! No-” A woman cursed from the stall behind you, sounding like she was rifling through her purse. 

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, knocking on the stall door.

“Oh, uhm, yeah… actually, do you have a tampon or something?” She asked quietly, seeming embarrassed.

“Shit, yeah, I do,” you quickly said, rifling through your purse for your stash of pads and tampons. A must whenever you go to bars, you never know when you or someone else will need it. “Here,” reached over the stall door, holding it as far out as you could for her. 

“Oh my god, thank you, you’re an angel,” she breathed a sigh of relief, taking the tampon from you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled to yourself.

“I’m going to get you a drink as a thank you.”

You chuckled softly, “oh, please. It’s really no trouble.”

“Ah- ta ta ta, I insist,” she retorted. 

Maybe you would make a friend tonight.

You stood by the basins as she flushed and pulled the stall door open. She wore bright pink heels and her hair sat in perfect curls over her shoulders, with thick glasses perched on her nose. She exuded sweetness. 

She smiled at you sweetly, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s all good, I always have extra on me,” you grinned. “Just in case.”

“I like where your head’s at. The one time I didn’t bring my normal purse,” she laughed, washing her hands with the miniscule amount of soap left. “I’m Penelope Garcia,” she stuck her hand out for you to shake.

You shook her hand, “Y/N L/N.”

“I love your dress, you look gorgeous,” Penelope said, the two of you leaving the grotty bathroom together. You glanced down at your black mini dress, smiling to yourself at the compliment.

It had been a while since you broke it out of your closet. It was your favourite though, hugged your curves perfectly and had long sleeves that kept you warm but a deep neckline to show off your cleavage. 

“Thank you, it’s been a while since I’ve worn it.” You replied, letting Penelope link her arm around yours as she ushered you to the bar through the crowd of people. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” she suddenly asked. 

You laughed at her abrupt question. “No… Why, you got a cute friend?”

“I do!” She exclaimed excitedly, making you chuckle. “He’s real sweet, you should totally hang out with us… That’s if you’re not here with anyone?”

“No, no, I’m not. Well, I was, but they left-”

“Without you?!”

“I don’t know them that well, it’s fine. I mean I just moved here.”

“But girl code? You never leave a girl by herself in a bar,” Penelope said, clutching her necklace, she seemed far more offended than you were. 

You and Penelope continued to talk and laugh at the bar while you waited for the line at the bar to subside. She asked you all about how you liked moving here and when you told her about your cat Tofu, she insisted on seeing photos. She bought you a tequila sunrise and ushered you over to the booth she said her friends were sitting at.

“Everyone, this is Y/N, she just saved my life,” Penelope exaggerated, introducing you to the very official looking group of people seated in the booth. 

But you lost interest in them quickly when you spotted Spencer Reid, the man who apparently doesn’t own a phone. 

“Oh, hey,” you said, your voice raising an octave as you pointed at Spencer. 

Spencer furrowed his brows, almost not recognising you without your tight baby blue tank on, “Y/N?”

“It’s Dr. Can’t Call Back,” you teased. The man you recognised as Agent Morgan let out a laugh, clapping a hand over Spencer’s shoulder.

“Wait, you know Reid?” Penelope asked.

“She lived in the apartment across from a crime scene, we interviewed her,” Morgan explained before staring down Spencer, “And little boy wonder managed to get her number and didn’t call her.”

“What!” Penelope exclaimed. “She’s hot!”

You covered your mouth as you laughed, “I’m joking, I’m joking. I’m sure he only took my number to be polite.”

“Oh he did not,” A blonde woman laughed. “He talked about it for days.”

“Oh, really?” You raised a brow at Spencer, who was almost beet red at the sudden spotlight on him. Penelope ushered you next to Spencer into the booth, the two of you pressed together between Morgan and the blonde woman.

“Yeah he did, couldn’t get him to shut up,” Another woman with dark hair said.

“I was going to call you,” Spencer said defensively. “But I got busy-”

“More like nervous,” Morgan retorted with a laugh.

Spencer sunk into the plush leather of the couch and you spent the next hour learning everyone’s names and learning that they were all in the FBI. Now that they knew who you were, there goes your chances of being a sexy drug lord.

It was nice to feel included, everyone asking you about your new job, where you grew up, what you liked about moving here, you finally made some new friends. Penelope sealed the deal when she gave you her number, promising to take you to lunch some time to thank you for your heroic act in saving her.

You glanced at Spencer as he shifted uncomfortably next to you, “you wanna get a drink?” you asked, attempting to get him away from everyone and talk to him. 

He nervously moved some of his hair out of his face, “Yeah…Yeah sure,” he replied quietly, a slight nervousness in his voice.

The two of you slid out of the booth and you grabbed his hand as you pulled him to the bar. His hands were clammy with nervousness but he didn’t let go of your hand until you dropped his hand, leaning on the bar.

“So…”

“I was going to call you. I really was,” he said quickly, letting out a shaky breath.

You laughed at his nervousness, “It’s okay, Dr. Reid. I’m not holding it against you.”

“Spencer,” he corrected. 

“Right,” you smiled, “Spencer.”

“Here, look,” he pulled his phone out of his pocket along with the note you left him, which was cute, considering it kept it on him for this long. He glanced at the note and quickly dialled your number. Your phone buzzed in your purse and you answered the call. “There, now you have my number.”

“Nice save, pretty boy,” you saved his number in your phone, typing his name into your phone along with a little heart. 

“...You look… very nice,” he said nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You grinned coyly at him, “thank you. You look very handsome yourself. Though, I feel like you always look like that,” you flirted.

“I try to look presentable,” he replied, not really picking up on your flirting tone. “I have an important job.”

“Of course,” You laughed lightly, your fingers reaching up to gently fix his collar. Your fingers grazed the side of his neck and his breath caught in his throat, gulping back the lump of nervousness that formed. You were really pretty, someone he considered way out of his league. 

After you gave him your number, he spent the entire car ride back to the BAU staring at it, heart thumping loudly in his ears at the idea of seeing you again. He tried calling your number a couple of times and got nervous because he had no idea what to say. Would he ask you on a date? Obviously. But what do people do on dates? He had to be assertive, come up with something and be confident, but his mind went blank staring at your number. And wikihow really wasn’t helping.

“Hey guys, we’re off,” Emily walked over to you and Spencer at the bar. “Hotch’s hailing a cab.”

“Oh, right. Do you need a cab? I-I can cover it,” Spencer looked at you, reaching for his wallet.

“I live nearby actually, it’s just a couple blocks away. I’ll just walk,” you smiled. 

Emily frowned at you, “this late? That’s not safe.”

“I’ll walk her,” Spencer quickly said. “I’ll catch a cab from her place.”

“Oh, Spencer, you don’t have to do that,” you squeezed his forearm.

Spencer waved you off, “it’s safer if I walk you home.”

Emily glanced between the two of you with squinted eyes. She smiled cheekily, wiggling her brows at Spencer, “...be safe.”

Spencer scoffed at her implication, making you giggle. You picked your purse up off the bar stool and let Spencer lead you out of the bar. You said goodbye to Penelope and JJ, waving the rest of them down as Spencer waited for you to say goodbye.

“Keep him safe, pretty girl!” Derek called from the cab window.

“Will do!” You chuckled.

The more you thought about it, the more you realised it was probably a good idea Spencer was walking you home. You had learned a lot about your new home over the last 3 weeks but having Spencer, who you came to understand was a bit of a genius, proved to be very convenient. Spencer seemed to know where he was going more than you did, you just followed along next to him, your shoulders occasionally bumping. 

“How long have you been in the FBI?” You asked, linking your arm with his. He nervously let you do so but you could feel him tense under your touch. “This okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay… Uh, I’ve been in the FBI for four years, two months and two weeks exactly,” he replied, “...Eidetic memory, I tend to keep track of that kind of stuff.”

“Mmm, I’ve always had a thing for dorks,” you flirted with an airy laugh.

“I’m not a dork,” he retorted defensively through a laugh.

You looked up at him, “Only joking, Spence. Intelligence is attractive.”

He beamed internally at the nickname. Sure, JJ called him Spence, but it sounded like honey when you said it, made his heart race and his skin run hot. The two of you walked in comfortable silence and you yawned quietly, not realising how tired you were until you left the overstimulating environment of the bar.

He walked you up the steps of your apartment building, waiting for you to take out your card that let you into the building. You pulled the door open and Spencer reached to hold it open for you. You paused, turning to face him.

“Thank you for walking me home. I really appreciate it,” you smiled. 

“It’s okay, I wanted to make sure you were safe,” he replied, exuding a kind of nervousness he wasn’t before. 

You laughed lightly at how adorable he was before pressing up on your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He tensed under your touch but soon relaxed. You pulled away and began laughing, “Oh shit, I got lipstick on your cheek.”

You pulled your sleeve over your finger and began smudging it away. Spencer suddenly grabbed your wrist softly, taking a deep breath of courage and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You barely had time to register it and as soon as it started it was over and he pulled away, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“I… I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “Shit-”

“Woah, Spence. It’s okay,” you grabbed his hands, trying to recapture his attention as his eyes stared at everything but you. “Hey.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” he laughed nervously.

“...Maybe you should kiss me again?” You suggested, doe eyes staring up at him. His breath caught in his throat as you leaned up again, arms hooking around his neck as your lips brushed his softly. Your voice was quiet when you spoke, “Do you want to kiss me again, Spencer Reid?”

“...Yeah,” he muttered out. You grinned before leaning in to kiss him, hands cupping his face as his hands landed on your waist nervously. He kissed you with a gentleness that left you dizzy. He was clearly nervous but you stroked his cheekbones with your thumbs as he deepened the kiss, tilting your head back like he wanted to consume you. 

He pulled away, forehead resting against yours. You laughed gently at the smear of lipstick over his lips, your thumb coming to rub it off as best you could.

“Mm, that colour suits you,” you chuckled. He let out a breath of a laugh as he pulled away from you, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “I don’t usually kiss men I haven’t even gone on a date with.”

“Well, I don’t kiss girls… end of sentence,” he replied.

You laughed at his response, unhooking your arms from his neck and stepping into your apartment building. “Well, you’re good at it, Spence. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Well… Will I see you some time?” 

“Call me back first,” you teased.

Spencer stared at the pavement and laughed nervously, letting you kiss his cheek one more time before you left him at the door of your apartment building, heading to the elevator. You waved at him as the elevator dinged and he waved back with a tight lip smile.

You leaned against the cool metal of the elevator wall, grinning like an idiot as you watched the numbers above the door light up. You suddenly felt your phone vibrating in your purse. You pulled it out, half expecting it to be your mother calling. You smiled as Spencer’s name appeared on your phone, you answered, holding it to your ear.

“Hi, Spencer.”

“Can I take you to dinner?” He asked, his voice breathless as you assumed he was trying to catch a cab. “Tomorrow night?”

“I’d love to,” you grinned.

“I’ll pick you up… maybe don’t wear a tank top.”

a/n: kinda obsessed with these two, i'm creating a taglist if anyone wants on :) just send a message to my inbox <3