#they put him in the centre for a reason!!

[cakerybakery]

Going through my drafts today and finishing up story ideas I had because my drafts are out of control again.

Adam in court ordered anger management because he punched his boss in the face.

-

Charlie was used to hostile. She worked in helping people, and not everyone wanted to be helped. And she’d dealt with people who were stubborn and prideful before.

Her father was a pain in the ass. That stubbornness being the reason her folks split while she was in college. Her father was not the biggest fan of her and her mother’s work.

Lilith did mostly work with charities. Helping organizations thrive and help people.

Lucifer had had a more pessimistic view of charity and Charlie’s work to help people find better outlets than violence for their anger or resentment.

They had only recently reconnected after Charlie distancing herself from him.

Swallowing her own pride after the city cut her funding, she went to her father to ask for help. She tried her mother but she was off in some remote part of the world doing something with, tigers? Or maybe a rainforest? It was hard to hear through the static. It was some sort of thing like that. Helping to establish a local office, wherever she was for whatever organization she was hired by now.

Charlie just wanted to see if Lucifer could help her figure out how to get her funding back. See if he could help get her a meeting with the right people.

Instead he criticized her until she told him off and she told him how much it hurt that he couldn’t stand by her and support her on this. That seemed to hit home and he got her the meeting and gave her the funding himself when that fell through.

But Adam, oh boy. She was nearly at her wits end with him.

He was court ordered to be there and like most people he felt justified in what he did. It didn’t help that his boss had goaded Adam into punching him.

They had some disagreements about heated topics and according to Adam, and their company, Michael wanted Adam gone. He was too good of a worker to fire, so he goaded Adam into striking him, not realizing the cameras had audio.

Michael had been fired, but Michael’s boss hadn’t been quite willing to yet to let Adam go too. So Sera had paid for a lawyer personally and with evidence of Michael fishing for a reaction, the judge had been lenient and order the anger management class instead of jail time for the assault.

But he had to put in the work and so far, Adam wasn’t.

In the parking lot after a class, she tried to talk to Adam. It got heated. About when he added another fist sized dent to his own truck was when Lucifer showed up.

Charlie had never seen that side of her dad before. When she was little she knew he’d come home with a black eye or bloody knuckles. He said it was just an accident. It wasn’t until the divorce that she learned her father had a short fuse with only a few hair triggers.

Never taking kindly to things like cracks about his height or remarks about his family. That anger was never directed against her or her mother, but her mother had been embarrassed by it on occasions while out.

Charlie winced as Adam punched his truck, but Lucifer had thought Adam was threatening her with the act. He flew at Adam, tackling the man to the ground. Adam defended himself.

She had to scream for the men to stop, and others from the help centre appeared to pull the men apart.

The exchange was heated but they both realized it was a misunderstanding of the situation.

Lucifer apologized and Adam, a father himself, saw himself in the tiny man. It was Michael talking shit about Adam’s kids that made Adam punch him to begin with.

He easily saw how it could be him in Lucifer’s place. If he saw a hulking man losing his shit at one of his kids, Adam couldn’t say he wouldn’t have come in swinging either. Figures that’s probably not a good thing and needs to learn to keep his cool long enough to assess a situation.

But it’s another tipping point for Charlie. Lucifer can do something about his anger management problems or she was done with him.

Unwilling to risk losing her again he agrees to join the anger management group.

Lucifer and Adam start talking during the sessions. They have stuff in common, like loving their kids, being single, having an older taste in music, fighting. Adam having done wrestling in high school, while Lucifer folks tried to give him boxing as an outlet for his anger. It only taught him how to punch better. Most importantly they enjoyed each other’s company.

Neither had dated a guy before, but they were watching a pay per view fight at Lucifer’s, they drank a bit, the guy they were supporting won the round and the two jumped up from their seats to cheer.

Adam picked Lucifer up in a crushing hug and stumbled back into the couch. Lucifer was left with his arms around Adam’s neck. Adam’s hands on Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer in Adam’s lap. They laughed at the silliness of the situation. When the laughter died down they were still sitting there. Their faces close, there was a moment.

They looked at each other. Lucifer could get off of Adam’s lap and they could pretend this never happened. But Adam wasn’t pushing him away. His hands held onto Lucifer’s hips firmly. It was hard not to notice they were both hard. Lucifer leaned a little closer, Adam closed his eyes.

Adam spent the night.

They didn’t talk about what happened and at the next fight, things were awkward. Until they got into the fight and their guy knocked the other fighter out. They high fived. Instead of pulling apart, they started to hold hands. By the final bell Lucifer was pressed into the couch cushions as Adam left love bites along his neck.

Adam spending the night after they watched a fight became a ritual. Then one night Adam tried to cancel. His ex needed him to watch the kids because of a family emergency. Three rambunctious boys that weren’t allowed to watch the fights because they tended to copy what they watched on tv.

Lucifer insisted he and the boys come over anyway. They could watch a movie, order pizza… spend the night. Lucifer could record the fight and they could watch it after the boys go to sleep in the guest room, upstairs in Lucifer’s room, with a locked door… so the boys couldn’t see the fight.

Adam had to admit to Eve that he’s kind of seeing a guy. She doesn’t like the kind of. Nor the boys going over like that. It would be one thing if Adam and Lucifer were serious. But she doesn’t like Adam bringing a fling around the boys. But Adam wants to bring the boys around Lucifer. He likes Lucifer. He wants to be with Lucifer.

Maybe do more than watch fights and fuck. So he asks Lucifer out on a real date.

Lucifer had been a little afraid of taking the next step, a little afraid of asking Adam out, a little afraid all Adam wanted was to watch a fight and then fuck.

It was a weight off his chest for Adam to ask him out. Happily, Lucifer agrees to a date.

Perhaps the start of their relationship is a little odd, a pair of hot heads fighting, but that was the last fight they ever had. With each other anyway. Susan at the PTA meeting had it coming

[moon-ayyye]

oooh, more about the identity porn jaysteph please

One of our favourite Au's is Jason not returning to the bats or becoming the Red Hood. My friend prefers Au's where he just retires and lives out his life normally, and while I agree, I prefer one where he just does All Caste shit and helps out in Gotham, just not as a vigilante.

In this Au, he'd be more wary of the Al Ghuls, so he wouldn't take Talia's words at face value. Sure, he'd find out about Tim and the Joker being alive, but he'd doubt that she had his best interest at heart when telling him. He trains with the All Caste, and he'd get his head on straight. Of course, he'd feel abandoned, so he stays with them until he completes his training, and everyone is less wary about him being the chosen one.

Cursed Gotham is a very fun headcanon, so I'd make it so Jason returns so he can 'purge' the curse. This would include killing the Joker (obviously) and clearing out the slaughter swamp, which results in him being chill with Swamp Thing. Once he's done with everything, Gotham would recover from being a hell hole, but it wouldn't become good; shit's mega fucked no matter which way you slice it. It's why he sets up community centres and shit and uses magic to ward off any intruders. This includes anyone who intends to cause harm or to spy on any resident, which would include the bats.

It takes a while, but eventually, he's trusted by the people there. Him hiring ex-cons and being really protective of kids would really help with that. Whenever the bats try to interrogate alley residents about the centres and their mysterious benefactor, they clam up. Whenever they try to spy on Jason, they get clocked, which causes their reputation to take a hit. Why are they investigating places that help the poor and unfortunate? Do they think all alley residents are unredeemable?

Well, what about going undercover? That wouldn't work since all the Waynes are very recognisable, and people think that they're close to the bats, so it would fuck shit up even more.

Here's where Steph comes in. She's already a volunteer since she always wanted to become a nurse, and because she wanted to help people like her mother, who actually benefited from one of the rehab centres, so in her mind, she's paying it forward.

She keeps running into Jason when they're both volunteering. Since Bruce doesn't talk about Jason, and has canonically gotten rid of every trace of him in the manor, she wouldn't recognise him, and he wouldn't know her because she's not a Wayne. He wouldn't look upr the bats since he doesn't really care; they're not his concern, and he doesn't want to see them.

She sees that he's easygoing and pretty well liked by all the people there, so she strikes up a conversation, and they get along really well. They're pretty similar, what with the addict mother and criminal father. I think their friendship would really help Steph with overcoming her self-esteem issues since she gets support from Jason and people at the centre that she never got from the bats.

Over the next few months, she grows even closer to Jason as they reveal more about themselves, and she finds herself texting him constantly and thinking about him, while he's pretty much the same. Mutual almost obsession with each other. He's more expressive and happy, and it's noticeable to everybody around him.

The bats don't notice any difference in her general behaviour except for Cass, who notices that her best friend is really into somebody. She tries to spy on him to make sure he wouldn't hurt her friend, and he clocks her immediately (all caste training made him hyper aware of everything, and I headcanon that the lazarus pit counts as pure evil, so it triggers the all blade). This, of course, unnerves her, and she becomes obsessed with finding out about the man who managed to notice her when she manages to sneak up on batman and League assassins all the time. Jason doesn't put 2 and 2 together since he has no reason to. To him, it's just the bats being paranoid

This all culminates in Jason and Steph sleeping together, and generally getting more serious, which causes Cass to break in and confront them. Jason starts fighting her, and he's actually winning, which freaks Steph and Cass out. Steph interrupts them, heartbroken because she thinks that Jason only got with her because she was Batgirl, which causes Jason to get heartbroken, since he know thinks that she was only eith him because the bats figuired him out.

He starts raging about how Bruce can't leave him alone, which gives the Batgirls pause because what is he talking about? He reveals that he's actually the second robin, which shocks both of them, and in the confusion, he just leaves. He takes his emergency duffle and goes back to the Acres of All to compose himself.

Now, do they figure out a solution? Get back together? Stay apart? Do they tell Bruce? Up to you. Personally, I think they wouldn't tell Bruce, and they'd get back together like a year later. A bunch of angst, but a happy resolution, because I like being happy, thank you very much.

[silver-hwaberry]

ONE: i can see you...

Warnings: bullying, implied eating disorder and mentions of controlled eating but no details

Word count: 4.6k

⭑2016⭑

Yeonghwa let out a heavy sigh as she plopped into her usual seat at the back of the classroom. The School of Performing Arts Seoul was both a blessing and a curse for Yeonghwa, being the youngest member of the popular 5 member K-pop girl group Moonlight. Not only was she the maknae of the group, she was also the main dancer and lead rapper but also a vocalist too, and had been dubbed ‘Koreans sweetheart’ by the media too.

As she gazes around the room, she could feel the weight of the judgemental stares and hushed whispers following her every move. Despite her fame, high school was still a daily struggle for Yeonghwa. Even though she had debuted two years earlier and found success, she was still only 17 years old and had to attend high school in Korea. Her hectic schedule often kept her from attending class on a regular basis and made it difficult for her to keep up with her studies compared to her peers. She was also the only member of her group who was still in school.

The pressure of being a popular idol while also trying to maintain her education was overwhelming. However, it was a requirement set by her parents when they allowed her to move from Yeosu-si to Seoul at the age of 13 to become a trainee. "Don't forget about your education," they told her, and she was determined to make them proud by excelling in both areas.

As she pulls out her textbooks, she feels the weight of dozens of eyes on her.

"Did you see her performance last night?"

“What was she even wearing? It was hideous!”

“Her ass is way too big to be wearing that skirt last night! It would have looked much better on Jinni instead.”

“No way, Haneul would have rocked that outfit! Don’t know why they give it to her!”

“Probably because she would have had a tantrum at someone else being centre of attention. Little Miss Attention Seeking once again!”

"They need to kick her out of the band, Areum is a much better dancer and she can actually rap too.”

The murmurs swirl around her, a constant reminder that she didn't belong here. Her phone buzzes, and she discreetly checks it under her desk. It was a message from Haneul, their leader:

"Meeting with the manager after school. New variety show opportunity for you."

Yeonghwa's stomach clenches. Another commitment to juggle. Another reason she'll fall behind in class. But she knew better than to complain. This was the life she'd chosen, the dream she'd fought so hard for. She'd make it work somehow. She always did.

Yeonghwa puts her phone away and keeps her head down, trying to focus on the lesson ahead. Just as the teacher was about to begin, the classroom door slides open suddenly causing everyone to look over.

"Sorry I'm late!" A tall boy with a kind smile rushes in, bowing apologetically to the teacher.

"You must be the new student transferring into my class," the teacher responds.

"That's me!" The boy grins, clearly excited to be joining the class.

The teacher awkwardly turns to address the class, struggling to remember the boy's name. "This young man will now be joining our class. Let's all make sure to give him a warm welcome."

"He's so good-looking!" Yeonghwa hears from the girl sitting in front of her.

“You can sit over there, beside Aria!” the teacher points at the empty seat beside her

Yeonghwa feels her chest tighten as some quiet laughs are heard around the room. She hated people calling her by her stage name. As he makes his way to his seat, his eyes meet Yeonghwas. Instead of the usual judgement or disdain she was used to, she saw warmth.

The boy slides into the empty desk beside her. "Hi," he whispers, offering a friendly grin. "You're Yeonghwa, right?"

Yeonghwa nods cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But his smile only widens. "Cool! It is nice to meet you! I’m Yunho!"

She blinks, caught off guard by Yunho's friendly demeanour. She opens her mouth to respond, but the teacher's sharp voice cuts through the air.

"Yunho, Aria, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No, sir," Yunho replies smoothly. "Just introducing myself to Yeonghwa."

The teacher narrows his eyes. "Well, do it on your own time. Now, if everyone can get their textbooks out we will begin with..."

“Oh I don’t have a book for this class yet.” Yunho whisper quietly.

Yeonghwa slowly slides her textbook towards the centre of their shared desks, allowing Yunho to read from it as he thanks her. As the lesson continues, Yeonghwa can't help but glance over at Yunho every now and then. She is both curious about him and apprehensive, wondering if he will make a snide comment or try to take a covert photo of her like everyone else does.

In the middle of class, a wadded up paper lands on her desk. She carefully unfolds it, fully anticipating yet another mean joke directed at her. It had become commonplace for notes to be tossed onto her desk, teasing and mocking her. However, when she opened this one, she was surprised to find a drawing of their teacher with exaggeratedly large ears and the caption: "Do you think he could pick up satellite signals with those? Or is it just me?"

Yeonghwa tries to suppress a giggle as the teacher gives her a stern glance. Yunho shoots her a sly wink, and she feels a flutter in her heart. As the class progresses, Yeonghwa finds herself surprisingly interested and engaged. Having Yunho by her side seems to protect her from the usual judgemental whispers and glares of her classmates.

While the teacher has his back turned, Yunho leans in closer to Yeonghwa. "Do you think his ears are more like a satellite dish or an elephant's?" he whispers.

Yeonghwa stifles a laughter and responds, "Definitely a satellite. I bet he can pick up signals from other planets."

Yunho feigns seriousness as his eyes widen. "That would explain a lot." before laughing lightly.

Just then, the teacher spun around, eyeing them suspiciously. Yeonghwa quickly pretends to be engrossed in her textbook, while Yunho adopts an expression of angelic innocence that was so over-the-top it nearly made her snort.

As soon as the coast was clear, Yunho scribbles another note and slides it her way. This time, it was a rough sketch of the teacher with antennae sprouting from his ears, captioned: "Houston, we have a problem."

Yeonghwa couldn't help it - a giggle escapes before she could clamp her hand over her mouth. The teacher's head snaps up, his gaze zeroing in on her like a heat-seeking missile.

"Aria, is there something amusing about the Pythagorean theorem?"

Yunho jumps in before she could stammer out a response. "Actually, sir, I was just asking Yeonghwa if she could explain it to me later. Math isn't my strong suit."

The teacher's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's... commendable. But please save your study plans for after class."

As he turns back to the board, Yeonghwa shot Yunho a grateful look. He winks back, then mouths, "Nice save, right?"

She rolls her eyes, but couldn't quite hide her smile. For the first time in ages, she actually felt like a normal high school student. It was... nice.

As the lunch bell rang, the two girls sitting in front of him immediately turned to face him. Their curious gazes were met with a polite smile from Yunho.

"So Yunho, how are you finding SOPA?" one of them asked, leaning in with a smile.

"It's only my first day, but I'm enjoying it so far," he responded confidently. Beside him, Yeonghwa hurriedly gathered her belongings, her head bent low.

“Some students are more skilled than others,” the other girl remarks. Yunho picks up on her tone and notices the glance she directs towards Yeonghwa. “We can show you who they are.”

Yunho's eyes shift towards Yeonghwa, noticing her tense posture and how she has pulled her long hair to cover her face as she looks down. She seems to have retreated within herself, just as she was when he first joined her this morning. Gone is the playful and open demeanour she had displayed with him moments ago. He couldn't help but notice the looks their classmates had been giving her during their lessons as well and it dawned on him that this was a regular occurrence for her.

Yunho responds firmly, "Thank you for the offer, but I think I can manage on my own. Actually, I've already made up my mind about 2 of them." His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at them

The two girls exchange glances, visibly surprised by Yunho's response.

"Oh really?" the first girl asks with a sugary smile, though her eyes betray her true feelings. "And what have you decided?"

"That they're exactly the type of people I avoid," Yunho says cheerfully as he gathers his books. "You know the kind - they think they're better than everyone else because they talk behind people's backs. Jealousy really is an ugly thing."

Yeonghwa's head snaps up, her eyes wide. A few students nearby, who were clearly listening in, suddenly find something else to focus on.

"Excuse me?" the second girl splutters, her cheeks turning red. "You can't just say that! We don't even know you!"

"And thank god for that," Yunho retorts, getting to his feet. He turns to Yeonghwa. "Come on, let's get out of here."

The two girls storm off in a huff as Yeonghwa stares at Yunho, trying to process what just happened as all the students begin filtering out the classroom, Yunho and Yeonghwa gather their things and are the last to leave.

“Are you alright?” Yunho asks, his tone filled with concern as he worries that he may have crossed a line.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, grateful but also feeling guilty.

“I did it because I can’t stand people who act like they’re better than others when they really aren’t,” he replies with sincerity. “And because I really did not like the way they were speaking to you and looking at you.” he adds feeling a slight blush creep on his cheeks

“Thank you for standing up for me,” Yeonghwa says shyly. “And for not calling me Aria either.”

"Well, Aria is just your stage name, right? Here at school, I figured it was better to use your real name, Yeonghwa."

Yeonghwa nods gratefully, glad that he understands the difference. “Yes, I prefer Yeonghwa, especially in this setting. But most people keep calling me Aria and it drives me crazy!” Which Yeonghwa knew was exactly their intentions when they call her it.

Yunho nods in understanding and leans in, speaking quietly. "Can I ask a question? Does the teacher always look like he's sucking on a lemon, or is that just for my benefit?"

Yeonghwa lets out a loud laugh and tries to hide her amusement behind her hand. "No, that's just his normal expression. I don't think he knows how to smile."

Yunho grins and adds, "I'll remember to include that in my 'SOPA Survival Guide.' Right after 'Avoid the cafeteria food at all costs.'"

"That's not even the worst part," Yeonghwa groans. "Trust me, bring your own lunch if you don't want to glow in the dark."

“Well, that works out perfectly because I have no intention of having lunch here anyway,” he chuckles.

“Why’s that?” Yeonghwa asks with curiosity

"My friend attends a nearby school and I prefer to join him for lunch." he explains as they descend the stairs. "He's a slow eater and feels self-conscious about it, so I like to keep him company."

"Oh," Yeonghwa smiles, "That's really kind of you."

“And what about yourself? What do you usually do for lunch?” he asks.

Yeonghwa shifts her gaze towards the floor. "Um.. I actually don't eat lunch at the moment."

Yunho stops in his tracks and turns to face Yeonghwa. "Why?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

“Comeback is in 3 weeks so.. you know, need to make sure everything fits and looks good.” she replies with a small shrug.

Yunho's expression changes to one of disbelief as he processes her words. "Let me get this straight. You're starving yourself just to fit into some ridiculous outfit?"

Yeonghwa fidgets with the strap of her bag. "It's not like that. It's just... you know, part of the job."

"That's bullshit," Yunho says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. "No job description should require you to harm your own body."

Yeonghwa raises her head, surprised by his bluntness. "You don't get it. In this industry-"

"In this industry, they see you as a commodity instead of a person," Yunho interrupts. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I understand the pressure and expectations. But starving yourself? That's fucked up."

Yeonghwa bites her lip, unsure of how to respond. Part of her wants to defend herself, but another part is relieved that someone is acknowledging the truth. "I do eat, just not as much as most people. And it is only for comeback season, after that I go back to eating normally!"

Yunho rolls his eyes. "That's not healthy! As a trainee, I know my company makes sure we are well-fed and taken care of. Yours should be doing the same for you too!”

Yeonghwa is surprised. "You're a trainee?"

Yunho nods, his expression softening. "Yes, at KQ," he confirms. "Okay, new plan. You're coming to lunch with me and my friend."

"What? No, I couldn't possibly-" Yeonghwa starts to protest.

"Yes, you can," he insists firmly. "I won't make you eat if you don't want to. But just come hang out with us for a bit and get away from this place. And I think you'll really like my friend Mingi too!"

“Yunho, I am not allowed to leave the building until my manager picks me up.” she anxiously bites her lower lip, “Or go anywhere without him either.”

Yunho's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Seriously? Are you Rapunzel or something? This is a school, not a prison."

Yeonghwa sighs. "More like a gilded cage."

"Well, consider me your dashing rescuer," Yunho grins, then immediately winces. "Shit, that sounded way less cheesy in my head."

"My knight in shining armour," Yeonghwa deadpans, though there's a small smile on her face.

Yunho leans in and looks around secretively. "Okay, here's the plan. We create a diversion. Smoke bombs might work, or maybe we could train a monkey—"

"A monkey?" Yeonghwa laughs and shakes her head. "As tempting as your primate-powered jailbreak sounds, I really can't risk it. My company would flip their shit if they found out, not to mention Haneul would probably have an a stroke!"

"Yeah, my leader would probably do the same. Hongjoong's head always looks like it's about to pop off, and there aren't many of us training," Yunho chuckles.

“How many is there so far?” she asks with curiosity

“Only four - Hongjoong, Mingi, San, and myself. San joined us fairly recently.” Yunho answers. “There is someone we are trying to poach from another company as well that others are wanting. Hongjoong wants him badly so hopefully we will have a new person soon too.”

“Mingi? The friend you’re meeting for lunch?” Yeonghwa clarifies.

"That's him! We met years ago at a dance academy, and then we both ended up auditioning for the same company without even knowing it. It was fate," he laughs before frowning and tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, new plan 2.0. We'll bring lunch to you. I'll text Mingi and-"

"No!" Yeonghwa's eyes widen in panic. "You can't do that. If anyone sees..."

"Don't worry," Yunho reassures her, holding up his hands. "We'll be stealthy. Like ninjas. Or really clumsy spies."

Yeonghwa hesitates, her lips caught between a smile and worry. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Yunho nudged her playfully. "Live a little. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You want me to give you a list of all the worst things that could happen with that plan?" Yeonghwa arches an eyebrow.

"Point taken," Yunho concedes. "But consider this: free food."

“I honestly can’t anyway because of last nights performance I wasn’t able to finish my homework for our next class so I am on my way to the library.” she says, “But go have lunch with your friend and we can maybe have a ninja picnic another day.”

Yunho sighs dramatically causing Yeonghwa to giggle lightly. "Well, if you change your mind about our super-secret ninja lunch, just give me the signal."

"The signal?" Yeonghwa raises an eyebrow.

"You know, like..." Yunho proceeds to do an elaborate series of hand gestures that look more like a drunk person swatting at invisible flies than any sort of coherent communication.

Yeonghwa bursts out laughing. "What the hell was that supposed to be?"

"Ninja sign language, obviously," Yunho replies with a perfectly straight face. "Don't tell me they didn't teach you that in idol school."

Yeonghwa lets out a scoffing laugh. "I must have skipped that class," she remarks. "I was most likely occupied with perfecting my polite smile and wave, trying not to look like I'm having a fit."

"Ah, crucial life skills," Yunho nods sagely. "Well, I'd better go before I'm late. Can't have my friend thinking I've been abducted by the SOPA aliens."

As he turns to leave, Yeonghwa is hit with a pang of emotion. Is it regret? Longing? She pushes the feeling aside. "Hey, Yunho?"

Yunho stops and turns back with a dramatic flair. "Yes, Yeonghwa the Magnificent?"

She can't help but giggle at his silliness. "You're such a goofball!"

"It's part of my charm," Yunho grins. "But seriously, what's on your mind?"

Yeonghwa hesitates, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve treated me like a normal person instead of some alien life form or a walking photo op."

"I can see you,” Yunho's face softens into a genuine smile. “…for you! No one else.” Yeonghwa feels her stomach flip lightly at his words, “Beside, I’m pretty sure you’re way too short to be an alien!” and a cheeky grin emerges

"Excuse me?" Yeonghwa gasps in mock offence. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly average height."

"For a hobbit, maybe," Yunho teases.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you, Godzilla," Yeonghwa retorts, surprising herself with how easy this banter feels.

Yunho clutches his chest dramatically. "Ouch! Wounded by the tiny terror!"

"Keep it up and I'll aim lower next time," Yeonghwa threatens, but there's no heat in it.

"Noted," Yunho chuckles. “I’ll see you back in class after lunch and I’ll bring you a little something too!” With a final wave, he disappears down the hallway, leaving Yeonghwa with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth in her chest. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had homework to do, after all. No time for... whatever this was.

But as she made her way to the library, she couldn't help wonder what it might be like to have a friend like Yunho. Someone who saw her as Kim Yeonghwa, not Aria from Moonlight. Someone who made her laugh instead of want to disappear.

She sighs, pushing the thought away. It was a nice fantasy, but that's all it was. Fantasy. Reality was school, homework, diets, gruelling rehearsals, performing and the constant pressure to be perfect 24/7. That was her world, and no amount of ninja sign language was going to change that.

Right?

But… for the first time in months, Yeonghwa felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she had found a friend in this sea of isolation.

⭑2020⭑

Yeonghwa quickly scans the audience and her fellow idols sitting beside her. The award show is in full swing now, with some awards already handed out and performances from various bands. Moonlight is scheduled to perform second to last, so she and her four bandmates - Jinni, Areum, Misty, and their leader Haneul - have some time to enjoy the show before preparing for their performance. She notices numerous fans filming with their phones focused on her and her fellow idols. Making sure to acknowledge as many as she can, Yeonghwa waves at the cameras, particularly those with her name or the group's name on banners.

She turns her head to the right and locks eyes with someone. Her gaze immediately drops, avoiding those all-too-familiar big brown eyes that have been making her heart flutter since she first saw them four years ago - Yunho.

She knew he would be here with his band Ateez; it was announced weeks ago when the lineup was revealed. But she never expected to end up sitting next to him with only Hongjoong and Haneul between them.

It had been 4 years since that day in the school hallway, when they shared ninja sign language and laughter that brightened her world. But so much had changed since then. They both graduated, Yunho debuted with Ateez, and their careers took them in different directions. What followed that first day was a beautiful friendship that blossomed into something deeper - but now, Yeonghwa is to blame for the fact that there is nothing left between them.

Nearly 2 years has passed since the last time she saw him face to face, the last time she ever spoke to him and it was bad. She said hurtful things, trying to push him away and protect him as he prepared for his debut. Though they never officially labelled themselves as a couple, their feelings for each other were undeniable. Walking away from him was one of the most difficult choices Yeonghwa ever made, but deep down she knew it was for the best for both of them

She can't resist stealing another glance at him. He's focused on the stage now, but when Seonghwa leans over and whispers something in his ear, he bursts out laughing. He looks even more handsome than before, with his boyish features now fully matured into those of a man. Yeonghwa liked how their stylist had picked each of their outfits, but Yunhos was perfect for him. They all looked so much more grown up since the last time she saw them all face to face.

A tap on her shoulder startles her from her thoughts. It's Misty, her best friend in the group. "Your staring is going to be trending on SNS if you don’t stop," she whispers with a smirk.

Yeonghwa feels her face heat up. "I wasn't staring."

Misty rolls her eyes. "Just like you weren't staring at MAMA, or KBS Song Festival, or-"

"I get it," Yeonghwa hisses, sinking lower in her seat. “It is just weird being THIS close to him. At least at the other award shows he was sat at the opposite side, far away from me!”

Misty was well aware of the past between Yunho and Yeonghwa; after all, it was Misty who had Yeonghwa had confided in her about it all at the time. She could only imagine how difficult this must have been for Yeonghwa.

Misty's expression softens. "Have you ever thought about talking to him? Clearing the air? I think if he knew the real reason you did what you did, he would understand."

Yeonghwa shakes her head firmly. "No, that's out of the question. It's been two years, Misty. He's probably moved on by now. And after what I said to him, I'm sure he hates me. As he should."

"You don't know that," Misty argues gently. "Maybe he-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, ATEEZ!"

The announcement cuts through their conversation, and Yeonghwa's head snaps up. She watches, heart pounding, as Yunho and his group take the stage. Their performance is electric, full of the passion and energy that has made them one of the hottest new groups in K-pop. But Yeonghwa can't take her eyes off Yunho.

In high school, she had always been impressed by his innate dancing skills. He had taught her so much about it back then, but now he moves with a newfound confidence and fluidity that leaves her speechless. His voice, deeper and more mature than it was in their school days, sends tingles down her spine. For a fleeting moment, their gazes lock across the bustling venue, and Yeonghwa is completely captivated, unable to catch her breath.

The performance ends, and ATEEZ heads back to their seats. Yeonghwa avoids looking at Yunho as he walks by, but she can sense his presence like a magnetic force. Memories of their time together flood her mind - the laughter, the secret moments, the way he made her feel alive and real beyond her stage persona - it all rushes back with intense clarity, as if it just happened yesterday.

She remembers the last day she ever spoke to him, the way his face crumpled when she told him she didn't love him. It was the biggest lie she'd ever told, but she convinced herself it was for the best. They had just graduated from SOPA by weeks, Moonlight were about to embark on another world tour, one that would take her away from Korea for 4 months, he was deep into preparations for his debut which included a trip to LA to do in depth training in dance and vocals, and she couldn't bear the thought of holding him back or being a scandal that could ruin his career before it even began.

So she walked away, ignoring the shattering of her own heart with each step. She threw herself into her work, into being the perfect idol, the perfect Aria. But late at night, when the stage lights dimmed and the screams of the fans faded, she allowed herself to remember. To miss him.

Now, standing face to face with him again, it's like a wound she thought had healed has been torn open once more. His voice echoes in her mind from that fateful day, loud and clear over the blaring music in the arena.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"Yeonghwa, please. I love you!"

"I don't love you. So just leave me alone." With those words, Yeonghwa turns and walks out of Yunho's dorm room, startled when she sees Mingi's cold stare from the hallway. He had overheard their conversation.

“When did you become such a cold heartless bitch?” he asks

Yeonghwa takes a deep breath, his words cutting her deep but she knows she deserves him for the hurt she’s just inflicted on his best friend.

“Maybe it is who I’ve always been.” she says, she knows she needs to keep up the cold facade with Mingi too to make sure none of them come to her again

“I warned him not to trust an idol when he told me about you. Told him they were mostly selfish and out for themselves but he insisted you were different,” Mingi says, walking closer to her. “Then I met you and thought the same. You seemed genuine - funny, kind, and genuinely cared for him. Well, it turns out you were just a gifted manipulator. You fooled all of us.”

Yeonghwa remains silent, her heart heavy with guilty and regret. Mingi’s words sting, but she knows she can’t defend herself right now. She needs to let him believe the words he is saying about her.

"It's probably best if you leave now," Hongjoong's harsh voice comes from behind Mingi as the sound of Yunho's sobs grows louder.

Yeonghwa grabs her bag and walks out their dorm. Her heart shattering into a million pieces with every step.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yeonghwa glances over at him, and catches him laughing with his other members. She starts to look away, but then their eyes meet and she sees the warmth and familiarity that was once there years ago. Everything seems to blur out around the both of them, they may as well be the only two people in this large arena as they look at one another.

But then reality hits her - they are not alone. Yeonghwa snaps out of her daze, remembering that they are surrounded by thousands of fans and cameras that could capture this moment. As she looks away, Yunho gives her a subtle nod and slight smile, causing her heart to race with emotion.

Yunho tries to suppress a wide smile as she looks away shyly from him, the same way she always did when he made her flustered. Even after all this time, the words that had been said, the heartbreak he endured in the aftermath - he can still see her.

[winepresswrath]

I will laugh so hard if it turns out that John is making a sincere effort at being a decent parent and it's such an awful outcome for Gideon that I feel like it's plausible. He's giving off such man who thinks of himself as a good guy confronted with oops baby vibes.

[derelictheretic]

almost started rambling about my no cult au in a rb instead I will ramble about it in my own tags like a sane person

[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[lesbicosmos]

there's one specific shot in dead boy detectives that i need to yap about

this one.

now this might just be the film student in me overanalysing because the scene itself isn't even really about the relationships but i think the positioning of the characters is so specific it has to have meaning??

like if the goal was just charles and edwin in the centre, they would've had it so they walk over and the order is crystal-charles-edwin-monty

but they didnt

they specifically had charles walking into the space between edwin and monty

and we know that this makes sense - charles is who's causing the rift between edwin and monty, he's literally in the middle of them because edwin's feelings for him are the main thing stopping edwin and monty becoming a thing

but this positioning also puts edwin in between charles and crystal

so if charles is between edwin and monty because edwin's feelings for him are what's stopping the other relationship, is edwin in between charles and crystal for the same reason??

[aliteralsemicolon]

Wait until you like me again - 18+

See part 1 | Part 2 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 3

The decision to resign puts a lot of weight on your shoulders. A takedown gone wrong makes it the least of anyone's concerns, especially Spencer’s. You’re not willing to let him back in; it feels too little, too late.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. Part 2 was highly requested and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to finish.

WARNING Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, drugs (GHB), Case details (very poorly thought out). Violence: canon typical - strangulation, drugging, guns/gunshots. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The most annoying part about making a decision in haste is the clarity of the situation when the dust settles. It’d taken Hotch just over two minutes to message you after you’d sent your email. 

From: Boss Man 🕶 👔 My office, first thing tomorrow. 

You didn’t take into account that you’d have to explain your sudden resignation to your unit chief, or that you’d need to think of a good enough goodbye to lessen the hurt of abandoning your friends. These are people you consider your found family; you’re leaving behind years worth of bonds with no proper warning or closure, in a measly few weeks. Your reasoning had to be good enough to convince them that this was for the best. 

To convince you that this was for the best. 

You’d spent the whole night in tears, racking your brain for an excuse, because ‘the person you care most about in this world and unrequited love of your life telling you that he didn’t want to see your face was a pathetic reason for discarding your life’s work. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think of adequate justification. Even as the sun rose and you made your way through your pre-work routine, nothing came to mind. 

“You can’t love me.”

Any time you tried to conjure up a defence your thoughts would wander back to Spencer. Too many words had been exchanged between you and your former best friend in the span of four months and not a single one of them properly explained why he was so butt-hurt. He loves you too much, but doesn’t want you to love him? That’s your understanding, at least. 

“Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

Since you’d left his apartment the previous night, you’d been cycling through all the stages of grief in record time. Spencer once told you that people tend to remember more negative memories than positive. He was right. You couldn’t recall a lot of your happier memories with him. All you could think about was the two conversations where he’d hurt you in ways you never imagined he would. 

You’re not sure exactly what part of you snapped at that moment, all you knew was that you were done making him the centre of your universe. Spencer Reid played no part in your decisions moving forward. He was not the reason for your departure with the BAU, a lie you made sure to relay to Hotch during your meeting with him.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Where is this even coming from?” He inquired from across you, hands folded neatly against his desk.

“I just think it’s time for me to try new things, you know?” It was a pathetic excuse, but less pathetic than the actual reasoning. 

“I try not to interfere with the personal lives of the team, but this is just so…sudden. I have to wonder if this has to do with Spencer?”

“This has nothing to do with him.” You go out of your way to avoid saying his name, suspecting you might taste poison. 

Hotch’s brow raises, as if his brain has been alerted to key information, head marginally tilting to the side like it does when he catches a lie. He doesn’t say anything, eyes narrowing in on you in stoic fashion. You feel like a petulant child that’s about to receive a scolding from their father. 

“Hon–Honestly…Hotch, I just–”

Three rapid knocks cut you off, the door to the office swinging open without waiting for a reply. 

“Sir, Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency. That case we were consulting on for Anchorage PD?” Garcia bursts into the room, slightly discoloured and more panicked than normal. “Well, five more bodies were discovered. Two of them pre-date who we initially thought was the first victim.”

“Garcia, tell everybody to meet on the jet ASAP. We’ll debrief on the flight.” Hotch orders abruptly standing from his seat. “You and I can finish this meeting later. This case is now our top priority, wheels up.” 

Emily, Rossi and Derek were already in their seats when you boarded. You secured your go bag in one of the overhead compartments and temporarily took a seat next to Derek. 

“How bad do you think this one is gonna be?” Derek sighs, dreading the horrors that await your arrival. 

“We’re up to thirty six bodies and counting. Whoever this unsub is, they’ve been at it a while. So, bad.” You answer honestly. 

“Speaking of bad, is everything okay?”

“That was not even remotely smooth.” You scoff. 

“I’m just asking as a concerned friend.” He shoots his hands up in defence.

“What happened to the days where we at least tried to mind our business. You know, at least asked each other about our weekend plans before jumping into interrogation mode.” You roll your eyes and smirk. 

“Heyyy, woah– no one’s interrogating anyone.” Derek chuckles. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

It wasn’t long before everybody had made their way on the jet, Spencer being the last one. You didn’t notice his arrival, too engulfed in your conversation. He definitely noticed you though. The sound of your giggles caught his attention the second he was in ear shot. He didn’t like how warm he felt at the sight of your smiling face. What he disliked more was that he could instantly tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile. 

He quietly made his way to his self assigned seat on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on anything but you. Every laugh that Morgan coaxed out of you bothered him. Spencer’s agony only ended once the jet had successfully taken off. 

“Alright let’s get started.” Hotch declared and everybody moved to gather around. 

With all the details laid out by Garcia through the monitor, everybody began stating facts and suggestions. You wrapped up soon enough and retreated to an isolated seat in the back of the jet. It was an almost eight hour flight, seven of which you were planning to use to come up with a solid plan to announce your departure. Life always has to throw a wrench in your plans though, because the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to you and you dozed off almost immediately. Had you any energy left in your body, you might have been privy to the eyes that were on you. 

“She didn’t say anything as to what the meeting was about?” JJ hushedly pries from her raven haired co worker in the cramped kitchenette.  

“No, but Garcia said that ‘the air in his office was really tense’.” Emily relays, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. “Did Hotch say anything?”

“No. He just gave me his usual dry look and told me to focus on the case.” JJ rolls her eyes at the thought and leans back against the counter. 

Despite being the FBI’s most decorated task force, the agents of the BAU weren’t strangers to workplace gossip. You’d just entered the bullpen this morning when Hotch frantically summoned you to his office, not even giving you time to set your things down at your desk. Witnessing the events sparked a guessing game sparked amongst the team. 

“Is it something we should know about?” Sitting across from Hotch, even Rossi succumbed to his curiosity. 

“Dave you’re not normally one to pry.” Hotch smirks, keeping his eyes on the case-file laid out in front of him. 

“No I’m not. But with the events of the past few months...” Rossi sips his coffee, staring at his younger superior expectantly. “...there’s been some talk Aaron.”

“Talk?” Hotch meets Rossi’s eyes.

“Mhm.” Rossi nods. “Apparently you’re transferring one of our two youngest members because they haven’t been able to put their differences aside.”

“I’m not transferring anyone. Where did this come from?” The alarm in his tone makes Rossi snicker.

“Office drama. You know how it is. And while you may not be transferring anybody,” he sets his mug down and looks towards where you’re sound asleep. “I’m guessing somebody is leaving. Hence this morning's meeting.”

“We’re not supposed to profile each other, you know.” Hotch sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this contained. I haven’t had a chance to properly discuss this with her yet and I think she’d prefer to break the news herself.” 

As you had predicted the case was by no means an easy one. On the first day everybody was split into groups to follow up with the M.E, victims’ families and examine the crime scenes. All the evidence and information gathered wasn’t enough to narrow the profile any more than the generic: male, mid thirties to early forties, hates women. You were now three days in with no viable leads. 

You were especially frustrated because you felt that you weren’t working as well as you could. The stress of your announcement was taking its toll, you were unable to properly converse with your team out of guilt. Hotch sent everyone back to their hotel rooms with the idea that you would start fresh tomorrow. Normally you would room with Spencer, but lately JJ and Emily have been taking turns rooming with both of you. This time you were with Emily.

“I think this may be the first night we’ve gotten to turn in early.” Emily yawns as she dramatically stretches her limbs.

“I’m just glad we got to turn in at all, for a while there it looked like we may have to pull another all nighter.” You force a giggle, exasperated.  

“You okay?” She doesn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to ask about your uneasiness. 

“Yeah, fine.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“You’re going to snap at some point, you know?” She examines your closed off posture, trying to figure out a way to get you to open up. “Something’s clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

“We’re all on edge right now. It’s this case.” You hope that you’re being convincing enough. 

“It's more than that. You’ve been distant from everybody.” Emily briefly thought back to the Ian Doyle debacle, recognising all the signs of somebody preparing to run away at any given moment. 

“I’m aware that I’m not working to my full potential–”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” She steps closer to you. “I can’t force you to tell me whatever’s actually on your mind, but I would really appreciate it if you would. I hate seeing you so…detached. Not just from us, but from yourself.”

It’s the empathy in her voice instead of the usual sympathy that finally cracks you. Tears pool your eyes and you sink to the floor. Emily sits down next to you without a word. She tries to pull you in for a hug but you push away. 

“Please don’t.” You sob. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezes your knee to relay that she understands and retracts her hand. Your discomfort with physical touch was another thing you had in common with Spencer. It was just a personal preference for you, unlike his germophobia. He was the only person you were actually comfortable with in terms of touch, but you couldn’t fault others for not respecting that boundary when you’d never verbalised it. 

“I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you guys, but I don’t think there’s any way this gets easier.” You recompose yourself after a moment. “I’m, um, leaving.”

You expect her to get upset with you, but find her unfazed. 

“You don’t look surprised.” 

“Well it’s not entirely surprising. I mean given everything that’s happened.” 

“So you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She leans back with her mouth slightly open. 

“Because I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.” You heavily exhale. 

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re doing what you feel is right for you. I mean, am I happy about it? Definitely not. But I know better than anyone why you feel like you need to do this. And it’s not a decision you have to justify to anybody.” Emily reassures you. 

“How do I tell everybody else?” You push for more advice.

“However you feel most comfortable doing it. It doesn’t have to be some big announcement. You can casually break it to them whenever you get the opportunity. They’ll understand.” 

“Thank you, Em.” You genuinely smile this time, eternally grateful that she’s managed to take some pressure off your shoulders.

“Now while you’re in a mood to share…if you wanna talk about something else–” She attempts one last time to get you to talk about Spencer, sensing that the mood lightened a bit. 

“Nice try.” You laugh as you rise to your feet, offering your arms out to her to help her stand.

The following two days were a lot easier on you, mentally. You took Emily’s advice and disclosed your news individually to each team member, each of them more understanding than you’d anticipated. You were surprised to learn that Rossi was already aware, assuming that it came with being a profiler for as long as he had. Derek and JJ did try to talk you out of it initially, but accepted your decision in the end. You still had to talk about this with Garcia, but felt a lot more at ease with mostly everybody knowing.

Except Spencer.

That thought lingered in the back of your mind. You still love him, it’s not something you can just turn off. You shake it off and divert your full attention to the case. Four more bodies had been discovered and with them, a new pattern to the killings. The unsub was devolving. You and Spencer were the only ones at the precinct when the last murder was called in. Meaning you were stuck working on the geographical profile with him while the others were out chasing new leads. 

Realistically, only one of you was needed to build the profile and decided you were going to let him do it. You quietly sat in the furthest seat possible, trying to make yourself invisible and hoping that this would keep him busy enough to not talk to you. The whole week, you hadn’t uttered a single word to him unless it was absolutely necessary for the case. It was as if he didn’t exist, even if he was standing right infront of you. Spencer, on the other hand, spent the whole week prodding you for any reaction he could get. Anytime you made suggestions and he happened to be in the area, he tried to one up you.

At times it felt like he was purposely seeking you out, despite his brutal proclamation five days ago. Every attempt to rile you up failed. The most acknowledgement he got from you was a few scoffs and glares. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it, until Derek asked him point blank what his problem was. He didn’t have an answer, but now that he was aware of it he tried to go out of his way to avoid it. 

That didn’t last more than a few hours. The fact that he had to consciously avoid talking to you pissed him off, especially because he couldn’t stop. You pretending like he didn’t exist pissed him off even more. The one time he took his eyes off the board in front of him they landed on you. You were busy scribbling words in a file, trying to get a head start on your paperwork. 

“Do you plan to help at all?” He sneers, noticing that you looked a lot more relaxed than you did at the start of the case. 

You snap your head towards the board behind him. A rough venn diagram was drawn on a map of the city, small tacked notes labelling prominent buildings in the area. 

“How am I meant to help?” You question, darting your eyes between him and the board out of confusion.

“You’re asking me how to do your job?” He taunts, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

You dramatically groan, throwing your head back. 

It’s hard to believe that he’s a man of logic in moments like these. There have been far too many in the last few months. You bounce off your seat and head over to the board. Spencer stays glued in his spot and your body accidentally brushes against his as you try to get past. He watches you take off some notes and add on new ones but doesn’t register what you’re doing at first. He’s too intoxicated by your scent. His hand runs through his hair as he steps back in an effort to regain his composure. His teeth grit and his jaw tenses momentarily, he hates that you have the ability to do this to him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The pitch of his voice raises and his ears are burning.

“What do you mean?” You roll your eyes, shrugging your arms, sarcasm laced in your words. 

“Don’t try to act all dumb!” He berates, shaking his head. 

“Don’t try to act all smart.” Your eyes roll again. Spencer was slowly starting to wear down your apathy. 

“I am smart.” He scoffs. Your blood boils, this trump card is becoming too repetitive.

“Savour that, it’s the one good thing you’ve got going for you!” You finally snap. 

“You’re UNBELIEVABLE! The first time you bother to answer me all week and it’s just to argue?” He’s trying his best to refrain from yelling.

“Oh! You’ve been trying to start an argument all week and now that I’m giving in you can’t take it?! Actually, why have you been trying so hard, Doctor? I was under the impression that you can’t even stand to look at my face!”

He dryly swallows, unable to respond immediately. The reminder of his words makes him internally cringe. He never meant to say them. It was the most efficient way he could think of at that time to hurt you. Spencer hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of will power it would take to stay away from you. You seeking him out made it infinitely harder. His fake disdain was a defence mechanism, he was hiding behind hatred to get the job done. 

“YOU–”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hotch loudly cuts him off. 

Neither you nor Spencer noticed the teams return during your squabble. You’re slightly embarrassed, wondering how much they’ve witnessed. Spencer turns away from you and looks to the blank wall on the other side of the room. You look to the floor and bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Care to explain what’s going on?” He grills and you feel like a petulant child receiving a lecture from your father. 

“She wasn’t doing her job!” Spencer complains. “And when I brought it up she messed up my profile!”

“God you’re insufferable! It’s called ‘narrowing the profile’, Spencer. Maybe if you did it properly, I wouldn’t have to.” You retort. 

“Hey!” Hotch scolds.

It falls silent for a second, awkward glances finding their way around the room. Rossi breaks it first. 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were bickering toddlers instead of FBI agents.”

You make eye contact with Morgan trying to hold in a laugh and it makes you snort. 

“We will discuss this later. Let’s focus on the updates we’ve gathered.” Hotch dismisses due to more pressing matters at hand. 

“After talking to friends of the latest victims, I can confirm that they were all last seen in the same club.” JJ pipes up first.

“And the dumpsites are all less than twenty minutes away from there. He’s definitely not holding them anymore.” Morgan adds.

“That has to be where he’s choosing his victims. Did the medical examiner find anything new?” Hotch asks.

“Traces of GHB.” Emily replies. “We don’t know how he’s administering it into their systems, but my guess would be through the drinks.”

“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, mostly known as GHB, is a party drug that produces feelings of euphoria, confidence, relaxation and sociability. Side effects of GHB can include drowsiness, vomiting, mood swings, dependence, as well as more serious symptoms of unconsciousness. When mixed with alcohol the risk of overdose increases as it can cause respiratory collapse leading to coma or in extreme cases death.” Spencer’s about to continue but quickly recognises that it’s a tangent he needs to cut short. 

“Wait JJ what club were the victims last seen in?” You inquire, walking closer to the map.

When she relays the name it clicks. 

“That’s smack in the middle of the comfort zone.” You point at a small red note labelling the building. 

“So how do we catch this guy? I mean the club would be packed and we don’t know what this guy looks like. The profile tells us that he would blend in, nothing would stand out about him.” Morgan subtly suggests a string operation.

“Except for when he’s alone with the object of his rage. Which in our case would be the women he’s using as surrogates. He'd be possessive, become clingy, hold on too tight and once those advances are rejected he’d fly into blind rage.” Spencer exclaims without realising the weight of his input. 

“Yeah…but he has a very specific type.” Rossi hesitates. 

A fact that everybody had been avoiding the case because of how close it hit to home. 

You’re his exact type.

“No.” Hotch shuts down.

“Hotch, think about it. I mean this guy is not slowing down. A sting might be our best bet to stop him before he kills again.” JJ shares Rossi’s hesitation.

“It’s too risky!” Spencer blurts, making it clear he’s against the idea. 

Everyone begins to chime in with their input, but you stay silent and think it over. None of them wanted to put you in this position, but you’d seen the bodies and what he’d done to those women. What he’ll continue to do to other women if he isn’t stopped. It was a no brainer on your end. 

“I’ll do it!” You announce amidst the chatter.

It comes to an immediate halt, all eyes shifting on you.

“What?” Spencer scoffs.

You can tell that he’s genuinely surprised by the small hitch in his voice. Emily sceptically calls your name, posing it as a question. 

“I’ll do it.” You reiterate, taking care to seem as confident as possible.

“Absolutely not! The odds of this going wrong are way too high!” Spencer howls with a little too much passion. 

“Reid’s right. The unsub is way too unpredictable.” Hotch debates.

“JJ has a point, think about it!” You argue. “We know for a fact that he’s going to strike tonight. Sending me undercover as bait is better than staking out the place and waiting for him to target a civilian!” 

“Okay so let’s send somebody else!” Spencer contests, his tone prayerful. 

For a split second, you see your best friend again. He’s showing more regard for you now than he has in months and it makes your heart sink knowing it won’t be forever. Still, you try to reason with him while he’s there.

“There’s no time! I fit his type. This is our best option.”

“No, this is stupid and dangerous. You’re not going in there!” He’s gone again. 

“That’s not your call to make!” You snap. 

“Hotch no!” Spencer tries again.

“Kid, relax! This isn’t her first undercover mission.” Morgan attempts to calm Reid. “Plus we’ll all be there in case anything goes wrong.”

“Statistically–”

“For God’s sake forget the fucking statistics! People’s lives are at stake!” You loudly end his tangent before it can begin. 

“Alright, everybody calm down!” Hotch speaks up, making it a point to stare down Spencer. 

He’d made his decision and Spencer can only stare back in disbelief, too breathless to argue. 

‘Like Morgan said, we’ll be there watching over you, along with some local law enforcement. You won’t be wired, but we’ll have a fail safe just in case you need backup earlier than expected. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get to work.” The unit chief asserts. 

Before anyone can make any further moves, Spencer storms out of the room. JJ runs after him, assuring Hotch that she’ll take care of it. The rest of you break off to your assigned tasks, preparing for the operation that night. 

“Spence! Slow down!” She yells, chasing him all the way outside the precinct. 

He’s breathing too fast, practically on the edge of hyperventilating. He pushes his hair back with both of his hands, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. 

“Spence what the hell is going on with you?�� JJ pants, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Me?!” Spencer yanks himself away from her. “What the hell is going on with all of you?! You’re all insane for allowing her to do this!”

“She’s a grown woman and a trained agent! This is her decision. She knows what she’s getting herself into.” JJ reminds him. 

“Well it’s not a very smart decision! She shouldn’t be making decisions this…this reckless!” He shrieks. 

“Okay you need to calm down!” JJ sternly states. 

“Jennifer, do not tell me to calm down! She’s about to make herself a direct target for a psychopathic sadist and you’re all just letting it happen!”

“So what? Should we let some innocent woman become his next target?” 

“No! I’m not saying we should– just– why does it have to be her?!” The emphasis on his last word gives him away, JJ picks up on it instantly. 

“That’s what this is about? C’mon you know better than this.” She relaxes her shoulders. “Spencer, we all care about her. We all want her to be safe. And she will be as long as we separate out feelings from–”

“Feelings? This has nothing to do with how I feel–”

“Okay stop! Stop! God!” JJ huffs with pauses between her words. “I am so sick of this! This is clearly about your feelings. The past four months have all been about–”

She smacks her hands against her face as she takes a deep breath, a display of frustration. 

“Listen to me.” She commands, exhausted from the back and forth. “It’s clear that you two care deeply for each other, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. Neither of you will talk about whatever it is that’s caused this rift– fine! But don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet now that she’s leaving?”

Spencer freezes. 

“...Leaving?” He repeats, taken off guard. 

JJ takes a moment to read his expression. 

“She didn’t tell you?” JJ mutters, still scanning his face. 

“What– what are you…” He can’t find the words, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process her words.

“She’s resigning, Spencer. She’s leaving the FBI.” JJ can’t hide how she’s surprised that you haven’t shared this with him. 

“No, that's not possible. She loves this job. Why would she leave?” Denial is his first response.

Spencer thinks over your possible motivations and can only land on the obvious. You’d only leave if you grew to hate the job. 

Did he do this? Did he make you hate it?

“We were all surprised when she first told us, I mean, it came out of nowhere.”

“We?” He rubs his temple, anticipating a possible migraine from the bomb that just dropped on him. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you guys known?” He balefully sighs, trying his hardest to not misplace his anger. 

“It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

He had no one to be angry at, but himself.

“A day? Maybe two? She told us individually. Honestly with this case I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it.” JJ honestly reveals. 

So not long. Maybe you were still making your way around to telling him? You wouldn’t just leave without so much as telling him, would you?

A few months ago, Spencer would’ve confidently answered no. Today he was sure that you would. He so badly hoped that he was wrong. 

“Spence, look, we can talk about this later. But right now, you need to make sure you’re able to stay objective. Can you do that?”

He nods relentlessly, tucking his hair behind his ears. A habit he adapted early in life. It was an indicator of the gears turning in his head. JJ gives him a few more minutes outside before guiding him back in to help with preparations. Spencer absentmindedly performed his tasks, but all he could think about was you. 

You’re leaving and he’s the only person you hadn’t disclosed this information to. Abandonment was a feeling he was all too used to, but he never imagined that you’d abandon him. He knows that he can only blame himself, but he still can’t help the irritation that’s creeping in his veins. 

Even as he straps up his hidden bullet proof vest hours later, he can’t push the sentiment away. You were setting yourself up as bait for one of the most dangerous types of serial killers. On top of purposely putting yourself in direct line danger, you were leaving without telling him. He would’ve showed up to work one day and you’d be gone.

Right now he stands just a few feet away from you and you don’t look toward him once. No one would be able to guess that you’re undercover. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to transform yourself from supervisory special agent to a regular socialite and party girl in a couple of hours.

If he could overcome the hurt he feels at the moment, he might see how breathtaking you look. Then again, you always appear breathtaking to him. Before he knows it, he’s walked right up to you. You don’t feel his presence looming behind you until you bump into him when you turn around. 

“Shit Spencer!” You jump, mostly because of the nerves from the upcoming night. 

He’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Don’t start! I’m not in the mood.” You brush him off and disappear out of sight.

It was like that for much of the preparations. He’d muster the courage to try and talk to you, and you’d walk away. Much like how Spencer would avoid you when your friendship first fell apart. 

“Everybody in position?” Hotch inquires through his ear piece. 

“Affirmative.” Morgan gives the greenlight for your entry into the club. 

You made your way to the bar, making it a point to sit alone. You didn’t have to wait long. Archie Carter, 36, cheated on by his ex fiance before their wedding. She ran away with another man because Archie failed to keep his sadistic traits hidden and it scared her off. Torturing and murdering women who looked like her was his way of giving her a real reason to be scared. 

This was all information Garcia found after it was nearly too late. He’d managed to get you on the dance floor, subtly injecting you with the GHB. You didn’t even feel him do it. To everybody else it just seemed like you were playing your part really well on the dance floor, when in reality you were struggling to stand up. You couldn’t give out any signals and he was able to slip you away into the back alley under the noses of five FBI agents. 

It was Spencer who’d found you fighting for your life against Archie’s grip around your throat. Spencer, who put the bullet in Archie’s head after being unable to talk him down. Spencer who kneeled above you, begging you to come back as he began CPR. If he’d found you any later you might’ve been gone for good. 

Pissed was an understatement.

At the piece of shit that almost ripped you away from the world. At Hotch and the team for not listening. At himself for being right. Not you though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t pissed at you. He was terrified. Both for you and for almost losing you. 

You had to stay a few extra days in Anchorage, bound to your hospital room. The team refused to fly back without you, each of them taking turns to keep you company. They all felt an immense amount of guilt but you reassured them that it wasn’t their fault. Your tongue grew tired of reminding them that this was a part of the job. Rossi joked that it was a good thing you were leaving it all behind in that case and it stung more than you were willing to admit. 

In your brush with death you came to the revelation that you didn’t want to leave, but hearing Spencer’s voice lull you back to him confirmed that you needed to. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear him talk everyday and not be the person he was talking to. It was why you had basically barred him from visiting you during your recovery there. Seeing his face was more than you could handle at the time. Not seeing yours weighed on him, because he needed to see if you were okay.

Physically, he knew you’d be fine once the doctors confirmed it. Mentally, he knew all too well of the repercussions that came with almost dying directly by the hands of an unsub. You’d been discharged and cleared fifty eight hours after you were admitted, and the team was ready to fly back a few hours later. All the signs of being less than okay were there. He recognised them as soon as he saw you board the jet. 

Besides the obvious bruises collaring your neck, there was some minor swelling that lingered. That wasn’t his biggest concern. It was the smile plastered on you when you put on your ‘I’m okay’ act for the others. Your eyes, like always, gave you away. You were already trying to sweep everything under the rug. Less than a few minutes after take off you isolated yourself in the back. You’d been doing that a lot in your recent cases. 

It irked him how everybody just let you. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to. He didn’t care how much you hate him, he was going to ensure that you came out of this truly okay. You were mindlessly staring out the window, counting the clouds, listening to the music playing through your headphones. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. You’d felt like that since you came to, in the alley. 

It took you a second to understand that you were actually being watched, turning to find Spencer in the previously empty seat across from you. 

“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” You snark, ripping off your headphones, still recovering from the small jump scare.

“Sorry.” He chuckles out of habit.

You unintentionally smile at the sound and find yourself staring in his eyes. 

“Are–” He falters as he thinks the question over in his head. “Is there anything I can get you?”

You’re taken aback, not expecting those words. You had a script prepared to waive off questions about your well being. He knows you better than that, throwing you off course as usual.

“What do you want?” You grumble, accepting that you couldn’t get past him.

“I want to know if there’s anything I can get you.” He repeats in a low tone. 

There he is again. The Spencer you know and love. Your heart threatens to leap.

“If this is to clear some guilty conscience, don’t bother.” You verbally guard yourself. “I’m fine.”

It would be a lie if he said his reasoning was completely selfless. He was hardly able to keep away from you without feeling like he was drowning, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought he may have lost you forever. The feeling didn’t last very long, he was able to revive you within a few seconds, but never feeling like that again would be too soon. 

Spencer believed in two things; statistics and facts. One fact he refused to ignore any longer is that he couldn’t live without you. He quietly opened that satchel that still clung across his torso, fishing out some pain killers and an unopened water bottle. 

“I know you probably forgot to take yours out of your bag.” He ignores your previous comment and slides the items across the table to you. 

Your gaze lingers on the items in front of you, but your hands stay folded in your lap as you piece everything together. 

“You know.” You whisper. 

“Were you going to tell me?” He gulps after a beat of silence. 

“Does it matter?” You're quick to respond.

“I wanna hear it from you.” He’s just as fast. 

You look up from the leaf of pills, he’s already surveilling you. It’s a short lived staring contest because your focus shifts behind him to Hotch, who’s observing this encounter from the kitchenette on the other end. Spencer continues waiting on you for a response but you stand up, ready to walk away. It dawns on you when you see your supervisor that technically you hadn’t officially resigned yet. The paperwork never got started because this case took priority and that was a detail you needed to sort out right away.

“Don’t go.” Spencer pleads when you take your first step.

Was it a request to sit back down or to stay with the BAU? You didn’t bother to clarify, he had no right to ask for either. 

You let out a deep, exasperated sigh as you lie curled up in your warm sheet, scowling at the floor beneath you. It seemed that the universe (your friends) had it out to delay your departure as much as possible. It’s been four days since your return from Anchorage and you’ve been stuck in your apartment since Hotch dropped you off here. He’s ordered mandatory time off for your recovery, meaning the paperwork has to wait. 

You could be using this time in a more productive manner. You could be searching for a new job. And a new place to live. You should be trying to figure out where this new place would be. You never actually thought that far ahead. In your haste to run away, you forgot to plan your next steps. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do any of it until the forms are filled out. 

The ‘universe’ isn’t the only thing delaying you. 

If you really wanted to, you could have everything emailed to you. You can have it done online, but there are two major problems. The first is pretty straight forward; you’re not ready to leave. You know that this is the best course of action for everybody, but your brain and your heart are at an impasse. You’ve dedicated years to this job because you love this job. Unfortunately, you love Spencer more, which means that staying is going to drive you to hate your job. 

The other reason is slightly more nuanced and you don’t want to think about it, opting to let your impasse be the reason for your lack of motivation to do anything other than bed rotting. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’s more self care than anything. Your body’s telling you it needs to rest and you’re simply obliging. Plus, it couldn’t be that serious if you still had bursts when you had to keep up appearances. You have to be okay if you’re able to force yourself to open the front door for your coworkers when they come to check on you. You really weren’t that miserable if you managed to smile and laugh for their short visits. 

And it’s not like you’re truly rotting. You showered quite often, you actually just had your second one today. You were definitely okay if you could manage to keep up with hygiene. It’s not excessive, you need to scrub the purple away. You know that’s not how it works, but you can’t stand to look at the parts of your neck where his hands were wrapped around. If you close your eyes for long enough you can still feel him squeezing until–

You’re okay.

No, you’re irritated. The incessant knocking on your front door won’t stop no matter how much you ignore it. You were relieved when evening came. It meant that normal visiting hours were over and you could rest today. If it wasn’t any of your usual visitors then it had to be stranger. The thought made you uneasy, you hesitated to answer it at all. 

You can’t live in fear all the time. 

The door eventually opens and Spencer sees you for the first time in days. He actually tried to check on you earlier, but Penelope insisted everybody stick to her roster so you don’t get overwhelmed. The circles under your eyes were almost as dark as his, you hadn’t been getting much sleep. The swelling around your throat was almost all gone, but the bruising wasn’t healing like he expected it to. 

“Spencer…what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“I brought take out.” He gently dangles a bag of food in front of him, his voice high, but quiet. 

You can practically smell the contents of the bag, nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was your favourite thing to order on the days he’d come over for movie nights. Before Spencer showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed. It felt like a taunt, like he was twisting the metaphorical knife he plunged in your heart. It made you sick.

“I already ate.” You lie, mustering a dull smile on your face.

Spencer swallows and bites the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off you. Trying to think of the best way to call you out without causing you to shun him. 

“We can do something else until you’re hungry again.” He gives a tight lipped smile and raises his furrowed brows, like he’s pleading for you to accept his offer.

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry anytime soon.” You awkwardly laugh– well it’s close to a laugh if not for your strained vocal chords. 

“Can I come in anyway? We can put on a movie.” He’s using the voice he used to when trying to comfort you or convince you of something. Soft, low, steady. It’s a stark contrast to the voice you’ve been hearing for the last ten days. 

Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.

Tears threaten the composure you’re working so hard to maintain.

“Why are you really here?” You sigh, unable to stick with the pleasantries. 

“I told you.” He emphasises the bag of food in his hands again. “Take out. Maybe a movie–”

“Cut the shit.” You assert, harshly. “You can tell Penelope that you came to see me so she gets off your back, but please stop pretending like you care.”

“That’s…is that why you think I’m here?” His shoulders drop.

“Isn’t it?” You bite, your door now wide open as you lean against it for support. Your legs are aching to curl into your chest again. 

“No.” His reply is short and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Why? There’s nothing in it for you.” You scoff, blinking from confusion. “Unless…is this some sick game? Seeing me like this– knowing that I’m– are you trying to gloat?”

“Gloat?” He repeats in almost a whisper, the hurt in his voice evident.

“Relish, rejoice, rub it in, I don’t know. You’re the walking thesaurus.”

He can tell from your lax posture that you're amused. Your back is against your door, hands behind your back and you’re leaning forward a bit as you stare at the ground. Not caring that your words cut deep.

Is this how low you think he is?

“Why would I be enjoying this?” His hopeful smile drops entirely as he tries to understand you. 

“Call it epicaricacy.” You shrug. 

“Epicaricacy?” He mumbles in a whispered tone, like he’s trying to process what you said.

Deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others.

Your eyes roll from how slow he’s acting and you have to hold yourself back from repeating the definition out loud.

“Do you honestly think I enjoy seeing you like this?” The change in pitch stings a bit. 

“No, I don’t think you like seeing me at all.” You half smirk up at him, sadness evident in your eyes. “Which brings us back to…why are you here Doc?”

“That’s not true.” He cringes, ignoring the second part.

“Not true?” You wiggle your brows sarcastically. 

“Not true.” He reaffirms, sighing deeply. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry.” You scoff again, shaking your head.

“I know that I’ve been unreasonable–”

“Unreasonable?” The tip of your tongue rolls against the back of your teeth, bewildered at his sheer audacity. 

“A dick! I’ve been a dick.” He corrects himself, desperate to have you hear him out. 

You tighten your jaw, inhaling lightly through your nose and your brows are raised as high as they can go. 

“I was hurt. Okay? I wash lashing out, but, I–” He takes a deep breath to stop himself, wanting to get to the point. “I know that I’ve been acting otherwise but, I care about you. And when I found you back there…I just…I know what you’re going through, even if you won’t admit it. I don’t want you to go through it alone.”

Your expression softens as he speaks. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to break down in his arms, like you would have once. It’s jarring, Spencer reverting to his former self after he saved your life. The comfort swiftly bubbles into anger. All your attempts for reconciliation were met with so much hostility before. It took you almost dying for him to care. It feels too little too late. The only thing you can think of as he stands next to you is all the ways he can further hurt you if you let him. You push off your door and stand straight, giggling bitterly. 

“Spencer, go home.” You say with the same bitterness. 

“Please–”

“Go home! I don’t want your pity!” You yell. It feels alleviating. “Do you honestly think that  anything changes just because you saved my life? Do you think it erases everything that’s happened in the past few months? Because it doesn’t! Things can’t go back to how they were simply because you feel bad that I almost died. It’s not a flip you can switch. You don’t just get to start caring!” 

You're heaving and he can only stare at the ground. He knows you’re right, except for the one crucial error in your speech. 

“I never stopped caring.” He mumbles.

This fucking idiot.

Enraged, sad, frustrated, confused; all emotions you’ve been suppressing that are now fighting to show at the same time. You take a step closer to him and he meets your eyes again. You can see that he’s holding back tears, same as you. It fuels you in a twisted way. You have an opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt you and you don’t let it go to waste.

“Don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work to see your face at work, I don’t want to see it in my personal time too.” 

You can’t stay to see the effects of his words thrown back at his face, your heart’s threatening to burst from how fast it’s racing. His jaw locks from how tense he is. He knows exactly why you said it, but it’s still hard to hear. You turn around and rush into your apartment, shutting the door on his face, leaving him standing there. You don’t make it too far inside, collapsing on the wooden floor with a choked sob. 

That didn’t make you feel as good as you thought it would. You hoped that maybe if you could make him feel at least a fraction of you’re feeling, you’d hurt less. It was more than just getting back at him for everything he’s done. You were unknowingly trying to punish him for what Archie Carter did too. It didn’t make you hurt any less, but at least you felt less alone in your hurt. 

He didn’t come back for the rest of your time off. Everybody continued to follow the roster, showing up on their days and bringing you ‘get well soon’ goodies. Penelope even invited herself over for a night's stay once. You didn’t have the heart to say no, but you found yourself counting the hours until you’d be alone again, free to wallow. The only respite you got for the next week was on Spencer’s days. You could expect to be left mostly alone, only a bag of take out accompanied by an eerily fitting quote sitting outside your door. 

You hate to admit that those were your favourite days. You had a chance to breathe and he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. You gave the food away in protest and the quote would go straight in the bin (once you read it). One final psych evaluation later you were cleared to come back. Not that you needed one since you didn’t plan to stay for long. It was really just a formality. By the time you returned only a few faded bruises remained, easy enough to cover with concealer. 

“You’re back! Ooh, it’s so good to see you!” Garcia was the first with a warm greeting and a tight hug. You reciprocated to the best of your ability. 

“Good to have you back, Pretty Girl.” Derek’s second, walking you through the bullpen as you make your way to Hotch’s office.

“Enjoy it while you can.” You giggle in reply. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“I see someone can’t wait to leave us.” Emily jokes, feigning a hurt look. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s expecting you.” JJ laughs, slapping Emily’s arm playfully. 

“Thanks JJ!” You smile and they all watch you disappear behind the door. 

“So it’s official? She’s really leaving?” JJ questions through a half-hearted smile. 

“I asked Rossi and he said that Hotch is gonna ask her to stay until we find a replacement.” Emily replies, still eyeing the door. 

“How did you get Rossi to admit that?” JJ turns to the raven head, questioningly, and Emily smiles coyly giving no response. 

“Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing would end once they make up? I mean come on, we all know she’s leaving because of him, right?” Morgan looks at Spencer, who’s nose deep in a file at his desk. 

“Yeah, but we can’t help if they refuse to talk to us about it.” Emily sighs, hanging her head back. 

The three dive deeper into their discussion and you’re none the wiser from inside the cream-coloured walls of Hotch’s office. As per protocol, he’s just finished informing you of what’s next and you’re kind enough to accept his request to stay until they find a replacement. You definitely said yes because you want to make the team’s transition easier, not for any self indulgent reasons such as you not being ready to leave. 

“Just return this to me once you’ve filled it out.” He instructs as he hands you a file containing your resignation forms. 

“Thanks Hotch.” You smile, grabbing the file. 

You begin heading towards the door when he stops you by your name. 

“I understand that you’re set on this decision, but I am sad to see you go.” It’s insane how many emotions this man can get across while maintaining a blank expression. “However, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” 

“Thanks Hotch.” You playfully scoff, appreciating that even he has to try at least once. 

If one more person tries though, you might scream. It wasn’t easy, pretending that you weren’t crumbling inside. The extra pressure doesn’t make it any easier. You leave his office, closing the door behind you and approach your desk. The resignation forms are put aside for later as you still have to finish your case report from Anchorage. Part of you wanted to put it off until the last minute, the other part wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. 

“Coffee?” Penelope chirps, holding out a mug filled with the hot beverage. 

“Thanks Pen.” You smile up at her, taking it out of her hands. 

“No problem.” She smirks mischievously and trots off. 

A strange lady, but your strange lady.

Upon your first sip you almost choke it out. It was perfect. Exactly to your liking. Which would be a good thing, except only one person knows exactly how you like it. Back when you first joined, you learned how popular coffee was with all the employees. You felt out of place because you weren’t a massive fan of the drink and you avoided too much sugar because it made you feel sick. You soon discovered that you liked it a lot more with honey instead. It was a weird preference, but it worked for you, making it sweet without overpowering your senses like sugar did. 

You never declined a cup when offered by your colleagues, not wanting to dishearten them. It was Spencer who caught you sneaking honey into your cup when you thought no one was paying attention. He never mentioned anything to you, but the next time he returned with a cup to offer, you couldn’t help but the smile that adorned your face for the rest of the day. It was why you dedicated yourself to morning breakfast runs for him, memorising his coffee order as a silent thank you. Neither of you ever talked about it. 

You spin your seat around to find Spencer engaged in conversation with Rossi. You consider walking past him and dumping the beverage in the sink to make a point, but it was a welcome energiser for the dreadful task at hand. Plus you aren’t wasteful. You spin back around and decide to accept it just this once. 

When he’s sure you’re no longer looking he sets his sights back on you. A small smile forms across his lips when he sees you drink the coffee. He honestly expected you to throw it away. He feared that if he was the one to deliver the mug, you’d throw it on him. It was why he convinced Garcia to do it, bribing her by promising to buy a round of drinks on the next night out. 

“Kid, are you even listening?” Rossi scolds in an incredulous way. 

As the hours pass, your frustration grows. You couldn’t get yourself to write the details of the case. Your mind refused to think about it. You had hoped that taking breaks would make it easier, but everytime you returned to the page your head went blank.

“Need some help?” Spencer asks, spawning next to you.

“Christ, Reid!” You blurt, startled. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.” 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as if on cue. 

You glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t say anything, glancing between you and the unfinished case file, waiting for an answer. 

“No thanks.” You keep it short, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Let me know if you do.” He doesn’t. 

“You wouldn’t even be the last person I’d ask if I did.” You snark. 

“But you would eventually?” He stays calm, almost playful. 

Smart ass. 

You choose to ignore him, be the bigger person and all that. Even though he wasn’t antagonising you. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” It’s forceful gratitude. You weren’t feeling grateful, but you still had manners. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Don’t make it again.” 

“I will not.” He grins and walks away to his desk. 

You act like you don’t know he’s watching you work. Looking up often to find you stuck on the same page. Even if he knew that you know, he didn’t plan to stop. What he does know is that you’d never directly let him help you. He doesn’t care. There weren’t any new cases this week, so a ton of paperwork was to be expected. It’s taunting enough to write down details of your own assault, the extra paperwork would only add more stress. You’re too busy trying to push through the mental blockade to notice the sudden influx of files on his desk and the efflux on yours. 

What you didn’t miss was how the next cup of coffee you were offered was just as perfect as the one from before. 

“I thought I told you to stop with the coffee, Reid.” You lightly slam the paper cup on Spencer’s desk. 

He leans back in his seat and chews on his lip with an entertained smirk. 

“And I did. That’s not from me.” He’s earnest with his response.

“Oh, so JJ just happens to know my coffee preferences all of a sudden?” You sarcastically retort, crossing your arms.

“No.” He crosses his fingers across his lap. “I told her how you like your coffee when she said she was going on a coffee run.”

“And why did you do that?” You play along, unenthusiastically. 

“Because you told me to stop doing it.” He states in the most casual way possible. 

This was getting you nowhere. It was naive to think he’d let you spend your last few weeks here peacefully. Scratch that– he was being peaceful. Too peaceful. A new tactic to get under your skin?

“Stop. It.” The delivery of your words is slow and emphasised. 

“Stop doing exactly what you’ve told me to?”

You bite your tongue and glare at him. His face, shoulders, arms, everything, is relaxed. You can’t even argue with him. You take a moment to consider how bad it would be if you bashed his head in with the back of your gun. Then you take another to critique how easy it is to pass the psych evals. They should really think about the consequences of using questions the BAU wrote on actual BAU agents. 

After that day you went back to ignoring him. Any time coffee was offered you’d decline altogether. If he attempted to try and talk to you, you’d respond with yes or no for the sake of professionalism. This didn’t deter Spencer though. He gave you your space but kept a close eye on you, continuing to try and ease your burdens from afar. Exactly how he used to. 

This only lasted until the next case came in. Specifically until you were back out on the field, where he perceived you to be in high amounts of danger. You tolerated it because it gave you comfort, not that you’d ever tell him. Having Spencer by your side made it easier to deal with the reality that there’s little you can do if another incident like Anchorage occurred. 

Plus focusing your energy on ignoring him kept the flashbacks away. Or it did, until the take down. You once again found yourself in danger from an unsub, only this time the situation was controlled. All guns were pointed at the killer, except for the one that was pointed at you. The plan was simple: you talk down the unsub, take him back to the station and talk him into exposing his partner. 

Everything was going according to plan, until Spencer realised that one of the cops in the room was his partner and he was about to shoot you. Nobody understood what happened before the situation calmed down. Spencer had fired the first shot towards the dirty cop and immediately tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the hail of bullets that followed after. All you remember clearly is freezing up, clinging to the man on top of you. One moment you were screaming out, trying to make sure that he was okay and the next you were back in the alley behind the bar, fighting for your life. 

You didn’t comprehend anything until the panic attack subsided but Spencer was fine. His vest caught the bullets. Both unsubs were dead. Rossi and Prentiss came to the realisation the same time as Spencer and were quick to react. And you weren’t in the alley. You were in Spencer’s arms as he led you away from the scene when it was safe. 

When you snapped out of it the medics had cleared him of any injuries. He tried to approach you during your check up, but you shoved him away, unable to even look at him. The only thing you remember clearly is Hotch sending you all back to your hotel rooms before tomorrow’s flight back. You should be asleep right now, if not from the exhaustion of today’s events alone, then from how long you spent reassuring everybody that you were okay. 

You couldn’t sleep. Not when so many thoughts were occupying your headspace. This is the second time Spencer’s saved your life, in the span of roughly a month. The first time he’s put his life in direct danger to save yours. Had it not been for his vest he would be dead. The more you linger on it, the angrier you’d become. You were also wearing a vest, you would’ve been fine. What he did was unnecessary and reckless. 

What if the bullet missed the vest? Entered through the side? What was he thinking?

You were mentally fighting the urge to barge into his room and yell at him for his stupidity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. What happens to him is not your problem anymore. You aren’t going to let your guard down just because he’s an idiot.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, Reader almost dies, Reader and Spencer are pissing me off, bc they’re so dumb, angst, hurt no comfort, Reader gets a little revenge.

AN - Before you comment ANYTHING, there is one more part. It’ll be posted a lot sooner than this one was. Writing this made me realise how limited the English language is. There’s only so many words to use and ways to write them. If either part sounds repetitive at times, it’s not my fault!!! Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

If you comment you garner good karma for yourself and that could lead to you meeting MGG someday (I’m not liable if this never happens), think about that... 

Thank you for reading!

[ejsuperstar]

Imagine you live in pelican town. The new farmer has been here a couple weeks now and seems to be settling in, except... He's picking the weirdest friend choices. Like sure it's not weird to befriend the local fisherman, especially when he has an interest in fishing himself, but you're pretty sure you've seen him rooting through the Saloon's garbage with the local homeless man. As well, he keeps harassing the poor guy who works at Joja even though you KNOW he doesn't want to be friends with him.

And since you're on the topic of weirdness, isn't it odd he seemingly runs everywhere at a full sprint? Or just... Eats entire raw fish while fishing for "energy reasons"...

...

Despite all that, it's too early to call him off putting or anything... He has been engaging in town traditions, and he's started helping out with the old community centre. He's probably like the rest of you. Someone with a few quirks, that will fit in with the valley great!

Surely he can't get any weirder... Right?

[peachetteprice]

How it Should Be | Captain John Price

John, your husband of nine years - coming up on the big decade - who still grows pink in the face when you tap his arse and call him handsome.

He just can't quite believe it.

He knows he must be somewhat attractive because he landed you - and by God that was not an easy feat, concealing how ardently he pined for you in that dimly-lit Spoons in the centre of Hereford - despite how your brother, who joined you every time because it was the only way you could ever see John, and vice versa - had been his friend since John was twenty-five and your brother, twenty-two; he worked at the classic car garage in Leominster that John frequented to keep mint his Ford Cortina - but regardless of all of the strife he underwent to secure you as his beloved wife, he still finds himself biting back a form of childish embarrassment that forces his bottom lip between his teeth as you profess over a glass of wine just how gorgeous he is, right now, in his underwear, sipping that pitcher of beer because he ran out of Scotch.

In every other respect, he's the most stoic man you've ever met. But if you ever catch him in the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, even outside in the garden and coo extravagantly about how stunning he looks, whether he be elbow-deep in grease doing the dishes, fixing his belt around his jeans early in the morning, grooming his beard before the mirror or de-weeding the patio outside, he will undoubtedly become bashful to the extent of personal ridicule, rolling his eyes or slamming his palm on the sink to exclaim that he is not, in fact, as 'beautiful' as you seem to think he is.

It's only partly a joke, but the majority of one of those parts leans towards the serious truth, which is most disconcerting, and half the reason why you spend so much of your precious time trying to convince him that he is, in fact, the most beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, handsome man you've ever laid eyes upon.

And, yes, you may be biased, because you get this one all to yourself, and no other woman can say they frequently bed a man who puts as much effort into pistoning his cock deep within you or tongueing you until you're bone-dry in thirty-Celsius weather as he does - even if the sweat on the bedsheets is beginning to pool at an alarming rate - simply because he wants you to feel loved, irreverent of his own comfort.

Oftentimes, as he is, said, knee-deep within you, you'll take him by the scalp and guide him to your neck, urging him to press his weight against you - exactly as you know he loves - just so you have him in lock and key, knowing he's unable to go anywhere until he cums, and you can - finally - whine into his neck about how handsome he is, and watch as he can do nothing but soak it in, too busy panting, grunting and blushing to respond. His face, his body, his voice, his personality, his tact, his pubic hair rutting against your clit - his everything. It's all perfect. And you'd sooner die than live in a world where he doesn't believe so.

It's why you've since taken your dedication to greater heights, explicitly professing your love for your husband in front of his boys whenever they come around, so John (and them) can see it isn't just an elaborate plot to ensure he puts his empty cereal bowl away in the dishwasher as soon as he finishes his breakfast in the morning, or to get him to wipe the crumbs from the toaster when the crumb tray gets too full, or clean the cigar ash from the ashtray on the dining room table - that he says he'll 'get round to' after he finishes his mountain of paperwork, which you know is false because it would take him weeks to climb.

It's really to make way for a kiss and a ruffle of his hair here, a hug and a grope of his butt there - just enough to let him know that, regardless of company, you think he's the most irresistible hunk of man in the room.

And, sure, the first few times are a little awkward for all of you, the boys included, as they feel they've encroached on something that best be left behind closed doors, but Kyle and Johnny - never Simon - swiftly come around to the notion that you showing your affection openly to John is a wondrous thing (Kyle truly thought, prior to then, that there might have been marrital troubles; he'd never even seen you two so much as kiss) and Johnny goes so far, himself, as to 'awh', whenever you peck John's lips, pinch his beard and call him 'cute', even if Johnny does get a sturdy bollocking from your husband back at base - it's oh-so worth it to see his Captain still madly in love after nine (almost ten) years of marriage!

And it feels like you've carried to full-term and subsequently birthed a healthy baby when you wake up to the sound of gushing water from the bathroom, to see John pat beard oil into his facial hair, stop, assess himself in the mirror, then mutter 'yeah, not bad', because Christ, it'd finally paid off.

| Masterlist |

[alwaysanundertone]

Love can be overwhelming | poly! marauders x reader

angst

word count: 1.4 k

CW: mention of abusive household

tag list: @reggieswriter @call-me-mishi @moonyxoxo

part 1, part 2, part 3

Losing a Quidditch game usually resulted in James and Sirius taking their anger out on you, which you didn’t mind at all, but today was different. This time, Remus wasn’t going to leave you with the boys, Sirius was clearly upset with you, and James was probably going to be pissed for the loss.

You took a deep breath, taking Remus’s hand in yours and going straight to your dorm, waiting for your other boyfriends. You were pacing the room in front of Remus, the anxiety eating you alive; what you hated the most was the fact that you knew for sure that Sirius was mad at you.

“I’m an awful person, Rem, I couldn’t give Siri the attentions he needed when he was in pain“

“That’s right, you didn’t!” Sirius entered your room, James behind him. “I thought that being in a polyamorous relationship meant that I could count on three people when I was sad, instead you left me with poor James, do you want to stop this relationship now? So that you and Remus can go live happily ever after?! What the fuck, Y/N”

You felt your breath quicken, you knew that if he kept this up, you were going to break. “Sirius, you have to understand that- “

“No! None of that, I don’t want to hear it! You know what, Y/N? You’re just as heartless as everybody says, I was just too blind to see how the rumours were true.” You felt a pang to your chest, you knew that Sirius didn’t mean what he was saying, but it hurt you still. You spent your whole life battling against the fact that you usually didn’t know how to show love to the people you cared about, but you thought you’ve been good to them, you thought that all your efforts were seen. “You don’t give a fuck about other people’s wellbeing; you didn’t even ask me what happened! If we lost today, it was all your fault, you’re a self-centred-“

“Knock it off, Black. You don’t get to treat her like that! Just because your family is treating you like shit doesn’t mean you have to make everybody else feel what you’re feeling.”

“Remus, you’re the one to talk” You whipped your head in James’s direction. “You are the reason behind this mess, if you could control your stupid instincts everything would have been fine, and we’d be here celebrating our victory”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because it’s my fault if you both suck at Quidditch, isn’t it?” They kept on bickering, but you weren’t listening to them anymore, your mind too focused on Sirius words. You hated yourself for not being enough for them, maybe Dorcas was right, maybe you should have thought about it before diving headfirst in a poly relationship; you weren’t even sure if you were made for a relationship, period.  

“What, Y/N, too focused on yourself to care about our feelings?”

You decided you had enough, you needed time to think, and Sirius anger wasn’t helping you at all. “You know what? Yes, I am, because the ones who were supposed to love me just treated me like everybody else. So go fuck yourself, next time you’ll need me, I’ll be gone” You stormed off their dorm, running to your room and casting a spell, leaving them behind.

As you were about to start sobbing, Dorcas entered the room, sighing as she saw you on your bed. “You were right, Cas, maybe I’m not made for a relationship”

She shook her head, hugging you tightly. “Shh, don’t think about it now, okay? Tomorrow you’ll have time to process all of this, now you just have to rest.” She started scratching your back, singing a lullaby, and you found yourself falling in a deep slumber.

“Hey, Y/N” You mumbled something, covering your face with the duvet. “Y/N. It’s 2 P.M., you have to start studying”

That made you sit up so quickly, you felt dizzy. “Shit, the test” How could  you be so dumb?  Sacrificing all of the work you put to ace this test for a stupid fight was really pathetic, even for you.

“Yeah, the test, listen I finished your notes and made you some flashcards, now you just have to start studying, but first you should eat-“

The idea of seeing the marauders made you physically ill. “I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, I know, I brough you some food” She shook a paper bag in front of you. The fact that she spent her morning doing your work and even brought you food made you feel really close to crying, and she noticed it. “Nope, no more crying. I know you, you’re about to thank me, don’t do that! I’m your best friend, I love you and this is nothing, okay? I just want you to be happy, and I know you will feel like shit if you don’t pass this test. So, start studying, okay?” She kissed the top of your head. “I got to go, Marlene’s waiting for me. Love you, bye!”

She left you on the bed, staring at the now closed door.

You looked at the sandwich: she knew you too well, if she didn’t bring you food you wouldn’t have eaten, but since she brought it to you, you felt guilty.

You pulled out your flashcards and started eating, you could be heartbroken, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to fail for your stupid feelings.

Meanwhile, Sirius just woke up. His head was feeling heavy, but most of all, he was regretting every single thing he said to you. Deep down, he knew that you were just trying to be there for everyone, and that it wasn’t an easy task. Remus didn’t control his instincts; he couldn’t blame him for being clingy.

“Someone’s decided to grace us with his presence” The werewolf was looking down at him, his brows furrowed: he knew that look, he was mad.

“I’m so, so sorry” And just like that came the tears. Remus was stubborn, but if there was something that made him cave, that was his lovers’ tears, so he hugged him close to his chest. “I was awful to you yesterday, Y/N is going to leave us, I know it, and I hate to be the one to do this to you. If you want to leave me I will understand”

James scoffed. “Leave you? You really think we are this heartless? We know you didn’t want to act like that, Sirius. We just want to know what is happening, and then we’ll go and apologize to Y/N”

Remus scratched his head. “Thing is, I don’t know how we will get to her. I went to her room earlier and Cas was about to physically fight me”

“She won’t fight us, Rem, for God’s sake we’re Y/N’s boyfriends, she can’t stand between us. Back to you, Sirius, can you tell us why you acted that way?”

The long-haired man sighed. “It’s just- You know how awful the relationship with my family is, and I know it’s wrong but when I get their letters I don’t want to talk about it, I just expect everyone to know how I’m feeling and what to do about it. So, when she wasn’t there for me this time, I lashed out. Rationally, I know that Remus wasn’t being clingy because he didn’t want to share her, but because he gets super protective during the full moon. I hate myself for treating her that way, for using her weakness against  her, but I didn’t know how to communicate how I was feeling, so I just took my anger out on her, in the wrong way” He chuckled sadly. “If I was her, I’d break up with me.”

James shook his head. “She’s too good for her own good, Sirius, you know she won’t ever leave you. But we’ll have to talk it out, you know? You’ll have to be vulnerable, and I know  it’s difficult, but you’ll have to try for us”

Sirius nodded, everything for you. James pulled out the map, but as soon as he saw your name, gasped.

“What? What have you seen?”

“Y/N is in the infirmary” They exchanged a look, running out of their dorm room.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

A chance for salvation. // WitchHunter!Aemond Targaryen x Witch!Reader

Halloween Special 🎃

DD:DNE ; DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

Summary: being a witch, there was someone who you've avoided after the rise of witch hunts, Aemond Targaryen who was the leader of the hunt, you thought you had avoided him successfully until— well, he catches you.

WARNINGS: NONCON/DUBCON, dark fic, mdni, smut, dark romance, enemies to lovers(?), highly religious themes (faith of the seven), slight misogyny, hexing kinda, description of witch hunts and trials, tiddy sucking, unprotected p in v sex, dacryphilia(?), body betrayal, mind betrayal, breeding kink, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, reader is helpless, aemond is narcissistic as fuck, asshole aemond, hatred against witches. + not proofread.

WC: 3.3k

A/N: this fic contains dark themes and content, if you find it uncomfortable please just scroll away instead of dwelling on this, please do not take the warnings lightly if you cannot stomach it, do not read it, do not interact. With that said, it's been a while since I properly sat down to write and finish a fic so it's a little rusty, don't mind it <3 // divider credits @cafekitsune

The smell of burning flesh penetrated your nose as you scrunched up your face in disgust watching the woman before you burn at stake, her agonising screams echoing throughout the town centre.

“THE WITCH SHALL BURN, THE WITCH SHALL BURN” They all chanted while you stood on the sidelines watching the entire scene take place.

You stared at the man that stood by the burning woman, his posture tall and calm, he didn't react nor did he attempt to put out the fire. Why would he? He was the one that set her ablaze in the first place.

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you watched him, he had gotten another witch, he was very good at hunting them down. A skilled witch hunter one might say.

You knew who he was, why wouldn't you? The witches had to be on the lookout from him, not wishing to cross paths. He might be blind in one eye but he has a very sharp eye, catching witches with just one look.

He was none other than the King's second son, Aemond Targaryen.

For some odd reason, he was out on a mission to hunt down all the witches as they had been spreading very fast, causing havoc and chaos, but he failed to understand one thing.

There were both good witches and bad ones.

It didn't matter to him who were who, you just had to be under the suspicion that you were a witch, you'd be put on trial immediately and once proven guilty, you'd be burnt at the stake.

The once human form began to fall apart on the stake like a melted wax figure, Aemond stood there with a stoic expression before he came down.

“Poor woman,” You heard a woman standing beside you say and you look at her, she was the daughter of a local baker “But she deserved it, she was a witch after all.” She snickered cruelly and you felt nothing but intense disgust towards the woman.

Maybe you'll hex her later onwards, you hated scums like this, the ones who thought they were doing better for the human race, while doing quite the opposite.

You left the scene immediately, travelling back to your cabin that was located deep in the woods before shutting the door tightly and going to the shrine you've set up in your house, praying to the forsaken god to give you power and to protect you from these creatures.

You placed the fabric of the dress torn from the woman who encouraged and celebrated the death of a witch onto a doll before closing your eyes and placing a curse upon her. You pick up a candle.

“Ye will not be able to consume food without consequences. Ye will suffer sickness for a month until you are cured.” You whisper into the ears of the doll circling the doll in the wax that was dripping from the candle before blowing the candle out.

It was the next day, your daily routine consisted of casting spells and creating healing potions for your sickly younger brother that lived in the village, you woke up and grabbed the potion in the vial, putting it in your bag before venturing out into the woods and out to where the civilians lived.

You decided to visit the bakery, to see how the woman is doing, it was surprising to find it closed as you probably knew the reason. The family must be worried sick for their daughter. You shrugged it off before going to the house your brother lived in, you knocked on the door to be greeted by your mother who gave you a hug before she invited you in.

You saw your younger brother, still laying in bed but looking more alive than before. “It's been weeks since you visited us ya know? But your brother has been recovering slowly.” Your mother speaks out and you nod, “The work at the castle is tough, tending to all the sick ones is tiring that I merely have time to visit, they don't give me any time for myself.” You lie. The reason why you hadn't been visiting them was because you were trying to hide from Aemond Targaryen's eye. To avoid it so you don't have the same fate as the other witches.

Your family doesn't know you practise witchcraft either, they believe that you study medicine and make healing nectars which work really well. You give the vial to your mother before sitting down alongside with her, she immediately dilutes it with water before feeding your brother.

“Have you heard? About the witch hunts lately?” You stiffen at the mention of the hunt, “I have heard, Aemond Targaryen, The prince is going around eradicating all the accused.” You reply and your mother shakes her head, “He's humiliating them by burning them alive at the centre of the town each week, I'm surprised at how many women he's catching.” She continues to talk about the hunt which makes you anxious, but just nod along.

You spend some time at your mother's before saying your goodbyes and leaving home, you've decided to stop by a small shop on the way to grab something to eat, you smile at the woman after you've purchased bread and some jam. You carefully hold them in your arms before you continue on your way towards your house.

It seemed as though fate had other plans for you when you reach your house and see a horse waiting outside with a man with platinum blonde hair standing outside. Your eyes widen at realisation.

Aemond Targaryen.

Before you could hide, he looked in your direction, his face stoic and blank. “Do you live here?” He asks, his voice monotone but underlace with malice. You gulp before nodding and making your way near him. “Y-yes my prince, why?” you reply, he just hums looking at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“There seems to be activity of a witch here, may I look inside?” He questions raising an eyebrow, you gulp knowing that if you refuse he'd force himself in anyway, but you can't comply either for there is a shrine of the forsaken inside.

“I-i'm afraid it's a little dirty, I can't allow a prince like you to step inside such a dirty place, shall I clean it up?” You ask, you know how stupid you sound but you'd be willing to try before you are sent to your own death.

He scoffs, “So you can clean your evidence of witchcraft? Do not anger me further woman, open the door now before I have to commit to violence.” He grits his teeth and you nod immediately going over to the door and opening it. He steps inside.

You close your eyes, accepting the end of your life, knowing now he'd just apprehend you and take you to the town centre to burn you. He smirks as the evidence of your activity is revealed, your house is donned in herbs and potions with a big shrine of the forsaken god in between.

“Will you burn me now?” You ask him, looking down at your feet not having the courage to look up at him but he remains silent. Your life is literally at stake right now.

“You prefer to be burned alive or stabbed to death?” He asks, drawing his sword out and you visibly flinch, “Or rather, beg for mercy?” He finishes his question staring down at your form and you close your eyes.

“You won't spare me even if I did, will you?” You didn't know where your boldness came from, asking him such a question.

You yelp when you feel him grab your hair and tilt your head to make you look at him, you look directly into his eye with a slight expression of defiance and he just smiles cruelly. “You're right, I won't.” He chuckles, his grip on your hair becoming tighter; making you wince, his nails digging into your scalp.

“I've had my eye on you for a while, you've been avoiding me.” He reveals and you stare at him wide eyed, “You thought I would not notice? That's how you witches give yourselves away, by avoiding me. If you weren't guilty of a crime, you'd not be afraid to face me.” He mutters. “I've only spared you this long because I knew of your family, a younger brother who is bedridden, a mother who relies on you, you've got responsibilities.” He reveals everything he's learned of you leaving you trembling and terrified, wondering how exactly he found all of this out.

“I have my ways, I indeed have a keen eye.” He answers, noticing your surprised expression. His breath fans your face as he pulls you closer, his grip further tightening in your hair which makes you reflexively reach out your hands towards his, trying to pry his hands off. Tears well up in your eyes knowing that you'd die soon.

“You're an odd witch.” He raises an eyebrow, “Not pleading me for mercy, ready to accept your death? I do not like it.” He tuts. “I do think you have a chance for salvation though, you're not as bad as the other witches or too deep in the craft.” He suddenly lets go of your hair causing you to stumble back.

He puts his sword back in the sheath, his eye takes in your features trailing down your body stopping at the cleavage that was slightly exposed before he swallows a lump in his throat.

“Pretty young too.” He comes nearer, kicking the door shut, like a predator stalking its prey, you try to run but he's quick— grabbing you by your waist and pushing you backwards, causing you to fall down. He gets on top of you, pinning your hands with his hand above your head as he straddles your waist.

“I told you, you can be saved, yet it seems like you want to die.” He speaks annoyed by your attempt at escaping. “Confess your faults and beg for forgiveness, you'll be saved. I won't hurt you.” He lies through his teeth. “P-please let me go—” You beg, your body shaking with the amount of adrenaline surging through your body.

He rolls his eye, using his other hand to grab your throat, choking you harshly, cutting off your air supply. You struggle beneath him, writhing your body as you try to escape his grip.

“Beg for forgiveness woman, I never give any witch a chance to live, you should consider yourself of utmost luck.” He tightens his grip on your throat further making you gasp for air.

With your survival instincts kicking in you gasp before choking out a sentence of forgiveness which makes him immediately let go of your throat. “What did you say?” He asks and you take a gasp for air before uttering the same words again. “F-forgive me, I am sorry.” You plead, making his lips contort into a winning smile.

You watch as he breathes heavily, enjoying the power he holds over you, “Beg, beg harder, plead to me, tell me that you're sorry, maybe then the Gods will forgive you.” He leans down whispering in your ear. You shiver in fear before you do as he says. “I- I am sorry, forgive me, I deeply regret my actions—.”

“Take my name.” He interrupts and you furrow your brows “My prince i—” you begin, “No, no, no. My name.” He cuts you off once again staring at you with a wild eye. You take a deep breath. “I am sorry Aemond, forgive me, I repent my actions.” You go on again and his expression changes to that of a pleased one.

Things fall silent between you both after you begged for forgiveness until he let goes of your hands before getting off your body. You sit up right as he stands up, towering over your body.

“On your knees.” He commands and you look at him confused before you notice the visible bulge in his breeches. You stare up at him wide eyed, knowing where this is going.

“You don't think that you'd be forgiven this easily? I'd have to cleanse your body, your mouth that has chanted prayers to your God, get on your knees and close your eyes. Now.” He threatens you, grabbing his sword which makes you immediately obey. You do as he says, getting on your knees and closing your eyes.

You could hear the shuffle of his clothes before a thud of clothes falling down, then you felt it, something pressed up against your lips, it was wet. “Open your mouth,” He grumbles but you hesitate which makes him forcefully open your mouth by himself. Before you could react; he shoves his cock inside your mouth.

You open your eyes, staring at him in terror as he looks at you with a sadistic expression, “Bite and I'll cut your head off.” He grits his teeth before he grabs your hand and shoves his cock further into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Drool leaks from your mouth, dripping down your chin and neck as he thrusts inside your mouth, using your hair as leverage as he continues his assault in your mouth. Tears stream down your cheek, as you blink them away hoping not to upset him.

He closes his eyes enjoying the pleasure of fucking your mouth, ramming his dick into your mouth at a brutal pace— his balls slapping against your chin. You hold onto his thighs for balance, gripping them tightly, trying to resist his motion but it only further motivates him to gain control.

“Fuck— I'm gonna finish. Keep your mouth wide open.” He pulls out his cock, using his fist to finish himself off. His seed spills on your face and some of it goes into your mouth. “Swallow, it will cleanse you.” He utters expecting you to swallow, and you do; not wanting to anger him.

You hoped that this was the end, that he'd be done with this alone. “Lay on the ground, legs spread.” The command shatters your hope and you stare up at him, shaking your head no.

This angers him, and he forces you down, pushing you hard against the floor, laying you down while grabbing your legs and spreading your legs after hiking your skirt up.

“P-please my prince! Anything but this!” You cry out, pushing against him as he settles himself between your legs. “I need to cleanse you from the inside out, woman. This is very much required.” He grunts, keeping your legs forced open as he lines up his cock against your entrance.

Your eyes widen as you feel him prodding your entrance, before he gently pushes himself, he marvels at the sight of your blood leaking onto his dick “Your maidenhead is still intact? Do you witches take a vow for chastity like Septa's do too?” He mocks before pushing further in.

Your hands shoot up to his shoulders, gripping him tightly while you put in an effort to push him away, yet all of it is deemed futile when he doesn't budge an inch. He lets go of your leg before balancing himself on his arms placed on your sides as he just as quickly moves them to rip off your bodice, revealing your mounds of flesh.

He wastes no time before groping them with his hands, you shriek as he twists and plays with your nipple, leaning in to take your teat into his mouth; all while simultaneously pushing himself gently inside your cunt.

He suckles on your nipple, grazing it with his teeth and swirling his tongue around it, you couldn't help but feel ashamed as you looked at the sight.

The prince of the realm suckling away on your tits.

This sent a shot of thunder down your spine making heat pool between your legs, were you seriously getting aroused by this? You felt guilty as your own body betrayed you, welcoming the intruder into your body by providing the necessary needs.

Aemond pulls away from your breast before focusing on the other one, giving it the same attention as he did to the one before, one of his hands slowly trails down the outline of your waist to your belly before it finds itselfs cupping your heat before he further reaches down to where you both were attached.

He lets out a soft moan of approval when he finds that you're wet; pulling the slick up to where you clitoris is before he rubs small circles upon it. “Mhm, you're so fucking wet down there.” He mutters against your nipple, making you feel even more embarrassed.

Aemond lets out an audible moan when he feels you clench around him, he's now settled in cosily inside you, he lifts himself up and positions himself upright, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders before he begins to move inward and outward, slowly thrusting into you.

Your body adjusts to his size quickly, coating his cock with the essence of its approval which makes him chuckle. He accelerates the pace, driving himself into you like an animal, rutting against you like a beast in heat.

You find yourself a moaning mess amongst all of this unwillingly, the way his cock penetrating your cunt felt way more pleasing than it should have, and his hand was working its magic on your clit.

“Fuck— you feel so fucking good, darling, I'm lucky to have spared you.” He growls as he increases his speed even more, the stretch of his cock felt so euphoric that you couldn't help but enjoy it. You knew your body has already betrayed you, now even your mind has become its accomplice.

“Oh- I'm gonna finish inside you, my witch, with it you'll be cleansed of your wrongdoings.” He groans, feeling himself near the edge, his hand rubs faster against your clit, determined to make you cum before he does, all the while he's ramming into your sweet spot.

“Aemond—!” Both the stimulation cause a sudden burst of pleasure to explode in your body, its impact being so heavy that you moaned out his name involuntarily which ended up further pleasing him.

He comes to a sudden halt as he moans loudly, spurting his seed inside you; painting your walls white. He rides his orgasm out before completely pulling out and admiring the scene before him.

You were a panting mess with his seed leaking out of you, dripping down onto the wooden floor as you look dishevelled, your clothes are torn up and hair all messed up. You breathe heavily, processing what just happened.

“Do not waste my seed witch, it will cleanse you from in and out after it takes root in your womb.” Those words make your eyes widen at the implication and you slowly gaze upon him in shock as he puts on his pants back before lifting you off the ground.

He grabs your cloak from the nearby hanger and covers your body with it and soon he lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulders. “W-what are you doing?!” You yell at him as he takes you out of your house before throwing you onto his horse, forcing you to sit on it.

“Oh my sweet witch, you didn't think I was done with you did you? I'm taking you back to the castle, you're going to carry my children and give me heirs.” He says nonchalantly before he gets on the horse himself, holding the reins before taking off.

He had taken quite the liking to you more than he wanted to admit, he had no reason to spare you but he did anyway, perhaps witches weren't bad after all?

You survived but at what cost?

That's all you could think about as you leaned against his chest, the air hitting your face and blowing through your hair as he was taking you to the castle.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Lost !

genre: smut, fairy au

pairing: sub fairy ! gyu x gn ! dom human ! reader

synopsis: in essence, eating out the mischievous and immensely pretty fairy beomgyu as a bargain when you find yourself lost in the forest.

warnings: boy pussy gyu !!! sub! gyu, dom! reader, beomgyu’s kinda a brat, degrading, squirting, overstim, eating out, fingering, hair pulling, pussy slapping, dacryphilia

word count: 1.5k

You wandered aimlessly through the forest at wits end. You’d been here for hours trying to find your way back out but the forest was much like an ever changing maze. As soon as you thought you’d found a way out, the trees and plants would shift and morph into completely different pathways, rendering you hopeless and frustrated.

It was only getting darker as well, much to your distress. And you didn’t want to stick around to know what the place would be like at night. You knew of the stories.

Just when despair threatened to overwhelm you, you stumbled upon a small clearing bathed in soft light, the ground carpeted with lush moss, and delicate flowers blooming in vibrant hues, mushrooms clustered around the perimeter.

In the centre, sat a figure amidst a bed of wildflowers, weaving intricate crowns with his hands—a fairy. He was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. Flower crown sitting on his long, silky, soft hair cascaded across his ethereally sculpted face. Face and body all glittery and shimmery and his cheeks were so naturally pink and blushed like the pink tulips that sat around him. You were quite in awe honestly.

His gaze lingers on you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, eyes sparkling with mischief and an impish grin playing upon his lips as he regarded you with some sort of knowing gaze, still continuing to make his flower crowns.

“Lost, are we?” He raises a brow, seemingly finding your predicament humorous.

“Yes.” You stand tall, trying to appear more confident to the fairy. You also didn’t think it was funny at all. When he doesn’t say anything but chuckle in response and directs his attention to his flower crowns again, you speak up, irritated with his behaviour. “You’re a fairy aren’t you? You’d know the way out?”

“…Yes” He looks up at you again, still smiling annoyingly.

“So…Show me then?.”

“Hmm…” He faux ponders, finger to his lips and grinning, “I don’t think i will.”

Your eyebrows furrow, patience wearing thin. “Why not?”

“Because it’s funny seeing humans so helpless.” The fairy’s laughter fills the air as he shakes his head, eyes dancing with amusement.

You just stand in disbelief. The sun had already set now! Fear and desperation already starting to kick in that you find yourself begging and pleading the fairy instead of blowing up in pure anger at him. “Just show me the way. Please! I’d do anything.”

His ears perk at that. “Kiss me.”

“What?!”

“If you kiss me good enough, I’ll help you.” He lays back, propped on his elbows, lips curled in a grin and trying to stifle his laugh. You really want to slap it off his face.

You scoff incredulously.

“What? Don’t want to kiss me?” Brow raised as if testing you. Like he didn’t think you actually would. It pissed you off even more. You’d heard fairies loved to make stupid deals for absolutely no reason with humans and other creatures. This must be one.

He still stares up at you, completely delighted, waiting. You roll your eyes, reluctantly approaching him on the ground of moss, grabbing a fistful of his shirt rather roughly and tugging him closer to you. He seems to like it though, getting excited.

Looking down at his lips, you can’t even deny how enticing they looked. Pretty and plump and round and glossy. You’d heard of the fairies being pretty seducing. You can’t say you’re not completely entranced by the pretty boy right now.

You’ll just put him in his place.

So you smash your lips with his, making out with him fervently, both your mouths moving and smacking against each other and the pretty boy is so into it, already getting worked up by how aggressively you kiss him and with no regard. You bite at his bottom lip and he gasps, you continuing to suck harshly and bite at them.

It practically feels like you’re melting kissing the fairy boy, you don’t what it is but his lips were so soft and…everything.

You begin the attack on his pretty neck instead, trailing rough kisses down and leaving purple and pink marks in return, hand entangling in the strands of his long hair, tugging and pulling that makes him whine into your mouth even louder, pulling on his hair roughly and leaving hickeys on his sensitive neck. You don’t even know how long it goes on for.

Suddenly, your pulling away and it makes him pout and huff, eyes dazed but frows burrowing and trying to pull you back into him but you hold onto his dainty wrists and stop him, shoving him down on the ground again.

Instead, you move down on the grass and grip his pretty little thighs concerningly tight, spreading his legs, met with his panties that don’t do much to cover anything what with the wet patch on them now. You chuckle and he tries to close his legs in embarrassment but you open them wider, lightly tracing your fingers on his clothed pussy that makes him positively squirm and squeal. So sensitive…

You continue to tease him, lightly brushing and thumbing over his panties until he’s fully drenched and whimpering over the light contact. He can’t take it anymore.

“Take them off… actually touch mee” Beomgyu whines brattily, groaning and panting.

“Beg for it. Then I’ll see.”

It shuts him up instantly, pouting and furrowing his brows again, as if contemplating whether it was worth it, “Don’t want to.”

“Brat.” You stop all contact and he’s quick to blurt his pleads out instantly in distress. It’s entertaining seeing the fairy like this now.

Roughly tugging his cute panties to the side, you stop in your tracks momentarily. It’s the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen in your life, puffy and pink and glistening, so wet already, practically dripping onto the ground it’s insane. It’s making you so insane.

You don’t waste any time, licking a long stripe of his pussy from his clit to his hole and it has him taking a sharp intake of breath, you can feel his thighs shake in your grip just from that and his eyes close shut, positively squealing and squirmy.

You bury your face in him after that, scent so sweet and you begin to practically make out with his pussy, flicking your tongue over his clit then wrapping your entire lips around them, sucking harshly and he’s shivering immensely, prettiest choked up moans coming out of him, head reeling back and mouth agape.

Still sucking on his pretty clit, you bring two of your other fingers to his hole, not giving him a second of reprieve, and shoving them inside his warm and tight pussy, fingering him at the same speed you suck on him, hammering them into him, his head lolled back and his eyes almost cross eyed, dumbly drooling.

It’s not long before you can feel him clamp down on your fingers so tight, and he’s cumming, legs and thighs shaking like a leaf, seeing starts he doesn’t even know what to do, prettiest most mellifluous sounds eliciting from his lips.

It was a sight to see, whole body completely flushed, hair all tousled and messed up and damp from the sweat, eyebrows creased and eyes closing open and shut, eyelashes fluttering sexily kissing the tops of his red cheeks, plump lips parted and jaw slack. He looked so slutty.

But you don’t break away, instead you grip on the sides of his hips probabaly bruising them and pulling him onto your face even further, tongue flat on his clit as he merely mewls and cries, way too sensitive. It hurts but it also feels too good, he shakes his head nonetheless, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering.

“T-too muchhh” The fairy sniffles, trying so hard to shut his trembling legs.

“Slut. Stay still.” You forcefully keep his legs open, gripping even tighter onto the flesh of his thighs. You reach your hand up and lightly slap his abused cunt, he yelps almost instantly.

“Say it. Tell me how much of a slut you are.”

He can’t get the words out, can’t even think to get the words out of his mouth as you continuously slap his now even more swollen, absolutely pink puffy pussy.

“hah-! fffuu, m’ just a slut!” He cries and wails. “Just your slut.” There’s tears streaming down his face now, sobbing, doe eyed and glassy, so so, so, so pretty.

He trembles and shakes even more if it were possible, legs thrashing and thighs clenching when you feel his juices gush out and squirting, screaming and squirming, not expecting to squirt, eyes rolling straight to the back of his head.

You lap up all his juices and press a final little kiss to his pussy before you completely stop.

The pretty fairy boy goes limp, laying in the bed of flowers, panting and gasping heavily, so embarrassed from squirting, he attempts to hide face in his hands, face so incredibly pink and flushed. But you’re taking his hand away so you can cup his hot cheeks and coo at him, kissing at his forehead instead.

When he’s finally recovered, his mouth curls into a playful grin gazing at you as you both lay next to each other in the flowers, his eyes sparkling with mischief again.

“Good enough for you?” You sarcastically ask him, knowing how absolutely disheveled he looked right now, the sweat only making his glittery face and body even more shiny and ethereal.

He chuckles, still breathless and nods. “Too good even, I might not want to let you go. Kinda want to keep you forever…”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: this is super messy and makes no sense I’m sorry 🤞 just wanted to experiment with boypussy gyu though I know it’s not many’s cup of tea !

[lxmelle]

Those letters for his students was like Gojo’s way of showing consideration for them.

That’s what Geto Suguru, the “Gojo translator”, would say to them, if he was there.

I mean, there was a reason they were best friends - Geto understood him the best. He helped him learn how to (and the importance of) connecting to others - how to not be lonely.

It was the same in the scene with Kuroi. Right before he shouted for Gojo over the time, he just instinctively knew how to connect with Gojo and helped others with sympathising with Gojo.

I didn’t play the JJK game but I think the undercurrent dynamics is similar. Their bond. The exclusivity. Love. The whole breakup was about their friendship. The change the new generation got was also due to the path forged by them. As it stands, Gojo is shown to be largely misunderstood and nobody aside from Yuta has shown much affection for Gojo. Maybe Yuji ... to some degree. But I digress.

Maybe it’s an unpopular opinion, but considering how Geto-centred Gojo’s GIGA Character book was, he was likely influenced by Geto’s strong protective love for his “family”.

It makes sense to me that Gojo thought it would be important to put the students’ minds at ease with any thoughts/questions about their family. Hence the letters to help tie up loose ends.

Megumi was shown to be thinking about his father, whin he assumed was out there somewhere. Even if he didn’t want to know, there is a subconscious level of unfinished business from thinking this. And to know that Gojo killed him, may have helped him realise that his sensei had his back all this while. He was worth protecting all this while. That chapter of his life can truly close.

And just how bloody typical of his sensei, who has no “delicate-ness” about him!

As a sensei, and as a person, Gojo always protected others from his own personal concerns. He and Geto both stubbornly lived & fought “alone” because this was just their belief as the burden of the strongest = to protect others. The line was drawn and Gojo only ever wanted Geto to understand him, hence his conversation in 236. Only ever needed Geto by his side: hence his only complex was Geto leaving him behind.

We see this in how Shoko felt distant from them both. Stating in her inner monologue how she could never love either of them, but she was there - insinuating what they had between them was not something she could give (love) but her friendship was there if only Gojo let her in. And we see it in how, when she tried to connect with Gojo post-unsealing, by including Geto’s body as someone to be retrieved, he was a bit taken aback, starting his sentence with a long pause “……...” and keeping it simple / not elaborating (だな - it’s like the equivalent of a “yeah” but implies agreement).

Also, the fact the students and others can joke and call him an idiot, etc. means he really hid it well. Gojo protected them all. (As a teacher and adult should, I guess.)

I’m reminded of this scene.

Geto helped Gojo empathise & “not bully the weak”, but to also consider what else may be important... even if they may not think so themselves.

Until they receive what they thought they didn’t want, only to realise it was what they needed after all.

Cuz… y’kow: people (especially children) don’t always know what they want or need.

Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need. What you need isn’t necessarily what you want.

Gojo & Geto lived through that too... didn’t they? On so many levels… wanting, needing, denying, losing, yearning. Carrying their burdens they had nobody to share with. Making decisions on their own. Giving to the other a piece of their heart. Sacrificing themselves. Accepting each others loneliness as their own. Thinking they were better off loving the other by being apart.

The painful lessons that shaped the way for the new world. Children given the protection from The Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern Era. Granted a world with fewer curses for 10 years due to the Strongest Curse User.

Children who had adults to guide, protect, and care for them.

Children who do not have to be killed for the mistakes of others, who were forced to commit sins, or for being born a certain way.

I think every single sorcerer who were adults helped the kids in some way. The layers and layers of this story is just... overwhelmingly beautiful.

Much remains to be seen now. I’m worried that Yuta will have to live in Gojo’s body and that Kenjaku’s eerie words of Yuta being “the next Gojo Satoru” will extend beyond that battle.

People on X seem to be speculating whether a world without curses will exist (going back to jjk 0 and Geto’s ideals). What of the barriers without tengen? Some question reality as we are being shown - is it an elaborate dream? Hm.

I hope for the plant/flower trio at least... Megumi and Yuji can use their shared tragedy as vessels who committed sins to bond and support one another. Nobara is a great buffer and heroine in her own right. Their dynamics are really amazing. Independent, yet so bonded.

I’d love to see Gojo & Geto at peace. I guess whatever happens, chapter 236 is a bit like salvation. And doesn’t Megumi’s smiling pic (above) look similar? If these two smiled as if they had no regrets , we can assume Megumi smiled sincerely upon receiving the letter, too.

As long as Gege doesn’t do anything to change it.

Please please don’t. They deserve a reward for their hard work and sacrifice!

[tianshanb]

A head canon of mine that baby damian was ALLOWED to be a baby. Just with extra assassin trianing.

Like you know those parents that start their kids on sports, or languages, or instruments as babies etc. Talia just started him on assassin training early. But he's just a baby

Cue dmaian walking into training with a pacifier and clutching a blanket.

Just imagine damian with a tiny wooden sword copying the moves of his instructor. Once it's break time, he toddles to the other corner of the room where he plops down on a bunch of pillows and blankets waiting for him, and most importantly, his bottle. Training is tiring he needs a drink 😤

He may also take a nap mid lesson cz he's just a babyyyyy. He brings his favorite plushie to "watch him" when he train. Instead of playing house he plays secret assassin mission with the toys.

As he grows older. 4 to 6 years old. The pacifier is gone by then, and he no longer brings his toys. The new instructor seeing this mature soul in a child body confidently walking up to you with their nose turned up... the illusion is shattered when they open their mouth and half their teeth are missing. Then, mid trianing damian take a drink from their sippy cup thats batman themed (it was a gift from his mama from her latest mission).

Yep just a child.

7 years old is when his training gets super hard. That's the age where your viewed as starting to mature.

I imagine at this age where Ra's is like finally he's old enough to start his real trianing, and Talia is no longer the one responsible for him. This continues to increase in difficulty until he's 9. And shaped off to batfam.

But hoenstly:

Sword trianing?? Imagine this aggressive toddler swinging this sword around. A thing about babies is they LOVEEE swinging shit around, hitting things, throwing things. So training would BE fun.

Eventually he'd had to learn how to break his fall, how to get tackled, etc. Dmaian just sees it as a game and it makes him giggled. KIDS enjoy being tossed around. Like roughhousing is a thing for a reason, the same reason why people throw babies in the air when they play with them.

When he goes to the batfamily. He's just a random 9 year old. One thing about why I can never take the little guy seriously is no matter how intimidating and scary you wbat to seem... your voice will still be that of a child. Another hc is when he's angry he gets on his tippy toes cz he's soo tinyyy. I imagine an argument geting super heated and finally dmaian doing on his toes and suddenly whoever he's arguing with can't take his seriously cz he smol, like this big 👌, and missing some teeth. He has a bed time and can't watch horror movies, like seriously are u arguing with him?

Another thing is Talia had limited screen time and access to devices and technology. She also had parent control on every device. Bruce just does not have that. Dmaian is going to Bruce, and being excited, he's old enough to use a device without parental supervision, or the parent app is so excited that he's seen as a grown-up! (In reality, Bruce just firgot. He never had kids this young with smartphones existing). He's bragging to tim about it one day when bruce overheard, and he's like, hold up a minute.

Extra:

This idea came to me once my friend told me about a student she has. Me and her are tutors and she tutors math. At her centre, there is no specific grade, everyone just advances through the levels as long as they pass the previous level.

In her group, there is this 2 year old toddler who's parents put in tutoring since he was 18 months old. This baby is dropped of by his parents, walking in with a pacifier in his mouth with the clip on to shirt thing. Sometimes in his pj's and sometimes clutching his 'blankie'.

This little dude does advanced algebra. That's right HIGHCHOOL LEVEL ALGEBRA.

He's barely toilet trained 😭 and he asked for help to go to the bathroom, his grip on the pencil is shaky, he still baby talks... but I bet he's better than u at maths.