#tbh my writing is filled with little additions

[reidmarieprentiss]

Red: Part Two

Summary: Spencer is very happy with you, his new girlfriend. You two are experiencing firsts together, making each other happy as can be. But, secrets tend to unravel when you try to keep them from your loved ones. Your past haunts you everyday, Spencer knows that, and yet, he does nothing to let you into his. Falling in love is not for the weak. Neither is being forced out of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: heartbreak, angst, talks of drug use, talks of overdose, past death of parents, sister is an addict, keeping secrets, so much angst, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, Spencer's past addiction, drug tests, protective Erin Strauss, weed, alcohol, no happy ending

Word count: 28.9k

a/n: soooo fucking sorry for this one ://// it was never going to have a happy ending ... tbh if you don't want to cry maybe just stick to the first part !! — unedited NEVER be afraid to call me out!!

can't lie i put so many projects on hold just to write this beast -- i worked on it EVERY day

main masterlist part one

Additional warnings: oral (f & m), grinding, finishing in pants (m), fingering (f), protected PinV

The entire jet was filled with a quiet buzz of curiosity as everyone watched Spencer, who was completely absorbed in his phone, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips. His eyes rolled over the screen, scanning a picture he took of you with a level of care that had the whole team captivated.

JJ finally broke the silence. “Okay, Reid,” she said with an amused grin, leaning forward in her seat. “Tell us what’s going on, or I’m taking your phone.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden attention. His cheeks flushed pink as he realized the entire team had been watching him, all waiting for an explanation. He fumbled with the phone, quickly pocketing it as if trying to hide something, but the grin on his face gave him away. 

"Uh, it’s nothing," Spencer mumbled, clearly flustered, but the team wasn’t buying it for a second.

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, come on, Pretty Boy. This has gone on long enough. Spill."

JJ raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Prentiss. "We’ve all seen that look before, Reid."

Spencer sighed. "It’s… it’s someone I’ve been seeing," he admitted sheepishly, his eyes flicking down to his phone for a moment before looking back at the team.

The jet erupted with teasing laughter and questions, all of them delighted by the revelation.

“Well, Reid, you have to introduce us!” Emily chimed in, a playful grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy," Derek added with a teasing smirk. "When can we meet the missus?”

Spencer, for once, didn’t shy away from the idea. In fact, he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of introducing you to the team. He was proud that you were his girlfriend, and the idea of his closest friends meeting you didn’t fill him with the usual nerves. But there was one thing Spencer couldn’t deny—he knew the moment they saw the way he looked at you, they’d instantly know how deeply in love he was. 

And as much as he was ready for the team to meet you, that kind of vulnerability scared him just a little. 

He smiled softly, trying to play it cool. "I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough," he said, but inside, he was already thinking about how perfect it would be to bring you into his world.

—

“Y/N, darling,” Spencer mused with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling as he watched you across the dinner table. The warmth in his voice instantly caught your attention.

You giggled, squeezing his hand as it rested on the table, your thumb brushing against his skin. “Yes, dear?”

Spencer hesitated only for a second, his tone still light but a little more serious now. “Would you like to meet my friends?”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat at the question. A slight anxiety began to crawl up your throat, and you cleared it, trying to sound casual. “Your—um, your work friends?” you asked, though the weight of the moment hung between you.

Spencer nodded, his eyes soft and understanding, as if he could already sense your nerves. "Yeah," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand reassuringly. "The team. They’ve been dying to meet you."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The thought of meeting Spencer’s team made your heart race—not just because they were profilers, but because Rossi would likely recognize you. Maybe even Hotch. It had been years since either of them had seen you, but the possibility hung in the air. You weren’t sure if they’d bring it up, and you certainly weren’t ready to share that part of your life with Spencer. Not yet.

But then, you looked into Spencer’s eyes. The genuine excitement and pride he held for you was undeniable. It was clear he wanted this—wanted you to meet the people who were like family to him. The idea of disappointing him tugged at you, and despite the nerves gnawing at your chest, you couldn’t help but smile softly.

He reached across the table, gently squeezing your other hand too, offering comfort in that simple gesture. His eyes searched yours for a moment, as if sensing something in your hesitation but choosing to let it pass, trusting you to open up when you were ready.

The thought of Spencer’s trust in you helped calm some of the swirling anxiety. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to push aside the weight of your past for now.

You took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. "I’d love to meet them," you said, though you could still feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up. “You’re going to love them,” he assured you, his voice full of warmth. “And they’re going to love you too."

Later that evening, Spencer’s fingers traced gentle circles along your back, his touch soothing as you lay against his chest, both of you perfectly relaxed. The quiet of the evening had settled around you, a comfortable silence, until Spencer broke it with a question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a job?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden bluntness of the question. “What?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he quickly realized how it sounded. “I mean,” he corrected, his voice softer, “you never talk about work, and I—I’ve never seen you go to work. Do you work?”

You smiled, lifting your chin from his chest so you could look up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Yes, I have a job, Spencer.”

He looked down at you with his brows raised, making his chin tuck in a way that was so adorably endearing you had to fight the urge to kiss him right there. “Well, do tell, baby.”

The way he said "baby" sent a rush through you, making your heart skip and your core tighten. The new pet name caught you by surprise, and you could feel your pulse quicken. You wanted to answer his question, but something inside you hesitated. The job you had wasn’t something you brought up often, and certainly not something that most people would take lightly.

You bit your lip, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Spencer's chest as you considered your answer. “What if you think differently of me?” you teased, giving him a playful look.

Spencer chuckled softly, catching onto your teasing tone. “Depends on how you answer,” he joked back, his eyes twinkling. “But no, I would never judge you.”

You sighed dramatically, feigning annoyance. “Okay… fine,” you said, pausing for effect. “I’m a cybersecurity analyst. I just work from home.”

Spencer's face lit up with curiosity. “A cybersecurity analyst? That’s amazing,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, still grinning at how smoothly it had gone. “It’s not that exciting,” you replied, feeling relieved that you could finally share a bit of your work with him. "I just stare at a screen all day."

Spencer shook his head, a genuine smile on his face. “I think it's fascinating. But I guess you're right, staring at a screen is definitely something I can relate to." His fingers resumed their gentle strokes along your back, his gaze warm.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing patterns on his chest. “I just don’t have that much to talk about. I don’t interact with anyone all day long.”

Spencer smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “It’s okay, Red,” he said, stroking his finger gently down the bridge of your nose in a soothing gesture. “You know, my friend Penelope does something similar.”

“Really?” you perked up, excitement bubbling up at the thought of having something in common with someone in Spencer’s world. Your aunt had never mentioned anyone named Penelope before, but this new information intrigued you. “What does she do?”

“She’s a technical analyst for the BAU,” Spencer explained, a fondness creeping into his tone as he spoke about Penelope. “She handles all the tech and cyber stuff for us—tracking data, finding digital footprints, that sort of thing.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of her role. “That sounds so cool! Maybe we could exchange tips,” you laughed, already imagining the kind of work Penelope must be involved in.

“I’m so glad you want to meet them,” Spencer said softly, his voice full of relief and excitement. He breathed deeply, the rise and fall of his chest gently lifting you with each inhale. His hand stroked your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles as he looked at you with warmth and affection. “You mean so much to me,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. Spencer, who was usually so careful with his emotions, was being completely vulnerable with you now. It made your connection feel even deeper, like you were sharing something truly special.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips brushing his. “I can’t wait either,” you whispered against his mouth, feeling more at ease about meeting his team.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head, still in disbelief at how elated he felt. The emotions swirling in his chest were too much to hold back, and before either of you could say another word, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a deep, tender kiss, full of all the feelings he hadn’t yet put into words.

The kiss was different this time—more intense, more meaningful. You could feel the depth of Spencer's emotions through the way his hands gently cupped your face, the way he kissed you like he was afraid to ever let you go. It wasn’t just desire, but something deeper, something sweeter, like the connection between you both had finally settled into something undeniable.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft curls as you kissed him back just as deeply, wanting him to feel how much you cared too. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

When Spencer finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at you with such affection that your heart skipped a beat. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before," he admitted softly, his voice full of awe. 

You smiled, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. "Me neither," you whispered back, and in that moment, everything felt right. 

—

Hotch stood across from Erin Strauss, her expression cold and unforgiving as she paced behind her desk. Her gaze was sharp, and Hotch could already tell where the conversation was headed. 

“I’ve reviewed Agent Reid’s file,” Strauss said abruptly, her voice laced with disdain. She stopped pacing and folded her arms. “His performance has been... inconsistent, to say the least. And given his past—” She let the sentence hang, as though expecting Hotch to fill in the blanks.

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression impassive. “Reid is one of the best agents I have. His mind is invaluable to this team.”

Strauss’s eyes narrowed, dismissing his defense with a wave of her hand. “That’s not enough to excuse what he’s been through. His history with drugs, Hotch. We can't ignore it.”

“He’s been clean for years,” Hotch stated firmly, his voice steady though his frustration was clear. “Reid has worked harder than anyone to get past that.”

Strauss leaned forward, her fingers tapping the desk. “I’m not here to argue his work ethic. I’m here because I’m questioning whether Agent Reid can continue to perform in the field without becoming a liability.”

Hotch felt a surge of anger but swallowed it back. “He hasn’t shown any signs of relapse.”

“Not yet,” Strauss shot back. “But the risk is always there. And we can’t afford risks like him, not in a unit as high profile as the BAU.”

Hotch crossed his arms, his posture firm. “He’s earned his place. Whatever you’re insinuating—”

“I’m not insinuating,” she cut him off, her voice icy. “I’m telling you how this is going to go. From now on, Reid will be subjected to mandatory drug tests. Monthly.” She emphasized the last word, her expression hard. “If there are any slip-ups, any signs of relapse, even the faintest suspicion, he’s out.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened. “That’s unnecessary.”

Strauss tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk, her icy demeanor unwavering as she continued to challenge Hotch. “You’re defending him again,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing. “Just like you always do. Every time Reid’s decision-making is called into question, it’s you who steps in to justify it. How many times has he put the team at risk with his recklessness, his… emotional judgments? And every time, you shield him.”

Hotch held her gaze, his face impassive though his patience was wearing thin. “Reid’s decisions are not reckless. He’s a profiler, just like the rest of us. Sometimes we have to make judgment calls, and Reid—despite his past, despite his personal struggles—makes the right ones more often than not.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, her expression one of disbelief. “Judgment calls? That’s your defense? We can’t afford judgment calls, Aaron. Not when we’re dealing with murderers, terrorists, and serial predators. Reid’s personal issues cloud his judgment, and that makes him a risk.”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice firm but calm. “We work in the field. Every agent makes judgment calls—myself included. We don’t always have the luxury of time or all the facts laid out perfectly for us. Reid has an exceptional mind, and when he’s under pressure, he performs. Yes, he’s made mistakes, but so have all of us. He’s saved more lives than I can count.”

Strauss’ eyes flashed with irritation. “But his mistakes could have cost lives, Aaron. And you know that. How many times has he hesitated, overthought, or even worse, let his emotions dictate his actions? You’ve had to justify his choices to me and other superiors more times than you should have.”

Hotch’s face remained unreadable, but his voice grew harder. “I justify his decisions because they are the right ones. When you’re in the field, in a life-or-death situation, you need someone like Reid—a man who can think faster than anyone else in the room. His ability to process information, to read people, is unmatched.”

Strauss shook her head, her frustration boiling over. “You call it unmatched. I call it unstable. His mind may be brilliant, but it’s fragile. You can’t deny that. And you can’t keep making excuses for him. This is a dangerous game, and the stakes are too high for mistakes.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not unstable. He’s human. Every member of this team has had to make decisions under pressure, sometimes with incomplete information, and Reid is no different.”

“But he is different,” Strauss countered, her voice cutting through the room. “He’s the one who’s been to rehab. He’s the one who struggles with dependency. And let’s not forget the mental strain he’s been under for years. The rest of your team—Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi—they’re reliable. Reid, on the other hand, is unpredictable.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “He’s faced more than most of us could handle, and he’s come out the other side stronger. I trust him with my life, and so does the team.”

Strauss leaned forward, her gaze cold. “I don’t. And that’s why this is non-negotiable, Hotch. Monthly drug tests. If he slips, if there’s even a hint of a problem, he’s out. I will not tolerate another incident where I have to clean up his mess because you think his ‘judgment calls’ are excusable.”

Hotch stared at her for a long moment, the tension palpable. “And what happens when you push him out and lose one of the best agents this Bureau has ever had?”

Strauss didn’t blink. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The silence hung heavy between them, and Hotch realized no amount of reasoning would sway her.

Hotch left Strauss’s office, the tension from their conversation still lingering in the back of his mind. He didn’t like this any more than Spencer would, but Strauss had made her decision, and now it was up to him to break the news. The whole situation felt like a slap in the face to Spencer’s progress, and Hotch knew the young agent wouldn’t take it well.

Hotch found Spencer in the bullpen, hunched over some files, lost in thought. The usual furrow of concentration on his brow lifted as he glanced up and saw Hotch approaching.

"Hey, Hotch," Spencer greeted with a faint smile, but Hotch could see the weariness behind it. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he sat down across from him.

"Spencer, we need to talk," Hotch said, his tone more serious than usual.

Spencer’s smile faded, replaced by a look of curiosity, then mild concern. "What’s going on?"

Hotch exhaled, running a hand over his face before speaking. "Strauss is implementing new protocols. Effective immediately, you’ll be subjected to monthly drug tests."

Spencer blinked, his expression falling into confusion. "What? Why now? I haven’t used in four years, Hotch. I thought all of that was behind us."

Hotch leaned forward, his voice calm but steady. "I know, and I’ve made that clear to her. You’ve been clean for years, and we all see the progress you’ve made. But Strauss doesn’t trust that your addiction won’t resurface. She’s convinced that you're still a liability."

Spencer’s face twisted in frustration, and his hands fidgeted on the desk in front of him. He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I don’t understand. I’ve done everything right. I’ve proven myself. Why does she still think I’m going to screw up?"

Hotch looked at him sympathetically. "This isn’t about you, Spencer. It’s about Strauss’s own perception."

Spencer clenched his fists, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "I thought… I thought we were past all of that. Four years clean, Hotch. Four years. And she still sees me as a ticking time bomb."

Hotch’s gaze softened. "I know it’s unfair, and I wish I could change it. But Strauss has the power to enforce this protocol. I fought for you, Spencer. I’ll always fight for you. But this is one battle I couldn’t win."

Spencer leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he processed the information. The frustration and hurt in his eyes were evident. "Why does she hate me so much?" he muttered, more to himself than to Hotch. "Why am I always the one who has to prove myself over and over again?"

Hotch didn’t have an answer for that. Strauss’s animosity toward Spencer had always been unwarranted, and no matter how hard Spencer worked, it seemed she would never let go of the past.

"You’re not alone in this," Hotch said quietly, his voice firm. "The team knows how far you’ve come. We trust you. And we’ll make sure this doesn’t interfere with your work."

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was still etched on his face. "I just don’t get it. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do. Why can’t she see that?"

Hotch reached across the desk, resting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. "Because people like Strauss only see the risks, not the person. But we see you, Spencer. Don’t let her take that away from you."

Spencer offered a small, grateful smile, though the frustration still lingered in his eyes. He had been through enough, and this just felt like one more hurdle to jump.

As Hotch walked away, Spencer sat there, staring at the papers in front of him. He had thought the worst was behind him—that his addiction, his past struggles, were finally over. But now, with Strauss breathing down his neck, it felt like he was back at square one. And no matter how hard he worked, how far he came, there was always someone like Strauss, waiting to drag him back down.

—

“Spencer!” you screeched from your bedroom, the urgency in your voice sending Spencer into an instant state of panic. He rushed in, his mind racing, worried something terrible had happened.

But when he burst through the door, what greeted him was not a disaster—well, not the kind he had imagined. You were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by heaps of clothes, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. The sight made him chuckle, though he was also slightly flustered, his cheeks tinged pink at the sight of you in so little.

“What’s up, Red?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite how his heart raced.

You looked up at him, pouting, clearly distressed. Spencer, in his cozy sweatpants and hoodie, looked perfectly at ease while you were caught in a whirlwind of indecision. “I don’t know what to wear tonight,” you groaned, gesturing helplessly at the mountain of clothes surrounding you.

Spencer chuckled again, stepping further into the room. “Y/N, we’re not even meeting them for…” he checked his watch and raised his brow, “five hours!”

“I knowww,” you whined, your voice petulant as you flopped back dramatically onto the floor. “But I want to make a good impression.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how adorably worked up you were. He crouched down beside you, his eyes warm as he gazed at your scattered wardrobe. “You could show up in a garbage bag, and they’d still love you,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Trust me, you don’t need to stress.”

You sighed, sitting back up and grabbing a blouse. “Easy for you to say,” you mumbled, holding the shirt up. “You look good in everything.”

Spencer laughed softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek before leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. And honestly, they’re just excited to meet the person who’s made me so happy.” 

You looked up at him, his words warming your heart. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Spencer smiled. “That’s what you keep telling me.” He glanced down at the pile of clothes again. “Now, let’s figure out what outfit makes you feel as amazing as you are.”

After a lot of playful back and forth, Spencer finally helped you choose an outfit, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have the sweetest man alive by your side. You stood in your room, back in your bra and underwear, having set out the outfit for later, a black dress with red tights, duh. As you got ready, your heart swelled with affection for him—your boyfriend, the man who already seemed to know how to calm your nerves.

Standing in front of him, you ran your hands up Spencer’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the soft fabric of his hoodie. With a teasing smile, you tugged gently on the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “Can I show you how much I appreciate you, handsome?” you whispered, your voice playful but filled with sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He was always so adorably flustered when you teased him like this. But he smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his hands resting on your waist. “You already do,” he murmured against your lips, but there was no mistaking the way his breath hitched, betraying just how much he wanted you.

“Mm, but I want to really show you,” you breathed softly, your hands dropping to the waistband of Spencer’s sweats. His breath hitched immediately at the sensation of your fingers lightly teasing beneath the fabric, brushing against the coarse hair below.

“Wh—what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep his composure.

You smiled up at him, letting your fingers explore just a little, before you slowly began lowering yourself to your knees. “Well… I could tell you,” you said playfully, your voice dropping to a whisper, “or I could show you.”

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths as he tried to process what was happening. “Oh my god, uh…” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by the sudden intensity.

You firmly grasped the waistband of his sweats then, looking up at him for permission. “Can I?” you asked gently, always making sure he was comfortable.

Spencer didn’t respond right away. His voice was quiet, almost apologetic as he confessed, “I’ve never—no one has…”

You immediately understood, pulling your hands back gently. “Oh baby, we don’t have to,” you said softly, standing up and placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

Spencer looked at you with gratitude and an apology in his eyes. “Maybe later?” he offered, his tone tentative but sincere. “We… we need to get ready.”

You smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Of course,” you whispered. There was no need to push or rush anything. You had plenty of time, and you’d always respect his boundaries.

Later, after you and Spencer had finished getting ready, you couldn’t help but feel a bit pent up. Spencer looked good earlier, but now? Now, he looked downright irresistible. His button-down shirt paired with a checkered sweater vest, and those slacks—hugging him just right—had you practically drooling. But with Spencer’s earlier discomfort, you held your tongue, not wanting to push things too soon. 

After a quick kiss and a quiet pep talk, the two of you were outside, hailing a cab to meet his team at the bar. Your nerves were still buzzing. You were excited for Spencer, but the thought of someone recognizing you, of someone saying something, kept you on edge. You wanted to be the best partner to him, especially with how proud he was to introduce you to everyone.

As you approached the table, your nerves flared even more, but you plastered on a confident smile. Sitting around the table were Derek, Emily, JJ, and Penelope, all of whom greeted you warmly, each with their own playful digs at Spencer.

“Well, well,” Derek grinned, leaning back in his chair as he gave Spencer a once-over. “Pretty Boy wasn’t kidding when he said he was smitten.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, smirking as she gave you a friendly once-over. “Wow, Reid. No wonder you’ve been so secretive. I would’ve kept this hidden too.”

JJ nudged Penelope, who had stars in her eyes. “I’m so happy you’re real!” Penelope practically squealed. “I thought for sure Spencer was making you up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, laughing, as he proudly introduced you to his team, visibly glowing from how much they seemed to like you right off the bat.

You smiled, feeling more at ease, though still a bit on edge as you scanned the room. No sign of Hotch or Rossi—thank god, you thought, allowing yourself a moment to relax.

But just as you were about to take a seat, you heard it—the unmistakable voice from behind you. “Reid, is this your lady?” Rossi’s voice carried through the bar, calm and curious.

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you turned, your breath catching in your throat. As your eyes met Rossi’s, you immediately saw it—the flicker of recognition. Then, as you glanced at Hotch standing next to him, it was unmistakable. They both recognized you.

Your heart pounded as you pleaded with your eyes, hoping Rossi would get the message. Please, don’t say anything.

Spencer, none the wiser, smiled brightly as he introduced you. “Yes! Rossi, Hotch—this is Y/N.”

You extended your hand, swallowing your nerves as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Rossi took your hand, his grip warm and familiar as he gave you a knowing look. But instead of saying anything, he squeezed your hand gently and winked. "The pleasure is all mine," he said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing.

You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that for now, your secret was safe.

Hotch nodded politely, his expression neutral but his eyes scanning you, clearly making a mental note of the situation. But just like Rossi, he remained silent on the matter.

Spencer, completely oblivious, continued chatting with the group, beaming with pride as he showed you off to the people who mattered most to him. You smiled along, feeling the weight lift slightly, knowing that at least for now, your past could stay buried.

As the drinks flowed and the night progressed, you found yourself thoroughly enjoying the company of Spencer’s team. They were warm, welcoming, and great fun to be around, making it easier for you to relax. Even Hotch and Rossi, after the initial awkwardness, had lightened up, joining in the laughter and the storytelling.

It was a blast hearing them tease Spencer, recounting funny case stories and little moments from their years together. You were especially enjoying the bond you were forming with Penelope, both of you gushing over your shared love for tech and quickly finding an easy rhythm with one another. You felt like you’d made an instant friend.

But with every sip of your drink, your attention kept drifting back to Spencer. He just looked so good, sitting there, his eyes a little hooded from the alcohol, his jaw clenching as he excitedly explained some complex theory to Emily. His hands moved with purpose, fingers waving as he passionately discussed whatever topic he was on. The sight of him like that—so animated, so him—had desire steadily building in the pit of your stomach.

You bit your lip, watching him for a moment before giving in to temptation. Slowly, you slid your hand onto his thigh under the table, your fingers curling around him firmly. Spencer jolted slightly, his conversation with Emily stuttering as he tried to refocus.

He coughed lightly, glancing at you with wide eyes before quickly turning back to Emily, pretending to concentrate on the conversation while clearly trying to ignore your wandering hand.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. You smirked slightly, your thumb stroking slow circles against his thigh, inching closer. You could see the tension in his posture, how he was trying desperately to maintain his composure while you toyed with him.

Spencer stammered again, shooting you a look that was half warning, half pleading, but he couldn’t stop the flush creeping up his neck. His jaw tightened, and he shifted slightly in his seat, clearly struggling to keep it together as your touch continued to drive him wild beneath the table.

Spencer was briefly rescued by an unsung hero—Rossi.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Rossi announced, his tone casual as he looked in your direction. “Y/N, yours is looking light. Care to come with?” The look he gave you left no room for arguing. It was more of a command than an offer.

You nodded and stood, following him to the bar, your heart pounding. Once you were there, away from the laughter and teasing at the table, Rossi’s expression shifted. The warmth he usually radiated had cooled into something far more serious, almost stern.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Rossi asked, cutting straight to the point.

You sighed, leaning against the bar. “Not yet.”

Rossi’s glare was sharp, filled with concern rather than judgment. “You need to tell him, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a weight to his words you couldn’t brush off. “Come on, David. It’s not like it’s life or death.”

“No, it’s not,” Rossi agreed, his voice calm but firm. “But it’s going to matter to him. Especially now that you know. The longer you wait, the worse it gets.”

You hated how right he was. You hated that every day you kept this secret, the weight of it grew heavier. “I know,” you admitted, the frustration clear in your voice. “But what if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if it changes everything?”

Rossi’s expression softened slightly, his sternness giving way to understanding. “Spencer isn’t like that,” he said quietly. “But he values honesty. Keeping this from him… it’ll hurt him more than the truth ever will. If he finds out later, he’ll feel betrayed. And you don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head, staring down at the drink the bartender had just handed you. “No, I don’t.”

Rossi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I know it’s scary,” he said softly. “But trust me—Spencer cares about you. He’ll understand. You just have to give him the chance to.”

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as the weight of the conversation settled in. You knew what you had to do, but the thought of it still sent a nervous chill down your spine.

Rossi gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Better sooner than later, kiddo.” Then, with a wink, he turned to head back to the table, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. 

When you returned to Spencer’s side, he didn’t even notice that you hadn’t come back with a drink. Instead, he smiled brightly and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The warmth of his body instantly soothed you, but the mistake became apparent as soon as you breathed in his scent—clean, warm, and undeniably Spencer. The hunger inside you flared up tenfold, and you had to fight to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory.

Derek, of course, seized the moment, grinning mischievously from across the table. “Did Spencer tell you about the time a famous actress kissed him?”

Your eyebrows shot up, intrigued but also curious to see Spencer’s reaction. “What?” you asked with a teasing smile, nudging Spencer lightly. “No, he conveniently left that part out.”

Spencer flushed instantly, his arm tightening slightly around you as he groaned. “Oh god, not this story,” he muttered, glaring at Derek.

“Oh, come on, Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re basically a celebrity yourself for that one.”

You looked up at Spencer, eyes wide with curiosity. “I have to hear this,” you said, trying to keep the playful edge in your voice despite how distracted you felt by his proximity.

Spencer sighed, clearly embarrassed. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said quickly, as if trying to brush it off.

Derek scoffed, shaking his head as if Spencer’s modesty was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all night. “Not a big deal? Reid here was pulled into a swimming pool. She basically mounted him.”

You laughed, eyes widening in disbelief. “What?!”

Spencer buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in defeat, while Derek grinned like the cat that got the cream. "Yep, and the best part? The paparazzi caught the whole thing."

“There are pictures on the internet!” Penelope chimed in cheerfully, as if offering you a goldmine of information. "I saved them to my phone!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your curiosity piqued even more. “Oh, I have to see these.”

Spencer groaned, leaning back in his seat, his face flushed red. “Please don’t encourage them,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Derek leaned forward, enjoying every moment of Spencer’s discomfort. “Oh no, Y/N, you definitely need to look it up. It’s a classic ‘Reid in over his head’ moment. He’s all wet, confused, and awkward—it’s priceless.”

Penelope nodded eagerly. “He tried to escape, but the actress wouldn’t let him go. She had him trapped!”

You were laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “Oh my god, Spencer,” you giggled, leaning against him. “How did I not know about this sooner?”

Spencer, though clearly embarrassed, finally cracked a smile. “I didn’t think it was relevant,” he mumbled, shooting Derek and Penelope a half-hearted glare.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Derek teased. “Don’t let him fool you, Y/N. She was all over him.”

You giggled, poking Spencer’s side playfully. “Why do I feel like I’m going to need more details later?”

Spencer groaned again, but there was a small, sheepish smile on his face as he squeezed your shoulder. “We’ll talk about it… eventually,” he muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him again, the tension from earlier melting away slightly as you enjoyed the moment with him and his team. For now, the weight of your secret could wait just a little longer.

The group finally decided to call it a night, but you were buzzing with excitement, eager to get Spencer alone—all to yourself. Both of you had stopped drinking hours ago, switching to water to avoid any hangovers, but the anticipation had been steadily building. 

As soon as you climbed into the back of a cab together, your hand instinctively returned to Spencer’s thigh, your fingers squeezing appreciatively as they traced the thick muscle. You weren't planning on doing anything more, especially in public, but the closeness only fueled the fire inside you.

The cab ride felt longer than usual, the tension simmering between you two in the dim light of the backseat. Spencer seemed to notice it too, his eyes meeting yours in silent understanding. 

But once you had Spencer inside your front door, all restraint vanished. You pushed him against a bare wall with urgency, your hands gripping his lithe waist as your lips found his neck, planting hot, hungry kisses along his skin.

"Y/N?" Spencer gasped, his voice strained with both surprise and desire. His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his pulse. "What’s gotten into you?"

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the taste of his skin and the way his body responded to every touch. Instead, you kissed your way up to his mouth, pressing yourself against him. Between breaths, you mumbled against his lips, “Hopefully you.”

Spencer let out a low groan, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m not sure I can resist you right now,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, already losing the battle against the pull you had over him.

You grinned against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepened, the heat between you both simmering to a near-boiling point. “Please don’t resist,” you whispered against his lips, your voice low and filled with need. “You looked so fucking hot tonight.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and before he could respond, you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hand pressing against the growing hardness in his slacks. The pressure of your touch made him buck his hips forward instinctively, his eyes widening as the sensation shot through him.

“Is this okay now?” you asked, your voice breathy with desire as you looked up at him, your hand still teasing him through the fabric. “Please, Spencer. Please, I need to taste you.”

His mind raced, a jumble of thoughts and emotions, but all of them led to the same conclusion—how could he say no when you asked him like that, when the hunger in your eyes matched his own? He nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to form proper words, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

As your fingers deftly worked to undo his belt and the button of his slacks, Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands bracing against the wall behind him for support. He was already losing himself to the intensity of the moment, the anticipation building with every second.

Spencer swallowed hard, his nerves apparent as he shifted slightly under your touch. “What, um, what do I do?” he asked nervously, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

You smiled up at him like a vixen, your lips brushing over the now-exposed skin of his thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted you most. His breath hitched as you nosed along the front of his briefs, the friction sending a shudder through him that made him whimper.

Sticking your tongue out, you traced him through the fabric, feeling the heat radiating through it, and looked up at him with playful intent. “Try not to make me gag,” you teased, your voice low and sultry. “Pull my hair if you like… and let me know when you’re going to come.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, the tension and excitement evident in his expression. His grip on the wall tightened as he nodded, trying to follow your instructions, but the way you spoke and the feeling of your tongue against him had him unraveling already.

The moment was intoxicating, your playful control over him leaving him helpless as he tried to hold it together. Every touch, every word, was pushing him closer to the edge, and he could hardly believe this was happening.

As you pulled off the last barrier, Spencer’s briefs sliding down, you couldn’t help but grin like you’d just unwrapped the most perfect present. You’d seen him naked before, but this was different—having his hard cock right in front of you, so close, filled you with an intoxicating sense of control and desire. 

You licked your lips, savoring the moment, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his head, tasting him for the first time. Spencer’s breath hitched, his back instinctively pulling away from the wall as a wave of sensation coursed through him. His hands found their way into your hair, his grip hesitant at first but growing more confident as the pleasure built.

When you finally wrapped your lips around him, Spencer’s entire body reacted, his hands tugging at your hair, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. He was already a mess, and you’d barely begun.

Pulling back for just a moment, you looked up at him with a wicked glint in your eyes and whispered, “Good boy.”

The praise hit him like a freight train, his hips bucking slightly as he let out a pathetic, needy whimper in response. He was completely at your mercy, lost in the sensation, and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. Every touch, every word from you was pushing him further under, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, completely overwhelmed by you.

You leaned back in, taking him into your mouth again, more confident now that you’d seen his reactions. Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair as his body arched, his control slowly unraveling with each passing second. You could feel the tension building in him, hear the way his breath quickened, shaky and unsteady, as he tried to hold back.

Every movement you made seemed to push him further toward the edge. The way you hollowed your cheeks, the small flicks of your tongue, the pressure—everything was driving him wild. His hips bucked involuntarily, but you were ready for it, holding him steady as you took him deeper.

“Y/N…” he gasped, barely able to find his voice. His breathing was ragged now, and he was doing everything he could to hold on. “I’m close…”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations almost sending him over the edge. He tightened his grip in your hair, his hips stuttering as he let out a broken moan, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

“God, darling…” Spencer whimpered, his voice barely a whisper as he prepared to ride out the waves of pleasure, his head falling back against the wall. 

Spencer’s breath hitched as you pulled back suddenly, leaving him teetering on the edge without release. His body betrayed him, a desperate whine escaping his lips as he thrashed lightly against the wall, trying to chase the pleasure you’d just denied him. 

You placed a firm hand on his hip, grounding him, while your other hand came up to stroke him slowly, teasingly. "Over so soon, baby?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement, watching his reactions closely. 

“I’m—” he hiccuped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m sorry, it just feels so good.”

You arched an eyebrow, teasing him further. “Thought you weren’t a virgin, Spence?”

His face flushed deep red, his breath ragged and uneven as he struggled to focus. “I’m n—not,” he stammered, his words tumbling over themselves as he tried to speak while your hand brought him back to the brink. “Just hav—ah—haven’t had this before.”

Your strokes were slow and deliberate, torturous in the best way, and you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his tip. “Is it too much for you?” you whispered softly, your voice low and seductive.

Spencer shook his head frantically, biting his lip as he tried to hold back. “No… no, I—I don’t want you to stop,” he gasped, his hands instinctively gripping your hair tighter, his fingers digging into your scalp as he tried to anchor himself. “Please…”

You smiled at his response, watching as he lost himself to the sensations, barely able to hold on as you continued to push him further. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's entire body was trembling under your touch, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as you continued to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. His head was thrown back against the wall, his chest heaving with the effort it took to hold himself together.

You smirked, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed, completely at your mercy. His desperation was palpable, and it made you want to push him further—to see just how much he could take.

“You look so good like this,” you whispered, your voice filled with both praise and desire. “Completely undone for me.”

Spencer’s hips jerked slightly in response, and he whimpered again, barely able to form words as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “Y/N, please,” he gasped, his voice shaky. “I—I can’t—”

You leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his hip, kissing and biting lightly as you kept your hand moving at a torturous pace. “What do you want, Spence?” you asked softly, your breath warm against his skin.

Spencer’s voice broke as he whimpered, his words nearly a plea. “You—your mouth, please,” he begged, his body trembling, the desperation in his tone unmistakable. He was so close to the edge, and you could tell he was barely holding himself together.

You smiled softly, relishing the power you had over him in this moment. “Okay, baby,” you whispered, your voice laced with both affection and desire. “You’ve been so good for me… you can have whatever you want.”

Without wasting another moment, and your hand still gently stroking him, you placed a soft kiss on his tip. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his entire body shuddered in anticipation. His hands tightened in your hair again after losing their grip, and you could feel how tightly he was holding on, as if letting go would make him lose control completely.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth, savoring the salty taste and the way his body reacted immediately. Spencer’s head fell back against the wall, a strangled moan escaping his lips as his hips instinctively pushed forward, gagging you.

“You’re so good,” he gasped, his voice breathless as he struggled to keep his composure. “So, so good…”

The praise only made you work harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, determined to give him exactly what he asked for. Spencer’s body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the tension building rapidly, his breaths becoming shorter and more erratic with each passing second.

“Y/N, I—” he managed to choke out, his hands tightening in your hair. “I’m gonna—”

You didn’t pull away this time. You kept going, your pace quickening and your other hand cupping his balls as you brought him right to the edge, determined to take him all the way.

And then, with a final, desperate moan, Spencer came undone completely, his body trembling as he released into your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening for a moment before he released it completely collapsed back against the wall, utterly spent.

You pulled away slowly, wiping the corner of your mouth with a smirk as you looked up at him. Spencer’s chest was still heaving, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, a blissful smile tugging at his lips.

But then Spencer’s eyes widened in panic, and his face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—to… in your mouth!”

You giggled, your mouth still full, shaking your head affectionately at his reaction. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you stuck out your tongue to show him exactly what he had done. Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, his breath hitching as he took in the sight.

He felt lightheaded, especially when you casually closed your mouth and, in one smooth motion, swallowed. “Jesus,” he breathed, his voice barely audible, the raw intensity of the moment catching up to him.

You grinned wickedly. “Just me, baby,” you winked, laughing as you stood up on slightly wobbly legs, your body still buzzing with the energy of the moment.

Before you could stumble, Spencer’s hands reached out to catch you, steadying you against him. “Whoa, careful, Bambi,” he teased, his voice finally regaining some steadiness.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at his comment, your smile still bright. “I could say the same,” you said, your gaze flicking downward where the hardness of him was pressing into your stomach. “Or should I call you Pinocchio? Again, Spence, really?"

Spencer’s face flushed again, and he laughed awkwardly, his hands tightening around your waist. “I—uh—yeah, sorry about that. It’s just…” he trailed off, looking sheepish as he tried to explain. “You’re kind of… really hot.”

You laughed softly, kissing Spencer sweetly on the lips. But just as you pulled away, Spencer abruptly jerked back, his eyes wide with alarm. “What?” you asked, confused by his sudden reaction.

“You have—me! In your mouth!” he sputtered, looking completely flustered.

You tilted your head, amused by his innocence. “Does that gross you out?” you teased. “Because I think you taste good.”

Spencer flushed even more, which you didn’t think was possible at this point. He stammered, his words tripping over themselves. “I don’t... I don’t know. I’ve just... never thought about it.”

You smiled playfully, shrugging as you turned and sighed dramatically. “Well, you don’t have to kiss me right now, Spence... I guess I’ll just go to bed alone.” Letting your dress fall provocatively from your shoulder, you made your way toward the bedroom, your steps slow and intentional.

Spencer’s mind raced, catching up with the teasing tone in your voice. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized what you were implying. Without hesitation, he scrambled to pull his briefs and pants back up, fastening them quickly before running after you.

“Wait!” he called out, his voice filled with urgency as he reached out to grab your hand, stopping you just before you could disappear into the bedroom.

You turned to face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?” you asked, your lips curving into a slow smile.

Spencer, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. “I—I’m not letting you go to bed alone,” he said, his voice a mix of determination and longing. “I want to be with you.”

You smiled warmly, pulling him close. “Good answer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a deep, slow kiss, letting him feel how much you wanted him too.

That night, however, the two of you decided to take it slow and just go to bed. You could tell Spencer had done enough exploring for one day, and there was no need to push him further. After all, the night had already been filled with its own excitement.

You handed him a spare toothbrush to keep at your place, something that made Spencer smile shyly. He changed into the sweats he had borrowed earlier, and you both settled into bed, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of each other.

With Spencer nestled against your chest, his head rising and falling gently with your breathing, you kissed the top of his head and sighed contentedly. The moment felt perfect, and you were certain Spencer had already drifted off to sleep when you heard it. The words were so soft, you almost thought you were imagining them.

“I think I'm falling in love with you,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible against your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, unsure if you’d actually heard it. But the warmth of his words lingered in the air, and you knew it was real. You could feel the way his body tensed slightly, like he was scared of what he’d just confessed, but you couldn’t help the wide, beaming smile that stretched across your face.

Your hand gently stroked his hair as you whispered back, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Spencer’s body relaxed against yours, and for the first time that night, you both fell asleep with the quiet comfort of knowing you were falling in love—together.

—

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, your hand reaching out instinctively for Spencer, but finding only cool sheets. A flash of panic surged through you until you heard his voice, faint but audible, coming from down the hall. You couldn’t make out the words, but there was a tension in his tone, a heaviness that made your chest tighten.

You slipped out of bed, still groggy, and padded quietly to the door, opening it just enough to see Spencer standing in the living room. The morning sunlight bathed him in a soft, golden glow, highlighting the slump in his shoulders. He was on the phone, and even though his voice was low, you could tell he was upset.

When he heard the door creak open, he quickly wrapped up the conversation. “Hotch, I gotta go. Yeah. Bye,” he said, his tone clipped as he hung up.

You took a tentative step toward him, concern lacing your voice as you asked, “You okay?”

Spencer turned to face you, and without hesitation, he let his body fall into yours. His chin rested gently on the top of your head as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Yeah," he muttered, though you could feel the weight behind his words. "Just work stuff."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, trying to offer him the comfort he clearly needed. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, not wanting to push but needing him to know you were there.

“Not right now,” Spencer murmured, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His smile was small but genuine, as if he was trying to reassure you that everything was fine, even if it wasn’t. “I was trying to make coffee, but I couldn’t find your grounds.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the mood just a little. “I use disposable pods, silly.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ahh, that would do it.” 

There was a moment of quiet between you as Spencer leaned back into your embrace, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. Even though he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, you knew he appreciated your presence. And for now, that was enough.

Once the coffee was made and the two of you settled into the comfortable chairs on your deck, the soft morning breeze creating a peaceful atmosphere, you knew it was time. Spencer sat beside you, sipping his coffee, lost in thought but content. The silence between you had been comforting, but there was something tugging at you now, something you needed to share.

You glanced over at him, watching how the sunlight danced across his face, and took a deep breath, feeling your heart pick up pace. Breaking the peaceful quiet, you spoke up softly, “Spencer… can I tell you something? About my past? It’s not exactly happy…”

Spencer’s attention immediately shifted to you, his eyes soft but concerned. He set his mug down on the small table beside him, turning his body slightly to face you. “Of course,” he said gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “You can tell me anything.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your coffee cup. It was hard, the idea of opening up this part of yourself, but if you wanted to move forward, to build something real with Spencer, you knew he deserved to know.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you began slowly, your voice faltering slightly. “It’s not that I’ve lied, but… there are things about my past I haven’t told you.”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand gently covering yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. Spencer’s hand was still resting on yours, grounding you, giving you the strength to continue.

“When I was thirteen,” you started, your voice low, “I lost both of my parents. It wasn’t... it wasn’t an accident or some freak illness. They both died from drug overdoses.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in concern, but he didn’t say anything, giving you the space to speak.

“My father had always been an addict. I barely remember a time when he wasn’t using something. He was... abusive. Violent, unpredictable.” You swallowed hard, the memories flashing in your mind like dark clouds. “I lived with my mom most of the time. We tried to keep away from him, hiding from him really. He was dangerous, and my mom did her best to protect us.”

You paused, feeling the lump forming in your throat, but Spencer’s thumb tracing circles on your skin kept you anchored.

“One day, when I was at school, my mom was home. She had called in sick that day, just a flu or something. But somehow, my dad found her. He showed up while I was gone.” Your voice wavered, and you closed your eyes for a second, willing yourself to keep going. “When I came home, I found them both... he had overdosed them. I guess he thought if he was going down, he’d take her with him.”

Spencer’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, and when you looked up, his eyes were filled with compassion and something else... empathy, perhaps. He didn’t say a word, just let you continue.

“That’s how I found them. Both gone, just... gone.” You could feel your breath hitch as the memories flooded back. “After that, my little sister and I went to live with my aunt. She took us in, gave us a home, but it was never the same. My sister... she couldn’t handle what our father did. She was so young, and it broke her.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly. Spencer leaned closer, his body almost enveloping you with comfort.

“Where is your sister now?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “She got addicted too, a few years later. I tried to help her, but she was... lost. She ran away when she was old enough, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

Spencer looked at you with a pained expression, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you, for both of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “It was... it still is. But I guess I’m just terrified of the past catching up to me, of losing more people to the same thing.”

Spencer’s thumb gently stroked your hand, silently encouraging you to continue.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you wiped the last trace of tears from your eyes. “I love my aunt dearly,” you said, voice soft but filled with warmth. “She’s an amazing woman. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be... I probably would have ended up in foster care, or worse.”

“She did everything she could to help my sister,” you continued. “Took us both in when she didn’t have to, gave us a home, stability. But... my sister refused treatment, refused help. My aunt tried, I tried, but she just... wouldn’t listen. I think... I think she was too broken by everything that happened.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he listened, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness he felt on your behalf. “Your aunt sounds like an incredible person,” he said softly. “She must have cared for you both so much.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “She did, and she still does. I wouldn’t have made it without her. She never gave up on me, even when things got really dark. But with my sister...” You trailed off, the pain still fresh despite the years. “She just couldn’t reach her, no matter how hard she tried.”

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled you a little closer, wrapping his arm around you protectively. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N. I wish I could take away that pain for you.”

You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace comfort you. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I’ve learned to live with it. It’s just hard, knowing that no matter how much love we gave her, my sister couldn’t be saved.”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he spoke. “You did everything you could. Sometimes... people just aren’t ready to accept help. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try, or that you didn’t love her enough.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to just breathe. You hadn’t shared this part of yourself with anyone in such a long time, and Spencer’s quiet understanding felt like a balm to your soul.

“She sounds like an incredible woman, your aunt,” Spencer added, squeezing your hand gently. “And so do you.”

You looked at Spencer with tears welling in your eyes, your emotions on full display. “Thank you, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with gratitude. His thumb gently wiped a tear from underneath your eye, his touch soft and reassuring.

"Not just for listening,” you continued, “but for being you.”

Spencer smiled at you, a deep, affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. His eyes shone with understanding and care, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming connection between you two. He leaned forward then, kissing you deeply, a kiss full of warmth and unspoken promises.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured softly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, more at yourself than anything, as you wiped away the remnants of your tears. "Okay, whew, that’s that," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "Now you know. We can stop crying now."

Spencer smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His eyes flickered with something more, a desire to share, to open up just as you had. “Do you want to know about my parents?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded your head, giving him your full attention, ready to listen just as he had for you.

Spencer sighed deeply, his gaze far away for a moment, as if gathering the words. “My mom… she has schizophrenia. It started when I was really young, and I spent a lot of time trying to understand her illness. It wasn’t easy growing up, knowing she wasn’t like other moms. She was brilliant though, a professor of literature. She used to read to me all the time, teaching me about everything she loved. That’s probably where I get my love for books.”

You listened intently, your heart breaking a little for the boy he once was, trying to make sense of a world so complex and painful.

“My dad left when I was ten,” Spencer continued, his voice quieter now. “He couldn’t handle it anymore—her illness, the responsibility. He just… left. And it was just me and her after that.”

Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, but he stayed composed. “I spent my childhood trying to take care of her, in my own way. She had episodes, but I didn’t want her to go to a hospital, so I hid a lot of it from people. I thought… I thought I could fix it.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. Spencer glanced at you, his expression softening as he took comfort in your presence.

“I’ve made peace with it now,” Spencer said after a beat. “But it wasn’t easy. There were days I felt like I was drowning, trying to take care of her and go to school, trying to make something of myself.” He paused, then added, “She’s in a facility now, getting the care she needs. I visit when I can.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting his words settle, understanding the depth of his pain and the strength it must have taken to survive such a childhood.

"Thank you for telling me," you whispered, echoing his earlier words. Your thumb brushed against the back of his hand as you gazed at him with admiration. "You’re a wonderful man, Spencer."

He smiled softly, his eyes brimming with affection as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

When the coffee was finished and the emotional weight of your stories had settled, you both stood up, moving inside together. There was no need for plans, no pressure to fill the day with anything grand. You simply wanted to be together, to spend the day wrapped up in each other’s presence, doing nothing but enjoying the quiet comfort of your shared company.

—

Spencer’s day had started off on a sour note the moment he walked into the testing facility. The thought of being watched during such an intimate, humiliating process had been enough to make his stomach churn. The presence of the other agent, someone he didn’t know, standing nearby as he tried to perform an already uncomfortable task had only worsened his mood.

By the time he returned to the office, Spencer was tense, his nerves frayed from the ordeal. His team—his friends—were used to his occasional bad moods, but this was different. He hated that the drug tests were a constant reminder of a time in his life he’d fought so hard to put behind him, a scar that Strauss and her protocols kept reopening.

Penelope was the first to try and talk to him, her usual bubbly energy shining through as she asked, “Hey, Reid, how was your weekend? Did you spend it with your girl?”

Without thinking, Spencer snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he could see the hurt flash across her face before she quickly masked it with a forced smile. He regretted it immediately, but in his irritation, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize right away.

Then, Derek, ever the good friend, set a fresh cup of coffee on Spencer’s desk—a simple gesture of kindness. But when a bit of the coffee spilled over the edge onto his papers, Spencer’s patience snapped again.

“Can you not?” Spencer bit out, glaring at the small mess. “It’s everywhere now, Morgan.”

Derek raised his hands in surrender, clearly not wanting to poke the bear. “Alright, alright, take it easy, pretty boy.”

Emily, sensing Spencer’s volatile mood, wisely kept her distance. She’d seen him like this before and knew better than to engage when he was on edge.

JJ, always the nurturer, tried her best to offer a soothing presence. “Spence, are you okay? You seem a little... off today.”

But instead of the comfort she usually brought, her words only stoked the fire. “I’m fine, JJ. Can everyone just stop asking me how I’m doing?”

Her eyes widened, taken aback by his harsh tone, and Spencer immediately felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t mean to lash out, especially at JJ, who was only trying to help. His apology came quickly, but it did little to ease the tension.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his frustration pressing down on him. “I just... I’m not in a great place right now.”

Hotch had been watching from his office, observing how Spencer was struggling to keep it together. He knew better than most what Spencer was going through, but it was clear today wasn’t a day Spencer should be in the office.

He walked over to Spencer’s desk, his expression firm but understanding. “Reid, go home.”

Spencer looked up, surprised. “I have work to finish—”

“You can take it with you,” Hotch interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You need some space. Go home, get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Spencer didn’t fight it. He nodded, collecting his things, knowing that Hotch was right. He wasn’t doing anyone any good by staying, and his snapping at the people who cared about him only made him feel worse.

As he left the office, Spencer felt a weight lift slightly from his shoulders. But the humiliation of the morning still gnawed at him, and he wondered how long this protocol would hang over his head like a dark cloud.

Things only got worse when you texted Spencer on your lunch break, sharing a silly story about a printer mix-up at work. Normally, Spencer would find your anecdotes charming, loving the way you broke them up into several texts as if you were telling the story in person. But today, the constant pinging of his phone was too much for his already frayed nerves.

He stared at the screen, watching the notifications pile up, the sound seeming louder and more grating than usual. The tension from the day—the frustration, the stress, the hidden weight of what he was dealing with—made every ping feel like it was vibrating directly into his skull.

Instead of waiting for more texts to come through, he called you. It wasn’t out of anger, but a desperate need to silence the noise and prevent the headache he felt creeping up.

“Hi, baby!” you answered, your voice bright and cheery, though you sounded a little surprised. “I didn’t realize you were on your phone. Sorry if I was texting too much—”

“I’m home. Hotch let me leave early,” he huffed, his voice sharp and tense, though he hadn’t meant for it to sound so irritated.

“Oh…” you paused, a little concern creeping into your voice. “Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?”

Your genuine worry, which normally would have soothed him, only felt like another weight on his chest today. He wasn’t angry with you, but the frustration that had been building all day finally spilled over.

“I’m fine,” Spencer snapped, his tone harsher than he intended. “I just… I’m having a bad day, okay?”

The line went quiet for a moment. He immediately regretted his words, knowing you didn’t deserve the brunt of his frustration. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and here he was, snapping at you over something as small as a few text messages.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly, the lightness in your voice replaced with a gentle, understanding tone. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He sighed, the guilt crashing down on him. You had no idea what he was really dealing with—he hadn’t told you about the drug tests, about Strauss's constant scrutiny. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to think any less of him, so he kept it all to himself. But now, it was spilling over into how he treated you, and he hated that.

“No, I know. I’m sorry,” Spencer replied, softer now, trying to reign in his frustration. “It’s not you, I just… today’s been rough.”

There was a pause again, your voice gentle when you finally spoke. “Do you want me to come over? We don’t have to talk about it. I can just be there.”

Spencer hesitated. The truth was, part of him wanted you there. He always felt better with you around, your presence grounding him in ways he couldn’t explain. But today, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being around anyone, even you. Not when he felt so close to snapping at the slightest thing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe… I just need some space right now.”

Your understanding was immediate, though he could hear the slight tinge of hurt in your voice. “Okay, I get it. Just know I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah,” Spencer muttered, closing his eyes and trying to push away the guilt and frustration swirling inside him. “Thanks, Y/N.”

When the call ended, Spencer sat in the quiet of his apartment, feeling the weight of his bad day pressing down on him. He knew he should tell you what was going on, but the shame and embarrassment kept him silent. He wanted to feel better, wanted to stop snapping at the people he cared about, but today everything felt… wrong.

—

Rossi stood in Strauss’s office, the door closed behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her with a frustrated expression. He had been simmering over this decision for days now, but he knew he had to say something. It was eating at him.

“You know, Erin, I think you went too far this time,” Rossi said, his voice low but firm. “Having Spencer drug tested every month? It’s uncalled for. The kid’s been clean for years now. He’s proven himself.”

Strauss didn’t look up from the file in front of her, her expression unreadable. “David, you of all people should understand why this is necessary.”

“I told you in confidence,” Rossi said, stepping closer to her desk, his voice gaining an edge. “Because of us. Not so you could turn around and use it against him. You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Strauss finally lifted her eyes to meet his, her expression calm and collected. “I’m trying to protect her.”

Rossi let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re punishing him for something that hasn’t even happened. He hasn’t slipped up, and I don’t think he will. He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

“He’s a liability,” Strauss said firmly, not backing down. “And I’m not going to sit by and wait for him to make a mistake that costs us all more than we’re willing to pay.”

Rossi clenched his jaw, frustrated by her unwillingness to see reason. “You’re not protecting her or the Bureau, Erin. You’re making it harder for him to succeed. You’re putting a target on his back.”

Strauss crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. “Sometimes, David, tough decisions have to be made. Whether or not you agree with them.”

Rossi sighed, knowing the conversation was hitting a dead end. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing before it’s too late.” He gave her one final look, disappointed but unsurprised, before turning on his heel and leaving her office, the tension lingering long after he was gone.

—

Spencer stood there, looking so tired and worn down, and your heart clenched at the sight of him. You could tell he was struggling, and the weight of whatever was on his mind was pressing heavily on his shoulders. You stepped closer, gently touching his arm.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your voice full of concern.

He looked at you, his gaze softened by exhaustion, and he sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for how I was yesterday… I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

You shook your head, stepping aside to let him in, your hand reaching for his as you pulled him through the door. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. But what’s going on? You’ve been so quiet. I’ve been worried.”

He gave a small nod, his eyes downcast as he stepped into your apartment, letting the warmth of your presence surround him. You led him to the couch, and he collapsed into it with a heavy sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck as if trying to ease the tension that had built there.

“I… I just had a really hard day,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Work stuff. It’s… it’s complicated, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Your concern deepened, but you didn’t want to push him. You could see in his eyes that he was holding something back, something that was clearly eating at him, but if he wasn’t ready to share, you would respect that. You just wanted to be there for him, however he needed.

You nodded softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about it,” you said gently. “But I’m here. And if you want to just… be, we can do that too.”

Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax a little at your words, and he let out a small breath, his fingers squeezing yours tightly as if holding on to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I just… I just want to be with you,” he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours, the vulnerability in them breaking your heart. “I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be here with you.”

You gave him a gentle smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Then we’ll just be,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes as you kissed him, letting out a long, shaky breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. For a long moment, you just held him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured after a while, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it clear. “For being here.”

You stroked his hair softly, your heart full of love for the man in your arms. “Always, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m always here.” 

And though the weight of his hidden struggles lingered in the air, for now, it was enough to just be together.

The laughter that filled the room later was like music, and for the first time in what felt like days, Spencer felt light again. You were both sprawled out on the couch, popcorn forgotten as Spencer had successfully wrestled you under him, his hands expertly tickling your sides. Your uncontrollable giggles filled the room as you squirmed beneath him, trying to bat his hands away.

“Spence!” you squealed, your voice rising in playful desperation. “Stop! I can’t—” 

He laughed, his own amusement bubbling up as he leaned down, pressing quick, ticklish kisses along your neck and cheeks, making you squirm even more.

“What?” he teased, pretending not to hear you, his voice lighthearted and mischievous. “Can’t hear you over all this squawking in my ear!”

Your laughter came out in breathless bursts, and you managed to shove at his chest lightly, still giggling as he finally gave you a moment to catch your breath. Spencer grinned down at you, his face flushed from laughter, his earlier heaviness completely gone, replaced by a playful glint in his eyes.

"Truce?" you gasped, still trying to stop your own giggles, your hands grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself.

Spencer tilted his head, pretending to think it over for a moment before nodding, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Alright. Truce. But only because you begged so nicely.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled up at him, your heart swelling at how much lighter and carefree he seemed now. Whatever weight he had been carrying earlier was gone, at least for the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you had been the one to help lift it. 

He stayed on top of you for a moment longer, both of you catching your breath, the warmth of his body comforting against yours. He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly, his voice gentle as he murmured, “You always know how to make me feel better.”

You smiled up at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “I just like seeing you happy,” you said softly. “You deserve it.”

For a moment, Spencer didn’t say anything, just looking at you with a kind of quiet admiration that made your heart flutter. Then, with a playful smirk, he rolled off you, tugging you back up to sit in his lap. “Alright, I’ll stop tickling you,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “for now.”

You glared and pointed your finger in his face, making him cross his eyes like a dork. “Tickle me again, and I’ll... I’ll…”

“Yeah? Go on, honey,” he teased, his smirk growing wider as his hands continued to rub your hips.

Flustered by his confidence, you blurted, “I’ll spit on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that the best you got?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice as your eyes locked on his. “Careful, baby… sounds like you might actually want that.”

Spencer's smirk faltered slightly, his eyes widening in surprise before he laughed nervously. You could feel the shift in energy between you, the playful banter taking on a new, teasing intensity.

“Wha—no,” he stammered, trying to recover, but the playful glint in your eyes had him flustered.

You leaned in closer, your hands resting on his chest as you whispered in a low, sultry tone, “Mmm, you sure about that?”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands instinctively tightening on your hips as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re… you’re just trying to get a rise out of me,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little breathless, but there was no hiding the way his body reacted to your proximity.

You grinned, feeling empowered by the effect you had on him. “And it’s working,” you teased, your lips brushing against his ear as you gently let your hips grind on his.

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to yours, filled with affection and playful frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You giggled, sitting up straight and giving him a satisfied look. “Maybe,” you said sweetly, “but you like it.”

He sighed dramatically, still flustered but clearly loving every second of your teasing. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Spencer’s hands slipped from your hips, wrapping around your waist instead as he pulled you closer. “But if you threaten me with spitting again,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, “I might have to get you back.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

He smirked, leaning in closer so his lips were just inches from yours. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” he murmured before kissing you deeply, the playfulness of the moment fading into something more tender and intimate.

“You want to show me?” you whispered against his lips, nipping softly at Spencer’s lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine.

He groaned in response, the sharp, sweet pain igniting something inside him. But as much as the dirty talk stirred him, he hesitated. Spencer wasn’t as experienced as his playful words suggested, even though he'd picked up more than a few lines from the books he'd read — including a couple of romance novels that had taught him a thing or two.

Still, feeling the heat between you, Spencer nodded, leaning in for a kiss. This one wasn’t gentle or tentative, but filled with passion, tongues meeting, teeth grazing lips, and it set off a fire in both of your bellies. 

Your hands gripped at his hair, pulling him closer as his hands moved up your sides, exploring every inch of you, unsure but eager. The kiss deepened, both of you giving in to the moment, feeling the intensity grow between you. It was uncharted territory for him, but he was more than willing to learn with you.

Feeling bold, Spencer let his hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing tentatively. The whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers dug into your flesh sent a surge of pride through him. He was still a little unsure, but that reaction told him he was on the right track.

But then you pulled back slightly, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Is this what I get? I might have to threaten you more often…”

Something primal seemed to take over Spencer at your teasing words, and before he knew it, his hand came down in a sharp, quick slap against your ass. The sound echoed around the room, but it was your loud, unrestrained moan that had his pulse racing.

His eyes widened, both with shock at his own actions and the reaction it had caused. “You like that?” he asked, his voice thick with a mixture of curiosity and raw desire, unable to believe what had just happened — and how much it seemed to affect both of you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice husky with need. “I do.”

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he might have just unlocked something new between the two of you — something he was more than ready to explore.

Spencer pulled you back in, capturing your lips in an even deeper kiss, his tongue teasing yours while his hand came down with another sharp slap to your ass. The moan that left your mouth vibrated against his, making his head spin as you ground down on his growing bulge, the heat between you two intensifying by the second.

You both moved together in a desperate, frenzied rhythm, as if the space between your bodies was too much to bear. The need for more overwhelmed both of you, pushing the tension higher, the air thick with desire.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he let out little grunts and groans, lost in the sensation. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he threw his head back, pulling you down harder into him, his whole body shuddering as he finished with a deep, guttural groan. 

Panting heavily, his fingers still dug into your hips, he slowly came back down from his high, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. The heat between you still simmered, but the moment of release left both of you tingling and a little dazed, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment.

You looked down at him with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him just a little. "Spence... did you just come in your pants?"

Still breathing heavily, he nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yup."

You let out a laugh, shifting slightly on his lap, causing him to groan at the sudden movement against his sensitive cock. "Oops, sorry, baby," you said with a mischievous grin, sitting back on his thighs. "I didn't realize you were so close."

Spencer leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. The angle gave you a perfect view of his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but admire how utterly spent—and gorgeous—he looked in that moment. "I didn't either," he admitted with a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Lots of pent-up emotions, huh?" you teased, letting your finger trail lightly over the wet spot on his pants. He twitched at the sensation, quickly grabbing your wrist and gently pushing your hand away. He lifted his head, playfully glaring at you, though there was no malice in his gaze, only affection.

"Not funny," he muttered, trying to stifle a smile.

You giggled, leaning down to kiss his cheek, unable to resist teasing him one last time. "Maybe not for you... but I find it pretty adorable."

“Adorable? Last time you said it was hot,” Spencer pouted, his expression turning to one of mortification as the realization hit him. “Oh my god, I’ve done this twice. Maybe I am a virgin.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart melting for him. Leaning in, you kissed him gently, hoping to ease his mind and distract him from his embarrassment. “It’s hot and adorable, Spence,” you whispered against his lips, your tone soft and reassuring. “And, trust me, very flattering.”

But Spencer still looked unsure, his brows knitting together in uncertainty. You could see his mind working, trying to make sense of it, and you knew he wasn’t fully convinced just yet.

With a sultry smile, you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Do you want to see how hot I find it? How hot I find you?” Your voice dripped with desire, and Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he nodded dumbly, ready and willing to follow your lead.

You took his hand in yours, guiding it down the front of your sleep shorts, pressing his fingers against the undeniable evidence of your arousal. His eyes widened even more as he felt just how wet you were for him, his lips parting in a quiet gasp.

“That’s how much I liked it,” you whispered, watching his reaction closely. Spencer’s mouth fell open, his fingers instinctively pressing deeper, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

“Oh wow, wow, you're really wet,” Spencer said in awe, his voice full of innocent surprise.

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you ground down on his hand. “I know, baby. You really turn me on.”

His eyes widened even more, his mouth dropping open as he took in the full extent of your arousal. “No, you’re soaking my hand, darling,” he murmured, the way he said that sending shivers down your spine.

A moan slipped from your lips as you instinctively ground down on his fingers, seeking more friction. “Oh fuck,” Spencer breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Are you riding my hand?”

You nodded, dazed and overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you. His fingers stayed inside, moving ever so slightly as you rocked your hips, riding him. The sensation was too much and not enough all at once, and the sound of his breathless voice only made you want more.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back and forth between your face and where his hand disappeared into your shorts, mesmerized by the sight and the sounds you were making. "I can't believe I'm making you feel this good," he whispered, more to himself than to you, the awe in his voice making you shudder in delight.

“Spence, this feels so good, my god, but… my knees are cramping,” you complained breathlessly, your body trembling from the sensation.

Without missing a beat, Spencer immediately pulled his hand away, giving you the space to move. You let out a soft whine at the sudden loss, and he smirked down at you. “Well, do you want to move or not?”

Rolling your eyes, you climbed off his lap and sprawled out on the couch, looking up at him expectantly. You were ready for whatever came next, your body still humming with anticipation. But Spencer did something completely unexpected.

Instead of wiping his hand off, as you had assumed he would, you watched as his gaze flickered down to the wetness covering his fingers. His brows furrowed slightly in curiosity, as if he were studying it. Before you could say anything, Spencer did the unfathomable—he brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly sliding them past his lips.

A deep, low moan escaped him as he tasted you, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he were savoring the taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, absolutely floored by the sight. Your heart raced, heat rushing through your body as you watched him, your own arousal building even higher. You couldn’t believe how much this innocent man was making you lose control.

“Fuck,” Spencer murmured when he finally pulled his now-clean fingers from his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste amazing.”

The look on your face must have been one of pure shock because Spencer quickly followed up with a concerned, “Was that okay?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Shut up right now and kiss me,” you said, your voice urgent and breathless.

Without missing a beat, Spencer leaned down, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was electric, fueled by the raw intensity of the moment. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, which only made you hungrier for him. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Spencer let out a low groan as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this level of desire, but with Spencer, everything felt heightened, like every touch and every kiss was sending shockwaves through you.

This was the filthiest, sloppiest, most passionate kiss either of you had ever shared with anyone. The intensity was palpable, your bodies pressed together so tightly it felt as though there wasn’t enough room in the world to contain the desire between you. You couldn’t get enough, your hands tugging at Spencer’s hair, sliding under his shirt to scratch his back, pinching his nipples, reveling in the way he responded—moaning into your mouth, his own hands gripping you with a hunger that mirrored yours.

It was hard to tell how long you kissed—minutes or hours, time seemed to blur—but eventually, Spencer pulled back, gasping for breath, his chest heaving. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of your hair spread out like a halo on the couch, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes darkened with lust and, though neither of you had said it yet, a glimmer of what could only be described as love.

“Darling,” he panted, his voice rough and thick with need, “can we go to your bed? I want to treat you this time.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were up in a flash, pulling your beautiful, sweet boyfriend with you, his hand wrapped in yours as you rushed toward your bedroom. You’d never moved so fast in your life, eager for what was to come, for the pleasure he promised.

Once in the bedroom, Spencer's hands wasted no time. He immediately tugged your shorts and underwear down, discarding them in a flash before pulling off your shirt with the same eagerness, leaving you completely bare before him. His eyes roamed over you with pure admiration, awe evident in every part of his expression.

“Did you get more beautiful?” he asked breathlessly, the sincerity of the compliment making you feel flushed.

You playfully slapped his chest, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up,” you teased, leaning up to kiss him as your hands found the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. But just as you reached for his pants, Spencer gently pushed you back down onto the bed.

“This is about you, my love.”

The words hung in the air, sweet and heavy with meaning. My love. It was new, but it felt right—natural, even. Before you could respond, Spencer pushed you onto the bed and lowered himself to your chest, his lips closing around one of your nipples. His mouth was soft, tender, at first, but then you felt his teeth sink in, sharp enough to make you gasp, a promise of the mark he was leaving behind.

Your back arched, pressing your body further into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you lost yourself in the feel of him—of his mouth, his hands, his love.

Spencer’s mouth continued its exploration, alternating between your breasts and sending warm pulses of pleasure through your body. His attention to detail was incredible, every touch, every kiss feeling like a deliberate act of worship. He took his time, caressing you as though you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed you, a mixture of tenderness and building desire swirling inside.

When his soft kisses finally began to descend down your stomach, a light giggle escaped your lips—it tickled, playful and gentle. But that laughter vanished the moment his lips found your inner thigh, sucking a mark into your sensitive skin. Spencer’s large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them open wide for him, his touch reverent but firm.

“Spen—Spencer,” you panted, glancing down at him. His big, beautiful brown eyes met yours, glazed with determination and lust, but also something tender. He kept his gaze locked on you as he kissed along your thigh, making your breath hitch. "Have you... done this before?"

He paused, releasing your thigh from his mouth with a small, almost playful pop. “No,” he admitted honestly, “but I have read plenty about the acts of cunnilingus, and I think I will be able to satisfy you. As long as you communicate with me, okay?”

The honesty in his voice, the seriousness of his intent, sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Spencer reached for one of your hands, which had been gripping the sheets so tightly. He held it gently, reassuring you, grounding you. You nodded eagerly, your breath coming out in shallow pants, giving him permission to continue.

And without further hesitation, Spencer dove back in, his kisses now dangerously close to your core. The anticipation was electrifying, and you could already tell—he was going to be good at this. Very good.

And good he was. The second Spencer's tongue touched you, it was like fireworks exploded behind your eyes, sending electricity shooting through your veins. The intensity of it all nearly overwhelmed you, especially when you heard his voice, low and mumbled against you. 

“Eyes on me,” he said, the words vibrating against you.

You forced your eyes open and looked down, the sight nearly sending you over the edge. Spencer, his head buried between your legs, met your gaze with intense eye contact as his tongue continued to explore you. The sensation, paired with the way he moaned into you, made your whole body tremble. It was impossible to deny how much he enjoyed it, the way he tasted you straight from the source, his pleasure evident in every sound and movement.

As phenomenal as it was, you still craved more stimulation. And Spencer had asked you to communicate, so you squeezed his hand, your voice shaky. “Baby?”

He hummed into you, the vibration making you whine and twitch involuntarily. “Can you... unghh—can you find the clit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused but also eager to show that his knowledge wasn’t just theoretical. Almost immediately, he hit the target, causing your body to jerk at the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Go–good,” you gasped, your voice thick with need. “Now suck.”

And he did.

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. The second you asked, he focused his attention on your clit, enveloping it gently between his lips. A low moan escaped his throat, vibrating against you as he began to suck softly, testing the waters. Your body jolted at the sensation, your back arching as an involuntary gasp tore through you.

"Yes, just like that..." you whispered breathlessly, your grip tightening on his hand, the other fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure rolled through you. It was overwhelming in the best way, and Spencer wasn’t just doing well—he was doing phenomenally. His tongue flicked and swirled as if with practiced precision, the moans he let out making everything ten times more intense.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips was bringing you higher, faster. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed, and the connection between you both in this moment felt almost sacred.

Your legs began to tremble, and your breathing grew more erratic. "Spence, I’m—oh my god, I'm so close," you whimpered, your hand instinctively moving to tangle in his hair, gripping tight as the pleasure threatened to push you over the edge.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes still locked onto yours, unwavering, making the moment even more intense. His grip on your hand tightened as if encouraging you to let go, to surrender to the pleasure completely.

And when his tongue applied just the right amount of pressure, his lips sucking gently but firmly on your clit, that tension finally snapped. Your body convulsed, a guttural moan escaping you as the orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

"That's it," Spencer murmured, his voice low and raspy, sounding both proud and a little in awe as he watched you unravel under him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, looking down at him with a dazed smile. He hadn't pulled away yet, still gently caressing your sensitive skin with the softest of kisses, making sure you were coming down from your high as gently as possible.

“Spencer...” you managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of disbelief and pure satisfaction. You hadn’t thought it possible, but he had completely exceeded your expectations.

He grinned up at you, his mouth still glistening with evidence of your release. “I guess the reading paid off, huh?” he teased, his voice full of affection and just a hint of smugness.

You chuckled weakly, your whole body still tingling with aftershocks. "Oh, it definitely paid off..."

“Earth to Y/N,” Spencer teased, coming up beside you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His warm breath tickled your skin as he added with a soft laugh, “Are you alright?”

You blinked out of your daze, still recovering from the incredible experience, and turned to look at him with wide, astonished eyes. “Anytime you need a study buddy," you said, your voice filled with awe, "anytime, you call me."

Spencer chuckled, his cheeks tinged pink as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a wink.

After you returned to earth, Spencer gently helped you up and led you to the bathroom, drawing a warm, soothing bath. He carefully eased you both into the tub, your back resting against his chest, the comforting warmth of the water surrounding you. The intimacy of the moment was in the simplicity of it—just the two of you, cocooned in the peaceful, quiet space.

As you both settled in, the conversation flowed naturally, a mix of everything and nothing. Spencer told you more details about his extensive schooling, sharing amusing stories about his early university days, while you, in turn, told him about how you ended up adopting Poof, your beloved cat.

At one point, Spencer furrowed his brow, realizing something. “Speaking of, where is Poof?” he asked, looking around as if your mischievous cat might suddenly appear. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while.”

You giggled, your hand absently stroking Spencer's leg beneath the water as you explained. “Oh, he’s become the building cat," you said with affection in your voice. "The townhouses are connected by fire escapes in the back, and Poof likes to explore. He moves back and forth between the different houses. I guess you’ve just been missing him.”

Spencer chuckled softly, resting his chin on your shoulder, clearly intrigued. “A little adventurer, huh? Well, hopefully, I’ll catch him in action one of these days.”

You smiled, leaning back more into him, feeling completely at ease as the two of you basked in the comfortable rhythm of your conversation and the quiet warmth of the water.

—

Spencer sat stiffly in the chair across from Chief Strauss’ desk, his hands folded in his lap as he waited for whatever new torment she had in store for him. He was sure his tests were clean, they always were. But he also knew Strauss had been gunning for him for years now, and this meeting was likely just another way to shake him down, to keep him on edge.

As he stared at the piles of neatly stacked papers on her desk, Strauss held up a finger, signaling for him to wait as she answered an incoming call. Spencer huffed internally, trying to push down the frustration bubbling up inside him. But when she answered the phone, something about her tone caught his attention.

"Chief Strauss," she said, her voice all business at first, but then, to Spencer’s shock, a smile broke out across her face. "Oh, hi, Red, how are you, dear?"

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing slightly. Red? It couldn’t be…could it? His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of it. The name, the affectionate tone—it sounded eerily similar to the nickname you had mentioned your aunt called you. But that was just a coincidence, right? 

Strauss continued her conversation, oblivious to Spencer’s sudden change in demeanor. "Yes, yes, of course. I’ll make sure it gets done. Oh, and how is little Poof doing?"

Spencer's heart stopped. Poof? No. There was no way this could be a coincidence now. His mind raced as he pieced it together. Red … Poof …Your aunt. His eyes widened in realization, but he kept his face neutral, trying not to betray the wave of shock crashing over him.

Strauss glanced at him briefly as she continued her conversation, still smiling. Spencer's thoughts were spinning. Was your aunt Erin Strauss?

Spencer was spiraling, his mind whirling with disbelief as Chief Strauss hung up the phone, turning her attention back to him. He was trying to maintain composure, but it was like everything around him was crumbling. She had called you Red. She had mentioned Poof. It was all too much.

“So, Reid,” Strauss began, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her. Her tone shifted back to business. “How have you been managing? With the recovery, I mean. I understand the tests have been clean, but I want to know how you’re really doing.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. His nerves were already shot, and now with this revelation about you weighing on him, he couldn’t hold back. His voice came out sharper than he intended.

“Why does it even matter?” Spencer snapped, glaring at her. “You’ve been waiting for me to slip up, to fail. You never believed in my recovery from the start.”

Strauss raised an eyebrow, her expression hardening. "I’m trying to protect you, Reid, as much as I’m trying to protect others from you."

Spencer's stomach twisted. “Protect me? From what exactly? You’ve been gunning for me ever since I admitted to my addiction. You hate me.” His voice shook, his frustration bubbling over.

Strauss took a deep breath, her face softening, but her words cut deep. "I don’t hate you, Spencer. But I know what addiction can do to a person, to a family."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, his voice thick with suspicion. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"My sister and her husband," Strauss said, her voice wavering slightly, "they died from drugs. Overdosed. My niece is an addict too, lost to us."

Spencer felt a chill wash over him, and his voice dropped as he asked, "Y/N’s parents?"

Strauss swallowed thickly, nodding, her eyes momentarily flicking away from his. "Yes. And do you think I’m going to stand by and watch her get hurt again? Watch another person she cares about spiral into that life?" Her gaze locked back onto Spencer’s, now filled with a fierce determination. "No, Spencer. I’m not going to let you ruin her life like her father did."

The words hit Spencer like a physical blow, leaving him breathless. His heart raced, anger and guilt twisting together painfully in his chest. This threat—Strauss’s belief that he was a danger to you, that his history with addiction made him a risk—was like a punch to the gut.

"I’m not him," Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. "I’m not going to hurt her."

Strauss’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "I hope you’re right, Reid. But I can’t afford to take chances when it comes to her. Not after everything she’s been through. So, yes, the drug tests stay. And if I see one misstep, I won’t hesitate to remove you from this team, or from her life."

Spencer felt his anger boil over, his fists clenched as he leaned forward in the chair. “You can’t stop me from seeing her, we’re both adults. You have no right to interfere.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, calm in the face of his anger. Her voice was low, but it cut through the room with precision. “Does she know about your addiction, Spencer?”

The question hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, and Spencer froze. His face told her everything she needed to know—he hadn’t told you. 

Strauss’s lips curled slightly, not in triumph but in grim acknowledgment. “Then you better not mess up,” she said, her voice cold and menacing.

Spencer stood up abruptly, the air feeling suffocating in her office. He was furious—not just with Strauss, but with himself. He knew he’d been holding something back from you, just as you had from him. He hadn’t told you about his past, hadn’t opened up about his addiction, the demons he fought to keep buried. And now he was in this twisted position, where your aunt knew more about him than you did.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

He stormed out of Strauss’s office, his heart racing, feeling cornered in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was upset that you hadn’t told him who your aunt was, hadn’t trusted him with that part of your life. But deep down, he knew he was no better. He had held back too—out of fear, out of shame.

As he left the building and stepped out into the cold air, Spencer’s mind whirled. He had to talk to you. He had to come clean before everything unraveled. You both deserved the truth.

—

You knocked on Spencer’s door that evening, a bottle of wine tucked under your arm and a loaf of fresh French bread in your hand. You’d spent the afternoon preparing his favorite pasta dish, hoping for a quiet, cozy night together after the busy week you both had. When Spencer opened the door, you gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

But the look on Spencer’s face made your heart drop. His eyes were dark, his expression serious. The atmosphere was heavy, and you could tell immediately that something was wrong. 

“When were you going to tell me that Strauss is your aunt?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. 

You froze, the smile fading from your face. “What?”

“I found out today,” Spencer continued, stepping aside to let you in but not looking at you. “From her, actually. I thought... I thought we were being honest with each other.”

You sighed, setting down the wine and bread on his kitchen counter, turning to face him. “Spence, I was going to tell you. I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” His eyes searched yours, looking for an explanation that could make this better, that could ease the confusion and frustration swirling in his mind.

You ran a hand through your hair, fidgeting slightly. “Scared because you work for her. I didn’t want things to get complicated or messy between you two. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping it from you on purpose.”

Spencer’s face softened slightly as he processed your words, but he still didn’t seem fully convinced. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, though? I wouldn’t have cared about who your aunt is, I care about you.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer to him, reaching for his hands. “I know, Spencer. I know. I just… I didn’t want things to get weird at work for you. And honestly, I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’ve been afraid of how it might change things, I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed a little as he listened to your explanation. He squeezed your hands, a silent gesture of understanding. He could see the sincerity in your eyes, the hesitation that wasn’t born out of deceit but out of fear of complicating things for both of you. 

“I get it,” Spencer said softly after a moment. “I just… I don’t want us to keep things from each other. It’s important to me that we’re open.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands back. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Spencer smiled slightly, his frustration easing. He let out a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his body. For a moment, he considered telling you about his past—about the addiction, the drug tests, everything that Strauss had thrown at him earlier. But when he looked into your eyes, remembering the way you spoke about your family, the raw pain in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. He didn’t want to burden you with it, not when things were finally starting to feel right between you.

“Let’s just... enjoy dinner,” Spencer finally said, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulled you closer into a hug. “I’m sorry for bringing it up like that. I should’ve waited.”

You sighed in relief, burying your face in his chest. “No, I’m glad you did. I don’t want to keep anything from you either.”

You both held each other for a moment longer, letting the tension fade as the warmth of your embrace brought back a sense of normalcy. Spencer kissed the top of your head before stepping back and heading into the kitchen, ready to move forward, even if some things were still left unsaid—for now.

—

Just a few weeks later, Spencer finally had a full weekend off, he decided it was the perfect opportunity for a little getaway. He packed up everything—yourself, Poof, and plenty of supplies—and whisked you away to a cozy Airbnb nestled by the lake. 

You could hardly contain your excitement, bubbling over at the thought of spending uninterrupted time with your two favorite guys. Spencer had asked you to drive while he took charge of navigation, and the car ride was nothing short of a delight. 

“Turn left here, darling,” Spencer instructed with an air of confidence.

"Are you sure it’s not right?" you teased, feigning confusion as you gripped the wheel.

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’m positive. I do have an eidetic memory, you know.”

“Well, if we get lost, I’m holding that memory of yours accountable!” you shot back playfully, a smile spreading across both your faces.

When you finally pulled up to the lake house, you couldn't help but gasp. It was picturesque—a beautiful, quaint cabin surrounded by towering trees, with the glistening lake stretching out in the background. 

The look of pride on Spencer’s face at your reaction made your heart swell. You were completely and utterly in love. As you stood there, taking in the stunning view and the sheer thoughtfulness of his planning, you felt like this weekend was the right moment to finally tell him how you truly felt.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Spencer moved seamlessly through the cozy kitchen, putting together the perfect comfort meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Poof danced happily around your feet, always at the ready for any fallen scraps. The two of you playfully bumped hips, stole soup-covered kisses, and teased each other in the warm glow of the cabin’s lights.

After dinner, which was full of laughter and mock arguments over who could make the better grilled cheese, you cleared the table together, setting up a chessboard for a battle of wits. You knew Spencer was a prodigy, but still, you had hope. The first few rounds were... well, an obvious defeat. But then, to your surprise, you managed to win. Once. Twice. And then three times in a row! What you didn’t know was that Spencer was letting you win, his resolve crumbling at the sight of your frustrated pout. He’d pretend to mull over a move for far longer than needed, before “accidentally” making a poor choice that would lead to your victory.

Eventually, you’d had enough of the mental sparring, and Spencer’s kisses grew softer and deeper. Together, you moved outside to the wooden deck, wrapped up under a blanket, the stars reflecting in the lake’s glassy surface. The night air was crisp and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing your cheeks as you cuddled closer. 

Spencer pointed upward, tracing his finger along the sky, excitedly talking about constellations, their names, and the myths behind them. But you weren’t looking at the stars—your eyes were on him, captivated by the way his face glowed in the moonlight, his passion lighting up every word he spoke.

Without thinking, feeling overwhelmed by the moment and the deep love that filled your chest, you whispered, “I love you.”

The words felt like they hung in the air, sparkling and true under the canopy of stars.

Spencer’s face lit up as he tilted down toward you, and in that moment, it seemed as if the stars had all come to rest in his eyes, twinkling brightly with wonder and adoration. His voice was soft but filled with an almost childlike excitement, the kind reserved for a Christmas morning surprise, “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, voice steady, your gaze never wavering from his, allowing the truth of your feelings to shine through. 

He swallowed, searching your eyes as if trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. “You love me?” he asked again, needing the confirmation, the words sounding so surreal to him.

“I love you, Spencer Walter Reid,” you declared, each word measured and intentional, and you watched as joy transformed his features, his eyes closing briefly in overwhelming happiness.

The next thing you felt was Spencer’s lips on yours, pressing gently at first, the kiss filled with all the tenderness and unspoken words you’d both kept hidden until now. It was sweet, slow, and beautiful, and you could feel Spencer trembling slightly, as if holding back everything he wanted to say with his lips alone. He pulled back just a breath, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispered with a trembling smile, “I love you too.”

And then he dove back in for more—kisses deeper, breaths heavier. Your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers tracing the contours of your back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you. What started as slow and sweet quickly turned heated, and Spencer’s kisses grew hungrier, his tongue tasting every part of your mouth, his hands wandering further down.

It was only when you felt the cool night air on your exposed skin that you giggled and gently pulled back, breathing heavily against his lips. “We’re outside, baby,” you murmured, your voice a mix of breathlessness and warning.

Spencer hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and with a playful smirk, he pulled you to your feet, not letting your lips part from his. “Then we’d better get inside,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the promise of more lingering in the air as he led you toward the warmth of the cabin, hands intertwined, the night just beginning.

As you were guided along by Spencer's eager hand, your laughter filled the small cabin, echoing off the wooden beams of the cozy bedroom. The room itself was warm, glowing with the soft hues of amber light from the fireplace, its crackling flames adding to the perfect atmosphere. The bed looked irresistibly inviting, its blankets perfectly rumpled in a way that made you want to dive right in. But what really made the room perfect was Spencer—his face lighting up in a way you’d rarely seen before, his exaggerated wink playful and filled with the purest joy. 

When Spencer sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his arms out for you, you wasted no time stepping into his embrace, your body molding perfectly into the space between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning into the warmth of him. He buried his face in your chest, his voice muffled but filled with emotion as he mumbled, “I love you so much.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head as you teased softly, “I love you more.”

Spencer shook his head immediately, hair brushing your chin and sending little shivers down your spine. “Not possible,” he declared, his voice firm, like he was making a statement that was undeniable.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby,” you taunted lightly, trying to stifle the grin that was spreading across your face. But Spencer pulled back, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel like the only person in the world. 

A look of challenge danced across his features, his brows lifting as he quirked a smirk at you. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, voice deepening with a teasing edge.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing, a playful glint in your eyes. And in a flash, Spencer’s face morphed into one of mischievous determination. “Oh, you little—” he began, his voice dripping with affectionate frustration as he quickly flipped your positions, pushing you back onto the bed and towering over you.

“Spencer!” you squealed in laughter, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him as he tossed his shirt aside without a second thought, revealing his smooth chest. He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your head, and his face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“Shh,” he whispered with a smirk, “I have to show you how much I love you.” And with those words, you knew that every second of this weekend together would be filled with a love so fierce, so genuine, that it was going to be impossible not to fall for him all over again.

Spencer's mouth moved eagerly down your neck, his lips trailing soft, warm kisses that made your skin tingle in their wake. He nipped at your earlobe, tugging it gently between his teeth, and the sensation drew a light, breathy moan from you, your back arching ever so slightly into him. The sound seemed to spur him on, and he continued his descent, pausing to suck gently on your pulse point as his hands explored your sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist.

When his hands found the hem of your top, he slowly pushed it upward, his palms grazing your ribs, sending shivers through you. You let out a sigh, already feeling yourself melt under his touch, and obediently raised your arms so he could remove the fabric entirely, leaving you bare from the waist up. Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, and you could see the way his lips parted slightly as he took you in, your form illuminated by the soft glow of the room.

“No bra?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice, though his gaze was nothing short of reverent as it roved over your body. One brow quirked up in curiosity, his lips twitching in a smirk.

You laughed, a breathy, contented sound, shrugging as you met his gaze. “I’m on vacation.”

Spencer's smirk widened, and he nosed his way down between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. His lips brushed against your skin in a whisper of a kiss. “I knew it was a good idea bringing you here,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with want and affection. 

And as he continued his exploration of your body with his mouth and hands, you were filled with warmth and a sense of belonging, knowing that this was exactly where you were meant to be—with him.

The sensation of Spencer’s mouth on your skin sent sparks throughout your body, your breath hitching as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking gently. You arched your back instinctively, pressing yourself closer to his mouth, wanting more, needing more. He hummed contentedly, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure right through you. 

His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, switching between flicking and gentle sucking that had you gripping the sheets beneath you, your fingers twisting into the soft fabric as your eyes fluttered shut. Every movement was slow, deliberate, and filled with devotion, as if he was determined to savor every second of your pleasure. 

As he worshiped your breast, his free hand trailed down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, fingers feather-light against your skin. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of your shorts, and when his fingers brushed the waistband, your hips bucked upward, desperate for more contact. 

Spencer’s lips left your breast with a soft pop, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered against your skin, “You taste so good... I could do this forever.”

His words, filled with awe and passion, made you moan in response, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you. And you didn't want him to stop; you wanted every touch, every kiss, every second of his attention to be on you, completely and utterly lost in the moment together.

Spencer’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply, hungrily, as if he was trying to pour all the love he felt into every brush and caress. You sighed into his mouth, your own hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. And then, as if reading your mind, you felt his hand venture downward, fingers slipping under the waistband of your bottoms, and you gasped at the intimate touch, the sensation so electric it made your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed against your lips, his voice heavy with awe and desire. “You’re so wet.”

The sound of his voice saying those words sent a shiver straight through your core, and you whined softly, squirming under his touch, desperate for more. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking his fingers, trying to guide him where you needed him most. “Spence, baby,” you whined again, your voice breathy and pleading as you pressed kisses to his jaw, “please...”

His eyes met yours, dark and full of hunger, and he gave you a little smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers teased just outside your lips, keeping you on the edge of wanting. “Let me hear you say it.”

Your breath hitched, his teasing making you ache with longing. “I need you, Spence,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I need you to touch me, please.” 

He hummed approvingly against your mouth, giving you a tender kiss before letting his fingers dip down, finally giving you what you so desperately craved. His touch was slow, deliberate, but his eyes never left yours, wanting to see every reaction as his fingers entered you.

You had anticipated the gentle, lingering touches from the last time, but Spencer had other plans. The tenderness was gone in an instant, replaced by an urgent, almost primal need to make you fall apart in his hands. The pace he set was relentless—his fingers moved in and out of you hard and fast, pushing deeper each time, and the sensation of his palm rubbing against you with every thrust was electrifying.

“Spencer—oh god!” you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you in a white-knuckled grasp. He wasn’t just touching you—he was consuming you, each movement of his hand pulling you closer and closer to the edge, a chaotic frenzy that left you breathless. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

His lips crashed against yours in a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth, as he groaned into your mouth. “I love watching you like this,” he whispered against your lips before sucking on your lower one, his voice a low, heady drawl. “Falling apart on my fingers...”

The overwhelming sensation of Spencer’s fingers moving within you, the roughness of his palm pressing against you just right with every thrust, made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, desperate for more, nails digging into his back, dragging red lines down his skin. You could barely speak, your words spilling out in choked, breathless cries. “Spencer—fuck—”

He leaned down, his mouth right at your ear, his breath hot as he spoke, voice dripping with husky intensity. “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded fervently, unable to form coherent words as you surrendered to the relentless pleasure. “Uh huh,” you managed to pant out, a whimper escaping your lips as your hips bucked wildly to meet the rhythm of his hand. 

His grin was wicked as he watched you unravel beneath him, knowing exactly how his touch was driving you to the edge. His fingers never faltered, pushing deeper and faster, and the friction of his palm rubbing against your sensitive skin was enough to make you tremble. “I can feel you tightening up around me,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust. “Are you gonna come for me, love?”

You let out a desperate, needy moan, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, and all you could do was nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut as the coil inside you tightened, ready to snap. “Yes, yes, I’m—I'm so close—”

You felt dizzy with the rush of it all, the world around you spinning as he drove you further toward that cliff of pure, euphoric release. You weren't sure how long you could hold out; your body felt on fire, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming. Each breath was a gasp, each moan louder than the last, and all you could think about was how badly you needed to fall over that edge. “Spence—I’m gonna—I can’t—”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough and laced with raw desire. “Let go, Y/N. Come for me, right now.” His pace quickened even further, and you knew you wouldn’t last a second longer. And you didn’t, completely unraveling at his words, your body arching up into his as waves of pleasure surged through you. Your moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained, and he never stopped, his fingers working you through the intensity of your release.

You trembled beneath him, your legs shaking as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you. Spencer looked at you, eyes filled with pride and wonder, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you coming undone because of him.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, gently caressing your trembling thighs as you caught your breath. He brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he cleaned them off with his tongue, tasting you again. The sight sent a renewed thrill through you, and all you could do was reach up and pull him down for a hungry kiss, needing to feel him against you, to taste yourself on his lips.

“Thought you couldn’t finish like that?” Spencer teased, his voice low and playful, recalling the first time he'd touched you like this.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head in pure bliss. “I didn’t think I could,” you admitted with a grin. Then, in a teasing tone, you added, “Have you been practicing? Should I be worried?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, and he quickly looked away, suddenly bashful. “N-nope. I just—uh, did some... research.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back another laugh as you saw the shyness in his eyes. “Research, huh?” you asked, leaning in closer. “What kind of research, Doctor? Did you... watch porn?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe... a little,” he admitted in a soft mumble. “But only to—to learn, for you,” he added quickly, his eyes meeting yours with genuine sincerity.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm, affectionate sound as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. “Oh, my sweet genius,” you teased gently, cupping his face and turning him back to look at you. “You did all that research just for me? That’s so... adorable.”

His eyes finally met yours, a mixture of pride and lingering shyness in his expression. “It worked, then?” he asked cautiously, almost as if he needed reassurance.

“Oh, it definitely worked,” you replied, grinning widely before leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “And for the record,” you murmured against his lips, “if you want to keep up the research, I’m all for it.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his earlier nerves melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “In that case,” he said, a playful gleam in his eye, “I have a few more things I could show you.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Whatcha got for me, big boy?”

The nickname made him blush a deep pink, but he just rolled his eyes in that familiar, affectionate way before letting his hands roam down to your hips. With gentle care, he slipped off your bottoms, leaving you bare before him. You stayed silent, feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation flood through you as Spencer stood and began to remove the rest of his clothes.

The moment his pants came off, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening at the sight before you. “Spence?” you breathed out, your voice filled with both surprise and desire.

He grinned sheepishly, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the boyish excitement behind his eyes. Then, as if remembering something important, he reached down into his pants pocket and pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up with a charming smile and revealing a condom.

“I thought... I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady but filled with tenderness.

Your smile softened at his words, and you felt your heart swell with warmth and affection. “Yeah?” you replied sweetly, opening your arms to him. “I’m ready too.”

Spencer crawled back onto the bed, moving into your embrace, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in closer, and with so much love in his voice, he whispered, “I want you to be my first.”

Your hand caressed his cheek, your thumb gently brushing against his soft skin. “Hopefully your last too,” you whispered back, sealing your words with a deep, passionate kiss, your bodies melting together under the glow of the soft lamplight.

“Do you need help putting the condom on, baby?” you asked, your voice sweet and full of kindness.

Spencer's cheeks flushed a light pink as he shook his head. “I, uh, I might have practiced,” he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart swelling with even more affection. “How is it possible to keep loving you more and more every second?” you asked, the sincerity clear in your voice.

Spencer chuckled, leaning in to kiss you deeply, letting his lips linger against yours for a moment before he pulled back. He focused intently on rolling the condom on, and you found the way he bit his tongue in concentration absolutely endearing. It was a small detail, but it only made you fall deeper for him. 

When he finished, he looked back up at you, his eyes filled with that gentle, earnest love you’d come to know so well. “How do you want me?” you asked softly, wanting to make this perfect for him, for both of you.

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and his hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth. “I want to see you, all of you.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, opening your legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, your bodies close and your hearts even closer.

As Spencer’s tip teased through your slick folds, you couldn't help but let out a high, keening sound, the sensation electrifying. Spencer’s own response was a low groan, the vibration of his voice adding to the intensity between you. 

His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to keep control, feeling how ready you were for him. “I’m... probably not going to last long,” he admitted, his voice laced with nervousness and excitement.

You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his gaze to yours, offering the softest smile. “I don’t care, Spence,” you said, your voice steady and full of love. “I just want to be with you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and he nodded, more to himself than to you, as if to reassure his own nerves. Slowly, carefully, he lined himself up, and with a gentle, deep breath, he began to push in. 

The feeling was overwhelming for both of you — he was entranced by the heat and tightness enveloping him, and you were spellbound by the fullness of having him inside you for the first time. You both let out soft gasps, your hands finding his as you squeezed tightly, tethering each other through the rush of emotion and sensation. 

He paused for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against yours as you both breathed together, as one. “You feel… unbelievable,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve never been this full,” you moaned, your voice thick with pleasure and awe at the way he stretched and filled you so perfectly. 

“Shit, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his hips already making shallow, instinctual thrusts as he tried to hold himself back. “You can’t say that—” he panted, feeling your words shoot straight through him. “This will be over way too fast.” He looked down at you, the flush of his cheeks meeting the pink of his lips, and the way his face was contorted in bliss made you tighten around him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was falling apart so easily was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his control slipping as he pounded a fist into the pillow beside your head, burying his face against your neck for a moment. “Can I—can I move?” His breath was ragged and desperate. “I need to move. Please.”

You nodded frantically, needing him just as much, your hands sliding down his back to grip his hips, urging him to let go. “Fuck me, Spence,” you whispered right against his ear, your voice soft yet commanding. And that was all the permission he needed. 

He started moving, pulling out just enough to feel the drag of your walls before thrusting back in, his rhythm quick and needy. He was lost in the feeling of you, and each movement sent waves of pleasure through both of you, driving him closer to the edge with every stroke.

Spencer’s hips moved steadily, finding a rhythm that left both of you breathless. He surprised himself, really, the way his body instinctively knew how to take care of you, how to give you everything he could in each thrust. The intensity between you built, hot and fast, with every roll of his hips, with every gasp and moan that filled the small, cozy room.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, anchoring him to you like you never wanted to let go. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing his forehead against yours as the pleasure built between you, the closeness of your bodies only deepening the connection you felt. “I love you,” you whispered right into his ear, your voice trembling as you said the words that were so true and so filled with emotion it made your eyes sting with happy tears.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his breath hitching before he responded, “I love you too, darling.” And then he kissed you—deeply, passionately, like you were his entire world and nothing else mattered. His lips moved with urgency, soft and fervent, as his pace quickened, thrusting deeper and more desperate, as if he was pouring everything he felt into you, wanting you to feel every bit of his love with each motion. The world outside seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, wrapped in love and warmth and the sweetest kind of bliss.

Spencer's mind was racing, but finally, his instincts kicked in, sending him a signal—an idea of exactly what you needed. He wanted to make sure that you felt everything, that he was giving you all the pleasure he could. With a slight adjustment, he pulled back just enough to slide a hand down to where the two of you met, his fingers deftly finding your clit and rubbing in quick, steady circles.

“Oh!” you cried out, your whole body jolting with the sudden burst of pleasure. Your back arched high off the bed, presenting your chest to Spencer like a gift he was eager to receive. Without a moment’s hesitation, his mouth found your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking, the combination of sensations sending sparks down to your very core.

The feeling was overwhelming—Spencer’s hips driving into you in a rhythm that felt just right, his fingers working you to the brink, and his mouth hot and wet on your sensitive skin. Your moans filled the room, your fingers burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer as your entire body trembled, the edge of release so close you could almost taste it.

“Oh my god—oh, god!” you screamed, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to its peak. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” And then it hit—your core clenched around Spencer with such intensity that he nearly lost his rhythm, almost slipping out of you as your body reached its climax. 

And if Spencer thought you felt amazing before, now? Now, with your release, everything felt heightened, your walls fluttering around him, tightening and then loosening in waves that left him gasping. The slickness of your arousal made every thrust so much easier, so much more electric, that it sent shockwaves through his entire body. It wasn’t long before the overwhelming sensation tipped him over the edge, and his pace grew erratic, desperate, until he reached his own peak.

“Oh, fuck,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure as he thrust one last time, burying himself as deeply as he could. “Shit, baby, fuck, I—I’m coming,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut as he let go, every muscle in his body tensing before his release washed over him in shuddering waves.

His head fell to the crook of your neck as he finished, holding you close, both of you breathless and trembling in the aftershocks, your bodies slick with sweat and blissed out from the intensity of it all. Spencer stayed there, still buried inside of you, both of you just holding each other in the soft glow of the room, relishing the warmth, the closeness, the love.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blissful haze, wrapped in kisses, long cuddles, and moments of intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. Spencer shared his own stories, some quirky, some heartfelt, while you let him into corners of your past that had remained sealed for years.

One evening, as you were snuggled into his chest, the comforting scent of him surrounding you, you whispered something that had been tugging at the edges of your mind all weekend. “Aunt Erin started the nickname Red…” you murmured, your voice soft against the rise and fall of Spencer’s breathing. He said nothing but tightened his arms around you, letting you know he was listening. 

“But Mom and Dad called me Red too,” you continued, voice cracking slightly at the memories. “For Mom, it was a term of endearment, something she shared with her sister. It felt special... warm.” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “But for Dad… it was manipulative. He used it like some sort of charm, thinking if he called me by a special name, I’d forget everything—the pain, the anger—and welcome him back with open arms.” You swallowed, feeling the lump in your throat. “And then my sister... she started using it too. Only when she needed something—money, a place to crash. For a long time, it was tainted for me, a reminder of everything I wanted to forget.”

Spencer’s thumb stroked soothingly over your arm as you spoke, his quiet presence grounding you. “But you… you revived it for me,” you said finally, looking up into his warm, understanding eyes. “When you call me Red, it feels like it means something good again.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “I’ll always make sure it means something good. I promise.” 

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and contentment washing over you. In that little lakeside haven, all that existed was the two of you and the love you shared—everything else just melted away.

—

The trip was exactly what both of you needed. A chance to unwind, to just be together without the pressures of everyday life. When you returned the next day, Spencer was quick to ask if you could drop Poof off at your place and then come back to his apartment. He claimed it was just in case he got called away for a case in the middle of the night and needed to be near his things. But you knew better—it was really because he loved the way his sheets smelled like you when you were gone.

You didn’t argue, though. After all, the feeling was mutual, and you cherished any excuse to be wrapped up in Spencer’s space. So you made the trip back home, feeding Poof, and then promptly returned to his place to settle in for a relaxed night. The morning came too quickly, and he left for work with a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead and a spare key taped to the fridge with a note: “For whenever you need it. –S.”

Later, after you finally pulled yourself from the cozy bed and began to get ready for your day, you found yourself wandering around Spencer’s apartment, making coffee and searching for your favorite sweatshirt of his—the one that was ridiculously oversized, the one you loved to wrap yourself up in. Usually, it was draped over the back of the couch or hanging near the door, but today it was nowhere to be seen.

Thinking it might have just ended up back in his closet, you made your way there, rummaging through his neatly hung clothes. And there it was, folded on a shelf like it had been waiting for you. You reached for the familiar fabric, feeling the comforting softness in your hands, but as you moved it, something else caught your eye—a small box tucked away behind the stack of sweaters.

Your stomach twisted into knots when you read the label: Dilaudid

No. No, no, no. You felt your blood run cold, and for a moment, you were on autopilot. Hands trembling, you reached for the box and placed it on the bed, the world around you narrowing to just that single object. When you opened the lid, a flurry of papers greeted you—hospital discharge summaries, case files, rehab forms, and NA slips—all bearing Spencer’s name. Each one a piece of a puzzle you didn’t know existed, each one revealing a part of Spencer you had never seen before.

Your breathing grew shallow as you flipped through them, the weight of their contents heavy in your hands, in your heart. You knew what all of this meant; you'd lived through the nightmare of addiction with your own family. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to send your world spiraling, you found it—an unopened needle and a vial of Dilaudid. Enough to kill someone, enough to hurt, enough to drag someone back into the darkness you'd spent your whole life trying to escape.

Your world felt like it had tilted on its axis, everything you knew and trusted suddenly thrown into question. One thing you knew for certain—you couldn’t spend another second in Spencer’s apartment. You needed space to think, and every second you stayed in the apartment, surrounded by the echoes of this newfound reality, the more suffocating it felt. 

Quickly, you collected your things—your bag, your phone, absolutely not the sweatshirt that now felt so wrong to hold—and with a trembling hand, you grabbed the key Spencer had left on the fridge. As you locked the door behind you, a cold finality settled in, but then you just stood there, staring at the little gold key in your hand, paralyzed by indecision.

Do I leave it? Take it? Do I even want to come back here? Could there possibly be a good reason for why Spencer had kept this from me, for why he had hidden this massive part of himself? Your thoughts spiraled, but you couldn’t find a single strand to cling to.

Finally, shaking your head, you made your decision. You slid the key under the door, hearing the tiny scrape of metal on wood as it disappeared into the apartment you had thought was your safe place. And then you ran, down the stairs, through the lobby, to your car. You didn’t let yourself feel anything until you were back in your own home, the door shutting behind you like the closing of a chapter you didn’t know if you could reopen.

Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest and sobbed. All the memories came rushing back—the nights of worry, the fear of losing someone to the relentless pull of addiction, the feeling of not knowing what each day would bring. Even if Spencer wasn’t using now, even if this was something from his past, it didn’t stop the memories of your family from crashing over you like a tidal wave, dragging you under.

Poof, sensing your distress, padded over to you and rubbed his warm body against you, a small comfort in the chaos. He curled up in your lap, purring as you wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady your ragged breathing.

After what felt like hours, when the tears had finally slowed to silent streams, you wanted to call Aunt Erin, to demand answers, to understand. But the thought of telling her how you found out—of potentially risking Spencer’s job and livelihood—made you hesitate. And so you stayed there, on the floor of your apartment, crying softly as Poof purred in your lap, the comforting vibration of his presence the only thing grounding you in that moment.

—

Spencer had been looking forward to this moment all day—the idea of coming home to you, imagining what it would be like to share a space, to fall into that soft domesticity he craved so much. He fumbled with his keys, finally getting the door open, and stepped inside. “Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the empty apartment. No response. Maybe you were napping? “Darling?” he tried again, a little louder this time, hoping to hear your sweet voice drift in from another room.

The silence felt heavy, like something was wrong, but Spencer tried not to jump to conclusions. He wandered to the bedroom to change, figuring he could call you and ask if you were just out running an errand. But when he walked in, he immediately saw it—the box. It sat wide open on the bed, papers scattered as if someone had frantically sifted through it. 

All the air seemed to leave the room in that moment. Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat heavy and frantic, echoing in his ears as if the walls themselves were closing in. He rushed to the bed, hands shaking as he tried to close the box, to somehow undo what had been done. But it was too late. You had found it. You knew.

Fumbling for his phone, he tried calling you, hand slick with sweat as he pressed your contact and held it to his ear. The line rang, and rang, and rang until your voicemail picked up. “Hey, it’s Y/N, leave a message and—” Beep. 

He tried again, then again, desperation mounting with each missed call. “Y/N, please call me back. Just—just call me back, okay?” Each voice message grew more frantic, more pleading as he left you one after another, interspersed with shaky, jumbled texts trying to explain, trying to beg for a chance to talk.

Eventually, when it was clear you weren’t going to answer, Spencer felt his heart sink to depths he hadn’t known existed. You had shut him out. He was drowning in his own panic, guilt clawing at his insides like a living thing, and he felt like he had nowhere to go—no way to reach you, no way to make this right.

Swallowing thickly, and feeling like his pride was an irrelevant casualty in the wake of losing you, he called the only person who might know how to get through to you. “Agent Reid?” Strauss's voice was clipped, professional, and instantly cold. 

He tried to speak, but his voice cracked on the first word. “Strauss, it’s—it's Y/N, she found... everything. It was an accident. Please, just—can you check on her? I don't know where she is, I—” His voice broke, desperation clawing through the line.

Strauss let out a long, slow sigh. “You’re a moron,” she said simply, and then the line went dead. No reassurance. No promise to help. And that silence was the worst of all.

That night, Spencer barely moved from his spot on the bed. He sat, still fully dressed in his work clothes, the fabric wrinkling under the weight of his exhaustion as he curled around his phone, holding onto it like a lifeline. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot from the tears that he couldn’t stop, the grief for what he feared he’d lost seeping into every pore. 

The box still sat on the bed, its presence an accusation. A reminder of everything he had hidden, everything he might now lose. And in that moment, it felt like the walls of his apartment were closing in, trapping him in the silence of his own regret.

The morning light brought no solace to Spencer as he dragged himself out of bed, the weight of the previous day hanging over him like a storm cloud. His eyes were gritty and raw from the lack of sleep, his mouth dry as he went through the motions of getting ready for work, each step automatic. Splash water on the face. Brush teeth. Dress. His phone sat on the counter, silent—no new messages from you. Just the one from Strauss.

My office, first thing.

The words filled him with dread, and as he walked into the office, each step felt like he was dragging lead weights tied to his feet. When he reached Strauss’s office, she was already seated behind her desk, her expression a vicious, unreadable mask. He took the chair across from her, his back stiff as he prepared for the worst. 

“I spoke with Y/N,” Strauss said, her voice clipped, cutting like ice. Even just hearing your name was a punch to the gut. He winced, bracing himself. He had to know—whatever the truth was, he had to hear it. “And?” he managed to ask, the word barely a whisper, as if speaking louder would make it all too real.

Strauss’s gaze was sharp, unforgiving. “I’m not speaking as your unit chief when I say this—you fucked up, Spencer.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Spencer’s worst fear was crashing down around him. He could already feel the numbness setting in, dulling the pain, shutting down every emotion except the guilt that gnawed at his insides like acid. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Strauss continued, and though the words were steady and cold, each one landed like a bullet. 

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. There was nothing else to say, nothing to do but stand and leave, holding on to the last shred of composure he had left. Every step out of Strauss’s office was heavier than the last, each stride echoing in his ears as he made his way to his desk. He threw himself into his work with ferocity, desperate for a distraction, any distraction, to fill the void.

Meanwhile, miles away, you sat staring blankly at your laptop screen, trying to focus on the lines of code that blurred in front of you. But your mind was tangled in a mess of thoughts and questions, none of which had answers. What was he going to do with that dose? Is he still using? Was he going to use it all at once? Was he going to use it on me, like Dad did to Mom?

You hated how the questions came unbidden, every fear of your past dragging itself to the surface like an unrelenting tide. You couldn’t help but remember the night you found your parents—your father, using drugs to take your mother away. The thought that Spencer could be carrying anything like that darkness, even the slightest potential for harm, made your heart twist in agony. You loved him, but did you really know him? Could you trust him, after this? 

Every answer felt just out of reach, and all you could do was sit there, heart heavy and confused, trying to make sense of it all while feeling like the ground had dropped out from under your feet.

—

Three months had passed, a stretch of time that had felt both impossibly long and painfully short to Spencer. Three months since you’d walked out of his apartment, since the wall he’d carefully built around his heart had crumbled, since he’d been able to see you, touch you, speak with you. The only thing that got him through each day was work, the relentless cases that pulled him into the minds of others and away from his own chaos. But even then, in the rare moments of quiet, you still lingered in his thoughts.

Today, however, even work couldn’t serve as a distraction. Derek leaned on the edge of his desk, the grin on his face faltering when Spencer didn't meet his eyes. “Look, man,” Derek said, his tone soft, with that note of understanding that made Spencer want to crawl out of his own skin. “I know you’ve been bummed after your breakup with Y/N, but the team is going out tonight. You should come, it might cheer you up.”

Derek’s words, although well-intentioned, felt like a punch in the gut. He knew Derek meant well, and that the rest of the team did too, but they didn’t know the real reason things ended. Spencer couldn't tell them; it wasn’t just his story to share. He couldn’t explain the heartbreak that came from the discovery, the misunderstanding, the silence. All he could do was shake his head, eyes downcast as he muttered, “I’m good, man. Thanks though.”

Derek sighed deeply, clearly not ready to give up. “I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, cracking his knuckles in a display of mock intimidation. “But if you don’t come out tonight, I’ll tell Penelope that you’re the one who spilled coffee on her favorite keyboard.”

Spencer’s head whipped around so fast he almost cricked his neck, his eyes wide with horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would, kid,” Derek nodded seriously, his expression deadpan but the mischief unmistakable in his eyes.

Spencer could see there was no way out. Derek had cornered him, and he knew Penelope’s wrath was something to be avoided at all costs. “Fine,” he conceded, huffing out a breath. “But only for a bit.”

Derek’s victorious fist pump made him chuckle despite himself. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Reid. We’ll have a blast, just wait.”

And so, later that evening, Spencer found himself tucked into a booth at the team's favorite bar, nursing a drink that burned his throat but warmed his insides. The atmosphere was light, almost buoyant—stories were exchanged, laughter flowed as freely as the drinks, and for once, he found himself genuinely enjoying the company without the constant ache that had settled in his chest since you left.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Spencer was starting to feel something close to relaxed. The chatter around the table and the warmth of his friends seemed to ease some of the tension in his body, if only for a little while. He could breathe, even laugh at times, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

As the team sat around their booth, the energy high and the laughter loud, Spencer was oblivious to what was about to unfold. It wasn't until Derek's loud whistle pierced the air, catching everyone's attention, that he noticed something had shifted. 

“Damn, who is that fine lady?” Derek smirked, his eyes fixed on a woman who was strutting across the bar in a purple dress that left little to the imagination. 

“God, that dress is basically lingerie,” Emily leaned in to whisper, sounding a mix of admiration and awe. “I want it.”

The team shared quick glances, some amused, some appreciative of the daring outfit that hugged the woman's body perfectly. Even Spencer's eyes lingered, caught by the vibrant shade of purple—his favorite color. She looked like she had stepped out of a dream, a vision of elegance and seduction that was hard to look away from. But her face was hidden beneath waves of hair, and the dim bar lighting made it difficult to make out her features.

After a few moments of admiring glances, the conversation returned to its usual flow—until a table of rowdy men called out loudly, catcalling and beckoning the woman over. As she walked closer, the team finally got a good look at her face, and all their eyes widened in shock. 

It was you.

Spencer’s heart dropped to his stomach, but he didn’t even have a chance to process what was happening before Derek nudged him sharply. He pointed in your direction, where you were now leaning over the table of men, the dress dangerously low-cut, and your cleavage all too exposed. For a moment, the sight of you, dressed so provocatively and surrounded by a group of ogling strangers, felt like a punch to his chest.

Without thinking, and fueled by the anger and confusion that came crashing over him like a wave, Spencer stood abruptly. He didn’t care about the table’s booing or the way the men protested as he stormed over. All he could think about was getting you away from them. He grabbed your arm and yanked you back, his grip firm, his eyes blazing. 

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice low and tight with emotions he didn’t know how to name.

You laughed as Spencer dragged you outside the bar, letting the breeze hit your face, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks. But as the realization of who was gripping your arm sunk in, the smile fell away. 

“Spencer! What the hell! Let me go!” you snapped, pulling your arm away and shaking him off with all the force you could muster.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, his voice filled with anger and... something else you couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe?

You only laughed bitterly in response, the sound sharp and humorless. “Oh, you mean besides getting dragged around by a liar? What are you doing?” You met his gaze defiantly, your words dripping with contempt.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he searched your face, noticing for the first time the redness in your eyes, the slight glaze that wasn't quite right. “Are you... Are you high?” His tone was almost disbelieving, as if he couldn't fathom what he was seeing.

You nodded exaggeratedly, barely stifling another giggle. “As a kite.”

His anger flared again, and he practically yelled, “Are you kidding me? You hate drugs! You hate everything to do with them, and now you’re... using?”

“It’s just weed, Spencer!” you shot back, your voice loud and edged with frustration. “Sorry if I needed to relax! I’ve had a lot on my mind, okay?” 

Spencer paused for a moment, clearly wrestling with how to respond, his eyes flickering between you and the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, your words spilling out with no filter, no restraint.

“What were you going to do with that dose, huh?” you challenged, your voice shaking. “Were you going to kill me, just like my daddy?”

The words hung in the air like a slap, and Spencer’s face paled, the color draining away as if you’d punched him. “Y/N, no. God, no—I... I don’t know...” He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess... I kept it around in case.”

“In case what?” you pressed, eyes narrowing, your anger boiling over. 

“In case I... wanted to...” He shook his head in frustration, unable to even finish the thought. “I don’t know! It’s stupid, but I just—”

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, disgust heavy in your voice. “How could you?”

“I haven’t touched it in years!” he protested desperately, his voice cracking with the weight of his plea. “I’m clean, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but you wouldn’t let me explain! I’m not like your dad—I’m not.”

The comparison made something inside you snap, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning in close, your eyes boring into his as you hissed, “Once a junkie, always a junkie.” 

Spencer stood there, stunned, your words slicing through him like shards of glass. The hostility radiating off you was something he had never witnessed before, and it hurt—hurt in a way that made it hard to breathe, to think, to respond.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice shaking. He wanted to believe you didn’t mean it. That this was just the high talking, the anger, the frustration. “Y/N, please. You know I’m not like—”

But you cut him off with a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, Spencer, you are. You kept that shit around like some kind of lifeline, like a fucking safety net. How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you’re hiding something like that?”

He could see the pain and betrayal in your eyes, and it tore him apart. Spencer felt the weight of your words settle in his chest, heavy like a stone. He reached out to touch your arm, trying to ground you both, but you yanked away, the motion sharp and final.

"Y/N, please, I know it looks bad. I know it seems like I’m keeping something from you, but I swear to you I’ve been clean for years. I swear that it was never about you, it was just—" Spencer’s voice cracked, struggling to find the right words. “It was a part of my past I was ashamed of. I didn't know how to tell you without losing you.”

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and anger. “And now you have.” Your voice was low, trembling with barely contained rage. “You know, I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to help you through whatever you were struggling with. But you didn’t let me, Spencer. You made a choice to keep me in the dark. And now I’m supposed to what? Trust that you’ll never fall back into that?”

Spencer’s eyes were wet, brimming with desperation. “I would never do that to you. I swear, I would never—”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” you said, your voice cracking, betraying the emotions you were trying so hard to hold back. “I don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't keep looking at you and wondering when you're going to relapse or if you're hiding something else from me.”

He shook his head frantically, panic setting in as he reached for your hands. “Please don’t do this. Please, Y/N. I love you. I know I messed up, but let me make it right. Just—”

“You can’t fix this, Spencer. I don't think you can," you whispered, and you pulled away, turning from him. Your body felt heavy, like it was weighed down by all the anger and sorrow. And for a moment, all you could do was stand there, willing yourself not to break down in front of him.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. Finally, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to walk away, leaving Spencer standing alone in the cold night air, his heart shattered, his world upended.

He called after you, but his voice sounded far away, like it was drowned out by the noise in your head, the whirlwind of emotions that wouldn’t let up.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the urge to get the last word in, knowing the wound it would leave. Slowly, you turned around, and your voice was ice-cold as you spoke. “Oh, and Spencer?”

He looked up, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes, desperate and raw. 

“For the record,” you said, the words burning on your tongue, “if you had just been honest about your past... I would've understood. I wouldn’t have judged you. No matter what happened, no matter how bad it was—I would've accepted you. I would've even helped you get rid of the box.” 

You watched as the hope drained from his face, the realization settling in. Then, without another word, you turned your back on him and left for good, leaving Spencer to stare after you, alone and devastated.

Your words cut through the air like a knife, leaving Spencer staring after you, the hope in his eyes collapsing into devastation. He felt like the ground beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t reach out, couldn’t make this right. 

As you walked away, the finality of your steps echoed louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest, and he couldn’t help but replay your words over and over: If you had just told me...

And just like that, the what-ifs became deafening. What if he’d been honest with you from the start? What if he’d trusted you with his pain, his struggle, his history? What if he hadn’t let fear dictate his actions? 

Spencer ran a trembling hand through his hair, his chest heaving with silent sobs as you disappeared from view, the night swallowing you whole. And with each step you took, he knew it was one step further from ever getting back what he’d lost. 

You had been willing to stay, to support him, to love him even at his lowest—if only he had given you the chance. 

But he didn’t. And now, the person he loved more than anything in the world was gone. All he could do was stand there, his hands trembling, his heart breaking, whispering into the empty night.

“I’m sorry... I'm so sorry, Red.” 

But it was too late.

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[1d1195]

The Balcony Extra I

You can read the rest here: The Balcony

~2.2k words

This is the last update from the last round of voting. I'll have a new round of voting posted soon. I have some really fun ideas for the next set :)

Warnings: vomit/sick (it's not described, more so mentioned. But just to be sure.) I promise it's really not going to continue to be a theme with my writing. I just didn't know what to do with them tbh. I hope you enjoy--particularly this sweet anon who thought about them two years after I first wrote about them 😭💕

It was overwhelming and Harry swallowed watching as she mopped up his mess. He wanted to scoop her up and put tuck her into bed like the day he burst into the very apartment they were in now protecting her from her ex.

The balcony was still their favorite spot. Now that Harry had moved into her apartment officially, they only had one. There was something about having two, the will-they-won’t-they kind of vibe. When they shared Chinese food across the slatted posts or when she straddled the rail to get back into her place when Harry got home late. There were so many pieces that felt like they were missing now that they only had one. They put plants on tall tables (even a small lemon tree) to make a wall for their new neighbors.

They were squished when they were out there, two little seats and their space heater along with all the plants made for very little room. It was cozy and they loved it, but it was different. Working from home was different. Everything was different. Good. Perfect, even. But different.

It had been three years of their routines and schedules. Interrupted by weekend getaways, work trips, girl’s nights out, and family holidays. The sex was incredible as that very first time. She still did chores in an oversized shirt that barely covered her underwear. So, chores took twice as long when Harry noticed because he reminisced and thought back to the days when he was falling for her from afar (even if afar was just one little half wall between them).

Harry returned from the office and found her laptop open on the island while she continued cooking. She had been fighting a stomach bug, so it was good to see her cooking. Soup by the looks of it. Something so as not to upset her further.

“Hey kitten,” he called gently putting his keys on the table by the door and slipping his shoes off.

“Hi, Harry,” she sounded so sweet, so smiley. It was his favorite way to be greeted. “Sorry, guys, it’s dinner time,” she told her laptop. Harry blushed, feeling bad he interrupted her call unbeknownst to him and that he called her kitten in front of her students. “Check out the notes on Blackboard.”

Sorry! He mouthed.

She shook her head easily with a smile. She said her final goodbyes to the people on screen. Once her laptop was shut, he felt relief that he could freely chat with her. “I had extra office hours because I’ve been sick and out for the count,” she explained and turned back to the stove. “I told them I had to make something to eat at the same time or I would die so they also got my cooking show in addition to math help.”

Harry looked at the face of their fridge with a dry erase marker filling the silvery complexion with complicated equations that he didn’t understand. He snorted and she smiled shyly. “Sorry, I’ll clean it.”

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “S’cute,” he assured her. It was. The way her brain worked, even thinking to draw on the fridge was adorable. It was so cute Harry wanted nothing more than to frame the door of the appliance and put it in the living room. He put his lunch Tupperware in the sink and turned back to her stirring the soup. “Y’okay?” He asked.

“Yup, only threw up once since this morning,” she sighed and shook her head. “I hope you don’t get sick.”

Harry didn’t even feel an inkling of feeling unwell. They had eaten the same foods for the last few days, so food poisoning didn’t seem suspicious either. “I think I’ll be alright,” he cupped her face and pressed his lips on her forehead. She didn’t feel warm or clammy. “Y’feel cool,” he murmured turning to the fridge and filled his water bottle from the spout.

She shook her head returning to stir the soothing mixture on the stove. “It’s so weird. I don’t feel sick until I’m actively sick, you know?” She shrugged. “Oh, well.”

It was hard to believe that two heavily educated people didn’t figure it out sooner. But the moment it popped into his head Harry gasped. He dropped his bottle, and the ice and water covered his socked feet. “Shit,” he whispered.

“I got it!” She hurried to the closet with their cleaning supplies. Harry picked up the ice cubes and tossed them into the sink. When she returned with the mop, Harry was staring at her. Like he had never seen her before. It wasn’t earthshattering for her. This moment. The moment he realized. It didn’t matter. He would have it for himself. This perfect, beautiful girl that he was so lucky to know...

So lucky to live with and be with and to have her worry about him.

It was overwhelming and Harry swallowed watching as she mopped up his mess. He wanted to scoop her up and put tuck her into bed like the day he burst into the very apartment they were in now protecting her from her ex.

He tried to refill the bottle, but he nearly overfilled it again, his hand getting wet. “You sure you’re not getting sick?” She asked dragging the mop over his feet playfully at the second, minor spill. He shook his head, swallowed.

“No, sorry. Distracted.”

“I got dinner covered, you can go lounge if you want,” she smiled sweetly. “I was laying down most of the day. I feel like a bum. I was thinking about going to the gym after I eat just to feel productive.”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want her lifting anything, didn’t want her running on the treadmill, or stepping on the stepper. “Y’don’t need to, kitten. M’jus...” he trailed off. He didn’t know if he was right, it was an assumption. “Jus’ a little tired. But y’should sit,” he suggested. “Y’don’t feel well.”

She shrugged. “I feel alright now. I feel lazy.” Harry didn’t want to tell her that growing another human inside her was the least lazy thing she could do. As far as he was concerned, she could do nothing for the next nine months. His eyes dropped to her stomach briefly, like it would suddenly round with the baby he suspected was forming. She didn’t notice.

He was adamant. “Y’not lazy,” he assured her. “Why don’t—”

“Here taste this,” she held a spoonful of the soup out. “Does it need more salt?” She asked. With his gaze locked on her eyes, he let her feed him.

“S’good,” he promised.

She tilted her head at him. Her eyebrows pinching together. “You sure you’re okay?” She repeated.

He nodded. Trying to remember everything about the moment. She didn’t know, he did. It was surreal. There was going to be a little one that looked like him, looked like her. They were going to be parents and she didn’t even know. “M’okay.”

She shrugged and grabbed two bowls out of the cabinet and then returned the broom to the closet. Harry grabbed the edges of the island counter and took a deep breath. They would have to abandon the apartment. The balcony. It was going to be hard, but it would be so worth it.

How did she not know?

When she returned, she ladled soup into the bowls and handed Harry his before she situated herself on the stool behind the sink. “Do we have any plans this weekend?”

Making a baby registry? Telling his mum? Finding a house and decorating a nursery? “Nothing comes t’mind, kitten,” he murmured sitting beside her.

“Louis was wondering. He wants to go out and drink or something.”

“Uh...” he swallowed. “M’not really in a drinking mood.”

“You’re not in a drinking mood?” She repeated. “You know you’re not going to be in a drinking mood three days from now?” She asked. “Harry,” she rolled her eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He took a deep breath and turned to her. “Do y’think y’might be pregnant?” He asked.

She dropped her spoon back into her soup and spun to face him as well. Their knees bumped together. “Am I what?”

“Well...y’don’t feel well. But only when y’actively don’t feel well. Then...I don’t remember y’having bad cramps since June,” he reminded her. It was over two months ago. “I don’t feel sick,” he told her.

He watched her pretty face and now wild eyes process all Harry’s logical assumptions. She jumped from the stool and ran to the bathroom slamming the door shut. He followed her immediately. Knocked gently. “Kitten?” He asked nervously. “Are y’okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Kitten?” He repeated knocking again. He hadn’t anticipated a negative reaction. She wanted kids. They both did. They talked about it many times over. “Baby?” He hummed. “Can y’tell me if y’okay? Need something?”

“I just...” she sounded scared. “I just need a minute.”

“Okay, okay,” he nodded; nerves made sense. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t respond for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Can you open the door?” His voice started to hitch, worry plaguing him immediately. Poor thing.

“I’m peeing on a stick, Harry. Please just...” she sighed. Frustration was heavy in her tone. He was surprised she already had a pregnancy test there. He would have to ask about that later.

“Kitten,” he gently tried the door, but it was locked. “What’s—”

“Harry, I just need a minute!”

He stepped back from the door and leaned against the opposite wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited silently. He heard her sigh repeatedly. The shuffle of her perhaps pacing the small bathroom floor. The sound of the toilet flushing. More moments that he would memorize for eternity.

The three minutes felt like hours. He wanted to see her, wanted to know what was wrong. A timer went off from inside the bathroom. He pushed off the wall and she opened the door holding the plastic stick out to him. “I can’t look.”

“Kitten,” he frowned grabbing it from her and sticking it in his pants pocket without looking. “What’s wrong?” Harry was still in his suit pants. No jacket. The sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was so pretty. It was unfair. She kept her eyes at his feet. Still damp from his water spill.

“You have to look,” she whispered.

“I will, but y’have t’tell me what’s wrong, kitten. Y’making me nervous.”

“We’d have to move,” tears welled in her eyes.

“So?”

“So?” She sniffed. “This is where we fell in love. It’s where we had sex for the first time. That balcony is more important to me than the entire square footage of this place in total.”

“Kitten,” he frowned.

“Don’t you care—”

“Baby,” he shook his head. Before she could finish her question, he pulled her toward him. He was gentle as he squeezed her, fearful of the baby being squished between them. “Of course I care ‘bout that.”

“Then—”

“Kitten,” he tutted. “We’ll get a house with a balcony. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure y’have whatever y’want. Y’can’t be sad ‘bout that.”

She sniffled more, only solidifying Harry’s assumption without even looking at the test in his pocket. “But this is...” she sniffled. “I love it here.”

“I love it too, kitten. But we need more room if we have a baby. A lot of babies.”

She frowned, pulled from him slightly. He wiped his thumbs below her eyes to rid her of the wet tears that soaked her cheeks. “You must think I’m ridiculous,” she pressed her forehead against his body again. He wrapped his arms around her again.

“No more than usual,” he chuckled into her hair and reached for the test in his pocket. He looked at it over her shoulder and smirked. Returned it back to his pocket.

“What’s it say?” She mumbled into his shirt.

“I love you,” he kissed the top of her head.

“It definitely doesn’t say that.”

“Y’don’t think your pee could love me?”

“Harry!” she pinched his sides at his silliness.

“Say it back, first.”

“It’s going to be really unfair that you knew I was pregnant before I did,” she grumbled.

He pushed her away again just far enough to meet her gaze. He smiled at her, that lazy smile he had about him that made her blood warm throughout her body. She forgot why she was grumpy with him. Even if it wasn’t that serious. She already knew what the test said in the pit of her stomach. The swing of her mood flipping like a switch. His expression was soft. Like he was holding a crystal vase from the seventeen hundreds and if he looked at it too hard it would break.  “Say it,” he whispered.

It was like she wasn’t in control of her own voice or movements. Not that she didn’t want to say it. She did. All the time. So, it was easy to whisper, “I love you.”

For the third time he pulled her back to him and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll have t’see if we can find a baby swing for the balcony.”

--

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[pleasantlyinsincere]

Hi, I was wondering if you know what music John was a fan of in the late 70’s? I’m aware of him being excited about the B52’s, and I’m assuming he liked David Bowie and Elton John’s music in part because they were his friends in addition to obviously being talented. And I think I read once that Julian turned him onto Queen but tbh that may be me misremembering a fanfic lol I just wonder if there’s anything out there that describes what John’s music tastes was in those days or whether he preferred to stick with his favorite classics; early rock and roll, girl groups ect. Like what did he think about the punk scene in NY?? Or the close harmonies a la Fleetwood Mac that dominated the charts? Just things I think about haha.

Hi, thanks for the question. I know that I skipped through a book called John Lennon: 1980 playlist by Tim English before, that may be a good source for you. Here's some random info, that I remembered where to look up. I think Julian introducing John to Queen comes from the SPIN magazine interview in '75:

[Julian] likes Barry White and he likes Gilbert O’ Sullivan. He likes Queen, though I haven’t heard them yet. He turns me on to music. I call him and he says, “Have you heard Queen?” and I say “No, what is it?” I’ve heard of them. I’ve seen the guy … the one who looks like Hitler playing a piano … Sparks? I’ve seen Sparks on American TV. So I call him and say, “Have you seen Sparks? Hitler on the piano?” and he says, “No. They are alright. But have you seen Queen?” and I say “What’s Queen?” and then he tells me. His age group is hipper to music … at 11 I was aware of music, but not too much.

But then there is also an anecdote, I think by Tony Barrow, that John didn't want to sign Queen to Apple years earlier? However that may be a lie, or John just didn't remember.

Yoko gifted John a jukebox for his birthday in '78 and apparently John filled it with the old music he liked. Elliott Mintz says there was quite some Bing Crosby. And I remember John also putting some new song by Dolly Parton in there.

"Yoko gave him this old-fashioned jukebox and John stocked it with Bing Crosby records. People kind of expected him to have rock 'n' roll records in there, but it was almost totally Crosby stuff. There were 3 songs which John played over and over. I still remember them. They were Crosby with a jazz quartet from the 50's, I think. He would banter and talk in the songs and John thought that was just the end. The songs were Whispering, I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter and Dream a Little Dream of Me. Yeah, those were the songs, I can still see John listening to them." - Elliott Mintz

“The one modern song I remember him listening to was ‘The Tide Is High’ by Blondie, which he played constantly. When I hear that song, I see my father, unshaven, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, dancing to and fro in a worn-out pair of denim shorts, with me at his feet, trying my best to coordinate tiny limbs.” - Sean Lennon

One night we were playing at Max's (Kansas City) in New York City, and I was waiting for everyone to leave the club so I could go back in and pick up my gear. We were sitting in the van waiting and John Lennon and Ian Hunter from Mott the Hoople came staggering out and looked over. John Lennon saw it was me and stuck his head in the window. He was kind of drunk and stuck his face right against mine and went 'yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah' because he recognized it (Devo's song Uncontrollable Urge) as being an updating of She Loves You. That was one of my most exciting moments ever. - Mark Mothersbaugh on John coming to a DEVO gig in '77

PB: John, what is your opinion of the newer waves? Lennon: I love all this punky stuff. It's pure. I'm not, however, crazy about the people that destroy themselves. Playboy interview, 1980

I like pop records. I like Olivia Newton-John singing "Magic" and Donna Summer whatever the hell she'll be singing. I like ELO singing "All over the World". I can dissect it and criticize it with any critic in the business...But without any thought I enjoy it! That's the kind of music I like to hear. - John

John Lennon raced into Yoko Ono’s home office in the mammoth old Dakota building with a copy of Donna Summer’s new single, “The Wanderer.” “Listen!” he shouted to us as he put the 45 on the record player. “She’s doing Elvis!” I didn’t know what he was talking about at first. The arrangement felt more like rock than the singer’s usual electro-disco approach, but the opening vocal sure sounded like Donna Summer to me. Midway through the song, however, her voice shifted into the playful, hiccuping style Elvis had used on so many of his early recordings. “See! See!” John shouted, pointing at the speakers. The record was John’s way of saying hello again after five years. [...] It was just weeks before his death in December of 1980, and his playing the Summer record was an endearing greeting -- and one that was typical of John. Of the hundreds of musicians I’ve met, John was among the most down-to-earth. Corn Flakes with John Lennon (And Other Tales From a Rock ‘n’ Roll Life) by Robert Hilburn

"I'm aware of ... Madness. "Don't do that. Do this." (As on the spoken word intro to "One Step Beyond".) I think that is the most original thing actually because it's so peculiar. ... Out of all that mob I think that was one of the most original sounds. Very good drumming, very good bass and all of that." Andy Peebles interview

And things I don't have quotes for right now: I remember Bob Gruen had given John some video compilation of punk bands, that John enjoyed watching. In one of the last interviews John said Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen was a great song. There are the albums John asked Fred Seaman to buy on his shopping lists. Some are printed in The John Lennon Letters (Though I'm not sure that means he liked them, but at least was interested in.) Lot's of Bob Dylan talk in the diaries and parodies. Many anecdotes about reggae bands. In the Double Fantasy studio recording John references quite some songs and artists, when he tells the musicians what they are aiming for in the songs.

[theebubblegumbitch]

i have been thirsting, extremely dehydrated beyond repair for the past three days now bc of Chad Meeks Martin. i beg of you, i need more content, he’s just.. so pretty.

hi hi so if it’s not too much to ask, perhaps could i request a fic where the reader is more so friends with Tara and Mindy since she’s a bit more shy and they invite reader over for the movie night and that’s when she meets Chad?? and he’s being his usual beautiful and charming self and she’s just overwhelmed and flustered

xtra brownie points if they give off bratz doll gf x himbo jock bf pls 🥺🫶🏽💞 i love your fics, your writing is inspiring tbh ahsjwjd

Girl's Night Interruptions~

Chad Meeks Martin x fem!reader

Request: ahhhhh you’re a GENIUS bunny!! I love this idea!! also i’m so happy to hear that my writing inspires you! ngl that almost made me cry- anyway I hope you love it gorg <333

Synopsis: At first you were reluctant, but when your two closest (and only) friends Tara and Mindy convince you to come to a movie night, you realize sometimes meeting new people is a good thing…

Warnings: none really since this is basically just fluff, use of profanity, Chad being an absolute himbo, reader being a flustered mess!

Series: Pt.1 , Pt.2

You weren't really sure why you agreed to this. You had told Mindy and Tara time and time again that you didn't really like the idea of parties, or gatherings, or anything of the such. It's not that you were super anti-social, you just- had problems starting conversation is all. Which is why the only friends you had made all of freshman year were Mindy and Tara, who were really good at easing you out of your tiny little comfort zone. Today that came in the form of convincing you to join them for a movie night. They promised it would be super chill and fun, the perfect girl's night to end the year off! So of course, you accepted.

You were now all about halfway through the first movie on the list, Legally Blonde, which was one of your favorites. All three of you quickly ran out of popcorn to share, prompting Mindy to get up to refill the bowl. "I'll be right back guys, pause it please!" Mindy had called out on her way to the kitchen. You were now left with just Tara, who quickly filled the silence by asking you questions. "Soooo how's your college love life been going so far? Had any steamy hookups?" She asked with a laugh as she nudged your arm. You felt your face get warm quick. "Cmon Tara, you know I don't like talking about that stuff." You said casually, not really mad at her for asking. "I know, I know, I was just curious." Just as Tara said that you heard Mindy walking back into the living room, and it sounded like she was talking to someone. "NO Chad, I already told you it's a girl's night. That means you can't join." Mindy had now taken her place sitting next to Tara again, leaving who you assumed was Chad standing in front of the couch.

Did Mindy have a brother? You didn't remember her ever mentioning him. "Cmon please, you know I'm not gonna bother y'all I just wanna watch the movie!" He was looking directly at Mindy as he gestured to the still paused TV, his request being promptly ignored. "You want to watch Legally Blonde? Really Chad?" Tara was questioning him, not fully believing his motive for joining the three of you. "Yes okay? It's one of my favorites I have like half of it memorized." Mindy scoffed at that, but from the look on her and Chad's faces you could tell it was probably true. "It's still a no Chad." He didn't seem to like that answer, continuing to practically plead Mindy to join in. "Ya know what fuck this, I'm watching it." And just like that he plopped down on the couch, right next to you. It was a fairly small couch and even just the three of you had barely any wiggle room, but with the addition of Chad you were definitely squeezed together. Chad didn't seem to mind though, quickly settling in and draping his arm over the back of the couch. Mindy, feeling defeated, grabbed the remote with a sigh as she accepted the crashing of girl's night.

"Fine, I guess you're staying..." She rolled her eyes at him, and he only grinned back. "Thanks, sis!" It was only now that he realized he was sitting next to a completely random girl as he raised his eyebrows at you. "OH I'm sorry, have we met before?" He asked, hoping the answer was no so he didn't have to be embarrassed. "Oh right, no you haven't. Chad this is our friend Y/N; Y/N, this is my idiot brother Chad!" Mindy quickly answered Chad's question, being sure to emphasize the word idiot. "Well thank you Mindy for that, charming- introduction, but I was asking Y/N, not you." He gestured to you as he said your name, now making direct eye contact with you. He was probably waiting for you to say something, considering you had been silent thus far. "O-oh yea I'm Y/N and uh Mindy never mentioned she had a brother." You stuttered out, hoping you didn't offend him in the process.

"Oh she didn't huh? Well now you know!" He said as he shot Mindy a glare and then you a grin. "Anyway it's lovely to meet you, and don't listen to Mindy about me being dumb okay? What I lack in brains, I make up for with Hobbs and Shaw here." Chad flexed each of his arms as he said that, and you now realized how attractive he was. Your felt your face get warm again, now hyper aware of how close the two of you were sitting. "Ah yes classic Chad, flex your muscles within the first five minutes of meeting a girl." Tara had said snarkily, perhaps hoping to annoy him into leaving the three of you be. "Hey they're my greatest accomplishment okay! Plus I'm sure she doesn't mind, do you?" Oh you definitely didn't mind. "N-No it's fine I don't mind." You were sure your voice sounded shaky as hell as you spoke. The longer this gorgeous man was next to you, the more flustered you got. So much for a peaceful girl's night...

Some time had passed as the four of you watched the movie in what was mostly silence, besides the occasional comment Chad had made on Elle Woods being a "girlboss" and Mindy having something snide to say in return. Their dynamic made you glad you were an only child. You had now reached the scene where Elle Woods figured out that it was actually the daughter who had killed her dad. You loved this scene, and you had the monologue memorized since you were a little girl. You quickly went to match Elle word for word. You didn't even notice that Chad had gotten excited about the scene too. "...at the risk of deactivating the amonium thyglocilate!" You had both said, or rather yelled it, at the TV in perfect unison. You saw Mindy and Tara's heads snap to the both of you in shock. "I guess he really does like the movie..." Tara said as she grabbed another handful of popcorn. "I told you it's one of my favorites!" Chad said before turning his eyes back to the screen. The shared moment between you two made you feel more at ease, so you went to agree with him.

"Yea it's mine too." You were still pretty soft spoken, but at least you had found some more confidence. You had also found hunger. "Hey Tara, can you pass me the popcorn." She swiftly handed it to you and you set in your lap, going to grab a handful. Just as your hand reached the inside of the bowl, you felt Chad's hand bump against yours as he also went to grab popcorn. It was brief, but his hands were so pretty and soft that you felt like you would remember those two seconds for the rest of your life. You were basically gawking down at the popcorn bowl now, hand still in it. "Oh, sorry." Chad said, muffled through his mouthful of popcorn. God he was so cute."Oh it's fine, don't worry about it." You said as quickly as possible, avoiding looking directly at him. He only shrugged as his attention went back to the movie. It was only silent for maybe ten minutes before Chad spoke again.

"Okay it is literally so hot in here. Is the AC broken or something?" Chad asked as he looked towards Mindy. "Yea it stopped working like two days ago, I have to call and have it fixed." Mindy replied, still not taking her eyes off of the movie. "Well it's like unbearable, I don't know how y'all are wearing jeans." He gestured towards you and Tara as he said that. You didn't realize it was hot, you probably thought it was just him. But to be fair you were wearing your favorite bell bottoms and your thin pink tank-top with a black star in the middle. So it wasn't a very warm outfit to begin with. While you were busy reflecting on your clothing choices Chad had found time to stand up in front of the couch. And now he was taking his shirt off...

You thought you were going to pass out. "Cmon seriously Chad! Do you have to find every excuse to take your shirt off?" Mindy yelled out at him. "What I'm hot okay! Leave me be." He sure was hot. Way too hot... You almost wished it was just you and him so- "Hey! You okay there? You were kinda staring off." Chad said as he waved his hands in front of your face. Oh shit. You were staring, and everyone had definitely noticed now... "Oh my god Y/N! Were you staring at Chad's abs?" Tara asked in an almost squeely voice. You wanted the ground to swallow you, mainly because she was right. "What no! I was staring at the movie!"

You rushed to defend yourself, hoping it was believable enough of an excuse. Chad wasn't buying it though. "It's okay if you were I totally get it, I would stare at me too." You were definitely blushing now. Mindy once again rolled her eyes at Chad's comment, causing them to exchange another death glare, which gave you time to change the topic. "Anyway, we should probably keep watching the movie." Chad jumped a little as you said that, realizing he was missing it and going to sit back down next to you. You now realized what Chad meant by it being hot. You only hoped you weren't sweating from the intense shared proximity.

The rest of the movie went well, although there was one moment where Chad went to adjust next to you, spreading his legs open just a little wider so that he was touching yours. You swore you almost passed out. Finally the credits rolled and Chad stood up to start clapping, it was kinda cute. "Wooooo great movie! Gets better every time!" Chad yelled as he turned to face the three of you. "Yea whatever Chad, you done bothering us now?" Mindy asked as she also stood up with now once again empty popcorn bowl in hand. "Yes in fact I am, I will leave you ladies to the rest of your girl's night." Chad said as he grabbed his shirt off of the coffee table. He went to walk back to his room before stopping to lock eyes with you. "And hopefully I'll see you again later Y/N." He said with a wink that hopefully Mindy and Tara didn't catch.

Oh yeah. You would definitely be seeing him again.

A/N: ahhhhhhh I love this one so much! i hope i did the prompt justice even though i struggled with the Bratz vibes thing. also i feel like i could totally turn this into a series if y'all wanted, just say the word! Happy reading my gorgeous babes!

-With love, Miss Grace<33

[gunnrblze]

Mischaracterizations are prevalent in fandoms. I'm curious, which ones of the CoD:Ghosts franchise bug you the most, and make you want to pull out your hair once you see them in fics/other materials?

This question created several additional thoughts, so I’m putting all my yapping below the cut lmfao.

Tbh it doesn’t bother me a whole lot except when it’s a large part of said character, or one of their only canon descriptions/facts/etc. I think it’s great for ppl to create what they want, esp when a lot of the ghosts have little/no info so we quite literally have to make shit up and fill in the likely blanks, but if you’re straying so far from who a character is…😟

Like, Keegan is described and shown throughout the game as being a very quiet man…so it does make me side eye when people portray him as this talkative guy, or someone with a really big personality lol cause that’s just not the vibe. That’s why I rb’d that thing, because I was thinking about how he’s the most popular ghost by far, and I think a lot of those fans aren’t necessarily into the rest of the ghosts game (and they don’t have to be, just an observation). I think that’s why so much of the content made about him outside of the actual ghosts fandom seems out of left field, bc people just kinda take a hot character and do whatever with him (which again, is fine, free will in fandom is good and necessary). I also think that’s why so many people get him confused as being part of other CoD games, because they aren’t aware of where his character even comes from in the first place.

Now this may be a bit of an unpopular opinion bc I know a lot of ppl hate some of the smut aspect that’s written about these characters, because they include themes that are/seem ooc, but I’m gonna be honest…that part doesn’t bother me so much because at the end of the day, people just want to put their fantasies and ideas onto hot masked man…and I get it lmao. Not to say im necessarily gonna read it, esp stuff with hard kink type shit, but it’s more so bothersome when people mischaracterize them because they don’t pay attention to the actual canon character in other fics/materials.

That’s why I kinda separate smut fic from everything else a bit, because a lot of smut I’ve noticed, especially with Keegan specifically, is written ooc, because making it canon/character correct isn’t the point, the sexy time shit is. Now I still prefer reading smut that seems largely in character lol, but I do have to defend the larger idea here that it’s not a crime to write an ooc smut fic because half the time…the smut is the main focus, not the canon/implied personality of the character.

I completely understand the shock of seeing certain smut in the first place (talking about the more fucked up shit here…), especially when it’s then placed on a character you know and love, but it honestly doesn’t bother me that much-and maybe it’s because I’ve been on the internet for too long💀- but that’s kinda the point of fandom I think…doing whatever pleases you, having an outlet. That’s the type of smut I think is very obviously written with the idea in mind, and not necessarily ‘would the character do/behave like this?’. Because yea, these ghost boys would most likely not do all these fucked up things, but I think people still deserve the freedom to write it, and they’re going to anyways lmfao (IF you’re tagging disturbing content correctly, you owe people that much!)

I’ve been having those thoughts for a while now so I had to yap them out of my head lol, but to answer the actual question, aside from Keegan, I hateeee seeing the Walker fam mischaracterized. I think because (it seems) they have more info available on them compared to the other ghosts, so when I see people just giving their personalities a 180 I’m like…Hesh would NOT act like that😩. Especially with Elias because he’s my husband obviously…so people missing larger parts of his character or stuff that’s implied about him makes my eye twitch a little lol.

Also, I don’t typically see a whole lot of ooc stuff for the ghosts in the first place tbh (minus Keegan, bc he has reached the CoD masses of course). Because we’re a smaller fandom, and I think people tend to stay in character more in smaller fandoms (at least from what I’ve seen) because there’s so little content available on characters, and it’s like we’re all clinging to what we DO know about them lmfao.

Thanks for attending my ted talk 💋

[spnfanficpond]

New Member Spotlight July 2024

The Pond is always growing and we want to make our new members feel welcome! Here’s a list of recent additions to our fishy family and a little info about them!

GIF by akaribaby

Guppies, Jellies, and Mutuals, oh, my!

RainyThursdayNight

Tumblr handle: @rainythursdaynight

AO3: miss_bored_tf_outta_her_mind

What is your SPN OTP? Dean/Castiel

Are you in any other fandoms? The Umbrella Academy, She-Ra, Attack on Titan, The Legend of Korra, Avatar the Last Airbender, The Owl House, MCU, Harry Potter, Detroit Become Human, The Walking Dead (Telltale), etc.

What are you looking for in the Pond? A place to write alongside others/learn from other SPN writers/jump into writing for SPN with other authors and readers from the fandom!

What types/pairings do you like to read? Dean/Castiel, Castiel/Meg, Sam/Eileen, Dean/Jo, Sam/Jessica, Sam/Rowena/Gabriel, Claire/Kaia

What genres do you like to read? What are your favorite tropes Hurt/Comfort. Angst with a happy ending, Pre-series/Stanford Era, Solo Hunters Dean and Cas, Found Family, Wrong Number AUs, Time Travel AUs

What kinds of fics do you like to write? Introspective Character Studies with plot, Time-Travel, Found Family, Crossovers, Secret Agent AUs, Media Inspired AUs, literally almost anything tbh

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? Writing for Supernatural is completely new to me. I was part of a large-scale rewrite a while ago so I've rewritten episodes of the show but never really a fic, so having you guys be exposed to my writing first before I post it would be really nice. Having people who've read similar stories reading mine before I give it to the general public is the goal!

AylaCaveBear

What is your Tumblr name? @aylacavebear

What is your SPN OTP? Sam and Eileen, or Sam and Jessica

Are you in any other fandoms? Dabbles in Vampire Diaries

What are you looking for in the Pond? Interacting with others who share the same interests, i.e. Others who enjoy SPN fanfics, reading and/or writing. Learning more about navigating Tumblr better and enhancing my writing, as well as helping others if I can.

BOOST: Honestly, I'd like to promote my sister. She made something for me to promote my tumblr on youtube. (I'm not looking for subscribers or views. She's just amazing at what she does and thought there might be other users who might be interested in what she offers.)

What type/pairings do you like to read? Reader Inserts mostly, A/B/O dynamics, Dean x Reader/You and even some Sam x Reader/You.

What genres/tropes do you like to read? All of them honestly. I have to say though, Smut with Fluff and Angst are my absolute favorites. I also love a good plot twist.

Do you have a favorite Fanfic writer? I can't say I have one favorite. There are so many amazing authors on there. @holylulusworld has some amazing A/B/O fics, as well as many others. I've sort of been binge-reading them at the time of answering these, lol.

What kinds of fics do you like to write? I love to write fics that are Dean x Reader/You. The "reader" is typically also an OC and they typically have some bizarre 1-in-a-million trait. I love writing series with lots of parts and typically have a slow burn filled with fluff, angst, and all sorts of fun little things.

Tumblr Master List

Your most underappreciated fic!

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? I have three, lol - A/B/O, Choose Your Own Adventure (already have a plan in mind), Cas x Reader (as per a request on a one-shot I wrote asking for more and I'd love to write it).I'm not entire sure about help with any of these, as I have others I need to finish before I can even start on these.

TheCatSaysMew

What is your Tumblr name? @thecatsaysmew

What are you looking for in the Pond? I've been writing Supernatural fics for over a decade, but it has been mainly for myself so I don't publicly publish them. I absolutely love writing fics and doing character studies, and I really like reading them on Tumblr too. I was hoping to connect with the community, make some friends, get inspired to write more and also inspire others.

What pairings/type do you like to read? I'm a reader-insert girlie through and through. I usually go for the Dean x Reader fics!

What genres/tropes do you like to read? Angst. I sometimes read smut, but I find angst far more delicious than smut!

Do you have a favorite Fanfic writer? All my fic reading is mainly done on Tumblr. I feel like I've read every Dean x Reader fic on the platform, so I'm always excited when new ones pop up. I love reading stuff from @avanatural, @mind-empty-just-fictional-people and @wearywinchester among many others!

What kinds of fics do you like to write? Reader/Self-insert, angst, mixed in with a little soulmate trope

I don't have a masterlist as I don't usually post stuff publicly, but I did rewrite a theme from my current longfic to take part in a writing challenge.

Your most underappreciated fic!

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? A casefic. I actually want to incorporate it in the final part of my longfic, and I really want to get the early seasons aesthetic on point. It's so difficult to verbally describe something that we're so used to seeing visually: the gloomy shots, the dingy motels, the impala parked in front of a small town home in the rain, etc. It would be lovely to discuss on how to best write visual / cinematographic descriptions like that! Also, I'm not very good at detective-style writing, so I'm finding it quite the challenge to write a 'solve a case and defeat the monster of the week' fic.

CrowleysMistress

Crowleysmistress (ao3 not on tumblr)

Discord: Sacha04534

What is your SPN OTP? Sam/Lucifer (I mean not like shipping them but it’s all I write even if in a non-con way)

What are you looking for in the Pond? Other SPN fans - particularly angsty Sam ones

BOOST: I have a a witchcraft podcast called The Brujas Broadcast

Fic types, tropes, pairings, genres: I skip slow burn, super long ones, all reader insert, most OC, all crossover. (I like) Angst for sure, AU, adventure, smut and fluff some days depending on mood.

Do you have a favorite Fanfic writer? So my (AO3) history says I like ultimatefandomtrash, angelszn,

What kinds of fics do you like to write? Sam/Lucifer

AO3 Master List

Your most underappreciated fic!

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? A long multi chapter piece. I feel like I need to have it all done and ready to post together and not be working on something and just post pieces of it.

xPurdyGlambertx

Tumblr: @xpurdyglambertx (on all socials), including Discord and Wattpad

What is your SPN OTP? Too many - multishipper

Are you in any other fandoms? TWD, Stranger Things... those are the big ones

Pairings, genres, tropes, fic types: Ships and poly both, Mostly smut and angst

What kinds of fics do you like to write? Smut and angst, mostly oneshots but I'll pump out a multichaper fic every now and then!

Tumblr Master List

Your most underappreciated fic!

LucasBarr

Tumblr: @lucasbarr

AO3: Ophelia_Yvette

What is your SPN OTP? Dean/Cassie or Dean/Benny

Are you in any other fandoms? Mermaid Melody and Harry Potter!

What are you looking for in the Pond? fellow writers! People to talk about fic with and to help with fic writing (bc spelling is my nemesis lol)

Pairings, tropes, genres, fic types: Dean pairings for sure 😂 I am a multi shipper at heart tho so I enjoy a lot of pairings (besides like reader inserts). Found Family, Angst, Fluff, AU

Do you have a favorite Fanfic writer? Basically any spn fic writer who writes about his Amazon daughter Emma or any of the female characters of SPN 😂

What kinds of fics do you like to write? Ones about the kids of SPN like Jody’s girls, Kaia, the Freaks and Greeks gang, Ben, and Dean’s Amazon daughter Emma 😂

AO3 Master List

Your most underappreciated fic!

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? I want to get better at writing Sam and generally capturing the atmosphere of the early seasons in a fic (if that makes sense?)

Meryl1988

Tumblr: @meryl1988

AO3: Meryl1956

What is your SPN OTP? Well: I'm going to be honest here. You may feel free to kick me out Castiel/Dean. Sam/Dean. Love both equally.

Are you in any other fandoms? Starting 911

What are you looking for in the Pond? I am in complete awe of the wonderful writers of son fiction. If I can provide any support or good for thought, I would feel honored.

Pairings, genres, tropes, types of fic: Castiel/Dean. Sam/Dean. Castiel/Dean/Sam. Dean/Benny. Sam/Jessica. even though I am a total m/m reader. I love fics where she's alive and posseses a good personality. Every single one. I love stripper tropes, enemies to lovers, any AU with my boys. Hooker fiction. Poor/Privileged pairings. I also love Omega verse and Mpreg. Also RPF

Do you have a favorite Fanfic writer? This HARD! There are many but I will list a few @Felisblanco @Justinedelarge @friendofcarlotta On A03 Dollyluxe Nyxocity. Tumblr Flesflutter. Tumblr Hellhoundsprey Morgan Sunglasses Spn_kinksock Lukinha_jesus Compo67 taymarpigeon Applecrumbledore Ashtraytheif Castielslostwings Castiel_left_his_mark_on_me Amypond45 Rivkat Boydean Komodobits Naughtypastrychef Lovethemwinchesters Abs_cats Smackthedevil Chaotictrinity Anyrei. Queerwolf. Co authors Dmarie92

Sardonic-The-Writer

Tumblr: @sardonic-the-writer (and on AO3)

What is your SPN OTP? destiel, but i'm extremely partial to sabriel and crowstiel

Are you in any other fandoms? mainly spn right now, but i also love the umbrella academy and the gorillaz

What are you looking for in the Pond? mostly just to insert myself into the spn fandom space more, as well as find a safe space to share fanfics and stuff

Pairings, genres, types of fic, tropes: mostly reader inserts, but a solid ship fic of literally anyone is also good. pretty much anything genre wise, as long as i have a fun read. some of my favorite tropes would have to be friends to lovers, or just straight up a reader inserts where there's no romance and just them working a case alongside the guys. it appeals to me as an aroace guys

Do you have a favorite Fanfic writer? unsure, but i really enjoy gabriellives, The_White_Rabbit_42, and relic_amaranth's works all over on ao3

What kinds of fics do you like to write? reader inserts! mostly platonic, but i try romance sometimes. i also write a lot about my spn sona ezra (azrael) but that's mostly for me and the few people that know about him

Tumblr Master List

Your most underappreciated fic!

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? i haven't written a ton of ship content before, but i know that if i want to i will!

Codepend

Tumblr: @codepend

AO3: theknife

What is your SPN OTP? sam & dean

Are you in any other fandoms? good omens, hannibal

What are you looking for in the Pond? share my fanfics and make friends!

Pairings, genres, fic types, tropes: ships, angst, fluff, pining, unrequited

What kinds of fics do you like to write? one shots although I am working on larger projects

AO3 Master List

Your most underappreciated fic!

Is there something you have not written but would like to try? I find multi-chapter fics more overwhelming

That's all for this month, folks! (If we're missing anyone, let us know and we'll add them to next month's list!) Make sure to say hi to the newbies and make them feel welcome! Thanks to all from @manawhaat @mrswhozeewhatsis @mariekoukie6661 @thoughtslikeaminefield and @heavenssexiestangel

[quantum1mmortality]

(SORRY LONG ASK VERY LONG ASK)

So... I'm shy and a bit scared to post it(hence the anon) but I wrote a drabble and NEED to know your opinion on it AKJSH

Its of Post crash Curly x new medic reader training under Anya ( It doesn't need to be romantic, but I wrote that Y/N had a crush on him and didn't say anything because she knew that if he felt the same, he would hold back due to his high rank/risk for power imbalance)

In this story, Y/N would give Curly his meds in place of Jimmy and Anya. She would sneak water packets into the medbay and filling an eye dropper with the water and elevating his head to help his medication go down easier. They did it behind Jimmy's back due to him thinking it was an "unnecessary waste of water". To hide it from him, they needed to empty the packet to discard it. A thought hit them to grab a rag and wet it with what was left of the packet, and place it over Curly's mouth to keep his teeth covered and his mouth moist, and talked him through it while they did it. They asked him to move his eye left if it helped, or move it right if he wanted her to take it off. When his eye flicked to the left, it dawned on them that they finally had a method of communication, they began to ask about things he wanted, (ex, a blanket and an extra pillow), and just getting excited and emotional that they finally had a way to talk again.

they wrote phrases on paper and taped it to the wall for him to motion to when he needed, (take cloth, rehydrate cloth, give cloth. Take blanket, give blanket. Ect) and over time, the wall filled with more phrases for him to motion to. And when he seemed to be a bit stronger due to the better quality care it enabled, they tried to reteach him to write by taping a pen onto the bandages of his arm and holding a notepad steady. He practiced a little with lines and curves, and once he a bit more oriented, the first phrase he wrote, the first words from him anyone on the ship heard since the crash, scratchy and shaky, but readable

"Thank you".

I guess this is my way to trial run the idea? AKAJAH do you have any ideas for it? I love your headcanons, and honestly if I really like your additions/ideas (or anyones tbh) I may add them in if I decide to post it ^^

i LOVE this anon. I really like the idea you came up with for communication, I've never seen anyone else write something like that.

I don't have very much to add to it tbh.. the only thing I can really think of is Anya would definitely want to be involved in this, especially the later stages. Maybe Anya and reader would take turns checking up on Curly, but I think she'd like it if reader was there(for extra emotional support).

Also, Jimmy would be against it. Like you said, to him it's, "a waste of water." I think Daisuke would just lurk around the door to make sure Jimmy wouldn't start anything if Anya and reader are in with Curly.

I lied, I have another thing to add; reading. Imagine this; reader has a bunch of books she brought in the tulpar, and every week, she'll bring a few to curly and have him pick which one he's more interested in, via motioning to the one he wants. Reader would then pull a chair next to his bed and for the next few days read that book to him.

Okay that's all thank you 🫶

[frownyalfred]

I have one (1) question;

In "A Room Full of Coral";

Does Dick exist??????

Okay well here’s the thing…….when I started writing that fic it was mostly a joke? Like I just said “what if I fixed Batman V Superman by adding A/B/O?” and ran with it. People were laughing!

At that time, my understanding (and I think a lot of other people’s understanding tbh) was that the Robin Batfleck lost was Jason Todd. And that he was the ONLY Robin Batfleck had ever had.

AFTER writing that fic, which ended up being the longest, angstiest, trauma-filled lead up to write a smut scene I have ever created, someone let me know that Zack Snyder had indicated that the Robin Batfleck lost in BVS was Dick, NOT Jason.

So there I was. Pikachu surprise face and 35k in or so. I hadn’t written Dick into the story at all because I ASSUMED JASON WAS THE ONLY ROBIN IN BVS. And I had assumed incorrectly. Sigh.

So, to answer your question — I have no idea. I didn’t write him into the original fic and it would seem a little weird to drop him suddenly into the sequel. But, I can see why he would be such an interesting addition to this fic, especially since I don’t exactly see the sequel trying to rewrite Justice League and so on.

I guess…do people have strong opinions one way or the other?

[letters-to-rosie]

for the fic writers ask (a bit late): 2, 3, 8, 9 and 41 please

it's not too late I like to talk lol

and I talked a lot so buckle in

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

my top 3 are "alternate universe - modern setting" (8/10), "alternate universe - college/university" (5/10), and "not beta read" (5/10, which is funny because 10/10 are not beta read lol)

and yeah, I can't say they don't represent me. when I was on ff.net I used a beta (my mom lmao) but now my grasp of English grammar is much better. I still miss stuff all the time (I found a word use error rereading something I'd published like a year and a half prior and wanted to scream lol), but it is what it is. even though I have professional editing credentials, it's really hard to edit your own stuff because your brain still fills in what it expects to see

re: modern setting and college setting, I started off my account publishing a couple college AU Fullmetal Alchemist one-shots; the only other college fic I had was my second prompt fill for the Arcane timebomb secret santa, where the prompt was to write in a modern setting. so that's all the college fics and 5/8 of the modern setting. another modern one is high school, since when I finished Arcane I felt a deep need to write Ekko in a high school setting because rarely had I felt so compelled by a single character. and the last two are the revolution universe, which is a funny story

idk how much I've mentioned this before, but the reason revolution is a modern setting is because I wanted to see if I could make an Ekko/Jinx roleswap work without the help of any of the story's magical elements. to restrict myself, I changed the setting. from there, developing modern Piltover/Zaun was just really fun. I took a lot of cues from the aforementioned high school setting fic I wrote and turned them up to 11. it has been and still is a fun ride, so I'm not mad about that choice at all

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

hmmmmmmm lol well line breaks! I like to make detailed little line breaks. some show up better on one platform than another (for example, the revolution telephone line breaks look WAY better on desktop imo), but I think they are cute

in terms of more trope-related things, I actually had a hard time for a moment. I went and looked at some fics of mine to try and find an answer

humor is one, for sure. big believer in laughing even on the worst day of your life. I think that's how I survived mine, and I think the characters I write about would be the same, finding something absurd or funny even when things are really bad

another one, I think, is attention to the mundane. I'm not a super detailed writer; purple prose isn't really my personal style. but I like writing about boring things. little things, you know?

the last one I'll bring up is setup and payoff. that's one of my personal favorite writing devices. I really enjoy putting the pieces in place and watching it all come together is always really satisfying. especially when combined with a focus on the mundane. like I have one story where Ekko's wearing a tie, and it matters.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

hmmmmm well I don't know if there are any I'd want to see just adapted straight into a fic, or nothing comes to mind directly. or maybe it's that the songs I am thinking of are more vibes than plot? well anyway, Willow's Symptom of Life is one I really like lately, as well as Sampha and Little Simz's Satellite Business 2.0, Kenny Mason's Firestarter (or Metal Wings tbh, or like the entirety of Angelic Hoodrat), and Isaiah Rashad's Headshots (4 Da Locals)

9. How do you find new fic to read?

scroll on a tag, or someone I know writes something and I go read it, and sometimes recs

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

honestly, I just want to write like myself, but the goal is to shoutout other people so I picked one from each other the fandoms I've read the most of on ao3

for Fullmetal, Swallows on the Beam is a long-time fave; the detail of the worldbuilding is really great, and I love the amount of thought put into a setting that isn't even seen in the canon material. the prose is just really lovely too. the author has done such an incredible job, and I need to go through and actually comment on all the chapters someday, but I have so much to say that I know it'll take me forever lol. but like how can a scene of a character touching another character's earring make me lose my shit? that is the magic of this fic lol. one of the most romantic things I have ever read

for Hunter x Hunter, I really love a thousand miles wandering; the Silk Road setting is just so unique! the prose is great, character work is great, setting is worked into the story in a great way. all feels like generic praise, but the whole thing is just so well-rounded in its excellence

for Arcane, my favorite has always been The Revolution Will Not Be Televised; just has such an infectious energy. it's fun, funny, and it takes this fantasy setting and makes it feel very real, which in turn helps the characters feel even more real than they do in the show, in some ways

[sunflowersred]

ANON…!

…who asked me “How. would Shanks react when he sees gear 5.” I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR ASK I’M SO SORRY. but let me respond.

at this point in the story i’m very sure we will actually see this reaction. and i’m very sure that Shanks knows the exact nature of the fruit Luffy ate—mostly because of this scene:

Dorry and Brogy are at Egghead to find Luffy, and in the same breath call him “Sun God.” a few chapters before, we saw Shanks talking to dorry and Brogy before he left Elbaf. I don’t think that the giants knew back when they met Luffy on Little Garden that Luffy is the same as Joyboy is the same as Nika. I think we are meant to infer, from all this, that Shanks is the one who told the giants that Nika is Here, in the World, that Luffy is There, and that Luffy is Him.

as for Shanks’ reaction to seeing gear 5…I think very much about the reactions of both Bonney and Vegapunk when they saw gear 5, Bonney’s tears and Vegapunk (I would call it) enraptured expression, calling Luffy beautiful…I think it could be along that range, or even More (I will explain below). now…

it’s my personal theory that Shanks is Nika’s greatest devotee—who has dedicated his life to seeing Nika brought into the world, to Joyboy’s return. I see this in connecting the dots on my cork board with my red string with pins in Roger’s statement to Rayleigh that their meeting was fate, to Roger saying he wished he could have met Joyboy, to Shanks’ tears over whatever it was Roger told him after Roger returned from Laugh Tale, to Shanks’ crew talking about how pirates are free, to Shanks . to how now, again, I am sure Shanks knows of Luffy’s powers, and looking back on his reactions to news that Luffy is making his way through the world, he always looks. well.

(it KILLS me, also, that this particular one happened at a WEDDING. ODA. UM. H-HELLO…)

I think very much about Oda’s offhand statement that Shanks is emotionally immature, I think about how Shanks relentlessly teased Luffy and finally expressed how much Luffy means to him after Luffy was in danger (Luffy is surprised and moved in chapter 1 when Shanks calls him “friend”!), I think about Shanks’ response to his crew saying pirates are free (“stop filling [Luffy’s] head with crazy ideas.”) I do think we will see Shanks’ true reaction to Luffy’s transformation, but I wonder if Shanks will hide his reaction from Luffy and Oda will show it only to us, the reader.

as a shipper I would find that possibility deliciously devastating. HOWEVER if it does happen like that I WILL write 1000 fics pushing them into situations where Luffy does see it because that is what feeds my soul. Shanks kissing Luffy’s hands, the hands that have brought down tyrants, Shanks kissing Luffy’s feet, the feet of his god who walks the earth. that Shanks smiled when he sacrificed his arm to save Luffy because he knew that to Nika, the Sun God, a sacrifice of food will give you his favor forever. how Shanks knows he cannot be the favorite of a god who loves all the world, but Luffy’s flag makes him feel like he could be. how Shanks wants to kneel at Luffy’s feet, but Luffy, but Nika, but Joyboy, does not want anyone to live a life on their knees. what the Experience of witnessing his god will be like for Shanks—Nika this laughing, dancing god, heartbeat the rhythm of a drum. His god, the god he has devoted his life to, sacrificed his flesh for. I think about the way Shanks COULD react, to seeing gear 5, and I think of all the great artworks of spiritual practitioners and mystics and saints and monks experiencing religious ecstasy. I think about the concept, in aesthetics, of the Sublime….

is this what we will get? I do not know. if we don’t, I will write about it (tbh, I have a couple of drafts combing over these themes and concepts that date back to the month gear 5 was revealed). so. I Will Make It Happen.

in addition to this, I would very much like to write about, whether Oda goes into it or not, how all of this gets Shanks all mixed up; loving his god, loving his boy (I think about the moment post-Wano where Shanks is looking at Luffy’s new wanted poster, the photo taken of Luffy clearly with Nika’s power awakened—and he is thinking about his happy memories of spending time with Luffy when Luffy was young) loving the man Luffy has become, how Luffy reminds Shanks of himself, how Luffy reminds Shanks of Roger, how Shanks wanted to keep Luffy safe, back then, how Luffy is the savior of oppressed and the vulnerable, now, how Shanks believes Luffy will usher in a New Age and how that will and has not been without struggle and sacrifice. Shanks, as a son of the Figarland family, a dynasty of slavers, leading a life of repentance, wanting absolution. I want to write all that WITH dimensions of sex and romantic love in their bond. To speak one more time of the canon, I think Shanks has ills in his soul (as so many of Oda’s characters do). I think as much as he has ever done Luffy will free Shanks from those. I think this will be perhaps the most intimate part of Oda’s story and I think Oda has had it in his head for all 27 years he has been writing this story and probably for a very long time before that. now…

now. am I, as they say, a “crazy fangirl” for any and/or all of the thoughts above? well. it is my experience that shipping shankslu (and ofc with lushanks agenda) is being in a state, as an audience member of this story, between hypersanity and utter delusion. either I’m God(a)‘s prettiest princess or I’m worse than the ZKK bros. either just the sheet of this ship has melded my shippers goggles to my head and it is so one with me I can’t look at the text without it, or when this ship first struck me like a bolt of lightning 3 years ago it was actually Oda, the #1 shankslu shipper, reaching out through the collective subconscious and suplexing me actually. which will it be? only time will tell.

[j2zara]

okay. i'm shameless eheh <3 from stay/leave how about the section that starts:

"Ok," says J4, giving him a soft peck on the lips. "Then take what you want." to... “Oh, don’t stop. Tell me that I’m yours. Please. Please, I want to be yours—”

Reminder to self: I asked for this. I asked to have my deeply horny art scrutinized.

"Ok," says J4, giving him a soft peck on the lips. "Then take what you want."

Ok so throughline from Biggest Lie to Stay/leave is like. J3 being unwilling to articulate his own wants. And honestly i do think sometimes i corner myself with that self imposed constraint when i don't think j3 has to be THAT fuckin dire all the time. It made writing biggest lie so hard ngl bc i felt like i was really boxing myself in to what J3 and Porter could say (esp bc Porter also has the self imposed constraint of everything he says has to be doublespeak that invokes jace) making their dialogue feel kind of. Broad or impersonal and then i was like. Fuck it the inadequacy is the point.

And Stay/Leave is very similar. Like. It's clear that J3 wants J4, but it's always couched in this language of like. Use me. Do what you want to me. My body is some use to you. He refuses to be active, to pursue (he caves just the once earlier when he kisses J4) and that's due to that detachment he has from his own identity that he takes on when he's with Porter. And frankly, the role he takes on as a Body on the entire like. jaceporter + jaceclone team, a replacement jace that is not special the way J2 is special. And like.

This refusal to articulate what he wants also picks at j4's insecurity and frustration as well. Because in his refusal to state, he's also refusing to state that he wants her. Specifically. So there's this eternal question of like. Is he filling a void or is he seeking J4 out. Backtracking a little but that's what this confession resolves twofold:

"But... But I want you," he says through a pout, voice high and reedy. "I want all of you."

At the same time. Circling back. There is this like. Preoccupation with the concept of Taking that is very Of Porter and that's why it balks against J4 so much. On the one hand she wants J3 to be active, on the other hand, she's repulsed by her own instincts to conquer and own and take that she feels are mirrors to the god/man she hates.

But maybe there's something in her that is. Like. Still drawn to porter. In that there's the good instinct to push J3 to voice how he feels and what he wants. And maybe the additional instinct to push him to Take. To fight. Maybe even to claim her.

At the same time, i do think its mostly in the right place. She gives him permission or submits or signals like yes that's what i want, its like, a communicated dynamic its not like he's acting unprovoked. Like. On some level i think there's a lot that indicates j3 and j4 are doomed to be their counterparts, be products of their creators but also maybe they are enlightened, can evolve past jaceporter. Transcend them.

A surprise. J3 chases her, eager for her lips again and pulling her in for a deep kiss of gratitude 

Someone already asked abt the "there's something thrilling about being chased part so i'll save the main convo for that but. Yeah. The desire to be chased is very much Of Jace. And J4 wants to be the kind of person who fights for what she wants, and she wants to establish herself as distinct from jace, but she also wants to be chased. chosen.

I'll also just like. Mention the fact that these gremlins kiss so goddamn much in this fic and it became a point where I had to make a comment abt it ("Another one? You're insatiable."). Sometimes when i feel like something is becoming a problem or a repetitive in a fic my solution is to establish it as a pattern instead. A string of data points. Tbh i do think i overdo it with the kissing but what can i say. Its good! I like when characters kiss!

I also think there is something. abt the connotations to both "a peck" and "a deep kiss". Like a peck is sweet, chaste, and a deep kiss i think conveys like. An intensity that is like. Sincere and maybe even romantic? So its like. Breaking away from vulgarity, or the tendency of J3 to like. use sex as a cope, at least to me. Especially for him, this is him being honest for once.

I also like. Won't cite the line abt him riding dick but I'll add it's like. Him being active here instead of J4 doing all the work. Progress!

She's fucked him to get him out of his head before, but it's nothing like this, it's all just desperation to be taken, to lose himself, he wants to be fucked into the mattress until he forgets where he is, he wants to hear her shudder, wants to be striped with her cum, be as disgusting on the outside as he feels all the time.

Something something time to overthink about sex. Here we go. I think there's like. Contrasting wants from J3's mind that refuse to give J4 clarity on her insecurity of "missed me? or missed this?" Like. J3 wants to forget himself like always, he's using sex as a distraction to fill the emptiness, but there is some specificity, reference to J4 and wanting some sort of stamp of ownership or defilement from her.

And there's a continual contrast between. How J3 and J4 view themselves vs. how they view the other. Like to me, j3 considers J4 to be disciplined, principled, maybe even enlightened, as opposed to himself, someone who is base and impulsive and weak and disgusting, a rat in an experiment pressing a button over and over just to experience pleasure at the risk of pain. As in Biggest Lie, he really wants to experience everything, including things he thinks might be dark or unpalatable, things he's afraid to voice because he thinks nobody would look at him the same. Hence why the mentioning of wanting to be as disgusting on the outside as he is inside.

(I know there's a big emphasis on J3 being disgusting and a creep and a freak in Stay/Leave, and to me the culmination of that is like, rather than J4's feelings being like. "no you're not" its like, even if you are, that's ok, being perverse is honestly ok, you don't need to be perfect, i want all of you, not just the parts that make you Cool Girl, easy to love—"I'll take it all" etc)

(She thinks she understands that, if she's doomed, base, nothing more than a feral animal desperate to gnaw herself free of the trap she was born into, then she can drag him down, too. She spends every waking moment aching to rip someone's throat out with her teeth, but she'll take this instead.)

By comparison. J4 considers J3 to be charismatic and adaptable and silvertongued, unlike her who is selfish and offputting and miserable and controlling and violent and weak to her own impulses. And like, his impulses are like. Gluttony. Lust. Hers are wrath, pride. I liked this idea of their feelings continually mirroring each other to show how similar they were, and I do think J4 considers herself to be weak, a failure, in contrast to J3 who thinks of her as strong. So like. In my mind i was searching for the thing that makes HER base and to me that was something very animalistic and violent, like the pure urge to survive or to hurt others.

(And I do think they're both reflections of Cunty Jace in that way. Like J3 can has aspects of jace's manipulativeness, his aversion to connection, and J4 has jace's anger, alienation, cruelty, desire for power, especially in his post-shatterstar state. I think getting in her head kinda masks the fact that from the outside, she comes across as very prideful because she wants to escape, she thinks she's above it all, more enlightened than the rest. I think at first that was more true, and. by this point, with their numbers potentially up, she's more desperate and resigned)

The want is all consuming—J3 is a black hole who craves, and J4 matches his intensity, she wants, too, wants to give him everything, if he's finally well fucked and contented for once in his life, maybe there will be no more Him, no more chasing a God who is perpetually turned away—he deserves that, right? (She can't find Him anywhere in there, but that's what the black hole is, right? Being made to love Porter Cliffbreaker four times over? It always, always comes back to Him, even her rage, her hatred.)

Ok. I'd tag you in if this wasn't already an ask from you b/c i don't think this is AS MUCH of a Porter Haunts the Narrative story as "maybe i'm using you / maybe we're using you" but the vibes are very much there sometimes that Porter haunts the narrative. And. PERSONALLY. I think J4's self hatred makes her a little bit of an unreliable narrator, in her insistence that J3 could never want her, that he's just filling a void left by Porter, but i also think there's enough ambiguity that my feelings don't matter, an argument could be made that she is correct here.

Like. She's SEARCHING for Porter in J3's thoughts and Porter isn't there, it's all just her, and she still finds a way to make it about Porter. The absence of Porter is about Porter. And like. Maybe so? Jace was remade in Porter's image, his world is porter. Like. J3's black hole could be about Porter, but J4's inability to let Porter go, her hatred of him, her rage specifically is so Of Porter, but even need to be rid of Porter is about Porter. The line "four times over" is specifically about that too, how its not just J3 that can't let go of Porter, its her as well. Her determination to be the antithesis of Porter still makes him the thesis.

And like. I do think there's something that is kind of Of Porter that J4 feels this need to drive out Porter and be the Only One for J3. She cares for him so much so she just wants him to be happy, and she's convinced this impulse in her to claim him is kind of selfish and too reminiscent of Porter and. Who knows. Maybe she has transcended Porter, maybe she is simply Of Porter.

And is the desire to be rid of Porter something that is for her benefit or for J3's? He was made to love Porter Cliffbreaker after all. She knows how miserable the self denial of Porter is because that's what she does for herself. And I do think the "he deserves that—right?" is like. From J4 that is very tenderhearted and sincere but i think the darker undercurrent to that is luxury sex object prison coded. What if i could give you everything you ever wanted? Not, what if you could have everything you could ever want. What i could be the person who could give that to you.

And again, is that instinct Of Porter or does she transcend him? I do think what makes J4 better is her belief in J3's personhood. She's disgusted by her impulse to control people and determine whats best for them. Maybe in the bad timeline j4 would be anakin skywalker "well i could always make them" meme coded but not today.

“Oh, say I’m yours.” She can feel him pull her in closer so that her face is pressed into his neck—like he's trying to will it into existence. He's hers—gods, she likes the sound of that, she's close just thinking about it.

"Like he's trying to will it into existence" is very much a callback to i think... the thing i said TWICE, once in IYWD and once in Almost? If its not a direct quote it's an idea. I think in IYWD its:

he wants to disappear entirely and transcend himself, become one perfect being

and in Almost it's

maybe they will amalgamate together, become one perfect being. Porter is good at reconstituting people into himself, he can see it, he can feel it, he’s done it before

Um. And in Biggest lie there's a little bit of that too. When j3 is being choked out he refers to the shatterstar as the incident that "Bound together two souls", and when he and porter kiss face to face, he enjoys "being intertwined"

Like. Again this is an inability to escape Jaceporter. I think even when their instincts are good and their feelings are sincere and earnest and tender for each other its like. Still that feeling of wanting to be owned, intertwined, bound, subsumed. Subsumed is especially very J3.

He says it again, somehow managing between all the moans and the shudders, he’s practically sobbing as he chokes out—“Oh, don’t stop. Tell me that I’m yours. Please. Please, I want to be yours—”

J3 wants to belong to someone even if its not porter because that's the only way he can conceive of love, of what he can do with himself, still has a hard time perceiving himself as a person, but i do think there is something very. Sweet, nevertheless about it being her.

And I do think there is a beat of. Character progress for him because even though this is the best he can do, he's going against what his default nature is. His default nature would be to want Porter most, be with Porter, passively accept that he's good with Porter, because Porter serves his needs best and j3 was made to love him, J3 is very path of least resistance coded Jace. So he's making a conscious choice here, and maybe even making the harder choice. He wants to defy his destiny—just like J4 does. And he's expressing it out loud as a want of his own, which is all very big deal for him.

Actually, I'm going to do a brief shoutout to Darling b/c I think the scene of Porter recollecting abt their like. First time after he resurrected and Jace is like "mine, mine, you came back to me" was so striking to me. Sorry to Pilfer. Im a man of many influences of works far greater than I. I hope it's not too much of a derivative thing :'). I genuinely think for J3j4 the reversal is way more true to their characters than if J4 had said "you're mine"

Like. I'll just touch on the fact that j4's response is "Wh-What?" and she isn't able to fulfill his request at all in that like. I think she's too thrown by his question due to her self hatred. Like. she's been telling herself this whole time that he's just lonely, so proof he wants her specifically punctures that belief. But also, And the other emotion beyond disbelief to me is reluctance due to her aversion toward her own impulse to Own. Even though she does want it. She wants to own him. Which. After all that about J3 using his words, there's that small reversal of J4 being unable to put a voice to what she wants instead.

There was an earlier version of the draft that included something i've kinda vaguely pitched in convo of like. J3 begging her to leave him—specifically saying "I want to hear you say you're going to leave me". as like. This doublespeak thing of like genuine self hatred and degradation and also like this more earnest belief that she deserves better than this life. And I still fucking love the J3j4 thesis of like. J4 telling him that Jace is the saint and J2 is the precious gift (and she's the lost cause) but he's the only good thing to come out of this fucked up situation. Anyway. I still love that sentiment but that got axed bc I felt like to resolve all that I was very very tempted to do Memory Doorway Detect Thoughts thing and just did not have the bandwidth to write out a bunch of memories to prove my point.

As self hating as "I want to hear you say you're going to leave me" is, that would be saying he cares for her enough to let her go (which i do think he has that capacity, just not for this ending), which would affirm J4's response of "no i'm staying". A good sentiment but not the ending for this story i think.

There's also the fact that. To me this is also almost. Too resolved? Like. J4 still doesn't have the answer to their problem. I like the ambiguity of "Are they going to make it out of the torment nexus". And even if they physically escape the torment nexus, can they really transcend the torment nexus (the torment nexus that is Being Of Jace and Porter). When J4 says she's a slave to impulse, that she likes being Here, with j3, that's about her dragging her feet to return to her research and find a solution, but its also about her staying in a bad situation just b/c she would rather stay with him. (very. Blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you)

And to me. "i'm yours" is like. there is that kind of like Orphydice to parallel Persephades thing of like coming back for someone or looking back in a way that dooms them both. Like to me, J3 is asking J4 to look back in that moment, giving J4 what he wants by finally putting a voice to his desires, and choosing her. Even if it dooms them both, (traps them both in the underworld), and even if its a little selfish, he wants to know that he is loved.

(Eurydice, dying now a second time, uttered no complaint against her husband. What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?)

(Like Orpheus, I can't help but look back at what I want)

(or as is the conceit in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, it's Eurydice telling Orpheus, "turn around").

(Wasn't it gonna be the two of us? weren't we birds of a feather?)

And frankly. Looking back at someone despite yourself. Returning to them time after time. Is very Jaceporter. So like. Can they escape the narrative? Will they make it? Are they doomed? As they exist right now, unable to leave, are they making a life together on the stairs? J4 doesn't answer but she's there. That's an answer.

[lilioopdf]

hi!! i’m lilia/yams, an 07 baby, infp, and a cancer rising.

i’m an F1/2/3 fan, and here is my very basic carrd where you can find my favourite drivers and everything else you need to know about me (click the underlined word!)

i originally created this blog for writing purposes, but was always a little too afraid to post any of my actual pieces of writing, although that might change one day (or soon... who knows 🫣🫣)

update: it has changed, and here’s my masterlist!

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a few tags for navigation:

#lilioojpg is where i post original pictures taken by me (including the header pics in this post!)

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feel free to drop by and say hi anytime! i’m always open to talking about any common interests we might have!! 💗💗

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additional notes:

i also love love love literature, history, and art history, and i’m currently specialising in the study of various art forms paired with business 💗💗

my favourite books/pieces of writing include: letters to milena (anything franz kafka tbh), salt to the sea, all the light we cannot see, hamnet, if he had been with me, a hundred flowers, and the spider poem ('ten legs, eight broken')

i’m also a really spiritual person, and i studied tarot and astrology (western & vedic), for a few years but i no longer actively involve myself with either. i am a strong believer of karma and manifestation, and under #success story, you may find some of my favourite manifestation success stories as well. i also!! have my own post on F1 and manifestation, because i love combining my interests 🤭

thank you for reading this far and i hope you have a lovely day/night ahead!! 😊💗

© lilioopdf 2024 – please do not plagarise, repost, or translate any of my work on this or other platforms

[thethrobbingmembers]

THE THROBBING MEMBERS REVIEW: The Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley

Why does the pro-LGBT regency piss me off so bad? -Sarah

They could've lived a lie, and it would have been great. -Catherine

Where have all the good sapphic books gone and where are all the toxic queers? -Smurf

I was too busy getting straight married to finish this book. Love Loses. -Margo

Was unable to finish this book due to morning sickness from being PREGNANT!!!! Congratulations!!! -Cindy

Dream Cast

Philippa

Tommy

The Wild Wynchesters

Summary:

Philippa is a rich Regency lady. Her parents want her to get married, but she just wants to read books. In an effort to help one of her book club friends, she recruits the Wynchester family, including Tommy Wynchester, who has secretly been in love with Philippa for years. Cue disgustingly cutesy shenanigans. 🤮

Review:

I mean this ending sucked right? Just gotta get that out of the way. Most of it was fine, but god that ending. Every twist and turn was so contrived.

"I’m a wallflower. I receive marriage proposals everyday, but somehow I’m still an underappreciated wallflower who everyone hates." God, stop whining.

In theory, I should have enjoyed this book. It had all my favorite things: absurd shenanigans, costumes for plot reasons, and poorly defined historical periods. This is also to say that it had my least favorite things: absurd shenanigans, costumes for plot reasons, and poorly defined historical periods. Depending on the author, these are all either fun beach reads, or infuriating. Unfortunately, and mostly due to the Wynchester family (spelled that way surely to avoid admitting taking any inspiration from supernatural, which yeah, fair), this book falls into the latter category.

Every third or so book I read for this club I go this was fine, whatever, I probably won’t remember anything from it. And then we screech about it, and get pedantic over a bottle of wine and I suddenly remember everything that annoyed me while I was reading. Something, I think, must be fundamentally broken within the historical romance publishing world, because it seems like it modern ones are worse than ones that came out just a few years ago? This wanted to be a fun beach read, but the author just couldn't help herself, and had to keep making sure that chronically online queer people on twitter (you can't make me call it X, Elon, fuck you) wouldn't pick a dumb discourse based fight with her. This has all been litigated over and over again and shouldn't have been included in this book.

I know I ask this every single review I write, but seriously, why are these people allowed to publish these books unedited. Not to give myself away as a millennial, but is this is the recession’s fault? Like people were fired and then the roles were never filled again? I know its deeply hypocritical of me to complain about editing or lack thereof considering my writing style is to drink too much wine and/or smoke a little weed, but I’m not claiming to be a professional am I? As Catherine wisely said, this "mystery" was dumb, for a wide variety of reasons, one of which being the actual history of manuscripts.

This book was fun, assuming I read it in one sitting, and never thought about it ever again. And also, skipped entire sections of the book, especially when the truly insufferable found family was on the page. Who fucking asked for this. Why were there so many, and why were they all so annoying?

This entire book should have been just the two people, whose names I immediately forgot because tbh, this book wasn't very good, masquerading as straight people in public. That's when the book was the most fun. AND YET!! That obvious solution wasn't good enough or morally righteous enough for the rich woman. THIS IS HISTORICAL!! Please at least pretend to act like it.

3/10 stars

Theme Song: Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

Additional Ratings

Historical Accuracy: 2/10

They do say stays instead of corset, and that's all I can give this book.

Sexy Sex: ?/10

The sex scenes certainly happened, but no one remembers them.

Trauma Score: 2/10

Tommy had some trauma about people leaving her. YAWN.

Mystery: 1/10

The entire mystery hinged on Erica Ridley fundamentally misunderstanding fore-edge painting.

Notes: Free Tommy's brother's hedgehog from the Wynchester's loudass house!

[notetaeker]

Hi dear notetaker. I need a suggestion for my English class. You know, Ramadan is coming soon and I wanna do an activity with my kids. They're third graders and very enthusiastic about ramadan. But I don't know where to start. Do you have any ideas or suggestions for it? 🌸

Yes!! Are your kids primarily muslim? In any case, here are some that we've tried before / wanted to try - the kids I work with mostly are 6th grade so some of these may be geared toward older kids. Feel free to take any of these ideas and adjust them.

Ramadan Activities for kids (+ adults tbh)

1. Ramadan bingo - each box filled with a good deed and they put a sticker when they complete it, and you can give multiple levels of prizes depending on if they got a bingo / how many bingo lines they can make, or if they complete everything on the bingo board - we gave fidget toys from amazon as prizes. (Based on the hadith that the best deeds are those that are small but consistent)

2. Sadaqa Jar - everyone gets a little jar which they decorate with stickers / washi tape / markers provided and they use it to store their change or a dollar each day and then you can collect it every friday or right before Ramadan ends to donate to a cause

3. Good Deed Jar - fill a jar with 30 slips of paper, each with a good deed. Every day they pull out a slip of paper and do the good deed.

4. Everyone writes one major thing they are going to pray for on a slip of paper, the papers get shuffled and distributed and everyone has another person's dua that they will ask for in addition to their own. (This activity fits well while teaching kids about the hadith that if you pray for something for someone, the angels pray for that same thing for you + gets them in the habit of praying for others)

5. Make a paper Fanoos (Lantern) + chain links - a childhood favorite that I did myself as a kid - its fun to make and doubles as decorations that you can hang in your classroom / masjid for Ramadan. There are countless tutorials online and you just need paper, scissors, and a stapler (or glue)

6. 'Stained glass' effect suncatchers using cellophane wrappers / tissue paper (link) that they can hang on their windows - there's a lot of ramadan lantern tutorials if you search, here's a more advanced one

7. Making and decorating bookmarks to be used while reading qur'an (Since Ramadan is the month of the Qur'an)

8. Making moon-sighting binoculars (link) - connecting to the lunar calendar

9/10. There are also really great Ramadan related picture-books that are out -I've seen some in my library and they can be read aloud for story time. I'd also recommend Adam's World (it's a puppet show for kids about different islamic concepts and I like it because it's not the overstimulating super colorful filled with music type show.) The Ramadan episode is about adam, a kid who is fasting for the first time and trying to get thru the day learning that it's not just about avoiding food, but it's also about doing good deeds (not to be biased but it's what I watched growing up in the early 200s lol so I show it to my students too sometimes)

[kcscribbler]

11, 12, 15 for the ao3 asks~

Full Ask List Here

11. What work took you the longest to write?

Act Five: Gods and Monsters. I had the twist for this series drafted since the end of Act Two, but working out the logistics and science of it from my brain to the page was way harder than I thought it was going to be, and I ended up changing a lot of things by the end.

I'm mostly happy with the result, though I did rush the ending due to other obligations impending, mostly the Lokius Reversebang which I wanted to give full attention to. I might go back and tinker with adding clarity some more at a later date.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

If you want the cagey answer, I have 3 - because I have 1 massive black hole of a WIP document per fandom.

If you want the actual count, it looks like I have 8 that I'm actively tinkering with, and a couple dozen that are nothing more than scribbled ideas, cut scenes, or lines of dialogue that I plan to someday turn into something bigger. I am also planning to do @fluffbruary next year, so we'll see how that goes.

13. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

Oof. All of them, tbh. I still have a few half-finished bingo card fills to complete, including one for "adopting a pet" that involves a Tesseract-eating flerken. And I'm actively tinkering with an addition to the Storyteller 'verse exploring how Mobius recruited agents for the Void project. I also have a couple WIPs from the Star Trek fandoms that I'd like to finish in 2025 as well.

The other active ones are a little secret for now, and I actually don't have a large project in the wings at the moment. I'm a free agent. XD

[leonbastralle]

GAMES I PLAYED IN 2023 - FIRST HALF-ISH

i've been seeing a lot of this in gif form but i do not have the energy or video material and also i'm late but i rly wanted to make a post where i say a lil bit abt all the games i played and how i liked them!

pokemon platinum, soulsilver, white, white 2, y, sun, alpha sapphire & shield: i started a big mainline pokemon marathon in 2022 but most of it fell on 2023. it was a lovely time tbh and i miss it! platinum was a bit too grindy (but we love cynthia) and soulsilver traumatised me for glitch reasons. my favorites out of this lineup were definitely gen 5 in terms of storyline and pokemon selection, the later ones were a bit too handholdy and slow for my taste, and alpha sapphire could not compete w the og emerald which is my favorite pokemon game of all time. i did rly love shield though but that's bc i'm a) a football girl and b) i played it on my wife's sofa askfjhkasjf. anyway music is bangers all around and i do love The Concept of pokemon so i didn't hate any of them.

lonely people potion shop: this was an absolute surprise indie gem that i found on my wife's itch.io in 2022 but i replayed it for her in 2023 so it counts. this game is a rly short very fruity visual novel where you make potions for people and chat with them. it's one of the most heartwarming and gentle games i've played, every character is so lovely and caring towards each other and also to you the player! 100% would recommend i cried a bit several times.

validate: i really wanted to love this game because a dating sim/visual novel/narrative fiction type game w a super diverse cast (in terms of backgrounds, body types, gender, sexuality, and mental health struggles) and such a lovely art style? sounds perfect! and it would be if the characters weren't so...unlikeable sjfhaksjfa. it eventually got so difficult for me to root for them and also kind of frustrating bc the routes overlap in a way that even if you get good outcomes in one route, you can still mess up the relationship in a different route (because you have routes for each of the characters) so i ended up not finishing it.

neo cab: another one i never finished but was rly intrigued by! another visual novel but choices matter type deal where you play as a taxi driver in a dystopian world where you're being replaced by self driving taxis. the mechanics and cast are really cool and if the storyline didn't stress me out so much i would've finished it by now but i definitely will one day!

coffee talk 1/2: barista simulator meets visual novel in an urban fantasy setting where you also kinda save the world one drink at a time! i loved the first one so so much and finally played it last year in preparation for the second one coming out that i'd been anxiously awaiting, it's so vibey and the characters and their storylines are so interesting and i loved seeing their heartfelt interactions! also the first game was giving such strong queer vibes but they kinda dropped the ball w that in the second game trying to backtrack on that. ruined the experience for me a little bit but still a very solid game w cool additions to the already great cast of the first game!

skyrim: not much to say about that one. my favorite classic walking simulator that i keep coming back to, still very much playable and so pretty even on the switch! unfortunately also incredibly broken so i can't finish the solstheim questlines kjsfhkajsfas fuck you todd howard

calico: wonky little game where you explore the world and also bake and own a café that you can fill with all sorts of animals from cats to snow foxes to capybaras because why the fuck not! absolutely delightful, 10/10

later alligator: lovely little puzzle game w great old timey detective vibes and a banger soundtrack where everyone is alligators. these characters are such great fun, i loved the writing and i loved learning about all of them and doing tasks for them! the minigames got a bit frustrating at times bc i was lacking the coordination skills or just general strategy and there are some completionist things i could never do because of that and the main character (the main guy you're doing things for, not the player character) can get on your nerves pretty quickly but otherwise a lovely game w a great twist in my opinion

strange horticulture: this one made it into my all time favorites too. you play as the owner of a supernatural plant shop in a place where A Lot of strange things are going on. it has a bunch of really cool mechanics like plant identification and a lot of map related puzzles to find new plants, secrets etc. the overarching story that gets revealed bit by bit from an unknown person's pov outside of the gameplay while related events are also happening in real time was so interesting, and there are a lot of cool choices you can make that lead to various more or less unsettling outcomes. the spooky vibe is SO good but at the same time it has a very calming homey feel AND YOU CAN PET THE CAT 10000/10

penko park: another absolute indie banger. probably something like a pokemon snap but the beasties look fucking stupid and kinda creepy and the lore is cursed as hell. throughout the game you explore the remains of a park that was built upon the abuse of all sorts of cute little creatures (and big creatures) and while you mostly try to take pictures of every weird looking fella in their different emotional states that you bring upon them in various ways, maybe there's something you can do to right the wrongs of the park founders! who knows! (also special shoutout because these are german devs and as a german, i am especially demanding when it comes to german games and this one knocked it out of the park) (haha the park get it)