#the effortless genius of it all

[norristrii]

ALL THE BOYS I LOVED BEFORE.

Your brother Carlos, tired of watching you endure heartbreak after heartbreak, couldn’t bear to see his little sister unhappy anymore. In his determination to cheer you up, he began to wonder if his best friend might just be the perfect match for you.

pairing. Lando Norris x Sainz! fem! reader.

warnings. none.

YOUR LOVE LIFE FELT LIKE A CRUEL JOKE, an endless parade of failed attempts that left you questioning your own worth. It wasn’t just heartbreak—it was the creeping fear that maybe you were the problem, that perhaps you were unlovable. The thought took root deep in your mind, leaving you wondering what you were doing wrong. Was it something about you that scared people away? Or was love simply not meant for you?

But through it all, Carlos never let you wallow in self-doubt for long. As your older brother, he refused to let you believe there was anything wrong with you. “It’s not you,” he’d say, his words firm, almost stubborn. “It’s them. Just a bunch of idiots who don’t deserve you.” His unwavering support was both comforting and amusing, and even though his bluntness often made you laugh, deep down, his words gave you strength.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder, even as you smiled at Carlos’s efforts to cheer you up. Somewhere out there, was someone made for you? Someone who could love you the way Carlos believed you deserved to be loved? That little spark of hope kept you moving forward, searching for a connection that didn’t feel like a mistake waiting to happen. One day, you told yourself. One day, maybe you’d find them. Until then, at least you had your brother to remind you that the idiots weren’t worth your tears.

And to your surprise, the answer to Carlos’ scheming might have been closer than you ever imagined. Or, at least, that’s what Carlos believed.

Lando. Carlos’s long-time best friend, the guy who was practically a permanent fixture in your life. Sure, he was hot—those sharp features and that effortless charm weren’t exactly easy to ignore. And yeah, he was funny, with that playful banter and endless sarcasm that could make anyone laugh. But to you, he was nothing more than your brother’s best friend. That was the unspoken rule, the line that you’d never even thought about crossing.

But Carlos? Oh, Carlos had a different perspective. In his mind, it all made perfect sense. Lando wasn’t just his best friend; he was loyal, protective, and maybe even a little too cocky for his own good. And you? You needed someone who could keep up with you, someone who could challenge you but also be there for you without fail. To him, it was like a match written in the stars.

Maybe Carlos was onto something, or maybe he was just meddling. Either way, his genius idea had been planted, and once Carlos made up his mind about something, there was no stopping him. Perhaps the line you thought existed between you and Lando wasn’t as solid as you’d imagined. And maybe, just maybe, Carlos’s crazy little plan wasn’t so crazy after all.

It was typical of Carlos—always managing to drag you into something you swore you’d hate. And here you were, standing in the middle of a pristine golf course, the sun beaming down as a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. The idea of spending an afternoon playing golf with Carlos and Lando had seemed laughable at first. Golf? Really? You’d never understood the appeal of chasing after tiny white balls with oversized sticks. But, somehow, Carlos had convinced you it would be fun. Spoiler: it wasn’t.

Carlos, of course, was thriving, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling with every swing. His laughter carried across the course, his playful taunts adding to your growing frustration. Lando, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as gleeful. Instead, he seemed content to watch from the sidelines, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he offered the occasional unhelpful tip.

“Try holding it like this,” he suggested at one point, demonstrating with exaggerated precision. You followed his advice, only for the ball to roll a pathetic two feet ahead. Carlos burst into laughter, practically doubling over, while Lando tried—and failed—to keep a straight face.

You groaned, gripping the golf club tighter as you prepared for another attempt. “This is torture,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at your brother, who was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Carlos shrugged, his grin unapologetic. “It’s called bonding,” he replied casually, as if that made the humiliation worthwhile.

Lando stepped closer, his smirk softening into something resembling sympathy. “For what it’s worth, you’re better than I thought you’d be,” he said, clearly lying but trying to sound convincing. The teasing glance he shot Carlos didn’t escape you, though —it was clear he was enjoying this just as much as your brother.

You rolled your eyes, your frustration mingling with reluctant amusement. This wasn’t how you’d imagined your vacation, but somehow, it didn’t feel entirely terrible. As much as you hated golf, the laughter and teasing brought a strange sense of comfort—a reminder that, despite everything, you were surrounded by people who cared about you, even if their definition of bonding involved public embarrassment on a golf course.

Carlos let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Oh my god, Y/n, are you even my sister?” he said, clearly enjoying every second of your frustration. His teasing grin widened as he stepped closer, pretending to assess your stance again. “You suck,” he added, the bluntness of his words making you groan loudly.

You narrowed your eyes at him, fed up with his constant jabs. “Well, if you’re so good, show me!” you shot back, your voice sharp as you grabbed the golf club with both hands and thrust it toward him. The force of your gesture caught him off guard, and he raised his hands in defense, laughing as he took the club from you.

“Alright, alright,” he said, still chuckling as he stepped up to take his position. “Let me show you how it’s done,” his smug tone only fueled your irritation, but part of you was curious to see if he’d actually live up to all the talk.

Lando leaned casually against his own club nearby, watching the exchange with a smirk. “Go on, Carlos, impress us,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. Between Carlos’s endless teasing and Lando’s sly comments, the whole situation was ridiculous.

Carlos stood there, his posture full of exaggerated confidence as he stretched out dramatically. “You need to be focused,” he announced, his tone dripping with self-importance as if he were some kind of golf guru. You rolled your eyes, already anticipating some kind of mishap, but you let him have his moment.

With a practiced stance, he lined up his shot, taking his sweet time as if the world was waiting for his golfing masterpiece. The swing was smooth, the ball connecting with the club perfectly—and for a brief second, you thought maybe, he’d nailed it. The ball soared gracefully through the air, catching the light like a beacon of hope.

And then… straight into the woods.

Your laughter exploded before you could stop it, a sharp and genuine reaction to the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. “Wow, Carlos,” you said, your tone dripping with amusement as you struggled to catch your breath. “That was… that was impressive. Are you trying to start a career in forestry?”

Carlos groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he squinted toward the trees. “It’s the wind,” he muttered in defense, but the slight blush creeping up his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Meanwhile, Lando nearly doubled over laughing, leaning on his golf club for support.

“You know what?” you said, flashing a sly smile as an idea struck you. This was the perfect opportunity to escape the humiliation of the golf course—at least for a little while. “I think I’m gonna get it,” you added with feigned determination, already planning your retreat. Sure, you probably had at least ten more golf balls, but that wasn’t the point. You needed an out, and this was your ticket.

Carlos didn’t even look up from the app he was fiddling with, muttering something distractedly about “good luck” as he waved you off. But Lando, standing just a few feet away, wasn’t about to let you slip away unnoticed. His smirk widened as he leaned slightly toward you, his golf club resting lightly against his shoulder. “Maybe I should go with you,” he said smoothly, his tone playful yet deliberate. “What if you get lost?”

"Yeah, right," you replied with a playful smirk, sarcasm dripping from your tone. "I need my prince to save me." The joke was meant to be lighthearted, just another quip to match the teasing vibe of the day. But even as the words left your lips, you found yourself quietly savoring this moment. Somehow, it made the whole golf catastrophe feel a little more bearable. At least Carlos was getting a kick out of it, his exasperated laughter echoing faintly in the background.

Lando, however, wasn’t about to let your words go unanswered. His grin widened, confidence oozing from his every movement as he shifted closer, his presence magnetic and hard to ignore. “Exactly,” he shot back, his voice smooth and deliberate, carrying just the right amount of playful arrogance. “Every beautiful princess deserves her handsome prince.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, sinking into your mind before you could brush them off. Beautiful princess? Handsome prince? Did he really just say that? And the way his smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—so self-assured, so annoyingly charming—made your heart skip, even if you refused to admit it.

Your brain worked quickly to dismiss the thought. No. No, no, no. This was Lando, your brother’s best friend—the guy who had practically been a second annoying sibling at times. And yet... damn it. The worst part wasn’t the comment. It wasn’t even his confident delivery. No, the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. He really was handsome, in that infuriating, effortless way that made it hard to look away.

Fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks, you forced yourself to roll your eyes, putting on your best mask of indifference. “Keep dreaming, Prince Charming,” you retorted, your voice firm but laced with humor, determined not to let him see the way his words affected you.

Lando’s smirk only widened, his amusement evident as he leaned casually on his golf club. He didn’t need to say anything else—he’d already gotten the reaction he wanted. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t entirely suppress the small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Annoying as he was, Lando always knew exactly how to push your buttons. The problem was, you were starting to wonder if you didn’t mind quite as much as you used to.

You and Lando moved quietly toward the tree line, the hum of the golf cart fading behind you where Carlos sat engrossed in whatever had captured his attention on his phone. The air between you and Lando was heavy with unspoken words, the kind of silence that stretched on just a bit too long. You wanted to say something, to break the quiet and fill the space with anything other than the sound of your own footsteps. But the words just wouldn’t come.

Thankfully, Lando beat you to it. “How are you enjoying vacation?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet as the two of you stepped beneath the canopy of trees.

His tone was casual, but there was a curious edge to it, as though he genuinely cared about your answer. You glanced at him, his expression soft and relaxed, the playful smirk from earlier now replaced with something a little more sincere. The sunlight filtering through the branches danced across his features, and for a moment, you forgot the irritation golf had caused earlier.

“I mean, other than humiliating myself on a golf course?” you replied with a faint smile, the lightness in your tone matching his. “It’s been... not bad.” You hesitated, then added, “Surprisingly decent, actually.” The admission surprised even you, but it wasn’t a lie. Lando’s teasing had made the day a lot more tolerable than you’d expected.

He chuckled softly at your response, his eyes flicking over to meet yours. “See? It’s not all bad,” he said, a hint of that trademark charm slipping back into his voice. “Maybe Carlos wasn’t entirely wrong dragging us out here after all.”

You shrugged, brushing a stray branch out of your way. “Maybe,” you admitted quietly, though your mind lingered on how much of your enjoyment had less to do with Carlos and more to do with the person standing beside you.

The forest seemed quieter now, the sounds of your footsteps mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. The playful banter from earlier had given way to a more comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. You focused on the path ahead, brushing aside stray branches, until Lando’s voice broke the quiet.

“I know this might sound a bit weird,” he started, his tone unusually tentative. You glanced over at him, surprised to see his expression softer, almost shy. He looked ahead as he spoke, his grip tightening slightly on the golf club he still carried. “But... are you, uh, talking to someone?”

His question caught you off guard. Lando wasn’t exactly the type to beat around the bush, so this hesitation was... unexpected. And endearing. You blinked, processing his words as your mind raced. Was he actually asking? Did he care if you had someone? The thought stirred something in you, though you quickly pushed it aside, opting for humor instead of overthinking.

“Maximally with you now,” you replied lightly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your tone carried a hint of amusement, but there was no denying the truth behind your words. Your love life was, well, nonexistent. It was a fact you’d come to accept—laughing at it was easier than lingering on the ache it sometimes brought.

Lando turned his gaze towards you, his lips curving into a small, thoughtful smile. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, a flicker of emotion that almost made your heart skip. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was something more.

The question escaped your lips before you had a chance to second-guess it. “And you?” you asked, your tone steady but laced with curiosity. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make the moment feel heavier than it already did. Sure, it was casual—just a question. But deep down, you couldn’t deny that you genuinely wanted to know.

Lando hesitated for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening slightly on his golf club. His smirk faltered briefly, replaced by an expression that was harder to read. Was that shyness? Vulnerability? You couldn’t tell, and it only made you more intrigued.

“Me?” he echoed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced sideways at you. He cleared his throat lightly, and for once, his usual confidence seemed tinged with uncertainty. “No, not really,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his echo of your earlier words, the sound light and genuine. There was something comforting in his answer, something that made the corners of your mouth lift without effort. The way he looked at you now—calm, unguarded—felt different. More genuine. And it left you wondering, for the first time, if there was more to him than the teasing grin and the clever remarks.

For reasons you couldn’t entirely explain, this felt easier—lighter—than anything you’d ever experienced before. All the boys you’d loved before had left a trail of complicated emotions, fractured hopes, and moments you’d rather forget. Each had been so differently flawed, so carelessly capable of turning something that once felt beautiful into something that left scars. Those experiences had planted seeds of doubt in your mind, making you question whether love could ever truly feel natural. But walking alongside Lando now, sharing easy laughter and playful banter among the quiet trees, it didn’t feel forced or complicated. It felt... right. Like it was meant to unfold this way, no pretense or pressure, just the simplicity of two people enjoying the moment.

“Maybe we should—” Lando began, his voice soft and uncharacteristically hesitant. It wasn’t the teasing tone you’d grown used to; this felt different, more careful, as if he was trying to choose the perfect words. You glanced toward him, curious, but before he could finish, something caught your eye.

“I have it!” you shouted suddenly, your attention snagged by the small, bright ball nestled among the leaves. You hurried forward, triumphant, as though finding it somehow made up for your earlier lackluster golfing attempts. Your excitement carried you into the moment, oblivious to the way Lando faltered mid-sentence.

He blinked, startled, before letting out a soft chuckle at your interruption. There was something warm in his laughter, a fondness you hadn’t quite noticed before. Turning back to face him, you realized what had just happened. “Uh, sorry,” you said quickly, embarrassment tinging your voice as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “What did you say?”

Lando hesitated for a beat, as though weighing whether or not to repeat himself. Then, his gaze met yours, steady and unflinching. “I said maybe we should go out sometime,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, as if he were letting the words settle between you.

The air shifted subtly in that moment. His question hung there, simple but impossible to ignore. For a second, you could only look at him, the sincerity in his expression catching you off guard. This wasn’t banter or teasing—it was honest, unfiltered. And in the quiet pause that followed, you realized just how much weight those few words carried.

“Yeah, we definitely should,” you said, your lips curving into an easy smile. The words came out naturally, without hesitation, as though they’d been waiting there, just beneath the surface, ready to be spoken. The warmth in your voice matched the way you felt—surprised, maybe even a little nervous, but undeniably intrigued.

Lando’s expression softened at your response, his usual cocky grin replaced by something gentler, something more sincere. He seemed almost surprised himself, as if he hadn’t quite expected you to agree so easily. For a moment, the two of you stood there in the woods, the trees around you swaying gently in the breeze, creating a little cocoon of quiet away from the rest of the world.

“Well,” he said after a beat, his voice light but carrying an unmistakable trace of relief. “I’m looking forward, then.” His smirk reappeared, though it was softer now, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he added, “Just promise me one thing—you won’t make me take you golfing.”

[gf2bellamy]

haiii can i plz rwquest New Bau member reader and the team only see her at work where shes all serious and introverted, and spencer lowkey has a crush on her. But then they see her out with her friends one night and shes super bubbly and a social butterfly and that makes spencer like her even more thank you

speechless — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: they're at a bar , mention of drinking , awkward spencer a/n: hiii !! i hope you like this <3

Spencer traced patterns in the condensation on his soda glass, his fingers moving in absentminded circles as his gaze flickered around the bar. He was bored. Excruciatingly so. 

But more than that, he was disappointed—because you weren’t here. 

Derek had asked if you wanted to come, but you’d politely declined, mentioning that you already had plans. Spencer hadn’t even gotten the chance to say no before Derek was hauling him along, insisting that he needed to “get out more.” So now, here he was, sitting in a booth, drowning in the chatter and music, stuck in a social setting he had no interest in. 

He sighed, adjusting his grip on his drink just as a sound broke through the dull hum of the room—a laugh. But not just any laugh. 

Yours. 

His head snapped up before he could stop himself, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you. And then his breath caught in his throat. 

You were standing with a small group of friends, grinning, eyes alight with joy as laughter bubbled from your lips. There was no trace of the serious, focused demeanor you carried at work. No furrowed brows, no rapid-fire case theories—just you, relaxed, carefree, effortlessly beautiful. 

Spencer had always thought his crush on you was manageable, a quiet thing tucked away. But in those ten seconds—watching you laugh like that, seeing you in a light he’d never quite witnessed before—he realized with absolute certainty: 

He was in trouble. 

His crush wasn’t just bad. 

It had just gotten worse. 

Spencer didn't even notice Derek, as the man walked up to Spencer's table, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you just gonna sit in this corner all night,' pretty boy ?” 

Spencer barely registered his words. His attention was still locked on you, watching as you accepted a drink from your friend, flashing them a smile that sent an unwelcome jolt through his chest. 

Derek, intrigued by Spencer’s complete lack of response, followed his line of sight. The second he spotted you, his eyebrows shot up. “Is that—” He squinted, leaning in slightly as if seeing you from a new perspective. “Wow.” 

Spencer remained frozen, his expression unreadable, though the slight parting of his lips gave him away. Derek let out a low chuckle. 

Spencer blinked, finally breaking his trance, but he didn’t say anything. 

Derek glanced back at you, still laughing with your friends, completely unaware of the way you had just short-circuited the genius sitting beside him. “I gotta admit, I did not expect that.” 

Spencer swallowed, finally finding his voice, though it came out quieter than usual. “Expected what?” 

Derek grinned, shaking his head. “Her. Like that. You’re telling me that’s the same girl who spends her lunch breaks reading case files for fun?” He let out a low whistle. “Damn.” 

Spencer’s fingers curled around his glass, his grip tightening as he tore his gaze away from you.

He knew Derek was right. This was a side of you he had never seen before—one that was bright, effortless, magnetic.

And it was doing things to him he wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle. 

Derek smirked, clearly enjoying the situation a little too much. “So… you gonna sit here and stare all night, or you gonna go say something?” 

Spencer’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “What? No. Why would I—” 

Derek cut him off with a knowing laugh. “Come on, man. Don’t even try to play dumb with me. You’ve got it bad.” 

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He could practically feel the heat creeping up his neck. 

Derek grinned, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, fine. You can sit here and pine, but just know—if you don’t make a move, someone else might.” 

Spencer's heart was hammering in his chest as his eyes flickered back to you. 

And just as he did, you glanced up—locking eyes with him across the room. 

The straw slipped from your lips, landing unceremoniously back into your drink with a soft plop. 

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling warmth creep up your neck. 

“What’s wrong?” one of your friends asked, following your gaze. 

You tore your eyes away from Spencer—who was now staring blankly into his half-empty drink, clearly pretending he hadn’t just been caught staring—and turned back to your friend. “Nothing,” you said quickly.

Derek, on the other hand, wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement. His grin was practically glowing under the dim bar lights. 

You swallowed, glancing between them before mumbling, “I’ll… I’ll be right back.” 

Before you could second-guess yourself, you set your drink down and made your way over to their table, willing your heartbeat to slow. 

“Hi, you two,” you greeted, voice light but a little unsure. 

Derek’s grin widened. “Well, hello to you, sweetheart.” 

Spencer, on the other hand, barely managed a response. “Hi,” he mumbled, his voice quieter than usual. His fingers fidgeted around the rim of his glass, eyes flickering up to you for a brief second before quickly darting away. 

Derek let out a low chuckle. “Wow, don’t sound too excited, Reid.” 

Spencer shot him a glare but didn’t argue. 

You bit your lip, shifting on your feet, suddenly feeling out of place despite the fact that you had come over here. “So… I thought you weren’t coming out tonight,” you said, looking at Spencer. 

He cleared his throat, still avoiding your gaze. “I wasn’t. But Morgan didn’t give me much of a choice.” 

You smirked. “That sounds about right.” 

Derek leaned back, folding his arms. “And yet, it looks like it worked out in his favor.” 

Spencer groaned, rubbing his temple. “Morgan.” 

You frowned slightly, not entirely sure what he meant, but before you could ask, Derek suddenly stood up.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go get another drink,” he announced dramatically. “Maybe take a little walk. You know, give you two some space.” He winked as he stepped away. 

Spencer let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening around his glass. You watched him carefully, noting the tension in his posture. 

“You look nice,” you said, eyes flickering over him. And he did.

He was still Spencer—formal, put-together—but there was something different tonight. His usual sweater-vest and tie had been replaced by a fitted button-down with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms.

Spencer looked up, clearly caught off guard. “Oh—uh, thank you. Morgan told me to wear something different, so… I tried.” 

A small, amused smile tugged at your lips. “Well, it worked.” 

His fingers fidgeted against his glass as he glanced at you again, taking a breath. “You look—uhm—good too. Really good.” 

The moment the words left his mouth, he internally cringed. He wanted to bang his head against the table, maybe disappear entirely. 

You bit back a grin, tilting your head slightly. “Really good, huh?” 

Spencer’s ears turned a deep shade of pink. “I—uh—yes?” 

You chuckled, resting your hands on the edge of the table. “I didn’t know you went to bars, Spencer.” 

“I don’t,” he admitted quickly. “Not often. Hardly ever. Bars aren’t actually the most ideal place for socializing due to the high noise levels, the overconsumption of alcohol leading to impaired cognitive function, and—” 

You raised an eyebrow, and he immediately shut his mouth. “Right. I’m rambling.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. I was just surprised to see you here, that’s all.” 

Spencer hesitated before speaking, his voice a little softer this time. “I was surprised to see you too.” 

For some reason, that made your heart skip a beat. You glanced over your shoulder at your friends, then back at him. “Do you, um… maybe wanna get some air? It’s kinda loud in here.” 

Spencer blinked, like he hadn’t expected that at all, but then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

And as you led him toward the exit, Derek—who had been not-so-subtly watching from the bar—grinned to himself and muttered,

“Finally.” 

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Party4U

I wish you’d get here, kiss my face

Summary: It’s your birthday, and you throw a party in hopes Spencer Reid shows up because truth is, you only threw this party for him…

A/N: ngl writing this gave me bad flashbacks and now I never want to drink again…(I’m still going to)

BYR(b4 u Reid): Alcohol, mentions of drunk people, drunk kissing (yes lawd), awkward Spencer, season 1 Spencer, reader is over 20, no use of y/n, and sexual content. Lmk if I'm missing anything.

It was getting later into the night, people were stumbling around, dancing, taking shots, and playing beer pong. It had now become a full-blown party, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

You were a little buzzed, not too much. You were pacing yourself, holding off. You were waiting for someone. He promised he'd come. And Spencer Reid never broke a promise.

Especially not today. Not on your birthday.

“Birthday girl isn’t even drunk yet! This is not good.” Your roomate Sarah shouted, clearly several drinks in. “I’m waiting for someone.” You replied, sipping from your cup.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting on that nervous little FBI chihuahua.” Your mouth fell open slightly. “Don’t be rude. He’s sweet. And yes, I am waiting.”

She sighed dramatically. “Well, good luck with that. This is definitely not the kind of place he’d show up to. You’re going to get stood up.”

You shook your head. Spencer wouldn’t do that. If he wasn’t coming, he’d at least call. He’d explain.

Still, as the party kept going and the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but feel the little twist in your stomach. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he got too nervous. This really wasn’t his scene.

Maybe the party was a bad idea.

You sighed, slipping into your room. Thankfully, it was empty. No couples, no drunken chaos. Just your stuff, your bed, and the hum of bass through the walls.

You sat at your vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. You’d put effort into tonight. Found the perfect dress, something cute but not over the top, just enough to feel confident.

You knew Spencer didn’t care about appearances like most people. That’s part of why you liked him so much. But still, you wanted him to see you at your best.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. It was silly to get this upset over a guy. You told yourself you’d take a few more drinks and forget about it in the morning.

Then your door creaked open.

“Sarah, I’ll be out in a bit.” You said without looking. But then-

“Hey.”

You turned quickly, and there he was.

Your whole face lit up. “Spencer!” You squealed, rushing to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He froze just for a second before placing his hands nervously and gently on your waist.

“You came! I was worried, I thought maybe…” you pulled back just enough to look at him. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to show up.”

“You were worried about me not showing up?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course I was! You are my main guest.” You beamed at him. He blinked like he couldn’t quite process your words. You were always open about how you felt, always flirting, always dropping not-so-subtle hints. But somehow, Spencer Reid, certified genius, 187 IQ, turned into a socially anxious mess whenever you did.

It wasn’t that he didn’t notice. He just wasn’t sure how to reciprocate it back in a way that wasn’t so awkward. You made flirting seem so effortless, so easy. He on the other hand would just make a total fool of himself.

You tugged his hand. “Come on, we’re taking a shot.”

But he didn’t budge. You looked back and saw the nerves written all over his face. “Everything okay?”

“I,um, I don’t know anyone here. And I’ve never… drank before.” He admitted.

You tilted your head, smiling at him softly. “Aw, I get to pop your cherry?” You teased, then quickly added. “I’m kidding Spence. You don’t have to drink. We can just hang out and laugh at the ones who had too much.”

His eyes softened. “I don't want you to be bored. It's your birthday.”

“Well you're here so I won't be bored.” you said sincerely. “No, it's okay… I want us to have fun. I’ll get over it.”

“Spencer we don't have to, I promise you,” you assured him, looking deep into his eyes so he knew how serious you were. “I want to.” He replied.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take baby sips first.”

And then, to his surprise, you kissed his cheek. He blushed instantly.

You led him out into the crowd, fingers still laced with his, grabbing two bottles. “We can sip on these until you get a bit more comfortable.” You said into his ear, he nodded.

You then introduced him to a few friends, watching his posture shift slowly, the tension starting to ease once he realized no one was judging him. If anything, your friends seemed impressed with how highly you spoke of him. He noticed the way you held onto his arm, how you made him feel like he belonged.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked as the two of you stepped outside for some air.

“I feel… good. You know a lot of people.”

“Yeah, I tried to keep it small but, well, word got around.”

“I think it’s fascinating. That you’re so comfortable with people.” You looked up at him, smiling. “Some people think I talk too much.”

“I like it. I like listening to you talk.” He said it like it surprised even him. You blushed. “Really?”

He nodded, then straightened up. “Actually… I think I’m ready for something stronger.”

You grinned. “Alright, big guy. Let’s go.”

Inside, you let him pick the drink. You poured two shots and handed him his cup.

“You ready?”

He gave a tiny nod, and you clinked cups. The moment he drank it, he coughed, making the worst face. You handed him a chaser immediately.

“Thanks.” He said hoarsely, lips pink and eyes wide.

Soon, he loosened up even more. You could tell, he held your hand more confidently, his hand occasionally finding your waist. You liked it. He seemed…freer.

“Beer pong?” You suggested. He gave you a look. “I don’t know. I’m not great at throwing things.”

“You’re good at math. I’m sure there’s some equation you can solve to get it right.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure the game requires physical coordination, too.”

You looked him up and down. “Well, physically, you look good.” You teased giving him a thumbs up. He blushed and you led him to the table.

Shockingly, you two were winning. Granted, your opponents were very, very drunk, but still.

When Spencer made the second-to-last cup, you cheered, high-fiving him. Your fingers interlaced and lingered, until he pulled away.

You turned toward the table, ready to shoot your shot until your felt Spencer’s hand find your waist, then slid down your back to the hem of your dress slightly adjusting it because it had ridden up a bit.

Your breath caught.

So did his.

He couldn’t believe he just did that, neither could you.

You won the game. Of course.

You guys took celebratory shots, Spencer was getting better and better each time.

Spencer sat on the couch and gestured to his lap. “What?” You asked, heart skipping. He didn’t answer, just gently pulled you down to sit on him.

One of his arm wrapped around your waist, resting on your thigh, while the other interlaced with your hand.

“Are you comfortable?” He whispered into your ear. “I always am when I’m with you.”

He looked up at you smiling. Butterflies. Everywhere.

You both sat, just watching people, content in the buzz of the room, the safety of his presence.

His fingers were now smoothing over your skin, rubbing gently, innocently, on your thigh.

You knew he probably didn’t even realize what he was doing, but it made your thoughts spiral. Your heart beat faster.

You both sat together for a little longer, having conversation about everything, your guys cheeks were flush but starting to slowly cool down. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, soft but nervous, like he was building up the courage to say something.

“I, um… I have a present for you.” He said quietly, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your heart skipped a beat. “Spence, you didn’t need to-”

“I wanted to.” He cut in, his voice firm but still shy. His eyes searched yours. “Can I give it to you? In your room?”

Your stomach fluttered. You nodded, lips tugging into a smile as you stood and offered your hand. He took it, his fingers trembling slightly against yours as you led the way to your room.

You shut the door behind him, and took a seat at the edge of your bed, and he joined you. Close enough for your thighs to brush. You watched, your chest tightening, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it carefully, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a tiny diamond that shimmered under the soft light.

“Spencer…” your voice came out barely above a whisper. “This is beautiful.”

“You like it?” He asked, eyes hopeful, and nervous. “I love it.” You said genuinely, looking at him. “It’s perfect. I’m wearing this everyday.”

His mouth twitched into a small, relieved smile. “Can I put it on you?”

You turned without hesitation, he brushed your hair out the way, his fingers lightly touching your skin, featherlight and cautions, and that little contact sent a warm ripple down your spine.

He clasped it at the nape of your neck with slow, precise movements. His fingers lightly ran down your spine, and you turned to him, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you. I love it so much, Spence.”

“I’m really glad.” He said, his voice soft, eyes a little stunned by your closeness. His hand smoothed up and down your back, you pull back a little.

Your guys faces only inches apart, eyes low, and dazed. Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore, he was tired of depriving himself of you.

His hand came up, gently cradling your jaw, his touch careful. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, hesitant, he was scared you were going to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back like your life depended on it, you had been waiting so long for this moment and you were even willing to wait longer. Your desperation flattered him. He never imagined he could make someone feel this way.

“I’ve wanted this so bad.” You murmured against his lips, brushing your thumb along his cheeks. “Really?” He asked, you just nodded and deepened the kiss more.

His hands found your waist, bolder now, pulling you onto him, your words had given him confidence. You settled there easily, legs on both sides, hands cradling his face as your kisses turned more insistent.

You pushed him down onto your bed, hovering over him, your lips moving from his lips down to his jaw. When his hands dropped from your waist, unsure again, you gently grabbed them and brought them right back to where they belonged.

You continued leaving a trail down his neck, teeth grazing his skin, listening to the tiny breathy sounds he couldn’t hold in. You barely heard it but, it was there. Your name, a whisper that lit something wild inside of you.

You reached for his tie, loosening it, and discarding it somewhere on the floor in your room. Your fingers hovered over the buttons of his shirt, you glanced up at him, silently asking for permission.

He nodded slowly, jaw tight with want, and you undid them, one by one, revealing more of him. He propped himself on his elbows, and pulled you into him for another kiss.

You slowly slid the shirt off of him, moving the fabric off of his arms. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your dress, dragging it up slowly, cautiously, until the edge of your underwear peeked.

You broke the kiss to take in this sight of him, your fingers exploring the planes of his chest, the softness of his skin. You planted kisses on him, over his heart, and when he tilted your chin up with his finger, his lips found yours again, hungrier.

You felt him, hard beneath you, pressing up against you, and instinctively, your hips rolled down against him, pulling a surprised moan from his mouth.

“Spencer…” you breathed out, your voice barely hanging on. His hands gripped your waist again, then slid lower to your ass, guiding your hips as he moved you over him with more intention. His breath was shaky, his voice low and warm and desperate.

He said your name, like a confession.

You grind your hips down again, his hands gripped you tighter, encouraging you to keep going, to keep moving against him. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, mouth parted in disbelief at the pleasure that rolled through him.

He looked completely undone, and it was just from you sitting on him, fully clothed.

You leaned down, kissing along the column of his throat, letting your lips linger just beneath his ear. “You okay?” You whispered, breath warm against his skin.

He nodded quickly, then stammered out. “Y-yeah. Definitely. More than okay.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh, because the way he looked, completely wrecked already, was maybe the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You sat up slightly, hands trailing down his chest, appreciating every inch of him.

“You’re really something else.” You said, brushing your thumb across his lower lip. He caught your hand, kissed your palm. So gentle and slow it made your breath hitch.

“You’re the one that’s something else.” He murmured, voice hoarse. “You’re perfect, everything you do.”

That made your chest ache, you leaned down, kissed him again, slow, deep, and meaningful. You needed him to feel what words can't say.

Spencer grabbed your waist, gently guided you onto your back, moving over you cautiously.

His mouth moved to the side of your neck, your dress slipped higher as you spread your legs slightly, letting him fit between them.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him to your lips. Spencer’s hand slid slowly up your body, tentative but curious, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress as it rose. When he finally pulled back to look at you, really look, his eyes landed on your black lace underwear, and he just admired.

He couldn’t believe this was real, you felt like a dream.

His fingers brushed over the fabric, hesitant. Gentle. You watched the awe on his face, the way he took you in like you were something sacred.

“Do you… want to take them off?” You softly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darted up to meet yours, wide and startled. His chest rose and fell faster now, the weight of the moment clearly settling over him.

“We don’t have to.” You said quickly. “We can take things slow, Spencer.”

He swallowed hard, and gave you a nod. “I-I want this. I really do. I just… don’t want this to be…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to feel like a one-time thing. You’re not that for me.”

You nodded, smiling at him, your chest warm. “I know. Me neither.”

With a soft exhale, he gently reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it back down to cover you up.

He moved off of you, grabbed your hand pulling you up on your feet. His hands were careful, reverent, as he adjusted the strap of your dress onto your shoulder.

You reached for his shirt, draping it back over his shoulders and slowly buttoning it up, watching his cheeks flush a soft red under your gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“Nothing.” You said, smiling.

He hesitated, then asked. “Did you… want to keep going?”

You but your lip, nodding. “Of course I did. But I agree. When we do decide to… take that next step… it should be special. Not with a bunch of drunk people stumbling around downstairs.”

He laughed quietly, relieved. “Yeah..”

You kissed him again, softly.

“Should we go back to the party?” You asked, fingers laced with his. He nodded. “You go for now, I’ll be out there in a bit.” He tells you, you smirked at him knowing why he was going to stay back.

“Alright, if you need any help or anything just give me a call.” You teased, he looked at you shaking his head at your teasing. “Very funny.” He sarcastically said, but you caught the small smile tugging at his lips.

You opened your bedroom door and stepped out, flashing him one more smile before closing it behind you.

“Where have you been?” Sarah asked the second you turned around. “I was with Spencer.” You replied casually.

Her eyes widen. “Did you guys just-”

“No, we didn’t.” You cut her off quickly. “Let’s step away, come on.”

You led her away from your room, and thankfully she had gotten distracted by someone else and wandered off.

You glanced around the house, realizing how tired you were of the party. Your home felt overcrowded, loud, and no longer fun. You were close to calling the cops on your own party, but luckily the neighbors beat you to it.

You stood outside as an officer explained the noise complaint and curfew.

“Alright, sir. I’ll shut it down.” You said with a polite smile. He nodded, and you waved him off.

Back inside, you cut the music and made the announcement. “Alright guys, party’s over.” You watched everyone slowly trickle out. “Sorry.” You said to a few as they passed.

Spencer found you shortly after. He looked concerned. “What happened?”

“Police got called.” You told him with a shrug.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled. “Honestly, I was about to call them myself if people didn’t start leaving soon.” He laughed, and you joined him.

Once it was just the two of you, and your very drunk roommates who had knocked out in their rooms, you both started cleaning up a little.

“It’s a mess.” You said, tossing red solo cups into the trash bag. “Yeah. People are gross.” He muttered as he poured out a half-full beer. “Thank you for helping me.” You said sincerely. “No problem.” He replied, flashing you a sweet smile.

After most of the mess was cleaned, you both settled on the couch. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping comfortably around you.

“Can you spend the night?” You hesitantly asked, titling your head up to look at him. He nodded almost instantly. “Of course.”

You smiled, but he suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Left something in the kitchen. I’ll be back.” He assured you. You nodded, watching him walk off. When he returned, your eyes lit up. He was holding a small cake with lit candles. It was your birthday cake, the one you had completely forgotten about.

He started singing softly, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling.

“Make a wish.” He said once he finished, and you did. You closed your eyes and blew out the flames.

He held the cake out toward you. “Take a bite.”

You eyes him suspiciously but leaned in anyway, and sure enough, he gently pushed the cake into your face. Just a little frosting dotted your nose and chin.

“Spencer!” You gasped, laughing as you lightly hit his arm. He laughed too, setting the cake down, and then leaned in to wipe the frosting from your skin with his finger. You watched him as he brought it to his lips, sucking it clean.

He moved closer, pressing his lips to yours.

“Happy birthday.” He whispered as he pulled back just slightly. You smiled at him. “Thank you.” And then you kissed him again, slower, softer…

Dividers from @hyuneskkami !!

Writing this was fun!! I love bold Spencer! 🤭 also listen to the song, I just rediscovered it and became obsessed again. Live, Love, Laugh Charli xcx <3

Thank you to all who reblog & comment!! I really appreciate it sm!

~ Tag List ~

@samslovebug @alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

[dearlenore]

POPULAR • S.REID • PT2

SUMMARY: you and spencer finally go on the long-awaited date after the team successfully catches the unsub. Unsure of where to take a girl like you—elegant, charming, and effortlessly captivating—he turns to his coworkers for advice. Unfortunately, they’re just as stumped as he is. Defeated, he decided to take you out for a walk around a nearby town where you’re right at home.

PAIRING: fem!bimbo!reader x spencer

tags: reader is hyper feminine, season10!spencer, reader wears makeup, reader is a little dumb but smart academically, reader is Glinda inspired, use of y/n a few times (sorry!!)

a/n: editor is NOT busy I’m so excited!!

w/c: 1.5k

part 1

SPENCER FLIPPED THROUGH the files mindlessly until a familiar name caught his eye. His curiosity got the better of him as he opened it, scanning the contents. His brows lifted slightly as he read over your academic record—pristine, not a single flaw. Perfect grades, an exhaustive list of extracurriculars, leadership positions, volunteer work—each achievement more impressive than the last.

“Whatcha looking at, kid?” Rossi asked, raising a brow as he peered over Spencer’s shoulder.

“Just some files…” Spencer muttered, resting his chin in his palm.

“Y/N, huh? Trying to get some intel for your date?” Rossi snickered.

“Not exactly, I’m just… impressed.” Spencer shrugged, but the growing crowd around him suggested he wasn’t the only one.

“Holy shit…” Rossi mumbled, pulling the file closer.

“Does she sleep?” Emily asked, tilting her head.

“I’d guess no…” JJ added, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Valedictorian, a dozen honors societies, student government president and theater lead?” Emily read aloud. “That’s not even fair.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile to himself. Of course, you were extraordinary—he had already known that. But seeing the team’s reactions only solidified it.

Morgan chuckled. “Alright, genius, now you really gotta step it up. Where do you even take a girl like that on a date?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Spencer had spent days thinking about it, but the more he learned about you, the more complicated it seemed. He needed to find somewhere that fit all sides of you—your elegance, your ambition, your love for the finer things but also your playful, lighthearted nature.

“Maybe a high-end restaurant?” JJ suggested.

“No, too predictable,” Emily said. “She probably gets taken to those all the time.”

“She likes theater, maybe a Broadway show?” Rossi offered.

“I don’t know…” Spencer tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. A traditional date wouldn’t do. You needed something special, something unique.

Then, it clicked.

He straightened up, a small smile forming as the perfect idea came to him.

A few days later, Spencer stood outside your sorority house, fidgeting with the bouquet of pure pink peonies in his hands. He had done extensive research—peonies symbolized romance, admiration, and prosperity, all of which seemed fitting. Still, his nerves wouldn’t settle. He adjusted his sweater vest for the tenth time, tapping his foot against the pavement.

Then the door swung open, and whatever thoughts he had vanished completely.

You stood there, looking like a literal dream—perfect hair, perfect makeup, a perfectly coordinated outfit that made it seem like you had just stepped out of a magazine. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curled into an effortless smile.

“Oh my gosh, you brought me flowers? That is so sweet, Spencie!” You beamed, taking the bouquet with an excited little squeal. “They’re pink! Did you know pink is, like, my favorite color? Well, second favorite, but like, it totally depends on the day—sometimes it’s first! Oh, and peonies? Ugh, you’re so thoughtful.”

Spencer flushed at the nickname but managed a small smile. “I, um, I did research.”

“Of course you did, you’re like a super genius right? I’m pretty smart myself,” you giggled, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, you gasped. “Oh! I got you something too!”

Before he could even react, you spun on your heel and disappeared back inside, only to return moments later with a bouquet of books, tied neatly with a very large pink ribbon.

“I bought a bunch of books I don’t think you’ve read,” you explained, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you handed them to him.

Spencer raised a brow, inspecting the titles as you walked toward his car together.

“Like… Twilight.” You smirked.

He stopped in his tracks. “I told you I hadn’t read that yet, I thought you guessed when picking them out.”

“Hey! The rest are, like, actual guesses…” you pouted dramatically, sliding into the passenger seat.

Spencer sighed but couldn’t help smiling as he carefully placed the books in the back before getting into the car.

The drive was filled with your excited chatter about everything from your nail appointment (“Look at this shade! It’s called ‘Strawberry Milk,’ isn’t that just darling?”) to a very serious debate about whether cupcakes or cake pops were the superior dessert. Spencer found himself completely captivated by the way you spoke, even if half of it was tangents that had nothing to do with each other.

When he finally pulled into a quiet field lined with endless rows of tulips, you gasped dramatically.

“A tulip garden?” you squealed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Spencer smiled, relieved that he had chosen well. “You love flowers, and tulips symbolize happiness and love, so I thought—”

“Oh my gosh, I love it!” you interrupted, clapping your hands together. “This is, like, the most romantic thing ever.”

You immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the colorful rows of tulips, practically skipping as you twirled between them. Spencer couldn’t help but watch in amusement as you carefully examined each flower, dramatically debating which ones suited your “vibe” the most.

“Pick some with me!” you demanded, holding out a pair of shears the garden provided.

Spencer hesitated. “I don’t usually—”

“Spencieee,” you pouted, fluttering your lashes. “Come on! It’s a date not a…I don’t have a clever fun but you get the point!”

He sighed, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “Fine.”

By the time you were satisfied with your selection, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the field. Then, as if the day couldn’t get any better, you spotted a row of food trucks parked near the entrance.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Street food! We have to get something!”

Spencer barely had time to respond before you grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the trucks. You gasped dramatically at every menu, unable to decide what you wanted until you finally settled on something completely impulsive.

“Thai food truck food is to die for! I could eat it all day for weeks! Here, try this,” you insisted, holding out a bite of your food.

Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “I don’t know, I’m pretty loyal to order” He laughed, taking a bite of his own food

“Spencie,” you pouted again, lower lip jutting out just enough to be dangerous.

He sighed but leaned in, taking a bite. To his surprise, it was actually good.

You clapped excitedly. “See?! You have to trust me more.”

By the time you both settled onto a picnic blanket with your tulips beside you, you were sharing a plate of sweet crepes from a small dessert stand.

“This,” you sighed happily, resting your head on his shoulder, “was literally the best first date ever.” You smiled as you wiped a bit of cream from his lip.

Spencer looked down at you, watching as you absentmindedly kicked your feet, a content smile on your lips.

“Yeah…” he murmured, his own smile growing. “I think so too.”

The jet hummed softly as the team settled in for the flight back home. Spencer sat with his book open, but he wasn’t reading. Not really. He could still hear your laughter, still see the way your eyes lit up at the tulip garden, still feel the warmth of your head resting on his shoulder.

“So… how’d it go, Romeo?” Rossi smirked from across the aisle, swirling his glass of scotch.

Spencer blinked, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Huh?”

Emily leaned in, grinning. “Your date. The one you spent days researching.”

JJ and Derek turned their heads from their conversation, both of them looking far too eager for his liking.

Spencer cleared his throat, flipping the page of his book despite not having read the last one. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Penelope gasped, clutching her chest. “You take the most glamorous, sparkliest girl we’ve ever met on a date and all you have to say is nice?”

“I don’t know what else to say,” he admitted, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. “She was… herself. Very, um… enthusiastic.”

“That’s an understatement,” Emily snorted.

“She brought me a bouquet of books,” Spencer added, finally looking up. “That was… unexpected.”

JJ smiled. “That’s actually really cute.”

“Oh! Oh! Where’d you take her?” Penelope asked excitedly, leaning forward towards the computer camera.

Spencer hesitated before answering. “A tulip garden.”

There was a beat of silence before Rossi whistled. “Not bad, kid. Classy.”

“And food trucks,” he added, as if the whole thing needed more context.

“Oh my god,” Penelope practically melted. “Did you feed each other?”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but the small, almost fond smile on his lips did not go unnoticed.

“I think,” Rossi mused, taking a sip of his drink, “this might actually be good for you.”

Spencer didn’t respond, but as he looked back down at his book, he realized he was still smiling. Twilight was a really…really bad book.

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a series lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly—her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on—and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

[mariasont]

Dress Code - S.R

a/n: got a little carried away with this one, but ugh just imagining spencer reid coming to my defense has me down BAD

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: in which spencer reid doesn't appreciate an agent questioning the length of your skirt

warnings: fluff, a rando flirting/being rude with the reader, mini skirts 4 life, definitely not appropriate for work but spencer doesn't give a FUCK

wc: 1.5k

"Interesting choice of attire for the FBI," the man's voice commented as you paused in the midst of penciling in his meeting with Chief Cruz. "Isn't that skirt a bit... short?"

The man was tall, though not quite as tall as Dr. Reid. His hair, a dark shade that caught the light as he moved (more so because of the liberal amount of gel in it), was neatly trimmed, but it lacked the effortless charm of Spencer's curls.

You had unwittingly set a standard, with Dr. Reid as the benchmark. You tried to go on dates, to distract yourself from the boy genius, but those dates turned into a mental tally--he's not as smart as Spencer, not as kind, not as attractive. 

Maintaining an unshakeable smile, you stood up from your work area. "You think? I just love how it twirls when I spin!"

You demonstrated--the pleated hem of your pink tweed skirt billowing out around you. You wobbled on your heels, a giggle escaping you as you used the desk to steady yourself. Spencer's gaze followed your every move as you tucked a couple stray curls behind your ears.

Spencer intended to maintain a respectful distance, to grant you some space, but he found himself consistently drawn towards you, as if pulled by gravity itself. You were irresistibly captivating, and it wasn't lost on him that this allure undoubtedly affected others just as much.  

His gaze sharpened into a glare, almost tangible in its intensity, directed at the man who hovered too close in your personal space, eyes trailing where they shouldn't as the fabric of your skirt fluttered with your movements.

The agent let out a soft laugh, inching forward to prop his elbows on the desk's edge, his eyes subtly scanning your legs. "I'd wager it becomes quite the tactical distraction during interrogations."

"Oh, I don't go into the interrogation rooms, silly!" you laugh, a melodic ripple in the air, as you ease back down into your chair. 

You cross your legs, one over the other, the action accentuating the graceful lines of your figure, skirt settling into place with a soft rustle. 

The man's smirk broadened, his eyebrow lifting in a choreographed motion. "You don't say?"

Your smile is radiant, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm in his voice. You tilt your head, a soft gesture as you rearrange a vase brimming with colorful flowers on your desk--a thank-you from Garcia for the cupcakes you gifted her with last week.

"Yep! I'm the first face people see here, and I want to make sure it's a good one!"

He nodded slowly, a sly grin spreading across his features. "The first face, huh? I suppose with a view like that, it's hard for anyone to get past the front desk. But isn't it a bit distracting for the agents?"

"I believe it's all about focus. And our team has an exceptional ability to focus, no matter the environment."

It was a welcome surprise to watch Dr. Reid make his way toward you, his walk a familiar lanky stride that somehow managed to be both awkward and graceful. You like his tie today, still crooked, but charming, and it was decorated with blue stripes that trailed up the side. Despite the sharp lines of his suit, there was something so undeniably soft about him. 

"Dr. Reid, I..."

Spencer didn't let him finish his thought. "And speaking of work, I believe Chief Cruz is waiting on you for those files. Best not to make him wait."

You weren't speaking of work, but the agent was quick to excuse himself, nonetheless.

"He seems nice, doesn't he?"

Spencer's lips twitched, on the verge of breaking your idealistic bubble, but he stopped short, arrested by the sincerity shining in your eyes. The idea of spoiling your untainted perspective felt almost sacrilegious, not when your smile was so genuinely sugary it nearly could've brought him to his knees right then and there. 

"Yeah," he conceded, his eyes trailing over your complacent face. "Nice."

You looked down at your skirt, plucking at a thread that had come undone. "You don't think it's too short, do you?"

You stood, ensuring he had a complete view, your palms delicately pressing the fabric down. Spencer's eyes opened a shade wider, the unexpected display catching him off guard. The skirt's length--or lack thereof--left little to the imagination, your thighs on full display, but he'd keep that thought to himself, and with any influence he had, everyone else would as well. 

"No, it's fine, you look lovely."

"Lovely?" your eyes basically shimmered in this light, your chin gently resting in the curve of your palm as you fixed him with an intent stare. "That's high praise."

"Deservedly so."

"Dr. Reid, I'm blushing."

And you were, pink radiating across your neck and cheeks, but he was sure a similar rosy shade was coloring the tips of his ears.

You rose from your chair, circling the desk to position yourself directly in front of him, close enough for him to detect the light scent of Dubble Bubble on your breath. He, almost instinctively, found himself leaning in your direction. 

"I just love how it feels," you noted, hand brushing against the cloth. "It's so soft, see?"

You extended the hem of your skirt towards him. Spencer's hand hesitated, then tentatively touched the fabric, clearing his throat in the process. He was even closer now, the scent of your perfume--what he thought was a mix of roses and a hint of citrus--engulfed him. The skirt was soft like you had said, but it was the warmth radiating from your skin that sent a jolt through him. 

His knuckles grazed against your thigh, whether intentional or not he really wasn't sure. His usual clarity wasn't up to par, not with you standing so close, looking so nice. The world seemed to spin when he was around you.

You let out a giggle, a soft and effervescent sound that seemed to steal the air from his lungs. "Do you see what I mean? It's like wearing a cloud."

His hand snapped back as if touched by fire, his face awash with a flustered glow. "Yes, it's...very soft," he managed, raking his fingers through his hair, his gaze darting to any point but your legs, the memory of its softness scattering his concentration.

You offered a beaming smile, naively unaware to the sheer havoc you wreaked on his senses. He needed to get back to work to prevent any rash decisions--like taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours right there, an act that would certainly mar his professional record. He also wasn't sure you'd appreciate that. 

As though you had plucked the thoughts straight from his mind, your fingertips brushed softly over his chest. "Goodness, I've been rambling on, haven't I? You probably have, like, super important stuff to do."

Your touch seemed to still the air between you, Spencer's breath hitching, momentarily losing his train of thought. "Oh, uh... well, no, it's actually kind of a slow day for me right now."

Your hand, moving from his chest to rest on his arm, offered a tender squeeze. "Oh, that's good, isn't it? You guys are always super busy, it's about time the universe gave you a break, huh?"

Just as Spencer opened his mouth to reply, you bit your lip, cheeks flushed with a sudden realization. "Oh no, I totally just jinxed it, didn't I?"

You quickly rapped your knuckles against the desk. 

Spencer cocked his head to the side, a bemused chuckle escaping him. "What?"

Your words bubbled over with delight, closing the gap between you and Spencer until you were almost chest to chest. "Look at this, I'm the one who is teaching you something for once!" Your smile was wide and uncontainable. "So, knocking on wood--it's supposed to ward off bad luck or reverse a jinx, just like I might have done."

A myriad of scientific retorts teetered on the tip of his tongue, each one ready to debunk the notion of luck and its superstitious rituals. But those thoughts dissolved in the glow of your smile, as radiant and illuminating as an 1800-watt lightbulb. 

"Really? That's fascinating," he mused, his smile soft. "I'll have to remember that."

"Right? Oh, and don't get me started on finding a four-leaf clover. I swear it's lucky. I found one once, and I had the best day ever."

To him, it seemed like you didn't have anything other than good days, despite the statistical improbability. 

"I don't doubt it," Spencer replied with a knowing smile. Noticing the same agent coming out of the hallway, he excused himself. "Well, I'm going to get back. I'll, uh, see you later?"

"You know where to find me," you said.

As you spun to retreat to your desk, he offered a last, discreet glance at your skirt, more specifically the shape of your ass in it, before following after the agent.

"Walk with me, yeah?" Spencer suggested, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was out of character for him, but the way his jaw tightened suggested he didn't care. Once the distance granted privacy from your ears, he stated plainly. "Her attire is not up for discussion. If there's a concern, I'm the one you talk to."

The remainder of his day passed just as slow, and in the back of his mind, he entertained the thought that he had your knock-on wood to thank for that.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[chogiwow]

the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim

... posits, that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent.

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: angst, fluff

au: clumsy assistant x oblivious genius

wc: part 1 - 20k | part 2 - 17.3k | part 3 - 21.2k | part 4 - tba

a/n: had to do sumn sciency geeky for my boyyy. btw ion know shit about galaxies and space and all that, i’m googling my way through this pls be kind ;-;

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

jake sim is a genius. a literal, world-altering, lab-coated prodigy whose brain works at speeds the average person can’t even comprehend.

he is also, unfortunately, a menace to basic workplace efficiency.

you’ve learned this the hard way.

because for all his brilliance, jake has zero awareness of his surroundings. he’ll abandon pens in entirely different departments, walk off mid-sentence because he’s already three equations ahead in his mind, and somehow exist in a state of constant near-calamity – like a human science experiment teetering on the edge of disaster.

which is where you come in.

you, the assistant who keeps his world running. the one who reminds him to eat. the one who nudges a coffee into his hands before he even realizes he needs it. the one who subtly rearranges his misplaced files, retrieves his lost stationery, and – on more than one occasion – has saved his life by yanking him out of the way of an incoming cart of hazardous materials.

you do all of this seamlessly. efficiently. and completely unnoticed.

because jake sim doesn’t know your name.

not really.

you’re just the person who hands him reports and dodges his absentminded shoulder bumps in the hallway. the one he thanks without looking up, too engrossed in his work to register you as anything more than background noise.

which is why the little things don’t make sense.

like the elevator doors opening just when you needed them. like the pens you leave for him somehow finding their way back to your desk.

like the strip of foam padding that appeared overnight on the sharp-edged desk you walked into yesterday, placed so precisely, so intentionally, that you’d think someone had been tracking your movement patterns.

and later, when you catch jake in the break room, frowning in concentration as he absentmindedly presses the foam with his fingertips – testing its durability, like it’s some great scientific mystery – before walking off without a word…

you don’t know what to make of it.

maybe it’s nothing. maybe he’s just kind. maybe this is how geniuses operate – solving problems without realizing the impact of their solutions.

or maybe – just maybe – this is how it starts.

the law of unintended consequences.

because jay had said it once, smug and certain:

"make yourself less available. make him notice the gaps."

and as you run your fingers over the foam padding, you wonder—

if jake sim, in all his effortless brilliance, has finally noticed the empty spaces you left behind.

[mandukkul]

LOVE BETWEEN TWO — n.rk

synopsis: you and riki have different ways of seeing love but, in the end, you'll always know who you'll end up with.

or

moments building up before the first i love you

tags: childhood friends to lovers, non!idollau, neighbour!riki x f! reader, FLUFF!!!, only fluff and comfort :)

warning: proofread but might have some spelling + grammar errors

wordcount: 4.5k

published: 3rd october, 2024

authors note: this oneshot acts as a thankyou for all the followers and love i get!! i’m so sorry for not being more active :( BUT i completed this! and i just want to say THANK YOU FOR 1000!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU WHOLE!!! as much as riki loves you! and as much as we love riki :)

reblogs + comments appreciated

Act 1: loving 

Riki had never understood love – that is, until he met you. He knew he loved many things, like dance, and his family and friends, but if you had asked him if he knew what love meant, he would have buffered like a 2000s-era computer. Of course, Riki knew what love was; he had watched it in K-dramas and had seen it rendered in manga. By their definition, love was hard. Love was hard and difficult and full of miscommunication, but also, love was soft and kind and offered the sweetest touches to one's heart that anyone could ask for.

Love was everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

He then concluded, after the piles of pirated manga and dramas he had accumulated over his 17 years of boyhood, that love was simply you. He didn’t need to be a genius to understand that; he knew if it wasn’t you, then no one was going to fit that definition of love for him. Riki didn’t fully understand love, but he understood you – how he felt about you. You, in all your beautiful glory. Love was your touch, your smile, your laugh. Love was what he looked forward to every day.

You were truly the only exception to his dilemma of love, because with you, love came so easily. Love was just like breathing – it was so effortless when it came to you. Love for you felt like rain kissing his cheeks in humid summers, like snow tickling his nose during winter, like an autumn leaf falling on his head in the fall, like cherry blossoms blooming when spring arrived.

Love for you felt like nature, like it was natural. He was sure he had been born to love you, inside and out. From the moment he had met you at the age of 4, when you were dressed in stained patchwork overalls, obviously from playing in the dirt; your hair tied in uneven pigtails because you had just had to tie them yourself. Your hands clasped some wilted old flowers he had passed while walking Bisco; you had offered them to him as a greeting gift with that cute little grin of yours.

“Hello! Want to be my best friend?”

Four-year-old Riki didn’t know it just yet, though he did have an inkling, but he would be head over heels for the girl in front of him for the rest of his life.

He had stared at the flowers in your hand, weak and slouchy in posture. He looked back up at you and didn’t have the heart to tell you that those flowers were the exact ones Bisco had decided to relieve herself on. So, he took those piss-stained flowers and nodded his head with as much agreement as his little body could give.

At the ripe age of 18, as he watched you from across his window, peering into your room, where you haphazardly flopped onto your bed with exhaustion despite only hanging out in his room all day. He could just tell you had screamed into your bed by the way you flailed around at the edge. He watched you suddenly stop, as if you had run out of battery, flip over to your back, and lay still for a while longer.

He loved you.

You could sense him staring at you, with your strangely acquired Riki-sense. You lifted your head to confirm your theory, and there he was, leaning against the window frame staring into your room. His eyes lay still on the object that was yourself, and he was filled with so much adoration, so much love, so much bliss at even the sight of you.

And yet, you scoffed at his blatant staring, feeling his chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul like the Ghost Rider from the movies. Of course, he had that stupid love-stricken look, and of course, he was already waiting for you to stare back.

Love for you had meant many things – too many things to quite pinpoint the right meaning. As you grew up, you learnt more about love than loss, and hence, you learnt that love hurts.

Love was like the humidity in summer, where the air was too thick, and the wind stuck to your skin; love was like the dullness of autumn, where the wind was cold and brisk but not enough to complain about – just enough to be irritable; love was like winter, where it got so cold you couldn’t even feel your face anymore, the season of sickness and disease that forced you to remain indoors and watch the sky cry frozen tears; love was like spring, when hay fever was at its worst, staining your cheeks with unintentional tears and a stuffy nose.

Love was hard. Love was difficult. Love was confusing.

You remembered every single time something you had loved got lost. The very first time was when the friendship bracelet Riki had made you when you were 5, decorated with mismatched charms and trinkets, disappeared one day when you went to the park. The nights you had spent crying didn’t outweigh the nights 5-year-old Riki had spent consoling and reassuring you that he’d make another one – a better one. But 5-year-old you knew the sentiment that was put into that very first bracelet, the one made without obligation to be replaced.

You remembered wailing about how it wouldn’t be the same, that Riki would have the very first bracelet, and you’d have a stupid second version because you had been careless. Then, you remembered the sound of beads crashing onto the ground, scattering anywhere and everywhere. You were scared you’d slip and crash despite being a giant compared to a measly bead.

“Now I’ll make two new ones so we’ll both be the same again.”

You couldn’t recall a more romantic and pleasant memory, where Riki had been so genuine and cute, so willing to give up something that was his to meet your happiness.

Five-year-old Riki really had you wrapped around his finger from that day on.

Despite your own volition, your heart bloomed and blistered, so full of him. It beat to the spelling of his name (in Morse code), and you couldn’t help but pull the threatening smile down into the scowl you attempted to display.

Like clockwork, your eyes locked with the same amount of love and willingness that you gave yourself credit for. You crawled towards your window and lifted it open so you could talk to him again as if the past 12 hours hadn’t occurred.

He was waiting for you, gazing like the stars had blessed his presence – graced his very being with the holiness that was you.

You had to force yourself to calm the oh-so-obvious flush of your cheeks, putting it down to hike up to your room as the reason for your sudden flare-up.

“Aren’t you tired of looking at me all day?” you remarked, and he was so quick with his reply, “I could never get tired of looking at you.”

Him and his flirty personality. You didn’t remember where he had gotten it from, or how he had developed it. You’d grown up with him all your life, and that part of his personality was still an anomaly.

You let a scoff out, rolling your eyes and folding your arms, blatantly ignoring the ache in your cheeks that you refused to surrender to his love.

“It’s not like I’ll disappear if you blink, relax,” but Riki had never been more relaxed than when he was looking at you. Not just the plain stares he gave during his maths classes, or at the dinner table, or even when he stared at his home screen that was so obnoxiously filled with you, but the type that showed interest, that showed he was immersed, devoured, totally consumed by whatever had his attention.

He liked to think he had found the perfect balance of clinginess and distance but still unknowingly leaned towards pulling you in.

“Most girls would love it if I stared at them,” he had said.

He was right. Nearly every girl at school would have sold an arm and a leg just for the boy to even look in their direction. If you weren’t you, you would have cherished and felt blessed to even have the Nishimura Riki in your presence.

But you were you, and you had grown up with this annoying brat all your life. Even if he could be sweet and sensitive at times, or when he tried to show you he was more man than boy, he was still Riki: your first friend, your best friend, and your first love.

Besides, someone had to keep his beautiful ass humbled, or else he would have resorted to those once-targeted alpha male Andrew Tate ads.

“To be honest, I find it a bit creepy,” you had snickered to yourself as he pouted at your response.

Those cute lips of his.

You had always known how to bring his rising ego down, one way or another.

With your smart and witty remarks, you anchored him just enough so he didn’t fly away and drift into the realm of egoism.

He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fine. I’ll stop looking at you,” he had declared, but his eyes betrayed his words, and his gaze never, not once, pulled away. He had one eye open now, tilting his head away but still, ever so slightly, gazing upon the beauty that you emitted.

And you were still looking. Of course, you were; of course, you would.

You never took your eyes off him because he was just so cute, and his attempt to one-up you in snark was quite endearing.

“Good luck with that,” you had laughed, leaning onto your palm as you watched him sigh in defeat, but not before he caught your own gaze on him.

“Oooh, why are you looking at me like that?” he had prompted, leaning over his window to be closer to you. “Do you think I’m cute?” he wriggled his eyebrows ever so playfully, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“No,” you had deadpanned, dropping your palm down to the frame. He pouted again, more pouty than usual, pulling a frown.

He whined with one of those annoying squeals, something you had grown used to over the years of knowing him. “My girlfriends are so mean to me,” he had said, frowning with his eyebrows pinching and lips pouting. You couldn’t help the small pull of your lips, seeing how comical he was being.

For a split second, you had lingered on his words. “My girlfriend,” he had said with so much pride. “My girlfriend” was all you really heard because he was calling you his girlfriend like it was your name, like it was a prize, a gift, a blessing. “My girlfriend” sounded like honey-laced praises.

He had feigned a gasp at the sight of you trying to hide your smile, and then you had burst into giggles because, of course, you revelled in his misery. But it was okay because the sound of your laughter, that joyous giggle, had erupted because of him, and that was more than enough to subside the little bits of bullying you always seemed to aim at him.

His heart beat along with the rhythm of your laugh.

It was late, and the stars had been watching your tales unfold.

Of a girl whose love yearned and pined, reaching the moon and kissing the ocean. Whose love was kept sacred and scarce, and yet, a love that was sought after, searching for love like hers. One that treasured and was kept safe, a love made of steel but soft like wool. A love that comforted.

And of a boy who loved like no other, so full and so rich. Whose love poured like the rain kissing the ground – endless and fulfilling. A love so abundant, it counted for the world.

There was so much love, too much. It was overbearing, consuming, and it was eating you both alive.

It was overwhelming.

“Hey.”

Your name had left his mouth like honey.

The silence of the gap between your two homes became deafening. Your laugh had slowly died, and your attention had glued onto him alone.

It was now or never.

Riki had known that love was you. He had known that the moment his eyes met yours, his definition had been filled in an instant.

He knew, he had loved – no, he loved you.

His second pause after the call had been enough to erupt a yawn from your lips, ever so slightly slipping past your perfectly shaped lips.

“You should get to bed,” he had said, but the lovesick gaze that you were too tired to catch said everything.

You had fought the urge to ask him what he was really thinking. You were tired, but you knew Riki – your Riki. You knew how his eyebrows pinched a certain way when he contemplated, only further accentuated when he hesitated.

You had his entire face burned into your mind, and your heart.

But for tonight, you had let him and his burning thoughts wait as you slightly nodded.

“I’m not gonna wake you up this time,” you replied, smiling ever so slightly.

You had left your window open, as you always did. Your window to his – it was like you were always together, connected through a fated string that crossed from one pane to the other.

…

Act 2: between 

You had grown to find joy within nothingness—or so you told yourself.

All your life, you had searched for things to put meaning into. Simple commodities that resembled fractions of joy you attempted to keep. As a child, you had never pondered trivial things that would be impossible to find answers to.

You loved the definite, the certain, the things you knew you could hold close to your heart and never let go. Like the grudge you held for the boy who had bullied Riki when he was nine—too fiery of emotions for little you to experience. Your little face had burned red with anger, fists balled and shaking with rage. There had been no stopping nine-year-old you from unleashing divine fury upon the bully. Or like the childhood bracelet Riki made when you were kids, which you had sworn never to remove despite the horrendous combination of charms. A symbol of your eternal friendship.

As you stuffed your locker with yet another textbook you barely cared about, you heard cheers echo against the walls, ricocheting straight into your ears. The stampede of footsteps seemed to hurdle past you, racing toward an unknown presence from across the hall.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know who that presence was. Of course you did. You couldn’t ignore it, not when his fiery gaze burned holes into the back of your head.

You subtly looked over your shoulder, and there he was, in his glorious seven-foot-something stature. You saw how all the girls crowding him seemed to be trying to attract his attention, calling for his name, asking him silly, mundane questions. Anything just for a simple glance, but all Riki could do was stare at you like you were a lost treasure he had just discovered.

His gaze alone spoke a thousand words.

"I wish I could hold you."

"Your hand is mine."

"I want you."

"I need you."

"I miss you."

Those were more your feelings than what you thought his gaze said, but you had an inkling he felt the same way.

In the space between you, from metres away across the hall, you couldn’t help but feel so full of him—him and his love. He was saying nothing, yet the whole world went deaf in his presence.

You could see, miraculously through the heart-eyed girls, how he fidgeted with the little torn hem at the bottom of his shirt, remembering how you had been the culprit for that "measly" (his words, not yours) tear.

You watched as he scratched his neck awkwardly, trying to be as polite as a boy could be when rejecting a starry-eyed girl. They gave him chocolate-covered strawberries—though you knew he’d only eat them if they were microwaved despite your protests—and little love letters he would never end up reading, also despite your pitied protests.

All you wanted to do was pull him out of the crowd of crazed girls, to scream that he was yours—despite often telling him that you weren’t an object and shouldn’t be defined as "mine." Maybe it was jealousy that rippled through your blood, burning with a touch of yearning because, of course, you yearned for him. Every second of the day.

You yearned for his touch, his words, his silence.

Despite your many reluctances to say so, you were so deeply infatuated with Riki, you might as well have sprawled it across your forehead. Every distant look, light feathery touch, gentle breath that brushed against the shell of your ear. Everything he did, you clung to like a hoarder. A stupid, love-stricken hoarder. Every thought of yours was consumed by him, captivated by his every essence. Feminists before you would have shaken their heads, disappointed by how much you thought of Riki.

Frankly, you were too smitten with your dear ol’ boyfriend, even if he claimed you didn’t show enough affection to him.

Maybe it was for the best, as your gazes left each other like strangers with a fleeting glance. Similarly to last night, there was an invisible wall separating the two of you, tension threatening to crack under the pressure.

Riki was still being bombarded by love-sick girls, his longing gaze shifting into more of a plea as he watched you with all the free space he was supposed to take up.

You ignored his plea, of course, turning back around and into your locker. You would speak to him later anyway—it’s what he gets for making you late this morning (you had waited for him, as you always did).

…

Act 3: two

The two of you sit in the silence of your room for a change. The curtains of your window that peer into his room are pulled shut, dimming the space enough that you can only tell his expressions if you’re inches away from each other.

Which you are.

Riki insisted on staying over this time, wanting to leave the musk of his room for once. But really, he misses the sight of your walls.

Plastered across from him are pictures of friends and family, some of him and your shared friend group, others of his sisters and you. He thinks to himself how you have a knack for interior design, pleased with the way you showcase your love through photographs.

You say it eternalises the memories, so even when you’re both old and rotten to match your insides, you’ll always have the days of your youth.

And there’s a little flutter in his stomach when he thinks back to this memory because you said “both.” He loves that you see him forever entangled in your life.

Riki watches you doom-scroll on that godforsaken bird app. He likes to believe he’s got all your micro-expressions down—like the slight twitch of irritation in your eyebrow, the lift at the corner of your lip when you see something funny, or the scrunch of your nose when you see a resurfaced video of Nikocado Avocado.

Riki doesn’t spend half as much time on his education as he does staring at you. You’re awfully beautiful in your (his) shirt and dirty sweatpants. You’ve never bothered putting effort into your appearance when you’re in the comfort of your (or his) room, having known him far too long to care if he thinks your shirt smells like perpetual instant ramen.

His eyes travel from your appearance back to your face, and he just loves you. Loves sitting next to you. Loves seeing your face.Loves your appearance. Loves your personality. Loves that you're the opposite of a breath of fresh air—you’re comforted in his old, musty room.

Because even if he and you were stuck back in his room, you’d never change. You’re constant.

He loves the way your voice drops when you sense your tone’s shifted higher when talking to him, saying you’ll never be caught speaking to him with a babied voice. He loves how you deny his obvious affection for you—behind closed doors, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends. He loves your loudness, your quietness, your happiness, your silence.

He loves you.

He’s going to say it.

As he stares at you, yearning for you, you pretend not to notice the burning gaze of your lover. Twitter lost your attention long ago—the nth tweet about yet another scandal circling the app. Instead, you focus on your breathing. With how wild your heart’s beating, the best you can do is control how you breathe—ensuring you don’t fold in front of the lovely boy cuddled up next to you.

If Riki really knew how much you adored him—his hair, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, him—you’d never hear the end of it.

In truth, you’re simply enamoured with him. You love him. Everything about him. Years of girlhood wasted on a beautiful and sweet boy. Girlhood never prepares you for how to love a boy so lovely, so perfect. You think about how there have only been a few moments in your life where you’ve felt nothing but bliss.

Childhood was easy; ever since that fateful day where you picked a bunch of piss-covered flowers, you had no worries other than befriending the awkward little boy next door.

You’ll be sure to thank your parents’ boss for the move.

Teenhood, not so much; it’s riddled with an array of angst and anxiety. It’s a surprise you’re not imploding from the assignment you’ve been procrastinating or having a philosophical crisis like “what is love?”. But no, teenhood, albeit filled with plenty of anger and sorrow, has its fair share of wonderful moments.

Like right now, sitting in the comfort of your room—for a change. You’ve spent time imagining how your life would unravel, always with him in it, and how it ended up. The pictures plastered across the room aren’t just for show—they’re evidence that you’re happy.

Blissful.

Without Riki, you wouldn’t know what bliss is. Feeling nothing but pure and utter love.

He’s everything perfect about love.

And of course, you’ve said “I love you” plenty of times—80% of those times were when you were just kids. But that was when you were just friends. A silly phrase, really, because if you ask anyone who’s known you two since you were kids, they’d say you guys got married at the ripe age of seven with grass-bladed rings and flower crowns, with any passing animal as witness to your youthful marriage.

But now you’re dating—the dreaded boyfriend-girlfriend status. Nothing’s really changed in your relationship. Riki remains full of love and charisma, his attitude never wavering because, as he puts it, he’s known you were “the one” since you handed him those dirty flowers. You’ve remained witty and lovely as always, retaining the same spunk you had as a kid. The only two differences (soon to be one) are that your status has changed from friends to dating, and you’ve yet to say those three words, eight letters.

The phone that sits in your loose grip almost slips out, clearly losing its purpose of mindless distraction. To your dismay, Riki catches sight of your fumble, noting that you haven’t scrolled in seven minutes.

“Did my shameless staring finally catch your attention?”

He’s shameless, alright.

You drop your phone, staring deep into his dreamy eyes. You remain silent, but your expression tells him everything.

Despite the pull of your eyebrows and the purse of your lips, you love him.

“Say… what’s one thing you love about me?” he prompts, ready to finally tell you those long-awaited words. He’s thought it all out—how he’d list everything he loves about you, like he’s about to write your biography. He’s been dreaming of this moment since you started dating.

You think thoughtfully, like you’re scrounging your brain for an answer, leaving the silence in the room to deafen him with anticipation.

“Hey! Stop thinking so much!” Riki exclaims, offended that you’ve taken more than three seconds to answer, while his response would take 0.003 milliseconds (at least in his mind).

You let out a playful giggle, something you gave up trying to hide long ago. “I’m kidding,” you say, smiling.

“I’m kidding,” he mocks you in his ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

You love many things about him, too many to count. You simply love everything about him, like a reflex you can’t control.

“I love it when you’re silent.”

Riki visibly deflates, a slight frown ghosting his plump lips. His eyebrows pinch into a “what the hell” kind of expression, and his nose scrunches cutely at your words.

But you smile knowingly, taking in his sudden silence. You tune into the stillness of the room.

A rapid heartbeat.

“If you hate talking to me, just sa—”

“Because even when you’re quiet,” you interrupt, stretching your hand out to gently caress his hair, “you’re the loudest in the room.”

Your hand travels from his hair to cup his cheek, and Riki—the ever entranced—instinctively leans into your touch.

“Because you can just look at me, and I hear everything I need to hear.”

Your words are soft, gentle, and Riki swallows the lump in his throat that he hadn’t realised had formed. He stares deeply into your eyes—a different kind of stare than before.

Normally tender and kind, full of unspoken words of love. Now, all you see is devotion.

Riki focuses on the silence you’ve created, tuning into the nothingness that you said you loved about him.

And he thinks he can hear it, the silence.

It’s so loud, it bounces off the walls, pounding in his heart—even you can hear it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“What do you hear?” He pulls you closer, your lips hovering above his, so close he can feel your breath.

“I hear ‘I love you.’ ”

Your lips mould against his before he can respond, but something tells him that you know. And besides, he has a lifetime's worth of “I love yous”— he’ll let you have this one.

author's note pt.2: its been more than a year since i made this wip and i finally finished it LOLLL it took me so longggg ANDDD i feel like its a bit lackluster in the second act... ENJOY THOUGH. i love the the ending

[bvrnesher]

Hey, love your writing and was wondering if you'd be comfortable writing a Leo Valdez X reader smut with some brat taming in it. Hope you have a good day

۶ৎ — Grease and Tease

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: unprotected piv, teasing, language, brat taming, smut !! rushed ending

ㅤ୨ৎ —˳ leo valdez ! fem. reader

summary: reader is being a brat, bored, and craving attention. Leo, being the great partner he is, gives them exactly what they want—in his way.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗘𝗥 𝟵 was thick with the scent of oil and metal, the steady hum of machines filling the space as Leo worked. He was in his element—grease-streaked hands moving with effortless precision, eyes narrowed in concentration as he tinkered with something half-finished on the workbench. Sparks flared every now and then, catching the sharp lines of his face in the dim light, but he barely flinched.

You, on the other hand, were bored.

Leaning against the cluttered workbench, you tapped your fingers against the metal surface, watching him work. He hadn’t looked up in at least twenty minutes, completely lost in whatever genius-level project he was messing with. Normally, you’d let him be, but something about the way he was so focused, so serious, made you want to push him. Just a little.

“So,” you drawled, reaching for a nearby screwdriver and spinning it between your fingers, “is this your idea of a romantic date? Ignoring me while you play with your little toys?”

Leo exhaled sharply through his nose, still not looking up. “Unless you wanna help, maybe don’t touch stuff. That’s a high-density micro—” He stopped mid-sentence when you deliberately set the screwdriver down with a loud clank and hopped onto the workbench beside him, swinging your legs.

“Oops.”

That finally got a reaction. He turned his head slightly, giving you a pointed look. “You really wanna test me right now?”

You grinned. “I dunno. You’ve been so caught up in your work, I was starting to wonder if I should find someone else to entertain me.”

Leo’s hands stilled over his project. For a second, the only sound was the distant whir of machinery and the faint drip, drip of a leaking pipe somewhere in the room. Then, with deliberate slowness, he set his wrench down and rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck like he was getting ready for something.

When he finally turned to face you fully, the teasing light in his eyes had darkened into something else. Something more intent.

"You sure you wanna go there, chiquita?" His voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it, like a wire pulled too tight. He stepped closer, bracing his hands on either side of you on the workbench, effectively caging you in. “Because if you keep running that mouth, I will give you something to do with it.”

A shiver ran through you—not fear, but something much more dangerous. Something much more exciting.

And still, you couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned in just enough to brush your lips close to his ear, your voice barely above a whisper. “Promises, promises.”

Leo let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. "Man, you really don’t know when to quit, huh?"

He braced his hands on the workbench, leaning in just enough to crowd your space without touching you. His eyes flicked over your face—your smug little smirk, the way you were just waiting for him to react.

"Y'know, mi amor," he continued, voice smooth but with an edge of warning, "I was gonna be nice. Finish my work, maybe give you some attention after I saved the world or whatever. But you? You just had to start something."

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Leo clicked his tongue. "Yeah? Let’s recap. You’ve been talking all this smack, distracting me, touching my stuff—" he gestured toward the tool you’d dropped earlier "—and now, what? You’re just sitting here, looking at me like I won’t do something about it."

You shrugged. "I mean, you haven’t yet."

Leo blinked once, slow, before exhaling through his nose. Then, without warning, his hands shot out, gripping your thighs and yanking you forward on the workbench until you were flush against him. The move was effortless, like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

"Whoa, would you look at that?" he mused, tilting his head. "Seems like I can do something about it."

You sucked in a breath, but before you could say anything, Leo’s hands skimmed up your legs, thumbs traced absent-minded circles against your skin, like he wasn’t in a rush. Like he had all the time in the world.

"You wanted my attention, right?" he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. "Well, you got it. Hope you can handle it."

And just like that, the playful teasing was gone. The air between you shifted—still charged, but now? Now, it was Leo calling the shots.

"Come on, don’t tell me—" you started to say, but the words died on your lips the moment Leo’s hands slid under your skirt. The very skirt you had chosen for this exact purpose. Easy access.

He looked at you with that signature smirk, fingers ghosting over your skin. You shivered under his touch, and oh, he noticed. Of course, he did. For once, Leo stayed silent as he pushed the fabric higher, fingertips tracing the edge of your panties.

A quiet chuckle nearly escaped him when he felt the dampness of the fabric. Well, if that wasn’t a boost to his ego.

"Seriously?" he said, amusement lacing his voice. "I haven’t even done anything."

"Shut up," you muttered. "You can’t exactly blame me for wanting my boyfriend's attention, can you?"

He chuckled and leaned into you, letting his breath hit your skin before he whispered, “Okay, you have my attention.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, his lips found their way to your neck, placing soft kisses on the warmth of your skin. He let out a satisfied hum.

You felt his hand on the waistband of your panties and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs. His touch was like fire, and out of instinct you tried to move your hips, moving closer to his hand, trying to get more. As soon as you did, he stopped.

“We’re impatient, aren’t we?” He said in a teasing tone, but it didn’t take long for him to let his fingers graze your cunt over the fabric of your panties, applying light pressure, until you cried out, begging him for more.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, Leo hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. “Lift your hips for me, my love,” he said, placing a hot kiss on your neck, accompanied by a playful bite.

You did as he asked and without a word, he slid your panties down your legs, stuffing them into his pocket and winking at you. “I’ll keep these.”

“Leo…” Before you could protest, his finger slid into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure flooding your body. He silenced your sounds with his lips, muffling your moans with his own. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and his tongue tangled with yours as his fingers pushed a little deeper into you, caressing you and making your mind stop working.

The strokes of his fingers were slow, measured. Leo never did that. Ever.

“Faster,” you moaned, your lips swollen from the kiss. Leo shook his head as he slid a second finger inside, making your eyes flutter shut.

“No,” he said, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck, sucking in all the right places. “You’re gonna take what I give you.”

"Oh...." You cried, squirming at the pleasure of his fingers slowly sliding in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds.

His fingers danced over your clit, and your back arched, you breath leaving you with a gasp. Suddenly, he hurried the pace, his fingers workings faster on you.

"Wait, wait—" you tried to speak, but the pleasure was overwhelming. "Leo, slow down—"

"I said," he started, his voice low and teasing, "you’re gonna take what I give you."

You felt your orgasm approaching faster than you would have liked, your abdomen tightening. Leo felt it too, and then he pulled his hand away, adding, “When I decide to give it to you.” With that, your orgasm was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Leo, please…” You weren’t begging, obviously not.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, giving him a look you knew Leo could never resist. And he didn’t. At least not entirely, because as soon as those words left your swollen lips, a mischievous glint appeared on Leo’s.

“Oh, trust me,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck, leaving a smoldering glow behind every kiss he pressed against your skin. “I will.” With that, he pulled away enough to unbutton his pants and pull them down along with his boxers, wasting no time in removing them completely, leaving them halfway down his thighs. You weren’t the only one who was eager.

His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing in anticipation. He gave it a few strokes before placing a hand on your knee, helping you make more room for him.

He positioned himself between your legs, gripping your calves to pull you closer. He took his length, guiding it into your folds, letting his tip, already dripping precum, slide between your slick folds. Leo let out a moan at the sensation, only to then let his tip brush against your swollen clit.

You moaned, Leo’s free hand tangling in your hair, pulling you to him and devouring your lips with an urgency he didn’t even know he had. You tried to use your hands to touch him, but he wouldn’t let you. He let go of your hand and pulled away to grab your wrists.

“When did I say you could touch me, baby?” And with a smile gracing his lips, he rubbed your entrance and let himself slide inside your pussy in one swift, unexpected movement. A breathless, guttural sound escaped your lips.

“Oh my god!” you moaned in pleasure as you felt his cock stretching you out. Throwing your head forward, you buried your face in your boyfriend’s neck as he pulled your hips into him, almost desperate to take you deeper as he thrusted into you.

"Leo, slow down… wait, Leo…” The sensations coursing through your body were too much for you to handle. Searing sparks of heat pooled in your tummy, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with an urgency that increased with each quickening pace of Leo’s thrusts.

“Yeah, does that feel good?” He moaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, everything he could reach. All you could do was nod your head in agreement as your walls tightened around him, gripping his cock as you came, cumming all over his shaft as he chased his own pleasure.

Your cheeks burned, beads of sweat sliding down your boyfriend’s forehead, his eyebrows furrowed as he let out grunts and moans. When you whispered his name in a soft, sweet moan, he found his own release, filling you up with his cum as his thrusts slowed to a stop.

Your breathing steadied, but Leo gave no indication of pulling out of you.

“That was…” you began, but Leo placed a finger over your lips, silencing you. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving anytime soon, beautiful.”

a/n: i hated how i writed this one 😭

[gothwizardmagic]

god ok also gotta say as a choreographer, whoever did the superbowl choreo was a fucking GENIUS like. it manages to be so effective without ever being flashy or complicated & like. flashy & complicated are great but to do the basics this effectively is PHENOMENAL. the repeated motifs are so striking and so strong and so CLEAR in their meaning its PAINFULLY effective - the contrast of more relaxed dancers just vibin and having a good time at the beginning & end, when its just people being themselves vs. "what america wants" - disquieting, emotionless, rigid lines of soldiers throwing salutes while kendrick & sza are singing on stage in the middle, keeping the people entertained & distracted as the goose-stepping dancers circle like sharks

and thats not to even mention the SCALE - working with such crisp colour lines in such an ENORMOUS group is staggering to even fathom like. making sure all the reds are in the right place at the right time & you dont have someone who was a blue in one section but accidentally wound up in the white group somewhere in the shuffle....... the formations are UNBELIEVABLY complex & span such an enormous space, its mind blowing to think about. over a hundred dancers. over a HUNDRED people to keep track of at all times to make sure they're getting from one place to another in the right way at the right times in the right formations. over a HUNDRED.

the dancers executed FLAWLESSLY too - taking big steps and remaining PERFECTLY in line is incredibly hard & they made it look effortless. the amount of split-second transitions to nail and vibe-shifts to hit.... oh my god. also shot to the camerapeople who were working their asses off on those transitions just as much as kendrick & the dancers were

also thinking of scale like... arena choreography and stage/film choreography are VERY different things. on a stage or in a music video etc. you have ONE front. at most on a big stage the audience might wrap slightly around the sides but generally speaking, you're choreographing for the people or camera in front of you, and they're gonna have a pretty good view of your face the whole time. arenas are MASSIVE, and there are people on ALL SIDES. you can't pick A Front, you have to be entertaining people all around you simultaneously, which means completely rethinking how things are structured. you also can't rely on detail nearly as much, because the audience is Really far away. even if there are screens, you want to make sure that there's something to look at on the stage itself, so the audience doesn't feel like they're just watching a music video. it's still a live show & you want it to feel like one

so theres a balance to strike between giving the individual artist focus & acknowledging that they literally... can't face every direction at once. even if kendrick is facing away, there are always dancers doing something that'll be visually striking at a distance for the audience to enjoy. but at the same time because there ARE cameras, it also has to work for video & HAVE those detailed up-close elements, so the footage doesn't just look like a guy bopping around with people walking past him for the whole time. the most effective example i can think of is in peekaboo - the groups of white-clothed dancers in the X is visually strong from a distance - even if you can't see exactly what's going on, it's an interesting visual, whereas up close you have the strong music video feel of kendrick popping up out of nowhere; of all these different up close groups of dancers giving their full performance directly to one front while that front is rotating from one group to another, as opposed to the multiple surrounding fronts on the main stage. it transitions from an arena show to a music video (and then back when he walks out onto the main stage with that trail of dancers so the visual is most effective from above rather than up close) SO EFFORTLESSLY and makes absolutely brilliant use of the space

this is literally jsut stream of consciousness it could definitely all be phrased better & honestly i could keep talking for a Long time like i didnt even get in depth abt the use of colour in the costuming & the way every costume is slightly unique in the up close shots but when you pan out to the stadium they become lines of clones like. god i could go on!!!! i coudl go on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its a masterpiece choreographically fr its elegant its communicative its mindbogglingly complex ive watched it five times now trying to absorb as much as i can

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

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After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar. 

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive. 

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real. 

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again. 

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right. 

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide. 

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

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[w1w2]

A Game of Almosts

Part 2 - Three Words, Eight Letters

Karina x Fem!Reader feat. Winter

Word Count: ca. 8k

Synopsis: Amid the elite halls of Yonsei University, Y/N and Karina navigate a friendship laced with unspoken tension, lingering glances, and the weight of everything left unsaid. As their world of luxury and power shifts around them, Y/N begins to question whether waiting for Karina will ever be enough.

Req by 🐻 anon

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The sun hung high over the sprawling campus of Yonsei University, casting long shadows across its historic, ivy-clad buildings. This wasn’t just Korea’s top university, it was a symbol of power, a place where the children of billionaires, politicians, and entertainment moguls walked the same halls, each one groomed for greatness. Every corner of Yonsei whispered of old money, of dynasties built over decades, of futures already mapped out before students even set foot on campus.

To study here was an honor. To rule its social scene? That was a privilege granted to only a select few.

At the very top stood as everyone called them The Power Group.

Six women. 

Y/N, Karina, Giselle, Ningning, Yeji, and Ryujin, who embodied wealth, influence, and an effortless magnetism that made them the undisputed elite. Their last names were printed on the glass towers of Gangnam, their families' businesses controlled entire industries, and their mere presence could elevate a casual gathering into an event worth talking about.

People watched them from a distance, careful not to stare too long, yet unable to look away. They were untouchable, unattainable, yet endlessly fascinating, a world of their own, one that everyone wanted to be a part of, but no one could reach.

At the center of it all was Y/N.

A girl whose smile had the power to melt even the coldest hearts. She was the embodiment of sunshine, effortlessly charming, perpetually warm, and with an energy so infectious that people found themselves drawn to her before they even realized it. With a heart-shaped face and expressive eyes that sparkled with mischief, she had a beauty that felt both delicate and undeniable. Though she exuded an air of playful confidence, there was a sincerity in her laughter, a softness in the way she carried herself that made her impossible to resist.

Where Y/N was light, Karina was ice. 

Karina was the epitome of poise and control, a woman who carried herself with an effortless grace that made her seem almost untouchable. With a strikingly symmetrical face, sharp eyes, and a tall, elegant frame, she had the kind of beauty that felt almost unreal, like something sculpted rather than born. She was intelligent, meticulous, and always composed, a perfectionist raised in the world of corporate dynasties where power was a game of patience and precision.

On the surface, Karina was cool and calculating, her emotions kept under tight lock and key. But those who truly knew her, an exclusive, almost nonexistent list, understood that beneath the icy exterior was something far more complex. There was a quiet protectiveness in the way she handled the people she cared about, a depth to her loyalty that she would never admit aloud.

Yet, even among their circle, Karina remained an enigma, a woman who could command attention with a single glance yet remained just out of reach, her true feelings buried beneath carefully crafted indifference.

The rest of the Power Group played their roles seamlessly, each one an essential piece of the empire they had built. They weren’t just a group of wealthy, beautiful women. They were a force, a dynasty in their own right, each member carrying a presence so distinct yet perfectly in sync with the others.

Giselle, the sharp-tongued genius, was the strategist of the group. With a razor-sharp wit and an uncanny ability to read people, she knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Her words could be a weapon or a lifeline, depending on how she chose to wield them. Effortlessly cool and disarmingly intelligent, Giselle never had to try too hard, she was the kind of person who naturally drew people in, even as she kept them at arm’s length. Her family’s influence in global finance had given her a mind trained for power, and though she often wore a laid-back smirk, everyone knew better than to underestimate her.

Ningning was the wildcard, the unpredictable one, the kind of girl who could go from laughing over expensive champagne to stirring up trouble in the blink of an eye. She was as bold as she was stunning, her confidence carrying an almost reckless charm that made her impossible to ignore. She thrived on chaos, on pushing boundaries, on keeping things exciting. With a devil-may-care attitude and a mischievous glint in her eye, Ningning kept even the most composed members of the group on their toes, never letting anything get too serious for too long. But behind that playful exterior was a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, she was no fool, and she never played a game she couldn’t win.

Yeji and Ryujin were a force of their own, a duo that balanced sharp wit with sheer intimidation. Yeji, the composed and calculating one, had an air of quiet authority that demanded respect without ever needing to ask for it. She was the group’s silent observer, the one who saw everything, always three steps ahead in any situation. Where Yeji was refined and strategic, Ryujin was bold and commanding, carrying herself with an effortless confidence that made people hesitate before daring to cross her. Together, they were an unshakable presence, whether through influence, intelligence, or sheer dominance, they knew how to make people fall in line without needing to lift a finger.

Together, the six of them weren’t just a friend group, they were an empire, an unspoken hierarchy that the rest of Yonsei University unconsciously bowed to. They didn’t need to declare their power. It was simply understood.

Though the Power Group was impenetrable, an undeniable shift occurred when it came to Y/N and Karina.

Their connection ran deeper than the others’, woven into the very foundation of their lives. They had grown up together, their names tied to each other since childhood, their families intertwined through business and legacy. To the outside world, they were simply best friends, a natural pairing, two daughters of conglomerates who had known each other longer than they had known themselves.

But there was something more.

Something lingering in the way Karina’s gaze would hold onto Y/N just a second too long, her normally unreadable expression softening, as if caught in a moment she didn’t want to admit to. Something in the way Y/N’s teasing carried an edge, her playful words laced with a challenge, as if daring Karina to acknowledge what they both pretended wasn’t there.

Their interactions were effortless yet loaded, a shoulder brush that sent shivers, a shared look across a crowded room that spoke volumes, a casual touch that lasted a second too long. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection so deep it blurred the lines between what was friendship and what was something else entirely.

And yet, they denied it.

To the public, Y/N and Karina were just two childhood friends, inseparable but strictly platonic. Their names were often thrown together in whispered gossip, speculation running wild about whether they were more than what they claimed to be. But Karina dismissed the rumors with a flick of her wrist, a smirk tugging at her lips as if the idea itself was ridiculous. She was practiced in avoidance, in brushing things off, in controlling every narrative that threatened to slip out of her grasp.

Y/N, on the other hand, never confirmed nor denied anything. She simply laughed. A knowing, teasing kind of laugh, the kind that gave people nothing yet made them wonder even more. If someone asked, she’d raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips, as if amused by the question itself.

But their friends saw the truth, hidden in the stolen moments, in the tension thick enough to suffocate.

They saw it in the way Karina’s fingers would tighten around Y/N’s wrist whenever she tried to walk away, her grip just firm enough to hold her there, just gentle enough to pretend it wasn’t out of desperation.

They saw it in the way Y/N’s mood would shift depending on Karina’s presence, how she could be laughing one second, but the moment Karina entered the room, everything else faded into the background. Her eyes would instinctively find her, drawn to her like gravity.

They saw it in the way Karina’s face would soften, how the ice that usually shielded her from the world would melt away whenever she looked at Y/N, when she thought no one else was watching.

It was a game they had played for years, balancing on the line between too much and not enough, pretending that the tension wasn’t suffocating.

A push and pull, a cycle of longing and denial. A storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Long before they were Karina and Y/N, before their names became the subject of whispered gossip and admiration, they were simply Jimin and Y/N, two children born into privilege, yet seeking something only the other could provide.

Their friendship had been written in stone before they were even old enough to understand it. Their parents, both titans of industry, had long moved in the same circles, their empires intertwined through business, influence, and unspoken alliances. From the moment they were born, their lives had been parallel, two heirs growing up in the same opulent spaces, expected to walk the same gilded path.

Their earliest memories were of summer afternoons spent running through the vast estate of the Yu family, their laughter bouncing off the grand marble walls of Karina’s childhood home. The estate itself was something out of a dream, endless gardens stretching toward the horizon, a private lake reflecting the golden hues of the sky, corridors so vast that their younger selves could get lost in them for hours.

Y/N remembered the feeling of Karina’s small hand gripping hers, leading her down secret hallways, through hidden doors, into spaces only they knew. She remembered midnight escapades, the two of them sneaking out of bed, tiptoeing past their parents’ grand dinner parties, muffling their giggles as they stole sweets from the lavish dessert trays before making their escape into the gardens.

And then there were the quiet moments, the ones that stayed with Y/N the most.

Late nights spent whispering beneath silk sheets, Karina’s voice hushed but full of curiosity as they spoke about the future, about what they would become, about whether they would always be together like this. The warmth of Karina’s head resting against her shoulder, the steady rhythm of her breath as sleep slowly took her away. The way Karina’s eyes, so guarded in front of others, would soften in the dim glow of their shared childhood, revealing something fragile, something real.

Jimin.

That was what Y/N called her back then. The name only Y/N was allowed to use, a privilege she had never taken lightly. No one else, not their parents, not their friends, not the world that worshiped Karina, would ever be allowed to utter that name the way Y/N did, like a secret, like a promise.

Even as children, Y/N knew.

She knew that what she felt for Karina was different. It wasn’t just friendship, wasn’t just the deep-rooted bond of two girls who had grown up as sisters in all but blood. It was something bigger, something unspoken, something that made her chest feel too tight whenever Karina pulled away, something that made her crave the moments when Karina’s walls would crack just enough for Y/N to slip through.

But Karina? Karina had always been careful.

Even as a child, she was cautious, measured, never allowing herself to feel too much, never letting anything slip beyond what she could control. She cared for Y/N, that much was obvious, but even back then, Y/N could sense Karina’s hesitance. The way she would let herself get close, but never too close. The way she would reach for Y/N, but never hold on for too long.

It had been that way ever since.

And no matter how much Y/N wanted to believe otherwise, some things never changed.

The shift came on a night that should have been just like any other.

They were alone in Y/N’s dorm, the warmth of the room wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon. The city lights outside flickered through the tall windows, casting soft, golden shadows along the walls, making the space feel more intimate than it was. The faint hum of traffic from the streets below filled the silence between them, a distant reminder that the world outside still existed, even if, in this moment, it felt like it had faded away.

They had been drinking champagne stolen from an exclusive event earlier that evening, its expensive bubbles still fizzing in the half-empty glasses on the coffee table. Neither of them had really been trying to get drunk, but there was something about the stolen luxury, the quiet rebellion of it, that had made it taste sweeter. Y/N sat with her legs folded beneath her, her head resting against the back of the couch, while Karina lounged beside her, legs stretched out, fingers absentmindedly twirling the stem of her glass.

There was a stillness to the moment, a rare kind of quiet comfort that neither of them ever spoke about but always cherished. Karina looked different like this, softer, more open, the usual tension in her shoulders gone. The dim lighting smoothed out the sharp edges of her face, made her seem almost fragile, almost reachable.

It was in moments like this that Y/N let herself wonder.

Wonder what it would be like if Karina let herself want this, want her. If she would ever stop hiding behind carefully measured glances and playful denials. If there would ever be a day when Y/N didn’t have to guess, didn’t have to settle for almost.

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the exhaustion of pretending.

But this time, she reached for her.

Her fingers brushed against Karina’s wrist, a slow, deliberate touch that trailed upward until she could feel the warmth of Karina’s pulse beneath her fingertips. A quiet inhale, barely audible over the space between them. Karina didn’t move, she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either. Her stillness spoke louder than words.

Y/N exhaled softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You know,” she murmured, her fingers still resting against Karina’s skin, “sometimes I think about what it would be like if we didn’t have to pretend.”

She felt it then, the slightest tremor in Karina’s wrist, the way her pulse jumped under Y/N’s touch. For a second, just a second, it felt like the whole world had stopped breathing.

Karina’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

She just stared.

And then, as if snapping back into herself, she laughed.

A quiet, airy sound that should have been lighthearted, but felt like a wall being rebuilt in real time. It was carefully crafted, forced in a way that made Y/N’s stomach twist.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karina said, shaking her head as if Y/N had suggested something as absurd as moving to Mars. Her tone was easy, playful, the same way it always was when she was dismissing something that mattered. “We’re just… us.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

The air between them, once charged with something fragile and electric, turned cold.

Y/N let her hand fall away, curling her fingers into her lap as if trying to erase the touch entirely. She forced a grin, mirroring Karina’s effortless amusement, pretending it didn’t sting. Pretending it didn’t feel like she had just been made a fool of.

But something inside her cracked, something small, but significant.

Because in that instant, she realized that as long as Karina refused to acknowledge what was between them, as long as she kept pretending it wasn’t real, Y/N would always be the one left feeling foolish.

And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if being "just us" was enough anymore.

Y/N didn’t bring up that night again.

She didn’t reach for Karina’s hand, didn’t press for answers, didn’t let herself fall into that same cycle of almosts and what ifs. Instead, she let Karina’s laugh echo in the back of her mind, let it settle like a dull ache in her chest, and convinced herself that this, whatever this was, would never change.

Maybe Karina thought Y/N had accepted it. Maybe she thought Y/N would always be there, waiting, willing to play along with the silent, unspoken push and pull they had fallen into over the years.

But if Karina thought Y/N would stay in this emotional limbo forever, she was wrong.

Because it wasn’t just that one moment in the dorm. It was every moment after it.

The way Karina still acted like she always did, possessive, territorial, constantly hovering, but never in a way that meant something real. She was always there, standing too close, fingers ghosting over Y/N’s wrist, whispering things that made Y/N’s heart stutter, but the moment anyone else acknowledged it? The moment Y/N wanted more?

Karina erased it.

She would lean in but never stay, touch but never hold, watch but never claim. Always there, but never enough.

And Y/N was tired of it.

She was tired of being treated like something Karina couldn’t let go of, but couldn’t keep, either. Tired of the stolen moments, the fleeting touches, the way Karina’s eyes would soften when no one was looking, only for her to turn cold the moment anyone else noticed.

And then came the final push.

It was an extravagant evening, one of those dinners that only the richest, most powerful students at Yonsei could attend. The restaurant was luxurious, private, their usual crowd filling the most exclusive table in the room. The air hummed with quiet conversations, laughter spilling over the rim of expensive wine glasses, servers moving like shadows between tables, ensuring that every need was met before it was even voiced.

As always, the Power Group sat in their usual formation, Giselle effortlessly charming the room, Ningning and Ryujin caught up in some playful argument, Yeji sitting back with that knowing smirk of hers. And, of course, Karina beside Y/N, like always.

The conversation had drifted to them.

To Y/N and Karina. To the way people always seemed to watch them a little too closely, to the way they moved around each other, to the rumors that never seemed to die no matter how many times they denied them.

Y/N wasn’t paying attention at first.

She was too distracted by Karina’s fingers, idly toying with the stem of her wine glass, her nails tapping lightly against the delicate crystal. Too caught up in the way Karina’s knee brushed against hers under the table, just the faintest touch, one that she could have pulled away from but didn’t.

But then she heard it.

“You and Y/N are basically a couple, right?”

It was said so casually, so teasingly, that it shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

Because for the briefest second, Y/N let herself hope.

She let herself believe, just this once, that maybe, just maybe, Karina wouldn’t dismiss it this time. That maybe, this time, Karina would acknowledge it. That maybe, for once, Karina would meet her halfway.

Instead, Karina barely reacted.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, her lips curving into an amused smirk as if the mere thought of it was laughable.

“Don’t be stupid.” Her voice was light, dismissive, so easy. “She’s just my best friend.”

Best friend.

Y/N felt the words like a physical thing. A cold, sharp knife to the gut.

The room didn’t change. People kept talking, the music still played softly in the background, waiters continued pouring wine. Everything remained exactly the same, except for the way Y/N’s world tilted slightly, just enough to make her feel like she was falling.

She should have been used to this by now, Karina’s refusal, Karina’s indifference when it mattered, Karina’s ability to shut down every possibility of them with a single sentence.

But tonight, it felt different.

Tonight, it felt like a slap in the face.

Because tonight, Y/N was done pretending that it didn’t hurt.

She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe through the sting, to hold herself together, to smile like it didn’t matter.

And then, without a word, she pushed her chair back, excused herself, and stepped outside.

The cool night air hit her instantly, sharp against the heat still clinging to her skin. She exhaled slowly, pressing her hands against the railing of the balcony, staring out at the cityscape below. Seoul stretched out before her, bright, endless, indifferent.

She waited. Some foolish part of her still believed Karina would come after her.

But Karina didn’t. She never did.

The next morning, Y/N made a decision.

She wasn’t ready to cut Karina out of her life completely. Maybe she never would be. There was something about Karina, something in the way her presence felt like home and destruction all at once, that made the idea of walking away seem impossible. 

How could she sever something that had been a part of her for so long? How could she erase years of intertwined memories, of laughter shared under childhood blankets, of whispered secrets, of lingering touches that never quite meant enough?

No, she wasn’t ready for that, but she was ready for something else.

She was ready to stop waiting.

Waiting for Karina to change, to wake up one day and finally realize that Y/N had been there all along, standing at the edge of her world, waiting to be let in. Waiting for Karina to want her back, to stop treating her like a secret too fragile to acknowledge in the light of day. Waiting for Karina to choose her, to finally say the words Y/N had spent years aching to hear.

But Karina wouldn’t. She never had and deep down, Y/N was starting to wonder if she ever would.

So when she walked into her economics lecture next morning, shoulders still heavy with the weight of last night’s rejection, she didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary, just another dull class, another assignment that barely held her interest, another hour spent trying to convince herself that she wasn’t thinking about Karina.

She barely paid attention as the professor droned on about their upcoming group project, listing off student pairings with the kind of monotonous tone that made the words blur together. Y/N let her eyes drift, staring absently out the window, watching the way the early morning light cast golden reflections over the rooftops of Seoul, painting the city in soft, muted hues.

And then she heard it.

Her name.

Snapping back to attention, she sat up a little straighter, blinking as her professor continued.

And then he said another name.

Kim Minjeong, known as Winter.

The name rang out through the lecture hall, crisp and clear, cutting through the haze in Y/N’s mind. She blinked again, tilting her head slightly, as if she hadn’t heard correctly.

She knew the name. Everyone at Yonsei University knew the name and for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt something other than heartbreak. It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t an immediate, earth-shattering moment of clarity. It was something smaller, something quieter, but something real.

Maybe relief. Maybe curiosity. Maybe fate nudging her in the right direction.

Whatever it was, she took it as a sign. Winter was different.

Where Karina was sharp edges and suffocating tension, an endless cycle of push and pull that left Y/N feeling strung along, dizzy, and uncertain, Winter was easy, like exhaling after holding her breath for too long.

She didn’t smother. She didn’t confuse. She didn’t make Y/N feel like she was standing on unsteady ground, teetering between hope and heartbreak, waiting for something that would never come.

Winter was steady, a quiet presence that carried weight without ever demanding it. She wasn’t cold, not exactly, but there was a kind of measured detachment to the way she moved through the world, as if nothing could rattle her, as if she had long ago learned how to exist without needing the validation of anyone else. People noticed her, but not because she sought their attention, she simply had a presence that made it impossible to look away.

Y/N had seen her before, of course. Everyone in Yonsei knew Winter.

She was a music major, but she didn’t fit the stereotype of an eccentric artist, the kind who wore their emotions on their sleeve, who poured every thought and feeling into the world without restraint. No, Winter was the opposite of that. She was contained, unreadable, effortlessly charismatic yet somehow distant, like she existed on an entirely different wavelength from the rest of them.

People whispered about her.

Rumors surrounded her like an aura of mystery, but Winter never entertained them.

They said her family was old money, deeply entrenched in Korea’s entertainment industry, controlling the very foundations of pop culture itself. They said her parents had already mapped out her future for her, had crafted a carefully constructed path for her to follow, one that led straight to the boardrooms of an empire she didn’t want to inherit.

Winter was supposed to be next in line.

She was supposed to be sitting in business meetings instead of lecture halls, supposed to be preparing to take over one of the country’s largest entertainment conglomerates. But instead, she spent her time in soundproofed studios, fingers dancing over piano keys, lost in the kind of passion that had nothing to do with profit margins or market trends.

And yet, here she was.

Forced to take economics, forced to sit through courses that held no meaning to her, forced to solve equations for a future she didn’t want. Y/N could relate to that.

Maybe that was why, when they sat next to each other for the first time, when Y/N turned to her, hesitated for a split second before offering a small, uncertain smile, Winter simply raised an eyebrow, smirked, and said, “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

There was something so effortless about it, something light, something freeing in a way that Y/N hadn’t felt in a long time.

And just like that, Y/N felt the first piece of herself begin to realign.

Their first meeting outside of class took place at a quiet coffee shop nestled between the bustling streets of Sinchon, a small, tucked away place that smelled of freshly ground espresso and warm vanilla. It was the kind of café that only locals knew about, a haven away from the crowded student-packed chains near Yonsei’s campus, somewhere discreet, somewhere safe from wandering eyes and unnecessary attention.

When Y/N stepped inside, the soft hum of music playing through the speakers mixed with the occasional clinking of porcelain cups, the atmosphere calm, intimate, undisturbed. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of emotions she had been drowning in for the past few days, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to exhale.

Her eyes instinctively scanned the room, and there she was.

She was already seated in a corner booth by the window, bathed in soft afternoon light, her fingers idly twirling a pen between them. In front of her lay an open notebook, pages slightly curled at the edges, an untouched latte sitting beside it, the foam still perfectly intact. She looked effortless, like she had been there for hours, like she belonged in a painting, a quiet scene frozen in time, detached from the world rushing outside.

Y/N approached the table, sliding into the seat across from her.

Winter barely glanced up before speaking, her voice smooth, laced with the slightest hint of amusement. “You’re late.”

Y/N blinked, glancing at her phone. “I’m five minutes early.”

Winter smirked, finally looking at her fully, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Exactly. I’ve been here for ten.”

For a moment, Y/N just stared at her.

And then, before she could stop herself, she laughed.

It was a small thing, nothing extravagant, nothing loud, but it felt like the first real breath she had taken in days. Some of the tension in her shoulders, the weight pressing against her ribs since that disastrous dinner, began to ease. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

They started with economics, diving into topics that Y/N had expected to be mind-numbingly dull, supply and demand, market failures, the intricacies of elasticity. But Winter made it bearable.

She had a way of twisting even the most boring concepts into something absurdly funny, throwing in sarcastic remarks and offhanded analogies that made Y/N laugh more than she actually took notes. At one point, Winter compared monopolistic competition to a high school popularity contest “You think you’re special, but at the end of the day, you’re still competing with five other people for the same spot” and Y/N had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing too loudly.

For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overanalyzing every interaction, wasn’t waiting for something to shift beneath her feet. It was easy.

Then, somewhere between discussing oligopolies and price discrimination, Y/N noticed something.

Winter wasn’t paying attention. Not entirely, at least.

Because while Y/N had been scribbling notes in her textbook, Winter had been doodling in the margins of her own notebook, her neat handwriting fading into tiny musical notes, unfinished lyrics scattered between economic formulas.

Y/N tilted her head, watching the way Winter’s pen tapped absently against the paper, as if she were lost in another world entirely.

“You really don’t want to be here, huh?” Y/N mused, a teasing edge to her voice.

Winter let out a slow sigh, leaning back in her chair. “What gave it away?”

Y/N grinned. “The fact that you just spent the last ten minutes composing a song about opportunity cost.”

At that, Winter let out a quiet chuckle, tapping her pen rhythmically against the table. “It’s not a bad song, actually.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it, then.”

Winter didn’t hesitate.

She merely smirked, her eyes meeting Y/N’s, holding her gaze for just a moment too long.

And then, she hummed.

It was soft at first, almost absentminded, a simple melody that rolled off her lips effortlessly, like it had been waiting to be sung. It was unpolished, wordless, but there was something about it, something delicate yet captivating, something that made the air between them feel just a little heavier.

Y/N froze.

Because for a second, just a second, she forgot.

Forgot about Karina, forgot about the ache in her chest, the lingering sting of being dismissed, forgot about every moment she had spent waiting for something that would never come.

In that instant, there was only this.

Only the girl in front of her, singing about opportunity cost like it was poetry.

Maybe this was what she needed. Not romance, not another emotional gamble that left her questioning her worth, not someone who would make her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

Just someone steady, someone safe, someone who didn’t leave her drowning in uncertainty.

It wasn’t romantic. Not yet, but for now, it was enough.

Karina noticed immediately. She didn’t say anything, not at first. Not with words, anyway.

But Y/N felt it.

She felt it in the shift of the air whenever Karina entered a room, the way her presence became sharper, heavier, like a storm pressing against the edges of something fragile. She felt it in the way Karina’s eyes lingered too long, her stares colder, more calculating, filled with something unspoken, something dangerously close to unraveling.

Karina had always been collected, untouchable, unreadable, moving through life with an effortless grace that made it seem as though nothing could shake her. But now? Now, she was fraying at the edges.

It started small.

An irritated sigh when Y/N excused herself from their usual lunch table a little too quickly, claiming she had to finish up work on her project. A tension in Karina’s shoulders that hadn’t been there before, the way she tapped her fingers against her thigh in agitation whenever Y/N laughed at her phone a little too much. The sharp, clipped tone in her voice when she asked, almost too casually, "Who are you texting?"

At first, the others chalked it up to stress.

Midterms were approaching. Business meetings with her family’s company had been piling up, leaving Karina with even more weight on her already burdened shoulders. It was easy to assume she was simply dealing with pressure, after all, she was Karina Yu, the girl who carried expectations like armor.

But then it became clear.

Because the moment Winter’s name came up? Karina tensed, she would grip her pen too hard, look away too quickly, straighten her posture like she was bracing for impact.

The moment Y/N laughed a little too much at her phone, answered a text too eagerly, made an excuse to leave a conversation early? Karina would go silent.

Her expression wouldn’t change, not noticeably, at least, but there was a shift, a quiet yet undeniable pull in the air around her. Her jaw would tighten ever so slightly, her fingers curling against the table as if she were trying to suppress something before it could escape. She would press her lips together and pretend she didn’t care.

But everyone knew, because Karina was unraveling.

And one night, she broke.

They were at Karina’s apartment, the usual post-dinner hangout spot for their group. The others had already left, retreating back to their own lives, their own worlds, leaving behind only half-empty wine glasses and the distant hum of city lights filtering through the floor to ceiling windows.

Giselle had stayed behind.

She stood in the kitchen, casually leaning against the cool marble counter, watching as Karina sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched drink in front of her. She wasn’t drinking, she wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there, still as a statue, her thoughts tangled in something Giselle could already guess.

It had been a week of this. A week of Karina shifting between moods, of her icy exterior cracking, of her usual composure faltering just enough for those closest to her to see the storm underneath.

And Giselle, ever the observer, had finally had enough.

"You’re jealous."

Karina’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing instantly. "What?"

Giselle sighed, setting her glass down with an exasperated clink. She tilted her head, studying Karina like she was a puzzle missing just one crucial piece.

"You’re jealous of Winter."

For a split second, Karina didn’t react.

And then, a scoff. A small, humorless laugh, low and empty, as if the very idea was so ridiculous it wasn’t even worth entertaining.

"That’s ridiculous."

But Giselle wasn’t buying it.

She pushed off the counter, stepping forward, voice lowering slightly. "No, what’s ridiculous is how you’re acting."

Karina’s fingers curled into her palm, knuckles white against her skin.

"You’re shutting down," Giselle continued, crossing her arms. "You’re lashing out at people who don’t deserve it. You’re sitting here sulking instead of actually doing something about it." She arched an eyebrow. "It’s pathetic."

Karina scoffed again, shaking her head. "Y/N can be friends with whoever she wants."

"Friends?" Giselle let out a dry laugh, sharp and knowing. She took another step forward, pressing just enough to make Karina flinch ever so slightly.

"Yeah, sure. Because that’s all you two have ever been, right?"

Silence.

A silence so heavy it felt like it crushed the space between them.

Giselle leaned in, voice dropping to something almost gentle, though the weight of it was anything but. "She’s slipping away from you."

Karina’s jaw clenched. Her nails dug into her palm, pressing deep enough to sting.

She knew. She knew Y/N was pulling away, knew she was tired of waiting, tired of being led in circles, tired of holding onto something that Karina refused to define.

She knew, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to stop her, because if she admitted it, if she said the words out loud, then there would be no more hiding. No more pretending that Y/N wasn’t the only person who had ever made her feel like this, no more pretending that she didn’t want her, no more pretending that she hadn’t already fallen, long before she ever realized it.

And that terrified her.

Giselle exhaled, shaking her head, her voice turning softer, not out of pity, but something else. Something almost sad.

"If you’re not going to do anything about it, then let her go."

Another silence, another wound left open.

Karina didn’t answer, because the truth was, she wasn’t ready to let Y/N go. She just didn’t know if she was ready to fight for her, either.

Karina had spent years perfecting the art of control.

She had been raised to master it, to curate her image with precision, to hold her emotions under lock and key, to never let the world glimpse anything that could be used against her. She was composed, poised, untouchable. She dictated her own narrative, never allowing anyone to see her falter.

Her emotions did not rule her, she ruled them. At least, that had always been the case.

Until now, until Y/N and Winter.

She wasn’t sure when it started, when the cracks first appeared, when the tight grip she had on herself began to slip. She wasn’t sure when watching Y/N with someone else became unbearable, when the sight of Winter standing too close, speaking too softly, looking at Y/N like she was something to be treasured, started making her stomach twist in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. She wasn’t sure when she started feeling like this.

All she knew was that the first time she saw them together, really saw them, outside of class, it hit her like a slap to the face.

It was in the campus café, a place where she and the rest of the Power Group often lingered between lectures, occupying the best seats by the windows, their presence effortlessly commanding the space. They owned it in ways no one questioned, moving through it like it was simply another extension of their world.

Karina hadn’t meant to notice them.

She hadn’t been looking for Y/N, hadn’t been seeking her out, hadn’t been scanning the room like she always did or so she told herself.

But then she heard it.

Y/N’s laughter.

Not the polite kind, not the forced chuckle she used in social settings when she wanted to appear engaged, not the half-hearted giggle she offered in conversations she wasn’t actually interested in. But the real kind.

The kind that started soft before bubbling over, filling the air with something light, effortless, genuine. The kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners, made dimples appear on her cheeks, made everyone around her feel like they were in on some private joke. The kind of laughter that Karina used to think belonged only to her.

Her fingers froze around her coffee cup, grip tightening just slightly as she turned her head, too quickly, too sharply, as if drawn by something involuntary, instinctual.

And there they were. Y/N and Winter.

Sitting together in a booth by the far window, away from the usual noise of the café, caught in a moment that shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did.

Karina’s gaze locked onto them, drinking in the details before she could stop herself. Y/N, leaning forward slightly, her fingers brushing against Winter’s wrist as she grinned, Winter, smirking, eyes steady on Y/N, gaze unwavering, as if she were studying her, memorizing her.

Something hot, sharp, unfamiliar coiled deep in Karina’s chest.

Winter was looking at Y/N like she wanted her. Like she knew something no one else did, like she had already figured out what Karina had spent years running from.

Karina’s stomach twisted violently.

It was too much.

Before she even registered the movement, her body was already reacting, a sharp exhale, her hands gripping the table as she pushed back her chair a little too hard.

The sudden scrape of wood against tile was loud, cutting through the comfortable hum of conversation.

Too loud.

People turned. Her friends turned. Y/N turned and Karina didn’t meet her gaze.

She didn’t look at anyone, didn’t bother to smooth over the moment with an easy smile or an excuse, didn’t try to mask the fact that something was very, very wrong.

She just grabbed her bag, turned sharply on her heel, and walked out.

Not waiting, not explaining, not acknowledging the fact that she had never run from anything in her life. 

Until now.

“Karina?” Ningning called after her, blinking in confusion. “Where are you going?”

Karina didn’t answer.

She didn’t stop, she didn’t even know where she was going. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay here. Because if she stayed, if she kept watching, if she let herself sit there for even a second longer, she would have to admit… She would have to admit what this really was.

The next time they saw each other was at Giselle’s apartment, an informal gathering meant to finalize the details of an upcoming event, something routine, something familiar, the kind of thing they had done so many times before that it should have felt effortless. It should have been just another evening spent in the comfortable presence of their closest friends, a seamless continuation of the rhythm they had all fallen into over the years, where conversations flowed easily, laughter came naturally, and unspoken tensions were carefully avoided.

But tonight, nothing felt easy.

Karina sat stiffly in her seat, her posture rigid, her fingers curled against the fabric of her pants as if she were physically restraining herself from reacting, from speaking, from looking at Y/N for too long. There was a restless energy simmering beneath her skin, an irritability she couldn’t shake, an ache she didn’t want to name.

She had spent the entire day trying to push down the lingering unease that had taken root in her chest, trying to convince herself that the image of Y/N and Winter laughing together at the café wasn’t burned into her mind, replaying itself over and over like a cruel reminder of everything she refused to acknowledge.

And yet, despite her best efforts, it followed her here.

It pressed against her ribs every time Y/N spoke, making her jaw tense involuntarily, the sound of her voice feeling too familiar, too distant all at once. It crawled up her spine whenever Y/N’s phone vibrated, whenever she glanced down at it with a small, knowing smile, fingers typing out a response that Karina knew was meant for Winter. It clawed at her patience every time Y/N reacted to something in the room that had nothing to do with her, nothing to do with them, and yet somehow still felt like a personal slight, like proof that Y/N had already begun to slip away, piece by piece, step by step.

She wasn’t sure why she thought this would be any different. She wasn’t sure why she had expected to sit across from Y/N tonight, in the same space they had always occupied, and not feel the weight of her absence in a way that felt devastatingly personal. She wasn’t sure why she thought she could handle this.

But then, Y/N said something, something lighthearted, something innocent, something that should have barely registered in Karina’s mind.

It was probably a joke. A passing comment.

Any other day, Karina would have laughed. Any other day, she would have let it slide, smirked, teased Y/N back, turned the moment into something fleeting and forgettable.

But tonight, her control snapped.

Her voice came out harsher than she intended, sharper, laced with something bitter and possessive, something she didn’t even fully understand herself.

“Well, maybe if you spent more time focusing on this instead of… other things, we’d actually get somewhere.”

Silence fell over the room in an instant, heavy and suffocating, the energy shifting so suddenly that it felt as though the walls themselves had shrunk, trapping them in the thick weight of unsaid things.

Y/N’s laughter, which had been so effortless just moments ago, vanished.

For the briefest of moments, she just stared at Karina, a flicker of surprise flashing through her eyes before something else took its place, something colder, something Karina had never been on the receiving end of before.

And then, Y/N let out a short, humorless laugh.

Slowly, she placed her phone down, fingers deliberate, controlled, as if she were holding herself back from doing something she might regret.

“Other things?” she repeated, her voice deceptively light, though the sharp edge in her tone was impossible to miss.

Karina shrugged, as if she wasn’t bothered, as if she wasn’t feeling the painful clench of something deep in her chest, something dangerously close to unraveling.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. She leaned forward slightly, gaze locking onto Karina’s, the space between them charged with something volatile, something that had been building for far too long.

“Say what you actually mean, Jimin.”

The air between them felt like a live wire, buzzing, waiting for one of them to ignite it.

Karina refused to look away.

She wasn’t sure if it was stubbornness or fear that kept her frozen, refusing to flinch, refusing to admit to the emotion clawing at her throat.

But then, Y/N scoffed. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, exhaling slowly, like she had just come to some final, quiet realization.

“That’s what I thought.”

The tension in the room grew unbearable.

From the corner of her vision, Karina could see Ningning shifting uncomfortably, glancing between them with wide eyes, sensing the shift in the air. Yeji pressed her lips together, exhaling through her nose, exchanging a look with Ryujin, like they had been waiting for this to happen. Giselle, ever the silent observer, sat back against the couch, watching, waiting, as if she knew that whatever was happening between them was long overdue.

But Y/N wasn’t finished. Not yet.

She tilted her chin up slightly, her expression unreadable, though Karina could feel the underlying challenge in her gaze, the way she was silently daring her to speak, to do something, to admit something.

“You don’t get to do this.”

The words cut deeper than Karina expected, slicing through something she had spent years fortifying.

She already knew what Y/N meant.

You don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to be angry, you don’t get to act like you have a right to me when you refuse to claim me.

Karina’s expression remained carefully blank, but Y/N saw right through her.

She always did.

Then, Y/N spoke again, delivering the final blow, the one that hit Karina harder than anything else. “You want control, but you don’t want commitment.”

The words lodged themselves into Karina’s chest, burned beneath her skin, left behind something raw and unspoken.

Before she could stop herself, before she could regain her composure, before she could reinforce the walls that had been cracking all night, she flinched.

It was so quick, so slight, that no one noticed.

No one except Y/N.

For just a second, just a fleeting, painful second, her expression softened, but just as quickly, it was gone.

She inhaled deeply, as if grounding herself, as if settling into something she had already accepted long before this moment.

She stood up.There was no hesitation, no second glance, no waiting for Karina to stop her. She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and turned toward the door and before anyone could react, before Karina could swallow her pride long enough to speak, before she could piece together the right words to fix what she had just shattered.

Y/N walked out.

And Karina?

She didn’t go after her. She never did.

[changbinniescurlyhair]

Stray Kids when their s/o crochets

Pairings: SKZ x gn!reader

Tags: @jehhskz***Taglist is open.***

Requests Masterlist

Warnings: Seungmin teases reader and Jisung's briefly mentions lingerie.

A/N: I feel like crocheting has gotten more popular over the years, and I crochet so this is very self-indulgent so here we are. Fun fact, my high school boyfriend called me an old granny bc I crocheted and his mom yelled at him for that in front of me. F u Jack <333333333 Enjoy :)

Bang Chan <3

This man is genuinely impressed that you can crochet

He finds out a few months into your relationship when he comes home to find you making a blanket for him

Asks a million questions about stitches, the needles you use, etc

Chan will mistake crocheting for knitting at first, which you think is adorable

"How is your knitting going?" "Do you need me to pick up anymore yarn for that knitting project you're working on?"

Chan will try learning so you guys can do it together #couplegoals. You find him in his room at a ridiculously late hour watching a crocheting video on YouTube with a bunch of yarn knotted up in his lap.

His square somehow came out as a triangle (????) and eventually gives up after five hours of trying. He just wanted to make you happy 😭

BUT. He will spend hours just watching you crochet. He is absolutely entranced with how quickly your fingers move and create beautiful and effortless stitches.

Bonus points if you can crochet without looking and hold a conversation with him.

He thinks it's witchcraft and it will kinda freak him out a little. Eventually Chan will get used to it tho and will brag to his friends about his "little crochet ninja."

Lee Know <3

He couldn't care less about your crocheting. To Minho, it's just another hobby.

One day, tho, he comes home from work to find Soonie, Doongie and Dori all wearing matching hats, courtesy of you. He will beg you to make a matching one for him so he can take pics

Soon after that, his apartment will start displaying crocheted items. Pillow covers, blankets, a few pot holders and some sweaters.

Minho's feet get really cold, especially during the winter, so you make sure to slip a few pairs of crocheted socks into his suitcase when he's packing for a tour. (He misses you a million times more after that gesture and will probably cry into his pillow.)

Will rub it into the other member's face that you are a crocheting genius. Contemplates selling some of his items to the other members for a little extra cash but doesn't bc you would kill him and probably the cats as well.

Minho encourages you to start an Etsy and sell some of your creations

"But they're not good enough, no one would buy them..."

"Jagi, I promise, they will. You're very talented. (<333333)"

And if they didn't sell, he would buy your entire store out, just to make you feel better. You would never know it was him tho...

The members would probably buy some of your items and when you would visit them, your little crafts would be all around the dorms.

Changbin <3

I feel like Binnie would buy you all the yarn and anything else that you could possibly need for crocheting. Like a sugar daddy, but the only thing that he buys you is yarn and hooks. I dunno...

He would probably ask you to make things for him to give to family and friends. Sweater for his mom, socks for his dad, etc.

Also Changbin would wear anything and everything that you gave him with pride. Sweaters, check. Socks, check. Bucket hat, check. Messenger bag, check. He would make an entire outfit out of your crocheted items and then proceed to go out in public dressed like that.

"Everyone needs to see what my talented baby makes for me."

"You look crazy, Bin."

"Crazy for you." Rizzzzzz

Even though he looked a bit eccentric in his crochet outfit, the man would somehow still slay 💅

Changbin = your biggest fan 💯

I think he would post pictures of your creations on his social media

He wouldn't say that you made it for him directly, but rather like "look what a friend gave me."

Still, him wearing all the things that you crocheted for him made you proud.

Hyunjin <3

I can imagine you guys spending evenings involved in both of your arts. Him with his paintings and you with your crocheting.

It would be nice and quiet. Occasionally one of you would break the silence, but most of the time both of you were completely absorbed in your work.

When you visited Hyunjin's hometown, you found out that his mother also crocheted. You guys would 100% bond over your hobby, exchanging patterns and project ideas.

This would make Hyunjin a little whiny.

"Babbeeee, you were supposed to spend this vacation with me, not with my mom doing your old lady yarn thing."

But secretly he was glad that you guys had a good relationship, even if you weren't paying attention to him constantly.

When you got back home, you gifted him a blanket that his mom and you worked on together.

Hyunjin would probably start sobbing, missing his mom already, and smother you with hugs and gratitude.

"Thank you, y/n, it's-it's perfect."

Hyunjin would keep the blanket folded up on the edge of his bed. He wouldn't use it for fear of getting it dirty, but you can bet this man would totally snap if someone accidentally sat on it or touched.

"Seungmin, get your filthy butt off of my blanket, now. I can't have you ruining it."

Han <3

The moment he found out about your hobby, you can bet your sweet ass that he raced to learn how to do it.

After a few months of practice, he would actually be better at it than you. This would slightly annoy you but murder is illegal so too bad

Jisung would totally crochet you guys matching sweaters. (This is canon and you cannot change my mind about it) You would wear your matching sweaters everywhere. I am also convinced he would crochet your lingerie as well hehe

It would get to the point where Jisung would crochet your hair.

"Jagi, you look so cute!!" This man has talent oozing out of every pore on his body, so I have no doubt he could do this.

He also figured out how to crochet with his fingers. He would try teaching you how to do it, but you gave up fairly quickly. Clearly you are not as talented as your boyfriend.

"So figuratively, if you can crochet with your hands would it be possible to crochet with your toes?"

^^This is an actual thought that he voiced to you. You just gave him a look.

For his birthday, you crocheted him a bag for his projects and bought him personalized hooks.

This bag would go everywhere with him. On the subway, at the dorms, backstage. I feel like this would help him manage stress and anxiety, which is especially why he would be addicted to this hobby :(

Felix <3

I think Felix, like Chan, would be fascinated with your hobby. I don't think he would crochet himself bc of his smol hands 🥹 but I could see him sending you crafting ideas or suggestions.

"Hey baby, wouldn't a yellow chick be cute??" or "I need a new pair of socks, could you make a pair for me please?"

💯 spoils you with crocheting items. A bag to keep all your tools organized for your birthday, maybe some new yarn that you had been looking at for your 6 month anniversary, new patterns that he will just randomly send you at 3 am in the morning. (I want a Felix 🥺)

You crocheted him a baby blue sweater for his birthday and the man Will. Not. Take. It. Off.

Felix will wear it on dates, shopping with you, during interviews and even on stage sometimes.

The members will tease him, but he doesn't care, they'll have to take the sweater off his dead body.

Felix will start sobbing if you crochet him a lace handkerchief and sneak it into his bag when he leaves for a tour (Bonus points if you spray some of your perfume on it).

He will quite literally sleep with it next to his face so it feels as if you're almost right next to him. Makes being away from you a tiny bit better but just a tiny bit bc he misses you to death

Seungmin <3

Mocks you mercilessly for your hobby. He doesn't even try to be nice about it.

"How is your back feeling, Grandma?" "Are we making doilies for our hope chest today?" "Do you want to watch the Ed Sullivan show while you crochet or do you want me to turn on Mrs. Maizel? OOoooo, how about I Love Lucy?" I actually love this show, fight me.

You threaten to stab him with your needle if he doesn't shut his smartass mouth up. Seungmin retorted with a raspberry.

Even though he will never admit it, he has an entire photo album dedicated to your work.

Halmeoni's needle shtufffff

You find it one day on his phone while he is in the bathroom.

Literally has pictures of every single one of your pieces. Probably dates back to a year or so.

You show this to him and he scoffs.

"Those pictures were not taken by me. Chan or someone must have taken my phone or something..."

You don't miss the soft blush that coated his cheeks and ears however.

After this incident, you decide to crochet him a tiny PuppyM and he accepts the gift with a raised eyebrow and a tiny "thanks, I guess."

A few days later, as you are watching his vlive, he grabs the skzoo from his bed and proudly displays it to the audience.

"A fan made this for me," he said shyly with one of his signature smiles.

I.N. <3

I think he's neither here nor there about your crocheting. He's not mean about it, but isn't overly enthusiastic about it either.

"How is your knitting going?"

"It's crocheting, Innie."

He'll grab any supplies you need if he's out and about. I think he'll also gift you crochet stuff, not as frequently as Lixie or Bin, tho.

For your birthday, Jeongin gets you a charm for your charm bracelet. It's a silver ball of yarn with a crochet hook going through it.

Honestly, you're both impressed and surprised that he remembered your hobby enough to get an entire gift based on it.

He shrugs nonchalantly (but is secretly thrilled that you love it bc this boy can't shop for gifts to save his life).

^^^ Tbh, he consulted Chan regarding your gift bc he literally knows nothing about crocheting (neither does Channie) and they spent about 10 hours researching "Thoughtful gifts for crocheters that aren't yarn or needles"

It gets to the point where Jeongin and Chan call all of the members to help them. Changbin calls his mother, who crochets and everyone else is either online researching or brainstorming ideas.

Jeongin will never tell you, tho, that it took eight full grown men to come up with your present.

The smile on your face when you opened the tiny box was worth every minute anxiously surfing the internet.

***My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission***

[robinvomit]

†  realizing he’s in love (in the worst, most sudden ways possible) : tim.

♦ sub title: aka, tim saying "oh" a lot. ♦ request: yes; just tim stuff ( none of this is my usual in depth style. ) ♦ beta’d: nope ♦ a/n: one of my shorter, tiny blurb drafts for all my tim anons. this is, 100%, shit writing. + gonna add a little thing here rq since i've been asked about it: tim, canonically, does drink a lot of caffeine lol and his sleep issues are not related to that. i am fully aware - i grew up reading these comics? i am also aware he is not actually the coffee addict of the family ---- that would be, very well known, barbara. so please don't get bent in my inbox thinking i don't know things about the characters i am writing lol ive spent just about all 26 years of my life with them. i actually have a whole, old, post about his lover switching him to hot chocolate because /caffeine/.

When You Call Him Yours (Casually, Like It's Nothing) it happens in the middle of a mission debrief.

you're standing next to him, arms crossed, expression sharp as you go over details with the team. tim's half-listening, skimming data on his tablet, fully absorbed in work mode until you say something offhandedly.

"well, yeah, but tim's mine, so obviously i trust his intel."

tim's brain short-circuits.

his fingers freeze over the tablet screen, breath catching, stomach flipping so violently that he might actually be dying.

yours.

you called him yours.

the conversation continues without him while he's just standing there, processing, staring at nothing, trying to reboot his entire existence.

by the time he finally snaps out of it, the conversation is over, and you've already walked off.

tim just stands there, blinking, feeling like he's been hit by the batmobile.

"oh," he mutters to himself, completely dazed.

When He Instinctively Pulls You Into His Lap (Without Thinking)

it's late. you're both exhausted, curled up on the couch at the manor, half-watching a movie neither of you are paying attention to. tim's mostly staring right past the screen, and you're leaning against him, half-asleep, boneless and warm.

and then, without even thinking, tim just moves.

one hand grabs your wrist, the other tugs at your waist - effortless, casual, instinctual. in one smooth motion, you're in his lap, legs draped over his, his arms lazily settling around you.

you blink, startled. "tim?"

tim, meanwhile, is absolutely not functioning.

because oh, shit.

he didn't even think about it.

it was natural. automatic.

like his body just knew you belonged there.

"oh," he says blankly, blinking rapidly. "uh. sorry."

you tilt your head, clearly not bothered, just amused. "are you? because you haven't let go."

tim looks down and he is, in fact, still holding you.

tightly.

like he has no intention of letting go.

"…huh."

When He Catches Himself Staring (For Way Too Long)

you're just talking. laughing about something, gesturing with your hands, eyes bright and expressive.

tim is listening. he thinks.

actually, no.

he's staring.

hard.

like he's trying to commit every tiny detail to memory - the curve of your lips, the way your nose scrunches slightly when you laugh, the way your hands move when you talk.

and then?

you catch him.

you pause mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. "tim?"

tim blinks. realizes. malfunctions.

he was just staring at you. like an idiot.

for god knows how long.

"oh," he says, clearly panicking. "uh. yeah. sorry. i—"

you smirk, leaning in slightly. "you okay there, boy genius?"

tim, whose entire brain just blue-screened? absolutely not okay.

he just clears his throat aggressively and looks anywhere but at you.

"fine," he mutters, ears red. "totally fine."

When He Lets You Take His Coffee Without Complaining (And That's… Not Normal)

tim does not share coffee. he does not share most things.

it is a known fact. a rule. a law of the universe.

but then one morning, you take his cup right out of his hands.

no hesitation. no asking.

just a casual theft.

and instead of stopping you - instead of glaring or grabbing it back like he normally would;

tim just lets you.

no argument. no protest. nothing. just continues with what he was telling you.

jason, sitting across the room, watches the whole thing and immediately loses his shit.

"oh my god," jason cackles, pointing at tim like he's a science experiment. "you're so fucking gone."

tim blinks, confused. "what?"

jason gestures wildly. "you just let them take your coffee, dude. you don't even let bruce take your coffee.. you tried to threaten alfred once."

tim opens his mouth. closes it. turns to look at you, where you're happily sipping his coffee without a care in the world.

"oh," he mutters. "oh, shit."

you pause, glancing between them. "what's happening?"

jason grins like it's the funniest thing in the world. "tim just realized he's in love with you."

tim chokes on air.

you blink. "…just now?"

jason nods.

tim groans, face in his hands.

When You Leave for a Few Days, and He Absolutely Cannot Handle It

it's just a short trip. three days, tops. nothing serious.

tim thinks he'll be fine.

he is not fine.

the first day? manageable.

the second day? sucks.

the third day? absolute hell.

when did he become so.. attached? he has no idea.

he doesn't sleep right. he doesn't focus. he keeps checking his phone, scrolling through old messages, rereading things just to feel like you're still close.

and when you finally come back?

tim doesn't even hesitate.

the second he sees you, he's pulling you in; arms tight, head tucked into your shoulder, breathing you in like he's been drowning without you.

you freeze for a second, startled.

then, softly—"missed me, huh?"

tim exhales shakily, something he refuses to acknowledge. doesn't even try to deny it. just holds you tighter and mutters into your skin;

"don't ever leave me that long again."

and that's when he knows.

he's never letting you go.

Bonus: What Happens After Tim Realizes He's in Love Denial. He will fight for his life trying to pretend like he's fine.

Overthinking. Oh, you thought he was bad before? Now he's worse.

Jason making fun of him. Every chance he gets.

Dick being proud. "Aww, my baby brother's in love!"

Tim finally accepting it and immediately becoming the softest, most devoted partner of all time. ( he just isn't great at it all the time. because ---- long story short; he will forget. )

[dearlenore]

⁺ ♱ .ᐟㅤㅤ──────── 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 masterlist

“The life still there, upon her hair--the death upon her eyes.” - Edgar Allan Poe

(Ⅰ) spencer reid ;;;

“She’s the boss” - fluff! | gf!reader

the team is stunned when their boy genius accidentally reveals that he’s dating a woman with a child while discussing an unsub, leaving them reeling from the unexpected revelation.

partners in crime - fluff? | rich!reader

Spencer Reid is your partner in crime—though the BAU might call you a liability. With powerful connections, effortless charm, and a knack for bending the rules just enough, you always get what you want. Spencer should know better than to get involved, but he trusts you more than he should. When a case tests that trust, he starts to wonder—has he been enabling you, or have you been pulling the strings all along?

arrest me but make it sexy - fluff? | agent!reader

The team successfully arrests a murder suspect—only to realize they’ve just taken down a highly respected FBI agent from another unit. Furious that they’ve blown her undercover mission, she decides to make their mistake their problem. After all, if they’ve already ruined her op, she might as well have a little fun with it.

bed chem - fluff | singer!reader

the team is watching a video detailing Penelope’s concert experience when they notice you talking and singing about a certain boy genius on stage

bed chem pt2 - fluff | singer!reader

despite spencer’s better judgement, he takes you up on your offer to bring the team to a concert. In return they have to promise to stop teasing him, however you definitely made no promises.

popular - fluff? | bimbo!reader

when college students begin to go missing at a near by campus, the Bau are immediately called to investigate, finding you at the center of it all. The problem? You were incredibly popular and insisted you were on good terms with everyone….

popular pt2 - fluff | bimbo!reader

you and spencer finally go on the long-awaited date after the team successfully catches the unsub. Unsure of where to take a girl like you—elegant, charming, and effortlessly captivating—he turns to his coworkers for advice. Unfortunately, they’re just as stumped as he is. Defeated, he decided to take you out for a walk around a nearby town where you’re right at home

the way things go - angst | surgeon!reader

after a video of you and Spencer on a date—one he had taken—gets sent to the BAU along with a threatening message about taking your life, Spencer knows he must make a heart-wrenching decision: break up with you to keep you safe.

the way things go pt2 - comfort | surgeon!reader

breakups are never easy, they don’t get easier with time either. You’re a wreck after Spencer leaves but thankfully he comes back to pick up the pieces.

just like daddy - fluff | surgeon!reader

most people are delighted when their children take after their spouses, however none of them had a child with Spencer Reid. In your case, having two smart asses around is giving you a headache. A very adorable, sweet, headache.

daughter in law - fluff | nurse!reader

after Spencer gets out of jail, he is determined to find the perfect caregiver for his mother. However, to his surprise, she seems to have already found the ideal nurse herself.

miniskirt - fluff | idol!reader

against his better judgment, Spencer spends his Saturday at a concert with Penelope, who won front-row seats (likely by hacking the raffle) and insisted he join her. How could he refuse?

the first, first love complex - hurt | fem!reader

when a serial killer obsessed with Spencer sends threatening letters to the BAU, they uncover mentions of a mysterious first love the unsub vows to kill. Confused, the team questions Spencer — wasn’t Maeve already dead? Left with no choice, Spencer is forced to confess the truth.

the first, first love complex pt2 - comfort | fem!reader

after revealing the shocking truth of Spencer Reid’s first, first love, the team does as the unsub instructs, retracing his steps all the way to Las Vegas.

his other girlfriend - hurt/angst | ghost!reader

Highschool wasn’t Spencer’s proudest year by far, let alone college where he continued getting bullied for being so intelligent for his age, still, there was one girl who showed him kindness, his first girlfriend. However, with her recent passing he begins to see things…

his favorite doctor - comfort | doctor!reader

when Spencer realizes just how serious his diuladid addiction has become, he requests the help of his favorite doctor to get through the withdrawal process.

juliet and romeo - fluff | fem!reader

boring days in spencer’s apartment are suddenly becoming more interesting when he spots a woman who lives in the building across from him reading in the window by her fire escape

a comprehensive guide to loving you - fluff | fem!reader

after Spencer attends his first support group meeting, he discovers an odd girl who recently relapsed after using the same drug he did. Weirdly enough, he sticks around to see her reckless behavior

you never asked - fluff | rich!reader

when the team requests additional funding from Strauss to upgrade their equipment due to multiple accidents related to their function, you reveal a secret they never would’ve guessed. Over the weeks following they

crawling back to you - fluff | fem!reader

when Spencer finds himself back in his hometown on a case, he never expected to run into you, his Highschool sweetheart.

nasty dog - fluff | bombshell!reader

sometimes spencer can’t help the impure thoughts he has about you…

lacy - hurt/comfort | insecure!reader

when Spencer starts talking to your new co worker ‘Lacy’ like she’s the only woman in the world, you can’t help but feel jealous…

calico critters - fluff | fem!reader

You’ve wanted a baby for weeks, but the fear of Spencer saying no has kept you silent. You can’t imagine life without him, so what happens if this is the one thing you can’t agree on? Well you decide a miniature model might help.

チョコミント　よりも　あ･な･た♡ - fluff / comfort | idol!reader

Spencer Reid attends an idol convention.

over the fence - fluff | country!reader

Spencer meets a reckless farmer’s daughter

daddy’s girl - fluff | sugarbaby!reader

Spencer can’t stop spoiling you

te amo means I love you - comfort | brazillian!reader

Spencer doesn’t want you to feel homesick

(Ⅱ) tim bradford ;;;

espresso - fluff | fem!reader

when Tim Bradford finds himself needing coffee before work due to nightmare influenced insomnia, he goes to a local cafe and stays for a certain barista…

hello baby - fluff | sahm!reader

Tim comes home to an unexpectedly motivated reader, cleaning, building and painting the nursery for their little girl

caught red handed - fluff | fem!reader

when you begin sneaking around secretly to receive painting lessons to paint your perfect boyfriend, he can’t help but grow suspicious…

now or never - comfort | police!reader

Life is too short for Tim Bradford not to propose

sunshine state - fluff | TO!reader

Tim Bradford struggles to accept his new TO

(Ⅲ) luke alvez ;;;

late night baby cravings - fluff | pregnant!reader

Luke struggles to accommodate to all your cravings

(Ⅳ) aaron hotchner ;;;

coconut milk - fluff | bimbo!reader

Aaron can’t look away from your chest



[vintagebueckers]

   ꒰       ࣪˖𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ─  𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅 , lamelo ball    .ᐟ  .ᐣ       ꒱

★ he needed to be nothing like your ex and everything your parents hated. he needed to be loud, flashy, heavily tattooed, and slight obnoxious. everything your ex boyfriend wasn't, just to spite your ex for cheating on you with some no name bitch at a party and your parents for constantly pushing you to date there friends insufferable children. they were all the same, insecure, shallow and boring. sure you would go along with it for your parents sake, but there was only so much jealousy and fragile male ego you could take before you had enough.

★ and today was that day. this wasn't by any mean's a premeditated plan of action. no quite the opposite, it was a spur of the moment decision that was born from boredom and a result of retail therapy on you ex's card (which he didn't know was missing) failing to lift your spirits. that's when you decided date someone you knew would get a rise out of both your ex boyfriend and parents, kill two birds with one stone.

★ someone so outlandish and removed from the safe cookie cutter rich boy's you were use to having on your arm, and someone who could both give your mother a heart attack and make your ex spiral with jealousy before the weeks end. it was a masterstroke of genuine, and to be honest you should have though about doing this sooner. it was genius, all you had to do was go on a date have the paparazzi snap a few pictures and boom everyone who you wanted to be pissed of would be that and then some in a matter of seconds.

★ your friend had set this up for you, her text stating that she had found the perfect person for your devious plan and send you the link to a reservation at you favourite new york restaurant with a hundred percent guarantee of paparazzi being present. guaranteeing your face would be all over the front page by nine o' clock tomorrow, though your friend wouldn't say who would be waiting for you at the restaurant. and though you would never admit it.

★ the idea of not knowing who you were meeting in advance made you nervous, as while you did want to piss of as many people as humanly possible in twenty four hours. what if this went horribly wrong? you mulled it over during the two hours you took to get ready, as you picked out your best outfit, applying a light face of make-up but with a sharp eye as to not look to plain, giving yourself a simple yet effortless hairstyle to tie it all together. before adding the final finishing touches, simple yet elegant jewellery and perfume. and by the time you were done, your driver was waiting to whisk you away.

★ which means it was to late to turn back now. any trace of uncertainty you had the moment you stepped out of the car, game faces only. but nothing could have prepared you for the shock of who was at the table. lamelo ball, your ex's favourite basketball player someone who he would yack on about for hours at a time to the point it had become white noise. a smile tugged at your lips as you walked to the table "this seat taken?" you asked knowing full well what the answer would be. "nah, all your ma." he said standing up to pull out her chair "you come here often, or am I just lucky tonight?" oh now this was going to be fun "show me a good time and you'll find out handsome"

all rights reserved, ©vintagebueckers.