#tilting his head and using his eyebrows as his main expressions.....

[naturenaruto]

my jiang cheng headcanon is that he learned to start snorting and sniffing bc when he was a child he had no friends except his dogs and thats how dogs play like they snort right? and so now when something amuses him or pisses him off he snorts or sniffs in a breath, probly doesnt even really realize he does this or just thinks its regular but to anyone else its noticeable and they find it funny/endearing

[peachysunrize]

Empty Promises ⥃ Dark!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: the closeness between you and your twin brother doesn’t go unnoticed by your uncle, but your bond will shatter when he is betrothed to your cousin, lightening a new path for Aemond to get his revenge.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! Dark!Aemond, manipulation, DUB CON KIND OF? main pairing: Aemond x Strong!reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter/Jace’s twin), side pairing: Jace x twin!reader (They’ll end pretty quickly lol), JACE AND READER ARE 18!! targcest, incest, mentions of pregnancy, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex, degradation, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 4.6k+

A/n: so heheh I received this ask and rambled about it to beloved @anjelicawrites and she helped me with this one shot!!! Tell me what you think about this one shot, lovies, and don’t forget to reblog and comment!!!

“Mm, maybe we should keep our distance during our stay here,” Jace mumbles against your lips, his arms wrapped around your waist as he corners you to a wall, “We might get caught,”

“But why? Mother said it herself that we are to be betrothed soon! It would not raise any suspicions.” You try to lean down for another kiss, but he pulls back a little, his warm hand resting on your cheek, “Besides, we have already done more than just kissing, yet I am still a maiden!”

“That you are, beloved sister,” he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, backing away from you as soon as he hears a rush of footsteps in your direction, “Do not pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” you scoff, looking away from him as you cross your arms over your chest. “But I am displeased with you! You promised we would be wed soon and that we ought to wait until we are husband and wife to explore… different sides of our companionship.”

“Because tainting your purity is the last thing I want, my love,” he reaches to loop your arm through his, kissing the side of your head before he looks at Luke who jogs toward you, “What is it you want, Luke? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Busy doing what? Annoying our sister?” Luke looks between the two of you, raising his eyebrows as he sees your flushed face and Jace’s swollen lips, “Or perhaps being inappropriate with our sister—“

“Mind your tongue, Luke,” you say, tightening your arm around Jace’s, looking at him pleadingly, knowing your younger brother’s big mouth that always gets you and your twin in trouble, “Do not make me mad, it will not end well for you.”

“I wish mother would betroth you two already, it is awfully obvious how… involved you are with each other,” Luke shrugs, walking ahead of you, forcing you and your brother to join him, “You must be careful, this place has eyes and ears and they are already looking at us with disgust.”

“Lucerys,” you sigh, resting your head on Jace’s shoulder, smiling softly when he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your forehead too long for the court’s liking, “Don’t let them win, little brother. Do not give them a chance to belittle us, we are Princess Rhaenyra’s children. Silver-haired or not, we have royal blood surging in our hearts.”

“She is correct,” Jace cups your cheek in his hand, his warm eyes looking into yours — identical to his — before he leans down to whisper against your lips, “We might not have the hair, but we own the name, and the costumes.”

“That is right,” you press a quick kiss to his lips grinning when he does not look away from you, groaning when Luke makes a gagging sound. You look at your younger brother, raising your eyebrows at his visibly disgusted expression, “One day, you will hold such affection for a lady, and we shall get to tease you for it endlessly!”

“I doubt we would need to wait for long, dear sister,” Jace smiles, his hand coming to rest on your waist, gently squeezing you before he resumes talking, “Have you noticed how flushed he gets when Rhaena talks to him—“

“Nephews.”

There they are.

The infamous Dragon princes, walk with their heads held high and chin tilted up as they both stare down at the three of you over their noses.

Aegon is just as you remember from years ago; he has unruly hair and a lazy smirk as he stares at the three of you.

Your younger uncle though, is much more put together; his hair is tied out of his face, neatly brushed and shining while he scans the entire hallway from one corner to the other, his gaze lingering on you and Jace’s linked arms.

“Niece,” Aemond says, his good eye solely focusing on you, ignoring the terrified faces of your brothers who try to play it cool without staring daggers at Aegon who tries to intimidate them by only smirking. The younger Targaryen brother, though, does not show how he feels up front, just cocking his head to the side as he starts talking, “How you have grown to a lady, dark hair and all.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you reply, face as stoic as possible but soon the mask slips and you look at your twin brother and smile radiantly, enjoying how safe his arm feels around yours, “But it seems with all the years passing, your eye hasn’t grown back.”

“My, she’s got a mouth on her,” Aegon chuckles, running a hand through his tangled hair as he snickers at Aemond.

“Indeed she has,” Aemond says, stepping forward, closing the distance between you, and glancing at Jace who pulls you closer to him, his brown eyes meeting Aemond’s bright blue orb, “No wonder she has her dog running around her, sniffing and barking when threatened.”

“Easy, easy,” Aegon laughs, putting a hand on Jace’s chest when the dark-haired prince strides closer. Aegon holds him back, glancing at Luke who tries to appear brave while he trembles and looks between his siblings and uncles, “My brother is… too honest for his own good, nephew.”

“He is rude,” you whisper, chest heaving as Aemond leans even closer, towering over you as he raises a hand to your exposed neck, caressing the skin with the back of his fingers, until he reaches the neckline of your dress, slowly tracing the outline of the blue mark that is lightly visible.

“Hmmm,” Aemond’s eye drops to the mark before he drags his gaze up to your face, taking in your flustered expression, before he looks at Jacaerys, “It appears you are trying hard to get accustomed to Targaryen costumes, my Lord and Lady Strong. Such… proximity is seen as inappropriate in this castle. Mayhaps you have forgotten the rules of the king’s court.”

“Jace, don’t listen to him,” you sigh shakily, looking away from Aemond before tugging on Jace’s hand, stepping away from your uncles before you pull your twin brother away from them as well, cocking your head for Luke to follow your lead and back away from the blonde men, “Let us join our sisters for lunchen.”

“Yes, best to leave and make yourselves ready for tomorrow,” Aegon waves at the three of you as you walk to the opposite of the hallway, ignoring the older prince’s snickers, but Aemond’s gaze is too strong to turn a blind eye to it, especially with how hot the place he touched feels like.

“I am nervous,” you mumble against Jacaerys’ neck, tightening your arms around his middle as he hugs you back just as tightly, “Luke is distressed, he is frantic and I doubt he would be able to appear strong in front of the court and the Hand.”

“Mother has it under control, beautiful,” he whispers, sighing against the crown of your head as you both rest on the chaise in his chambers, empty plates on the desk in front of you, “Daemon will help her in the court today, do not worry.”

“Jacaerys,” you mumble, sitting straight to look into his eyes. “You promised we would wed after we strengthened Mother’s claim, and she agreed, but we are yet to be betrothed. Why? Why are we delaying such a happy union, brother?”

“We are not, my sweet,” he cups your face, closing his eyes to try and hide the annoyance that you can clearly hear in his tone, “We need to think of our family first, our lives and Mother’s inheritance are already a threat to our happiness. Do not forget about your duty to our family and the realm, you are a Princess.”

“That is irrelevant, Jacaerys,” you put some distance between the two of you before standing up to put on your gown, making sure the bruises and marks on your chest are fully covered beneath the fabric, “I know what I must do as a Velaryon Princess, but will it not make you happy to have me as your future queen?”

“I promised you since we were ten and one that, you are to be my wife when we grow older,” he replies, covering his face with his hands, “I intend to keep that promise one way or another. Now, put on your clothes and join us in the Throne room.”

You watch him leave after he fixes his coat, giving you space to finish lacing your gown as best as you can, brushing your hair so your Mother does not notice your disheveled appearance, and using a hair clip to pull the front of your hair back as the final touch.

With a sigh, you leave your twin’s room, walking gracefully downstairs to reach the throne room, passing ladies and lords who bow their heads and greet you, making your nervousness only grow worse by their stares.

The doors are open and you take your time while walking toward your family, greeting your now stepsister Baela with a radiant smile, conversing with her easily before you notice your grandmother and greet her as well.

The feeling of someone watching you makes the hair on the back of your head itch, and the heat of their gaze burns your skin and as soon as you turn around, the feeling is long gone, because your eyes lock with his good one almost immediately.

Just as the day before, you feel breathless beneath his eye, desperately hoping for him to look away and let you have a moment of peace before the Hand comes and once again questions your legitimacy.

Aemond does not look away, his stare is locked on yours or more specifically, looking at your gown where it is covering the bruise he touched before, a ghost of a smirk finding its way on his thin lips when he can not see the blue mark.

You turn around and join your brothers and family on the opposite side of the room, watching the Hand making his way to the Iron Throne, sitting on it, and observing the crowd.

You know how everything is going to happen; Vaemond Velaryon will question your brother’s legitimacy and by extension you and your twin brother as well. You are more than glad to feel Jace’s closeness throughout the exhausting trial, his hand on your waist as he tries to keep his anger at bay.

The room grows oddly silent when the doors are pushed open and your grandsire, The King, limps toward his throne slowly, the rotten side of his face covered by a golden mask. He sits in his rightful place, panting before he starts talking, demanding to know what is all the mess his family created.

Your grandmother is asked to give her own petition on behalf of your grandsire, and what she says makes your eyes grow wide, lips falling apart as you let out a shocked gasp before pulling your hand away from your brother’s grasp.

“As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena, a proposal which I heartedly agreed…”

Your lips tremble, and the world around you fades away as your teary eyes find Jace’s trembling lips, shushing you gently as you put more distance between, hiding behind Luke and Daemon.

You see your Mother’s bright smile as she turns to look at Jacaerys, but she catches a glimpse of you and sighs, lowering her gaze to the floor before she looks back at Rhaenys and nods at her.

You catch Aemond’s eye, realizing your interaction did not go unnoticed, but the ache and betrayal outweigh the utter humiliation you feel at the moment.

You do not pay attention for a second, lost between your own thoughts and the news of your brother’s betrothal to someone other than you until you see Daemon pulling his sword out and the next thing you knew is Lord Vaemond’s head on the floor.

You gasp eyes wide in terror as the tears finally fall down, but across the room, you see Aemond’s flushed cheeks as he drags his eye from the headless man on the floor to you, his bright iris shining with what could only assume lust and intrigue.

His gaze awakens something in you, something only Jacaerys used to do, but seeing your uncle flushed and breathless while his eye is solely focusing on your face has your heart pulsating more than before.

Without so much of a glance at your family, you bolt outside of the throne room, pushing people out of your way forcefully to move past the guards and leave the hall.

With your gown in your fists, you rush upstairs, tears running down your face as you hear your name being called by your twin brother, following you upstairs with haste, skipping a step or two to reach you before you run away once more.

“Please, sister, listen—“

“Listen to what?” You yell, turning around abruptly, digging your nails into your palms, “Listen to what, Jace? You were fooling me all this time, keeping at an arm’s length! Did you know about this?”

And the defeated face he makes is enough to answer your question.

“You did, did you not?” You chuckle in disbelief, resting your hand on your chest as you blink the tears away. Even the sight of him makes your heart clench in pain, “Waiting for marriage…what utter nonsense! Did you even love me or were you lying to my face this whole time just to secure a match for yourself?”

“Of course I love you! You are my sister!” He screams back, his hands falling limply next to his body, “I could not live with myself if I tainted your purity! Our lives are hanging on a thread because of our—“

“Because we are fucking bastards, I know that Jacaerys! But Mother promised us to each other, she told me, in fact—“ you laugh halfheartedly to cover up the sob that nearly made its way up your throat, “You said it yourself! We would marry one way or another, now you are telling me you did this for Mother. You told me you loved me.”

“I do! Just not enough to fight with our future queen over it!”

Your lips quiver, watching as the man you used to love turns into a stranger; you nearly gave yourself to him in one of the many nights that the desire got too strong, and he pushed you away just as he has done a hundred times. 

“If I am to be king one day, I need a strong queen who will bring me power, not to make me appear weak,” Jace whispers, and that is your undoing. With a violent shake of your head, you grab your skirt in your hands and run upstairs, trying to hide your tears from the passing servants until you are safe in the confines of your own chambers.

You should not be ignoring everyone, not when with Daemon’s help, your mother managed to keep Luke’s inheritance in her grasp, but even the thought of your sweet sister Baela being betrothed to Jacaerys makes you nauseous.

Instead, you are crying on an abandoned balcony with no guards or people in sight, tightening the shawl around your shoulders as the cold breeze hits your heated cheeks.

There are many emotions running through your head now, and the more you spend time thinking about them the more you feel like throwing up. Did your brother really put on a mask to hide your mother’s intentions by whispering reassurances to you?

“You were dearly missed at the supper.”

You hear his voice, the deep soothing voice of his that cuts through the silence. You clean your nose with your napkin, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping at him.

“What do you want, Aemond?” You manage to say without your voice breaking, gazing off to the distance while your tears dry and new ones burn your eyes.

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke,” look at me, he says, patiently waiting for you to turn around, and when you do not, he sighs, one hand reaching to move your hair to your left shoulder, caressing your neck with his knuckles, “Don’t make me repeat myself, niece.”

“Leave me alone, Uncle!” you cry out, hair whipping into his face as soon as you turn around, pushing on his chest as you scream at him, “I am sick of you taunting me! I know how humiliating it was and how much you must have enjoyed watching me and my brother fall apart! Surely you have already jabbed him with your words, calling us bastards and our mother a whore!”

“Mind your tone—“ he grabs your wrists in his large palms, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his, and he takes his time observing your face — tears coating your cheeks, lips trembling with anger, the agony of betrayal evident on your face.

You try to wiggle out of his hold, digging your nails into the side of his wrists but he tightens his grip to keep you close while he lets go of one of your wrists to cup your chin with his palm, his thumb caressing your jaw.

The heat of his gaze is enough to blossom a new warmth in your chest; it is not unkind, not what you are used to. It is… welcoming, careful, as if he is afraid you would break in his hold.

“Shh,” he shushes you, cupping your cheek completely before he wipes a tear that threatens to fall from your lashes, “Nothing is worth your tears, certainly not your idiot brother.”

“Do not call him an idiot, I love him!”

“Does he love you just as much?” He shakes his head, catching another tear with the back of his fingers, wiping your cheek gently, “He hurt you, sweet girl.”

“He-he promised me—“ a sob breaks out, your throat burning as you try to explain. You know you should not, especially not to someone who openly despises you, but you can not stop yourself, not when his hands moves to round your waist, his face leaning closer as he looks deeply into your eyes, “We were to be betrothed, but he betrayed me, so did Mother!”

“What did they do?” He asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “You can trust me, Tala,” Niece, he says and keeps you close, merging you into his arms, and you melt right there, looking up at him with watercolor eyes.

“She betrothed him to Baela,” you whisper, fisting the front of his doublet, holding on to the fabric tightly as you sob, but he does not let you hide your face from him, no, he stares deeply into your eyes, watching each tear fall on your wet cheeks. There is a dangerous glint in his only blue orb, as if he is stripping you naked of the mask you always put around him and his family — and to your surprise, you realize he has done that successfully and you have allowed him, “He lied to me that…”

“Go on, sweet girl, tell me what that bastard did to you.”

“We were involved with each other more than it’s deemed appropriate… but he never tainted my purity, always pushed me away and made me… he made me feel as if I did not rouse something in him anymore when he would tell me we ought to wait for marriage.”

“Idiot,” you frown at him, but gasp when he gently pushes your head to the side by cupping your jaw, making room for his face as he ghosts the tip of his nose over your neck and down to your shoulders, “How could he hold himself back while he could have you like this all day?”

“I-I don’t…” you trail off as soon as he presses his pink thin lips to the junction of your shoulder, nipping at the sensitive skin, “Aemond.”

“Oh, sweet girl, he did not love you,” he groans against your neck before he detaches himself from you, “He is a fucking fool, I would have never let you leave my bed if I had you.”

“What-what do you mean he didn’t love me?” You stutter, mind hazy and limbs shaking; only Jace used to have you like this, but the intense desire was not this strong even then.

“He loves the idea of controlling you, taking his pleasure then tossing you aside as soon as duty comes forward,” he straightens his back, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “He does not deserve you. The Seven knows I would have worshipped you in every corner of this Keep, nothing would have stopped me from showing you how loveable you are.”

He nods and leaves with his hands clasped on his back, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts and a furiously beating heart.

You do not know what possesses you as you take a path you have never thought you would: walking downstairs to one of the ground floors, taking the hallway on your left until you see the flicker of several candles. With the final step you take, you see him sitting on one of the chairs, his legs crossed as he reads a book.

Aemond’s hair is down, and he is only in his breeches and a white undershirt, but the smirk on his lips when his eye falls on you breaks his character.

“Niece,” he says, uncrossing his legs as he spreads them, his arms dangling from the sides of the chair, his eye running over your night attire being finally visible to his gaze, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “I don’t… I don’t know why I am here…” you whisper, crossing the room until you are standing next to his chair, “I thought about what you said… did you mean it?”

“Every word,” he closes his book and drops it on the table in front of him before he reaches to grab your wrist and guide you between his legs, “I meant every word I said. Would you like me to prove them?”

“Yes,” you nod, reaching to pull your nightgown off but he stops you, pulling you down on his lap after turning you around, and spreading your legs over his. His hand goes under your shift, slowly yet firmly pressing his fingers against the dampened spot on your underwear, “Aemond.” “Shhh, sweet girl, voices echo in this chamber,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your underwear to the side before he runs the pad of his fingers against your pearl, enjoying how suddenly your legs clamp around his wrist, “You would not like if someone hears us, now, would you?”

You shake your head side to side, resting your head on his broad shoulder, tucking your face in his neck as he plays with your heat, rubbing the right places before he pushes a finger inside. You gasp, hiding your face more but he turns his head to look at you, his stare too intense to look away from which seems to please him beyond words.

“Did your idiot brother ever touch you like this?” he asks and shoves another finger inside, scissoring you open by curling and thrusting his digits deep inside your core, a deep frown forming on his face when you nod and arch your back.

Aemond fastens his pace, fucking you with a new rush of anger, his fingers curled and hitting the sweet spots inside you that have your legs shaking in a matter of a second.

“No one can give you the pleasure I give you,” he spits the words out, brushing his nose against yours aggressively, his pace matching his fury, “Kiss me, now.” You do not need any more convincing before you pull him down and crash your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of your pleasure. For a second you break the kiss, gasping for air but he doesn’t let you do so completely.

“I didn’t say you could stop, niece,” he kisses you after this, his lips devouring yours as you fall over the edge, your legs shaking and quivering as you gush over his fingers, coating them in your juices,

He finally breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours before he whispers, “Get on the bed, all fours.” You stand up with shaky legs, but he does not let you go too far before he reaches and pulls your nightgown over your head, stunning you with how quickly his attitude changes.

You, in all of your naity, have learned a thing or two from your twin brother, and you comply with your uncle’s commands and try to climb the bed, but Aemond’s mind has changed already.

He stands behind you, pushing you down on the edge of the bed with your legs dangling and him pressing his hips into your backside as he pulls your underwear down, revealing your glistening cunt to his hungry eye.

With one hand on your shoulder blades, he presses you down on the mattress, cock already out of his breeches and standing proudly against his covered abdomen.

“Fucking gods,” he groans deeply, the sound coming from the depth of his chest as he presses his cock into you, breaching your maidenhead inch by inch, “See, sweetling? Your brother is a moron because no man can keep away from a tight cunt like this.”

You whine, the wetness is enough to let him glide inside you with ease, filling you up and stretching your poor untouched walls out. He is much bigger than you could ever imagine, he is certainly bigger than your brother even though you have never felt him inside you.

Aemond’s starting pace is bruising, brutal even. He is fucking his frustration away, making you cry out with each delicious stroke, pulling his cock out until the red weeping tip is engulfed by your walls before he snaps his hips into the globes of your ass.

“Jace did not want you, niece,” he bends down over your back, his chest pressed into yours as he drives his cock in and out of you quickly, hammering himself in your sweet cunt, “I want you, you are mine. Your brother took my eye, now I take his sister. An eye for an eye.”

You can not argue back, not when his cock is nudging every pleasure points deep inside your core, making your head turn into a puddle. You should be embarrassed, your Mother would be furious if she found out, but he is giving you something Jace had denied you for so long, and the sheer euphoric feeling you are getting is enough to make you empty your head of any thoughts — all you can think about is him, your uncle, your devious handsome uncle you have been warned to keep away.

“Do you know what that means?” he asks, biting your earlobe as he somehow picks up his pace, thrusting himself inside you before he keeps himself pressed against you, circling his hips to drive himself deeper, “I will give you my seed from this day on until I am sure you are with child; a precious Targaryen heir. Then I will make him the king after me, and you, my beloved niece, will kill your family and rule the realm with me and our child.”

You moan loudly, walls clenching tightly around his girth as you reach your peak and that is enough to send him to his high as well; he comes inside you, dumping his warm dragonseed deep inside your womb.

“We shall rule together, niece, and that is a promise I intend to keep.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Say Don't Go

Summary: You are given the opportunity of a lifetime, Spencer urges you to take it. Even if it means leaving him behind.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, typical BAU crime, mentions of drugging/kidnapping/robbery, brief alcohol consumption by reader and friends, clubs, break up(?), talks of marriage, forced choices/decisions, happy ending !

Word count: 15k

a/n: so what if this pulls inspiration from the train scene in glee... SO WHAT ... and so what if i named a character after kurt

main masterlist

December 2008 – Present

"You’ve been with so many women you don’t remember their names?" Spencer asked, laughing at Derek.

"Are you surprised?" Emily snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"This has never happened to me before," Derek defended, sounding genuinely incredulous.

"It’s never happened to me before either," Spencer chimed in, grinning as he started toward the conference room.

"It can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory," Emily teased, her smirk unmistakable.

"Plus, you only have one name to remember," Derek added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ha ha," Spencer replied, forcing a laugh, though the words cut deeper than he let on. Derek wasn’t wrong.  

He only had one name to remember. One that mattered above all the others.  

But Spencer had messed it up. He had let you get on that train. He had let you walk away.

Spencer's regrets weren't always loud or obvious; they often whispered to him in the quiet moments of his everyday life, weaving their way into his thoughts like unwelcome visitors he couldn’t shake.

It was in the mornings, when he brewed a pot of coffee in his lonely apartment, and his hand hovered over the second mug he used to pour for you. He’d catch himself mid-motion, the pang of realization that you weren’t there cutting through him like a knife. He’d take his coffee black, staring at the empty chair across from him, and wonder if you were having your morning cup too—if you still took it with two sugars and a splash of cream.

At work, it was the little things that brought you to mind. A joke Derek would make, or the way Emily tilted her head while teasing him, reminded Spencer of how you used to laugh with him, soft and genuine. He could still hear your voice in the back of his mind, offering your take on a case or pointing out something he’d missed. Those moments were the hardest—because they reminded him of how much better everything had been when you were there to share it with him.

And then there were the books. Spencer couldn’t walk into his favorite bookstore without being overwhelmed by the memory of browsing the aisles with you, debating over which novel to pick for your next "couples read." Now, those shelves felt empty, even when they were fully stocked. He’d run his fingers over the spines, pausing at titles he knew you would’ve loved, but he never brought himself to buy them. What was the point if you weren’t there to read them with him?

Evenings were the worst. After a long day at the BAU, when he returned to his dim apartment, the silence was deafening. He’d sit at his desk, pulling out old case files to distract himself, but his eyes would always drift to the small keepsake box he kept on the shelf. Inside were the remnants of your time together—a movie ticket stub, a pressed flower from a date, a Polaroid of you laughing at something he’d said. He’d told himself he’d put it away to move on, but instead, it became a shrine to his mistakes, one he visited more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there were the nights when the ache became unbearable, when he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of you boarding that train. He could still hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks, still see the tear-streaked expression on your face when you looked at him through the window. Those nights, he’d wonder what he’d say to you if he had another chance—what he’d do differently if he could go back. 

The regret wasn’t just a feeling; it was a constant presence in his life. It was the realization that, in trying to give you what he thought you needed, he’d taken away the one thing he needed most: you.

—

June 2008

“Spencer?” you asked cautiously, looking over at your boyfriend as his car came to a stop in front of the train station.  

You could see him take a deep, trembling breath, the shakiness audible even as he tried to steady himself.  

When he turned to face you, his eyes were already brimming with tears, spilling over before he could even speak.  

“You said we were going to dinner,” you reminded him, your throat tightening as dread began to settle in your chest. You were trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, clinging to the hope that you were wrong.  

Spencer cleared his throat, but it didn’t stop his voice from breaking as he said, “No.” He shook his head, and the weight of his next words seemed to crush him as he continued, “You’re going to New York.”  

“What?” Your voice shot up as you stared at him in disbelief, as if he had grown another head. “What do you mean? I turned Aubrey down.”  

“I know,” Spencer sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I can’t let you throw your dreams away for me.”  

“My dreams?” you repeated, your voice rising in anger and heartbreak. “Spencer, you are my dream. I love you!”  

“I love you too,” he choked out through his tears, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”  

“But—” you tried, your hands reaching for his as if grounding him could change his mind.  

“No, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, though the pain in it was unmistakable. “I—I called Aubrey. She still wants you. I told her you accepted the position. That you’re coming.”  

“Why?” you cried, the single word breaking into a sob. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, desperate for an answer that would make this make sense.  

Spencer’s lips quivered, and he looked away, unable to face the devastation in your eyes. "Because you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lump in his throat.  

"But I already have everything I want!" you shouted, your hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you. "You’re all I need, Spencer. You’re it for me!"  

He let out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now as his hands reached up to cover yours. For a moment, you thought he might give in, that he might change his mind. But then he shook his head again, his expression resolute despite the anguish etched into every line of his face.  

"You’ll resent me one day," he said, his voice cracking. "You’ll look back and wonder what you could’ve done, what you could’ve been if you hadn’t stayed for me. I can’t live with that. I can’t live knowing I held you back."  

"That’s not fair!" you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of your sobs. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! I chose you, Spencer. I chose us!"  

"I know," he whispered, his hands tightening over yours as if trying to memorize the feeling. "And that’s why I have to do this. Because I love you too much to let you give up your future for me."  

"My future is with you!" you insisted, but he was already pulling your hands away from his face, gently but firmly.  

"I called Aubrey," he repeated, his voice hollow. "She’ll be waiting for you at the station in New York. Your ticket is already bought. Your bags… they’re in the trunk."  

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You… you packed my things?"  

Spencer nodded, his expression breaking entirely under the weight of your hurt. "I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t."  

"You had no right!" you shouted, shoving at his chest. "No right, Spencer!"  

He took it, letting you pound against him until your strength gave out, until your sobs consumed you, leaving you trembling and broken in his arms. "I’m sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips to your hair. "I’m so sorry."  

But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop you from going.  

As the train whistle sounded in the distance, Spencer gently pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "You have to go," he said softly, his voice thick with tears. "The train won’t wait."  

"I hate you," you whispered, the words cutting him deeper than anything else ever could.  

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible as he let his hands drop to his lap. "But one day… I hope you’ll understand."  

He opened the car door for you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at him with tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with the weight of everything unsaid.  

Finally, you whispered, "Goodbye, Spencer," your voice trembling as you stepped out of the car.  

He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything as he watched you walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to his heart.  

And when the train finally began to pull out of the station, Spencer felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The reality of what he’d done crashed into him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were moving, carrying him toward the train. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky and panicked. "What have I done?"  

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran alongside the train, desperate, tears streaming down his face. He called your name, his voice breaking, though he wasn’t sure if you could even hear him through the thick glass and the noise of the train.  

Inside the train car, you were curled into the seat, staring blankly out the window, your face streaked with tears. You weren’t expecting to see him. But then, there he was—running alongside the train, his expression frantic, his lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear.  

Your heart shattered all over again. The sight of him, so desperate, so raw, made it even harder to leave. Your hand instinctively pressed against the cold glass, a futile attempt to reach for him.  

Spencer’s legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, the distance between him and the train growing with every passing second. His vision blurred from the tears, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.  

But you… you couldn’t bear to watch. Your tears fell harder as you pulled your hand away from the window and turned your head, unable to keep looking at him. You had to look away, even though it felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.  

Spencer stumbled, slowing as the train picked up speed, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air, watching helplessly as the train—and you—disappeared into the horizon.  

He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. "What have I done?" he whispered to no one, the words echoing into the empty night.  

You were gone. And Spencer knew, deep down, that he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.  

—

September 2008

You loved your new life. How could you not? You had everything you had once dreamed of—your new position as second in command to the CEO of your favorite designer brand was everything you’d worked so hard for. The thrill of overseeing campaigns, approving designs, and brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry was exhilarating.  

You’d settled into your new routine as well as anyone could when starting fresh in a bustling city like New York. Moving in with Aubrey Wilkes, the CEO herself, was daunting at first, but she made it easier. Her mentorship was invaluable, and her sharp wit and genuine kindness turned her into a friend as much as a boss.  

Your days were filled with meetings in glass-walled boardrooms, late nights spent poring over designs and strategies, and the occasional glamorous event that kept your calendar full. You had the life you always said you wanted.  

And yet...  

Every single day, Spencer found his way into your thoughts.  

It wasn’t always obvious at first. Maybe it was a book you saw in a shop window that reminded you of one of his recommendations, or a classical piece playing softly in a café that you knew he loved. Sometimes it was the sound of someone’s laugh that carried the same rhythm as his, or the sight of a man at the train station holding a bouquet of daisies like the ones he used to bring you.  

Other times, it was the silence that brought him back. At the end of a long day, when you’d kick off your heels and collapse onto your couch, you’d find yourself wishing you could tell him about your wins and your struggles. You’d wonder how he’d react to the stories you had to tell, imagining his soft smile or the way his hands would flutter nervously when he was excited for you.  

There were nights when it hit harder—when the city lights felt too bright and the penthouse apartment too cold. On those nights, you’d curl up in bed and stare out at the skyline, wondering if Spencer ever thought about you, too. If he regretted what he’d done. If he missed you as much as you missed him.

Because no matter how perfect your new life seemed on paper, a part of you still felt like it was missing. And that part had a name. Spencer Reid.

—

February 2007

It was a crisp evening as the warm glow of the restaurant's candles reflected off the polished surfaces, casting a cozy light over the two of you. Spencer had chosen this place because it was where you first met, a sentimental touch to the holiday of love that made your heart swell. The quiet buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a soothing backdrop as you both enjoyed your meal, the comfort of each other's presence making the night feel perfect.

You were mid-laugh at something Spencer had said when a woman approached your table, her eyes wide with admiration. "I’m so sorry to bother you," she began, her voice apologetic but earnest. "But that is the most fabulous dress I have ever seen. Can I ask where you got it?"  

Caught off guard, you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced down at the material that clung to your body in all the right places. You smoothed your hand over the fabric, feeling both flattered and shy under the woman’s praise.  

Spencer, noticing your blush, smirked proudly from across the table. His hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that he was there, always your biggest supporter.  

"I–um," you stammered, your voice soft as you tried to find the words. "I made it."  

The woman’s face lit up with genuine astonishment. "You made it?" she repeated, her tone filled with awe. "That’s incredible. You have such talent."  

Spencer’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin as he interjected, his voice laced with pride. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? I keep telling her she could make a career out of this, but she’s too modest to listen."  

"Spencer," you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes at him as your blush deepened.  

The woman smiled warmly at the exchange, clearly charmed by the both of you. "Well, if you ever decide to give your talents to the world, give me a call." With a quick admiring glance at your dress one last time, she handed you a business card before turning to rejoin her party, leaving you and Spencer alone once again.  

You stared at the card in your hand, the golden lettering catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s lights. Your heart nearly stopped as you read the name printed at the top—Aubrey Wilkes.  

Your favorite designer.  

The logo you’d admired countless times on magazine covers and in shop windows felt surreal in your grasp. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of the opportunity this might represent sinking in.  

Spencer noticed the stunned look on your face and tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone soft yet concerned.  

You slowly turned the card toward him, your hand trembling slightly. "It’s… her," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer leaned closer, his eyes scanning the card before widening in recognition. His lips curled into a delighted smile, the kind that lit up his whole face. "Aubrey Wilkes?" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "Y/N, do you know what this means?"  

"I…" you began, but words failed you. It felt too big, too unexpected to process.  

"It means you’re amazing," Spencer continued, his voice steady as he reached across the table to take your free hand. "And now someone else sees it too."  

You looked back at Spencer, who was still holding your hand, his thumb now tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "I told you people would notice," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "You’re incredible, and you should let the world see it."  

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Spencer," you whispered.  

"Always," he replied, his expression filled with a quiet devotion that made your heart flutter.  

The moment lingered between you, the restaurant and its patrons fading into the background as the two of you shared a look that said more than words ever could.

—

April 2007

"Spencer, I’m not going," you sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your chest as you leaned back in your chair. His persistence, while well-meaning, was starting to wear on you.  

"Y/N," he began, his tone both patient and pleading, "this isn’t just some casual opportunity. This is Aubrey Wilkes. She gave you her card. She wants to see what you can do. Do you even know how rare that is?"  

You folded your arms across your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know exactly how rare it is, Spencer. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to New York."  

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if physically holding himself back from pressing harder. "Why not?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with frustration but also genuine concern. "Is it fear? Because I know you, Y/N. You can do this. You’re more than talented enough."  

"It’s not fear," you shot back, though your voice faltered just enough for him to notice. You stared at the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair. "It’s… it’s everything else. I have a life here. I have a job. I have you."  

Spencer’s heart clenched at your words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. "I know, and I love our life together," he said earnestly. "But I don’t want you to look back in ten years and wonder ‘what if.’ I don’t want you to resent me for holding you back from something you were meant to do."  

You flinched at his words, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. "You think I’d ever resent you? Spencer, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re the one who’s always supported me, encouraged me to believe in myself when no one else did."  

"And I’m still doing that," he countered gently. "That’s why I’m pushing this. I can’t stand the thought of you letting this slip away because you’re scared to leave me behind."  

"It’s not just that," you admitted, your voice breaking as tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t want to lose us. What if I go, and everything falls apart?"  

Spencer reached for your hands, cradling them between his. His thumbs traced soothing circles over your knuckles as he looked at you with all the tenderness in the world. "You won’t lose me, Y/N," he promised, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "I’ll be here, cheering you on, no matter where you are. I’d rather see you chasing your dreams, even if it’s from a distance, than staying here and giving up on them for me."  

Your tears spilled over, and you shook your head, torn between love for him and the fear of what leaving might mean. "I just don’t know, Spencer," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

"I do," he said softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I know how much you’re capable of, and I know you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. And I love you too much to let that happen."  

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling between you like an immovable wall. You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill again. “I’m just—I’m not going. Leave it alone,” you said firmly, your voice quieter than you intended but laced with finality.  

Spencer hesitated, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for you might close the growing distance between you. “Y/N,” he murmured softly, his tone a mix of frustration and desperation.  

“Can we be done with this, please?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but resolute. You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to feel like you were fighting with the one person who always understood you.  

Spencer stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue further. But then he closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

The word hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions—disappointment, worry, and love all tangled together. Spencer looked down at the table, fiddling with his napkin as if it held answers he couldn’t find in your eyes.  

You turned your gaze away, your chest tightening as silence settled over the room. It wasn’t the kind of silence that came with comfort—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with everything neither of you was saying.  

And though you had put an end to the conversation, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a crack in something you weren’t sure how to fix.  

—

August 2007

"Who was that?" Spencer asked as you walked back inside from the patio, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. He had noticed the look on your face as you ended the call—something between apprehension and surprise.  

You glanced down at your phone, the screen still lit with the call log. "Aubrey," you said hesitantly, tucking the device into your pocket.  

Spencer tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Aubrey Wilkes?"  

"Yeah," you admitted, your tone cautious as you avoided his gaze. "She… uh, she got my number. I don’t know how, but she did." You let out a nervous laugh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.  

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of intrigue and concern. "And?" he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.  

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She asked me to consider coming. Said there’s a spot opening next year—her number two is supposed to leave for another job in Milan."  

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his eyes searching your face as he processed the news. "That’s… huge," he said slowly, his voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.  

"I know," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s… it’s everything I dreamed about. She said she’d hold the spot for me if I wanted it."  

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze softening as he tried to read the emotions flickering across your face. "What did you say?"  

"I didn’t say anything," you admitted, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I told her I needed time to think about it."  

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a moment to respond. "And… are you thinking about it?"  

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to the floor. "I don’t know," you said quietly. "I told you I wasn’t going. But now… it’s like she’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me, and I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore."  

Spencer’s heart ached at your words, but he forced a gentle smile as he said, “You shouldn’t ignore it.”  

You sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a storm cloud. "It’s just too much to think about right now," you murmured, walking over to where he sat. Without hesitation, you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped protectively around you. The warmth of his embrace was like a balm, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.  

"Will you read to me?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.  

“Of course, my love,” he replied without hesitation, his tone tender. He reached for the book he had been reading earlier, adjusting slightly so you could be more comfortable.  

As his calm, steady voice filled the room, weaving through the story’s narrative, you felt your nerves begin to settle. The cadence of his words acted like a lullaby, each one wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Spencer kept reading, even when he noticed your body growing heavier against his, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.  

He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. You were wearing a sweater you had designed and crafted yourself, the intricate stitching a testament to your talent and creativity. In your peaceful state, with your lips slightly parted and your lashes resting against your cheeks, you looked serene.  

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched you, a flood of emotions washing over him. He felt an overwhelming admiration for you—for your strength, your brilliance, your passion. But beneath that admiration was a deep-seated fear.  

He didn’t want you to give up this massive opportunity, the one you had dreamed of for so long, the one that could change your life. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt that maybe he was the reason you were hesitating.  

The thought that he might be holding you back, even unintentionally, was almost unbearable. He wanted to be the one who supported you, who cheered you on, who encouraged you to take risks and chase your dreams. But as he held you in his arms, he wondered if his love for you was making it harder for you to leave.  

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet room, “I just want you to be happy.”  

He knew that when the time came, he would have to push you, no matter how much it hurt. Because loving you meant wanting the best for you—even if it meant letting you go.  

—

March 2008

You and Spencer were strolling through the mall, casually browsing the stores as you searched for the perfect gift for your grandmother’s upcoming birthday. The two of you laughed together as you passed by store windows, debating what she might like—a scarf, a brooch, maybe a fancy tea set.  

But then your steps slowed, your attention caught by something glinting behind a clear glass case. It was almost subconscious, your feet carrying you toward it before you even realized what had drawn you in.  

"Rings?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and amused as he came to stand beside you. His eyes flicked to the sparkling display before landing on your face, a tender smile curling on his lips.  

"Do you ever think about getting married?" you asked suddenly, your gaze still fixed on the rings, their polished surfaces reflecting the light.  

The question caught Spencer off guard. He blinked, his smile faltering for just a second before it returned, gentler this time. "Of course," he said softly, the vulnerability in his tone unmistakable. "Do… do you?"  

You finally tore your eyes away from the display, turning to face him with a grin. Your heart swelled at the look on his face—so earnest, so full of quiet hope.  

"Yes," you admitted, your smile widening as you decided to tease him just a little. "Preferably to a tall, nerdy doctor. But, you know, beggars can’t be choosers."  

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his lips pulling into a bashful smile as he looked down at you. "I think you might be in luck," he said, his voice laced with warmth and a hint of playful humor.  

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head and feigning surprise.  

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes glimmering with affection. "I hear there’s one who’s absolutely crazy about you."  

Your laughter bubbled up, filling the air between you as you leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both stood there, the sparkling rings forgotten as you focused entirely on each other.  

In that moment, with his arm around you and the warmth of his love so evident, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where one of those rings might be yours—and that future felt a lot closer than you’d ever thought possible.  

—

May 2008  

“Aubrey,” you sighed into the phone, keeping your voice low as you closed the bedroom door behind you. Spencer had finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, his fever making rest nearly impossible. The last thing you wanted was to wake him now. “I told you I can’t.”  

Unbeknownst to you, the sound of the door clicking shut had stirred Spencer. His eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over him as he realized you weren’t lying beside him anymore. He sat up slightly, his head still heavy with fatigue, and strained to hear your voice coming from somewhere outside the room.  

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the moment he heard Aubrey’s name fall from your lips, his chest tightened, and his focus sharpened.  

“No… no… it’s not that…” Your voice wavered, and Spencer could picture you chewing your thumb nervously—something you always did when you were stressed. “I can’t leave. My whole life is in Virginia… well, no… he told me to go… yes, I know—”  

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at your words.  

“I love him, I love my life with him,” you continued, and Spencer felt his chest ache in equal parts relief and guilt. “Obviously… I’m sure it would work, but—” You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and longing. “My answer is still no. I’m sorry.”  

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed what he’d just heard. He could feel the weight of your words pressing against his chest, a reminder of the sacrifice you were making. He knew he was the reason you were staying. You were giving up your dream for him, and as much as he loved you for it, he couldn’t let it happen.  

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Spencer quickly laid back down, shutting his eyes tight like a child pretending to sleep past their bedtime. He tried to even out his breathing, though his heart raced beneath the covers.  

You slipped back into the bedroom quietly, the dim light from the hallway casting a soft glow as you moved toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest. Your lips pressed a tender kiss over his heart, and you whispered, “I love you so much, Spencer Reid.”  

Spencer’s chest swelled at your words, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he fought back the wave of emotions threatening to overcome him.  

As your breathing steadied and you drifted off to sleep, Spencer lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the echo of your words—“I love him… he told me to go.”  

By the time sleep finally claimed him, his mind was filled with plans. He had to get you to New York. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it scared him, he had to make sure you followed your dreams—even if it meant losing you in the process.  

—

December 2008 – Present

"Reid, are you paying attention?" Hotch’s firm yet concerned tone cut through the fog in Spencer’s mind, snapping him out of his reverie.  

Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting Hotch’s piercing gaze. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, his voice steady though his heart wasn’t.  

"Good. Let’s keep it that way," Hotch grumbled, clearly not in the mood for distractions.  

The team was seated around the conference table in the BAU’s jet, discussing the details of their latest case. They were headed to New York, where several women had been drugged and abducted from exclusive nightclubs in the Upper East Side. The unsub’s profile was slowly taking shape, but for Spencer, focusing on the details was harder than usual.  

Even hearing the name New York was like a dagger twisting in his side. It brought with it a flood of memories he had tried and failed to suppress—memories of you.  

He could picture the night you had finally told Aubrey no, the way your voice trembled with conviction when you said you were staying in Virginia. And yet, here he was, sitting on a jet bound for the very city where you were supposed to be building your dream.  

Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. This is my job. Focus on the case. He repeated the mantra in his mind, forcing himself to look at the crime scene photos spread across the table.  

But as the jet began its descent into the city, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the window. The glittering skyline of New York City came into view, and his chest tightened. He wondered, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like now. Would you be walking those streets right now, thriving in a world that had always been meant for you?  

"Reid, thoughts?" JJ’s voice broke through his spiral, and Spencer quickly blinked, realizing the team was looking at him expectantly.  

"Uh…" He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "The unsub likely uses a combination of charm and familiarity to gain the victims’ trust. Based on the timeline, he’s calculated and methodical, which suggests he’s not working impulsively. He might be using the same clubs regularly to scope out his targets."  

JJ nodded, taking notes as Morgan chimed in with his own observations. Hotch seemed satisfied that Spencer was back on track, but Spencer could still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.  

As the jet landed and the team prepared to disembark, Spencer grabbed his bag and fell into step behind the others. He reminded himself that the job came first, that the women out there needed them to be focused and sharp.  

But as they exited the airport and the cold New York air hit his face, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the ghost of what could have been following close behind.  

As the team settled into the precinct, the familiar buzz of activity filled the air—phones ringing, officers shuffling papers, and the hum of conversation about the case. Spencer sat at a desk, his eyes scanning over a map as he worked on the geographical profile. On the surface, he looked focused, but internally, he was at war with himself.  

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The sharp lines on the map blurred as his thoughts drifted.  

Which building do you live in? The question looped through his mind like a broken record. He knew you had moved to the Upper East Side with Aubrey when you first came to New York. But that had been months ago—almost a year, actually. Maybe you didn’t live with her anymore. Maybe you had your own place now.  

And then, more troubling thoughts crept in. Are you being safe? His chest tightened at the idea of you walking these streets, the same streets where women were being drugged and taken.  

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the photos of the nightclubs spread across the desk. He knew it was unlikely you frequented places like these. You’d never been one for the nightlife, always shying away from loud music and crowded spaces. He remembered how you used to fidget at gatherings, instinctively seeking out quieter corners where you could breathe.  

But the thought of you even being near these places, of someone seeing you, targeting you—it made his stomach churn.  

God, I hope you’re safe, Spencer thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.  

“Reid, you okay?” Morgan’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.  

Spencer blinked, his hands tightening around the edges of the map. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calmer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to piece together the unsub’s movements.”  

Morgan studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. “Alright, well, let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”  

Spencer nodded, returning his gaze to the map. But even as he tried to refocus, his mind kept drifting back to you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t even been able to convince himself to reach out.  

And yet, here he was, in your city, wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, if you were thinking about him too.  

After spending the day checking out the crime scenes and canvasing the surrounding areas, the team returned to the precinct to deliver their initial profile to the local police. Spencer sat near the back of the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to keep his focus on the case.  

Emily stood at the front, presenting the profile with her usual confidence. "We believe the unsub is targeting wealthy women," she explained, her tone even but firm. "Women who appear successful and independent—CEO’s, CFO’s, designers, singers, dancers, actors, chefs, etcetera. He sees them as trophies, not just victims. He uses their wealth and status to justify robbing them, taking their IDs, and eventually breaking into their homes after he’s done with them. This is about control and power, and his choice of victims reflects that."  

Spencer’s stomach churned as he listened, each word cutting deeper into his already frayed nerves. His mind was no longer on the women they were profiling; it was back on you.  

Every victim they described could have been you. Successful, talented, determined—everything about you fit the profile. You had climbed to the top of your field, a name that carried weight and admiration. You were exactly the kind of woman this unsub sought to dominate, to tear down.  

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the board where photos of the victims were pinned. Each face reminded him of you in some way—the confident smiles, the elegant postures, the undeniable strength that radiated from their pictures.  

He tried to push the thoughts away, to remind himself that you were likely far from this mess, probably tucked away in a luxurious apartment or a designer studio, far removed from the chaos he was immersed in.  

But the fear gnawed at him anyway. What if you weren’t safe? What if you were walking these streets late at night, lost in thought or distracted, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby?  

Morgan’s voice pulled him back to the moment, but Spencer barely registered what was being said. He felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of his thoughts and the eerie similarities between you and the women they were trying to protect.  

The briefing ended, and the room began to clear out, officers heading back to their tasks. Spencer stayed seated, staring blankly at the photos on the board. His chest felt tight, his mind racing with all the possibilities he didn’t want to consider.  

"Reid?" JJ’s voice broke through the haze, her expression soft as she approached him. "What’s up with you? Is something wrong?”

He blinked, forcing himself to shake his head. "No," he lied, his voice flat. "Everything is fine."  

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close. Every instinct in him screamed to find you, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that this case wasn’t just about catching an unsub—it was about protecting you from a danger he couldn’t control.  

—

You were getting ready with Aubrey and the rest of your group, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement. It was Blake’s 27th birthday, and they had chosen to celebrate with a night out at the clubs.  

The leopard-print dress you wore hugged your frame perfectly, its bold design a gift from Aubrey herself. As you zipped up your deep burgundy leather boots, the rich color catching the light, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. The outfit was striking—you felt sexy and confident.  

“Shots!” Kurt’s voice boomed from the living room, drawing laughter and cheers from the group. You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you finished adjusting your boots.  

“You ready to go, superstar?” Aubrey teased, leaning in the doorway with a knowing smile. She looked impeccable, as always, her outfit radiating confidence and style.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a grin, standing and smoothing out your dress.  

“Good,” Aubrey said, linking her arm with yours. “Because tonight, we’re leaving all the stress and work drama behind. It’s Blake’s night, and you, my dear, are going to have fun.”  

You laughed, letting her guide you toward the rest of the group. As the music played loudly in the background and someone handed you a shot glass, you tried to push away the unease creeping in. This wasn’t your scene, but for Blake—and with your friends by your side—you’d make the best of it.  

What’s the harm of one night out on the town?

Aubrey, with her effortless charm and impressive connections, had managed to get your group into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. As you approached the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement as you passed the long line of people waiting to get in.  

The bouncer gave your group a once-over before glancing at his clipboard, where your names were already on the list. He nodded to the hostess, who gestured for you to follow her inside. You exchanged amused glances with Aubrey, her confident smirk making it clear she was in her element.  

The energy of the club hit you immediately—a pulsing rhythm of music, vibrant lights reflecting off chandeliers and mirrored disco balls, and the faint scent of expensive perfume mingling with the coolness of the air-conditioned space.  

You were quickly led to a private VIP lounge area, tucked away yet with a perfect view of the dance floor. The sleek leather seating, soft glow of ambient lighting, and low table with a bottle of premium alcohol chilling on ice made it clear this was luxury at its finest.  

As you settled in with the group, Aubrey leaned over with a grin. "Not bad, huh?"  

"Not bad at all," you admitted, finally starting to feel the buzz of excitement that the rest of the group had radiated all night.  

Kurt popped the cork on the bottle with a celebratory cheer, pouring out drinks as Blake laughed and raised their glass. "To the best birthday ever!" Blake called out, their joy infectious as everyone clinked their glasses together.  

You took a sip, letting the fizzy warmth spread through you, and glanced out at the dance floor, watching the kaleidoscope of lights play over the crowd. For the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax, leaning into the moment. Tonight wasn’t about anything else—it was about celebrating Blake, being with friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding some joy in the chaos.  

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as the excitement of the night wore on, that you noticed something was wrong. Analise hadn’t returned from the bathroom in a very long time. At first, you didn’t think much of it—maybe she’d gotten caught up chatting with someone or had taken a phone call. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle in.  

You mentioned it to Aubrey, and soon, the rest of your group was involved, searching the crowded club for her. You checked every possible place she could be—the bathroom, the dance floor, the bar. You even tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.  

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as you decided to check with door security. Maybe she’d decided to leave early and hadn’t told anyone. But when you explained the situation, the response you got made your heart drop.  

“She left about 40 minutes ago,” the bouncer informed you, his tone matter-of-fact. “She was with a man.”  

Your blood ran cold. Analise was a married lesbian woman with children. There was no way she would leave with a man.  

“That’s impossible,” you said, your voice shaking. “She wouldn’t… she would never do that.”  

The bouncer frowned, his expression darkening as he realized the weight of your words. Aubrey, ever composed, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “We need to check the security footage. Now.”  

The staff moved quickly, pulling up the tapes as your group crowded around, watching with bated breath. And there it was—clear as day. Analise stumbling out of the bathroom, visibly dazed, as a man wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the exit. You could see her trying to resist, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but she was no match for him.  

Your stomach churned as the man led her out of the club. It was clear she’d been drugged and coerced.  

“We’re calling the police,” one of the security staff said, already reaching for his radio.  

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. The authorities arrived swiftly, questioning the staff and reviewing the footage. Your group, shaken and worried sick, was told to wait outside. When the police finally addressed you, it was to inform you that they needed to take statements from everyone who had been with Analise that night.  

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a police car, the flashing lights reflecting off the club’s exterior as it faded into the distance. Aubrey sat beside you, her normally composed demeanor fractured by worry. The rest of your group was being transported in other cars, but you all shared the same fear: What if it’s too late?  

As the car sped toward the station, you stared out the window, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Analise’s face, her laugh, her stories about her wife and kids—it all played in your mind like a reel you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was your fault, that somehow you should have noticed sooner, should have done something.  

Aubrey reached over, squeezing your hand tightly. “We’ll find her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.  

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. All you could do now was hope the authorities could act quickly enough. Analise’s life could depend on it.  

Your group was led into a quiet room, far from the noise and chaos of the precinct. The space felt sterile and impersonal, and the tension in the air was palpable as you waited, all of you exchanging worried glances. One by one, your friends were called out by law enforcement to give their accounts of the night’s events.  

You tried to steady your breathing, but your heart sank when one of the officers mentioned that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was on the case. The BAU, you thought, your stomach twisting into knots. That could only mean one thing—Spencer.  

Your mind raced. Please, let him be out in the field. Let him be anywhere but here, you silently begged. The idea of seeing him again, especially under these circumstances, felt overwhelming.  

But then a petite, pretty blonde woman entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to your spiraling nerves. She scanned the list in her hands before looking up and saying your name with a polite smile.  

You hesitated but stood up, smoothing your dress as you followed her down the hallway. She led you to a small interrogation room, where the walls seemed to close in just a little too tightly.  

“Have a seat,” the woman said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. She handed you a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.  

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, clutching the cup between your hands as if it were a lifeline.  

The woman gave you a reassuring smile, her blue eyes warm and steady. “My name is Jennifer Jareau,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “I’m an agent with the BAU, and I just have a few questions for you. You’re not in any trouble; we’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened tonight.”  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her posture open and non-threatening. “I know tonight was difficult, but anything you can tell us might help us find your friend and bring her home safely.”  

You took a deep breath, letting her words settle over you. As much as you were afraid of what this moment represented, you knew you had to focus on Analise. You began recounting the evening, walking her through everything you could remember—how Analise had gone to the bathroom, how long she’d been gone, and how your group had discovered she had left the club with a man.  

JJ listened intently, taking notes but never breaking eye contact. Her steady presence made it easier to keep talking, even as your voice faltered at times.  

When you finished, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for being so detailed—it makes a big difference.”  

You offered a small, shaky smile. “I just want her to be okay.”  

“We’re going to do everything we can,” JJ said firmly, her voice filled with quiet determination.  

You nodded again, but as she stood to leave, a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if Spencer really is here? What if he walks through that door next? You weren’t sure you were ready for that moment. Not now. Not like this.  

—

When the call came in about a new abduction, Spencer held his breath, his stomach tightening as a familiar sense of dread crept in. For a brief, harrowing moment, he waited to hear your name. But it wasn’t.  

“Analise Bordeaux,” Penelope said over the phone, her tone efficient but tinged with urgency. “She’s a top-rated journalist for the New York Times. Married, with two kids. Her wife also reported her missing earlier tonight after she didn’t return home at a previously agreed time.”  

Spencer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but the relief was fleeting. Another brilliant, accomplished woman was in danger, and the unsub’s pattern was becoming even clearer.  

“Morgan, Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the tense moment, bringing everyone back to focus. “I want the two of you to head to the club. Talk to the staff, review the footage, and see if anyone remembers anything unusual.”  

“Got it,” Morgan replied, already grabbing his jacket.  

Spencer nodded, silently falling into step with his partner. The ride to the club was quiet, the weight of the case settling heavily between them. Spencer’s mind wandered, as it often did in moments like this, and despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to you. Were you okay? Were you being safe in this massive, chaotic city? The idea of something happening to you gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t shake.  

When they arrived at the club, the music still pulsed faintly in the background as staff cleaned up after the night’s events. The bouncer and several employees were waiting for them, and Derek immediately took the lead, flashing his badge and asking for access to the security footage.  

Spencer scanned the room as they worked, his sharp eyes noting every detail. The club was upscale, the kind of place that catered to high-profile clients, which fit the unsub’s victimology perfectly. He and Derek pored over the footage, watching as Analise stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements sluggish and disoriented. The man who had escorted her out didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, but Spencer’s mind was already analyzing every subtle detail—the way he scanned the room, the calculated calmness in his movements.  

“This guy fits in with the crowd,” Derek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen.  

Spencer nodded. “He knows exactly how to stay under the radar. He’s blending in, using the chaos of the club to his advantage.”  

After questioning staff and gathering everything they could from the scene, the two men left the club and headed back to the precinct. The weight of what they’d seen hung heavily in the air between them, but Spencer was unusually quiet.  

“You good, pretty boy?” Derek finally asked, glancing over at him.  

“Yeah,” Spencer lied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just… thinking.”  

Derek didn’t push, but Spencer could feel his partner’s eyes on him. 

When Derek and Spencer arrived back at the precinct, they headed straight to the makeshift conference area where the rest of the team was gathered. The atmosphere was tense but focused, with everyone comparing notes and piecing together the puzzle of Analise’s abduction.  

JJ was finishing up her report on the interviews she had conducted with Analise’s friends. She held a notepad in her hand, skimming through her findings as she updated the team.  

“We have a list of people Analise spent the evening with,” JJ said, holding up the notepad. “Her coworkers and a few close friends all confirmed she wasn’t acting like herself before she went to the bathroom. Said she was dazed, disoriented in the footage—classic signs of being drugged. One of them even mentioned they tried calling her, but her phone’s off now.”  

As JJ spoke, Spencer’s gaze landed on the notepad in her hand. Something about it nagged at him—a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite place.  

“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the list of names.  

JJ didn’t hesitate, handing the notepad over with a slight frown of curiosity. “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”  

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the list quickly, his brain processing each name at lightning speed. And then he saw it.  

Your name.  

It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on the notepad tightened as if he needed to steady himself.  

You’re here.  

“What is it, Reid?” JJ asked, her voice breaking through the sudden rush of emotions.  

Spencer forced himself to look up, his expression carefully neutral. “Um,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I just… wanted to see if anyone stood out.”  

He handed the notepad back to JJ, his hand trembling slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice, but Morgan, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes at him.  

Spencer’s mind raced. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t spoken to you since the night he let you go. And now, here you were, tangled up in a case involving dangerous predators and a missing woman. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in his chest.  

“You recognize anyone?” JJ asked, her tone casual as she flipped back through the list.  

“No,” Spencer lied once more, his voice steadier this time.  

But inside, he felt like he was falling apart. Because no matter how much he tried to focus on the case, on the unsub, on finding Analise, one thought overpowered everything else: You were here.  

“What do you think, Hotch?” Rossi started, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Should we let them go?” He gestured vaguely, referring to your group still waiting in the designated room.  

“No,” Spencer said quickly, speaking up out of turn. His voice was firmer than he’d intended, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.  

“They’re safer here,” Spencer continued, his tone more measured now. “The unsub might have seen them. If they were with Analise all night, they could’ve been noticed, even targeted.”  

“Reid’s right,” Hotch said, nodding as he turned back to Rossi. “We’ll keep them here until we have more information. JJ, did any of them mention recognizing the unsub from the footage? Or if Analise recently changed anything in her routine that might have drawn attention?”  

JJ gently took her notepad back from Spencer, giving him another curious glance before flipping through her notes. “Uh… yes,” she said, stopping on a specific page. “One of them—Y/N Y/L—mentioned that Analise had just gotten a promotion at work. They went out to celebrate at a new restaurant last Thursday.”  

Spencer stiffened at the mention of your name, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.  

“Alright,” Hotch said decisively. “Let’s bring Y/N back into the interrogation room. She might have seen this man at the restaurant and didn’t realize it.”  

“I’ll go get her,” JJ offered, already rising from her seat and heading toward the door.  

“I’ll come too,” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.  

Everyone turned to look at him again, surprise flashing across their faces.  

“May—maybe a second set of ears,” Spencer stammered, quickly trying to justify his outburst. “Um, a new perspective might help.”  

Hotch studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read Spencer’s motives. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Fine. Go with her.”  

JJ gave Spencer a questioning look but said nothing, motioning for him to follow her. As they walked down the hallway toward the room where you and your friends were waiting, Spencer felt his chest tighten with every step.  

He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. And now, he was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the person he’d never stopped thinking about.  

—

You were just starting to lose your patience, shifting in your seat and glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, when the door opened again. The same woman from before, Jennifer, stepped inside with her calm and professional demeanor.  

“Y/N?” she said with a polite smile. “Can we see you again?”  

Your friends exchanged questioning glances, murmuring words of encouragement as you stood. “Good luck,” one of them whispered as you followed JJ out of the room and down the hallway.  

You tried to steady yourself, reminding yourself this was all routine. Just more questions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But as you stepped into the cold interrogation room again, the air felt different—charged, heavy.  

And then you saw him.  

Sitting in the chair across from the table, Spencer.  

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room that had felt icy before now felt like it was a thousand degrees hotter. You froze for a moment, your mind racing to make sense of the sight in front of you. He looked the same, yet different. His hair was slightly longer, his face a little more tired, but those eyes—the same deep, thoughtful eyes you’d once adored—were unmistakable.  

Spencer’s head snapped up as you entered, and for a second, he looked just as startled as you felt. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.  

“Y/N,” JJ said gently, breaking the heavy silence. She gestured toward the chair across from Spencer. “Have a seat.”  

You nodded stiffly, forcing your legs to move as you crossed the room and sat down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, shock, or something else entirely.  

Spencer cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You blinked, your throat dry as you nodded again. “Hello, agent,” you replied, equally quiet.  

JJ glanced between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but she quickly masked it. “Y/N, we just have a few follow-up questions,” she said, sitting down beside Spencer and pulling out her notepad.  

But it didn’t matter what she said. The only thing you could focus on was Spencer, sitting right there in front of you, as if the years between you had suddenly disappeared.  

The questions started simply enough—where had you and your group gone to dinner? How many people were there? Did anyone stand out or seem to take special interest in you?  

“There was one person,” you said after a moment of thought, tilting your head slightly as you tried to recall the details. “He was a busboy, I believe. But he kept coming by our table to check on us.”  

Spencer, who had been taking notes alongside JJ, immediately perked up at that. “He wasn’t your server?” he asked, his voice calm but focused.  

You shook your head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “No, our server was a woman. She was very attentive, but this guy—he kept showing up. At first, we thought he was just really good at his job, but it started to feel… I don’t know, a little strange.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “Strange how? Did he say anything to you, or was it more about his behavior?”  

“It was mostly his behavior,” you replied, frowning as you tried to piece together the memory. “He’d clear away plates that didn’t really need to be cleared yet, or refill water glasses that were barely half-empty. And every time he came by, he’d linger for just a second too long. It was subtle, but… noticeable.”  

Spencer exchanged a quick glance with JJ before asking, “Can you describe him? Anything about his appearance that stood out?”  

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on the image in your mind. “He was average height, maybe a little shorter than you,” you glanced at Spencer. “Dark hair, clean-shaven. He had this kind of… intense way of looking at people, like he was trying to figure them out.”  

Spencer scribbled furiously in his notebook, his pen moving so fast it almost blurred. “Do you remember if he wore anything unusual? Jewelry, a watch, anything like that?”  

You paused, biting your lip as you thought. “I… I think he had a tattoo on his wrist,” you said finally. “It was hard to see because of the uniform, but when he reached over to clear a plate, I noticed it. It looked like… a triangle, or something geometric.”  

“That’s good,” JJ said with a nod, giving you an encouraging smile. “That’s really helpful, Y/N.”  

But your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was still scribbling notes with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything unsaid passed between you.  

“Anything else you remember, no matter how small?” he asked softly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that felt almost personal.  

You shook your head slightly. “No, I think that’s it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now…” You trailed off, a shiver running down your spine at the realization of how close your group may have been to danger.  

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable as he set his pen down. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  

JJ stood, glancing at her notes before giving you another reassuring smile. “We’ll follow up with the restaurant and see if anyone knows him. You’ve been really helpful, Y/N.”  

You nodded, rising from your chair, but your eyes lingered on Spencer for just a moment longer before you turned to leave the room. And as you walked back to your friends, you couldn’t help but feel like this encounter had stirred up more than just memories of the night—it had brought something long-buried between you and Spencer back to the surface.  

Before you could reach the room where your friends were waiting, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. The unexpected touch made you stop, turning instinctively.  

There he was—Spencer, standing just behind you, his face filled with an urgency that took your breath away. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his words spilling out before he could second-guess himself.  

“Can I see you before I leave?” he asked, his voice low but rushed, as if afraid you might say no.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind scrambling to process the request. And before you even realized it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips almost automatically.  

Relief flashed across Spencer’s face, but he didn’t linger. He simply gave you a small, grateful nod before turning back toward the team. You stood there for a second, trying to collect yourself, before heading back into the room with your friends.  

As soon as you sat down next to Aubrey, she leaned in, her sharp eyes scanning your face. “Was that Spencer?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her voice filled with curiosity and concern.  

You nodded again, unable to bring yourself to speak.  

“Are you okay?” Aubrey pressed, her hand resting lightly on your arm.  

This time, you shook your head. The motion was small, but it felt monumental, like admitting the weight of everything that had just happened. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, the sharp pressure a weak attempt to distract yourself from the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.  

Aubrey frowned, her expression softening as she studied you. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

You shook your head again, swallowing hard as you tried to push the overwhelming feelings down. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Aubrey nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”  

You gave her a faint smile, grateful for her understanding. But as you sat there, surrounded by your friends and the low hum of their conversations, your mind was elsewhere—focused on Spencer, and the inevitable conversation that now loomed on the horizon.  

—

Luckily, your information turned out to be exactly what the team needed. With Penelope’s tech skills and the restaurant staff’s confirmation, they were able to identify the unsub and locate Analise.  

The relief was almost overwhelming when the news came in: Analise was found unharmed, aside from the lingering effects of the drugs and the red marks on her wrists where she’d been bound. The man hadn’t had the chance to carry out his full plan—robbing her or doing worse—thanks to the swift intervention of the police and FBI.  

By the time everything was resolved, the authorities had cleared you and your friends to leave that same night. The long hours of tension melted away as you gathered your things, and your group began heading toward the precinct exit.  

You stuck close to Aubrey, practically glued to her side as you wrapped an arm around her waist. Her presence grounded you, the warmth and familiarity of her reassuring after everything you’d been through.  

“Finally,” Aubrey murmured as the two of you reached the doors, her tone light but laced with exhaustion.  

You nodded, tightening your hold on her as you pushed through the glass doors into the cool night air. But as you stepped outside, your eyes darted around instinctively, searching for a glimpse of Spencer.  

And there he was, standing just a short distance away, speaking with Morgan and Hotch. His back was to you, but even from where you stood, you could feel the weight of the moment.  

You immediately turned your head, your arm tightening around Aubrey as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk Spencer catching sight of you—or worse, calling out to you.  

Aubrey glanced down at you as the two of you walked quickly toward the car. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice steady despite her own obvious fatigue.  

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your grip on her waist betrayed your nerves.  

As you slid into the car, your heart still raced. The thought of seeing Spencer again—even after everything—left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a tiny, nagging part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you’d let yourself stop.  

But for now, you were content to let an officer drive you home, the city lights blurring outside the window as you leaned against the seat, trying to process the night’s events—and the man who still had the power to shake you to your core.  

The incessant ringing of your phone jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the fog of your restless sleep. You groaned, squinting against the morning light as you reached for your phone on the nightstand.  

Your heart skipped a beat when you glanced at the screen. No name was displayed, just a number. But it was a number you could never forget, no matter how hard you’d tried.  

You had deleted Spencer’s contact months ago, telling yourself it was for the best, a necessary step in moving on. But his number was burned into your memory, a string of digits that you could recite as easily as your own name.  

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the answer button. The ringtone seemed louder, more insistent, as if demanding a decision.  

Your chest tightened, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Why is he calling? What does he want? Can I even handle hearing his voice right now?  

But before you could overthink it any further, your thumb moved almost of its own accord, pressing the button and bringing the phone to your ear.  

“Hello?” you said softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.  

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make your heart race, and then you heard it—a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.  

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone cautious, almost tentative. “I… I’m sorry to call so early. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”  

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on, Spencer?” you asked, your tone carefully neutral.  

He hesitated, and you could practically hear him piecing his words together. “I just… I couldn’t leave New York without talking to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not after last night. Not after seeing you again.”  

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.  

“I know this isn’t fair,” Spencer continued, his words tumbling out now, “but… can we talk? Just the two of us? Please?”  

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the headboard as you exhaled slowly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if you were ready to reopen wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. But the sound of his voice, the raw emotion in it, made it impossible to say no.  

“Okay,” you said quietly. “When?”  

“Now?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and hesitation. “I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere—whatever you’re comfortable with.”  

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, your mind still racing. “There’s a café a couple of blocks from me,” you said finally, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”  

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”  

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand. Part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the part that had never really let Spencer go—knew this was a conversation that was long overdue.  

—

November 2004

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice spoke from behind you, polite but a little unsure.  

You turned around, confused, to find a lanky man with slicked-back hair and glasses standing there, looking at you expectantly. He wore an awkward smile, his hands fidgeting slightly as he shifted on his feet.  

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to place him.  

“If it’s no bother, we would really appreciate the check. We were just called into work,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing to a man sitting at the table behind him, who was watching the interaction with an amused grin.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Um,” you started, your tone hesitant, “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”  

The man sitting across from him burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Nice going, Reid.”  

The one who had spoken—Reid, apparently—turned bright red, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I just—your outfit—it looks just like the uniforms the waitstaff are wearing!”  

You frowned, glancing down at your clothes—a crisp white blouse tucked into sleek black slacks. Then it clicked, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Oh, wow,” you said, grinning at him. “That’s… actually kind of funny. I designed the uniforms, so I guess I subconsciously dressed accordingly.”  

Reid blinked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “You designed them?” he asked, his embarrassment giving way to genuine curiosity.  

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, glancing around the restaurant. “I work for the owner—well, freelance. They hired me to design uniforms that were professional but stylish.”  

“That’s… really impressive,” Reid said, his tone sincere as he adjusted his glasses. “They’re—um, they’re very nice. Clearly convincing,” he added, his cheeks still pink.  

The man at his table laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she’s nice, kid. That could’ve gone way worse.”  

You smiled, brushing off the comment. “No harm done,” you said, waving a hand. Then, looking back at Reid, you added, “Just maybe double-check next time before you assume.”  

“Noted,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “And again, I’m really sorry.”  

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head at the interaction. Little did you know, it was the beginning of something much bigger than a misunderstanding over a uniform.  

—

December 2008 – Present  

You sat at the small table in the café, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth with one hand while biting your thumb with the other. The café was quiet, the gentle hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine creating a soothing background. Still, your nerves were anything but calm.  

You hadn’t seen Spencer yet, but you felt his presence looming, the anticipation making your chest feel tight. Your mind raced with a million thoughts—what he would say, what you should say, how this meeting would go after all the time that had passed.  

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar voice interrupted, laced with a soft, teasing tone. “You don’t happen to work here, do you?”  

Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in surprise, only for the tension in your chest to loosen when you saw him. Spencer stood there, looking both nervous and amused, his hands tucked awkwardly into his coat pockets. His hair was slightly tousled from the cold, and his glasses caught the soft glow of the café lights.  

You couldn’t help it—amusement took over as you remembered the very first time he had said those words to you. “Seriously?” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to lead with that?”  

Spencer shrugged, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. “I figured it worked the first time,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes flickered to yours.  

Your heart stuttered at the look he gave you, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in 2005, standing in that restaurant, completely oblivious to what the future held.  

You shook your head, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Sit down, Reid,” you said, your tone light, though your voice still carried the weight of everything unsaid.  

Spencer moved carefully, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment between you. He slid into the chair, his hands resting on the table, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve.  

“You remembered,” you said after a beat, unable to stop yourself.  

“Of course I did,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I remember everything about you.”  

The weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”  

Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe? “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”  

And just like that, the conversation you’d both been avoiding for years finally began.  

Spencer folded his hands on the table, his long fingers twitching slightly as though unsure of where to begin. He glanced down at the tablecloth before looking back up at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out right away.  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve never been one to struggle for words,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.  

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” His voice was soft, almost tentative.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—weighted with years of unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and all the things neither of you had said when you had the chance.  

Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and earnest. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the directness of them catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’d been holding them back for too long.  

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I thought I was giving you the chance to live the life you deserved, to follow your dreams without me holding you back. But all I did was hurt you. And…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “I hurt myself too.”  

You blinked, stunned by the raw honesty in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to dive in so quickly, to say the things you’d spent so long wondering if he even felt.  

“Spencer,” you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you didn’t just hurt me. You made a decision for both of us without even asking how I felt. You thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t give me a choice.”  

He flinched slightly at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I know I handled it all wrong. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times in my head, and every time, I wish I’d done it differently. I wish I’d just… trusted you.”  

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his words stirring something deep within you. “You think I didn’t want to go? That I didn’t think about what it could’ve meant for my career? I stayed because I loved you, Spencer. You were my dream. Not New York. Not Aubrey. You.”  

Spencer’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “And I threw it away,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t throw it away. You made a choice. We both did. And we have to live with that.”  

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it—that he would drop it and let you both walk away again.  

But then he looked up, and his eyes were filled with something fierce, something determined. “I don’t want to live with it,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. Not if there’s even the smallest chance I can fix this—fix us.”  

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung between you. You wanted to say something, to respond, but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak.  

So instead, you just stared at him, waiting for him to keep going. And in that moment, Spencer Reid, the man who rarely hesitated to explain every detail, every fact, every statistic, did something unexpected.  

He waited too.  

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope, for any clue as to how you might respond. You could see the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the desperation for you to believe him, to give him a chance.

“Spencer,” you began softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Fix us? There is no us anymore. You made that abundantly clear when you kicked me out of my home.”

Your words were sharp, cutting through the fragile hope that had been lingering in the air. Spencer flinched as if you’d physically struck him, his face falling with the weight of your statement. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words.

“I didn’t—” he started, but then stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I thought—”  

“You thought you knew what was best for me,” you interrupted, your tone more firm now as the hurt you’d buried for so long began to surface. “You didn’t even ask me how I felt. You made a decision for both of us and expected me to just accept it. And when I didn’t? When I tried to fight for us? You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Spencer said quickly, his voice cracking. “You still matter. I—I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.”  

“Protecting me?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You weren’t protecting me, Spencer. You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d resent you, so instead, you pushed me out of your life completely. And guess what? It hurt just as much—maybe even more.”  

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid. I was terrified. Not just of you resenting me, but of… of failing you. Of not being enough. I convinced myself that letting you go was the selfless thing to do, but all I did was hurt you. And myself.”

You looked at him, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. Part of you wanted to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain you’d carried for so long. But another part of you—a part you didn’t want to admit existed—still ached for him, still felt the pull of the man you’d once loved so deeply.  

“You can’t just come back now and expect to fix everything,” you said, your voice softer but no less firm. “It’s not that simple.”  

“I know,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not. But I had to try. I couldn’t leave New York without telling you how I feel, without letting you know that I’m sorry—for everything.”  

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “And what happens after this, Spencer? What are you expecting? That I’ll just forget everything and we’ll go back to how things were?”  

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t expect that. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking as he added, “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”  

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes—it was all too much.  

But so was the weight of everything that had happened, the scars that hadn’t fully healed.  

“I never stopped loving you either,” you said finally, your voice trembling again. The admission felt heavy, like a weight you had been carrying for far too long, now released.  

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to believe it.  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, it’s only been half a year, Spencer. I thought I was going to marry you. That doesn’t just go away.”  

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, it doesn’t.”  

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet of the café wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the raw, unspoken emotions lingering between you.  

Then, Spencer shifted in his seat, his hands fumbling around in his bag as if he were searching for something. You watched him curiously, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally pulled out a small box.  

“What is that?” you choked out, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer held the box in his hand, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at you. “I bought this the day we went to the mall,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “When you asked me if I ever thought about marriage.” He paused, his fingers brushing over the edges of the box as if grounding himself. “When you went into the lingerie store, I went back and bought the ring you were staring at.”  

Your breath hitched, your mind racing. “How did you know?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.  

“I’m a profiler,” he said with a small, almost shy smile. “I know—knew you so well. It wasn’t hard to see which one caught your eye.”  

“It’s—the ring is in there right now?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

Spencer nodded, his expression cautious but hopeful. “Do you want to see it?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tightening slightly around the box.  

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, slowly, you nodded, unable to find the words to say anything else.  

Spencer opened the box, turning it toward you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.  

The ring was simple yet elegant—exactly the kind of style you’d always admired. A delicate band of platinum, with a perfectly cut diamond set in the center, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled as if they held their own light.  

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, your eyes never leaving the ring.  

Spencer’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he rushed out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.  

“Yes,” you said again, louder this time, your gaze shifting from the ring to meet his wide, questioning eyes.  

“Yes… what?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.  

You took a shaky breath, your emotions swelling and threatening to overflow. “I’ll marry you,” you said firmly, the words filling the space between you like a beacon.  

Spencer froze, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, he looked like he might cry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his hand tightened around the small box.  

“You will?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe and disbelief.  

“Yes,” you said again, nodding for emphasis. “I love you, Spencer. I never stopped. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending like I don’t.”  

Spencer’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his grip warm and steady despite his obvious emotion. “I—I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your voice soft but certain. “Just… ask me.”  

Spencer blinked, his lips curving into the smallest, most genuine smile you’d seen in years. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slid out of his chair and knelt on one knee, still holding the box open.  

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”  

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered, “Yes.”  

Spencer slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking as he did so, and when he stood, you launched yourself into his arms. He caught you easily, holding you tightly as you both laughed and cried, the weight of years of pain and longing finally lifting.  

In that small café, with the world around you fading into the background, the two of you found your way back to each other—against all odds, against all fears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.  

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

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[loveriotss]

HEY CUTIE ⸻ touya todoroki

INCLUDES — gn! reader, streamer! au, headcannons, drabbles, smau, fluff, crack, slightly suggestive, around 2k words WARNINGS — dabi and his chat making 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 jokes read at your own risk, also the pink color used for the y/n's username doesn't depict gender or anything i just wanted to use it. TAGS — @bbluefllame, @seneon

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

[ cutiepatootien/n — is your username. i added n/n (nickname) at the end instead of y/n because we gotta be mysterious. you can use whatever you want for your n/n. ]

streamer! dabi who created his account because toga wanted a partner to play roblox with her on stream.

the chat was buzzing with excitement, a sea of emojis, animated stickers and exclamation points flowing through the live stream. toga himiko, spinning around in her pink gaming chair with her signature grin plastered across her face. she ceased her spinning, banging her palms onto the desk as she leaned into the camera. her hair was styled in her usual wild, chaotic fashion, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and anticipation.

"hello my lovelies! welcome back to my channel!" she exclaimed, her voice full of energy. "today’s going to be a blast because i’ve got a special guest joining me!"

the chat exploded with curiosity and speculation. who could it be?

toga's grin widened. "presenting my one and only grumpy roommate, who i’ve bribed with a month of doing his chores to do this with me, dabi!”

a wave of hype flooded the chat, and viewers eagerly waited for this ‘dabi’ to make his entrance. the screen flickered for a moment before his webcam feed appeared. he leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed yet slightly bored, a stark contrast to toga’s exuberance. his room was quite dark, the only way you could make out his face was through the glow of his monitors. his dark hair was tousled and his smirk was casual.

itscandy: woah didn’t know your roommate was a hottie 😻 togasgirlfriend: himiko is hotter 🙄 froggypop: why he look suspiciuroisu  himikoshairclip: the editors are gonna have fun with this stream bunnyrabbit: I WANT BOAF ‼️

"hey, everyone," dabi started, his voice deep and slightly scratchy. he gave a lazy wave to the camera. "let’s get this over with."

toga laughed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "stop trying to be nonchalant, show some energy!” she exclaimed, a bit too close to her mic which made dabi slightly wince and adjust his headphones. “we’re going to have so much fun! today, we’re diving into a horror game on roblox! hope you’re ready to get scared!"

dabi raised an eyebrow. "horror, huh? sounds like it might be a good laugh."

"alright, let’s do this!" toga said, clicking on the game. the screen transitioned to the game’s loading screen, and the chat erupted with a flurry of messages, many were curious about dabi and how he would handle the scares. 

"okay so the goal is to go through as many doors as we can while surviving the monsters," toga explained, her tone taking on a serious note. "stick with me and don’t go running off by yourself."

dabi nodded, his expression shifting into one of mild amusement. "yes ma’am, lead the way."

streamer! dabi who ended up enjoying the games a lot and decided to start doing some solo streams.

dabi sat in front of his gaming setup, the glow of his computer monitor illuminating his sharp features in the dimly lit room.

he hit the “go live” button and watched as the chat box began to fill with greetings and excited comments from his growing fanbase. dabi’s expression softened, a rare hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. the anticipation in the chat was palpable. he took a moment to compose himself, then looked directly into the camera.

“hey, everyone. dabi here,” he said, his voice a smooth, controlled monotone. “you may know me as the hot and better roommate from toga's roblox stream a few days ago." he leaned back into his chair, tilting his head slightly as he scanned the chat box. "i wanted to do a stream of my own, just for fun. so tonight, I’m diving into one of the scariest horror games out there. don't piss you pants, yeah?”

streamer! dabi who gained a huge following quite quickly. his name popping up on every platform and eventually, he catches your attention.

"2 am, huh?" dabi says, finally clicking out of the game he had chosen to play for tonight, staring at his small desk clock. it had been over 3 hours since he first started the stream. he stretched his body slightly, slight muscles flexing under the shirt he wore as he leaned closer to the camera, checking himself out. "fuck chat, i can see my roots." he says, ruffling up his hair slightly.

chococat donated $30

back away from the camera youre making me nervous

loverriots donated $15

you look hot either way king

menkisser donated $50

DYE MY HAIR WITH ME STREAM WHEN???

he grinned at the donations, leaning back into his chair and lighting up a cigarette as he scanned the chat box. "maybe i should do one..this white hair makes me feel old."

cutiepatootien/n donated $5

i didn’t know you had dyed hair, it really suits you

dabi's fiery gaze lingered on your donation for a bit too long. he takes a drag from his cigarette before replying. "m'flattered really. interesting name you got there by the way".

cutiepatootien/n: oh my god my friends changed it as a joke but now i can’t reset it 😭

he grinned at your response, leaning closer slightly, his piercings gleaming from the light of his monitor. "i think it suits you, cutie".

dabislefttoe: GAH DAMN juicebox: if i close my eyes i can pretend he’s saying that to me #staydelulu ❤️ ihateorangecandy: n/n won joinmystreamforfreerobux: i was orginally here to promote this bot but heyyy 😻 alphawolf: that’s it im getting you pregnant

streamer! dabi who's mind lingers on you for too long, even after the stream has ended. he find's himself getting too silly and clicking on your twitch profile.

it's been two hours since dabi clicked on your social links from your twitch profile. he shamelessly scrolled through your instagram and tiktok, scanning each picture and video, carefully making sure he that he doesn't accidentally like anything. he's so engrossed in this that he doesn't even notice when his blonde roommate enters the room and stands behind him, staring at his screen.

"they're cute," toga says, one hand on the arm of his chair while the other one rests on his desk. "yeah.." dabi mindlessly replies before snapping his head to look at her, quickly closing his tabs. "what the fuck toga i told you to knock before coming in" he sneers at her, clearly annoyed.

"oh come on, i would've busted down the door by how loudly i was knocking," she replies, spinning around and slumping herself on his bed "but you were too busy stalking your new crush! who are they by the way? tell me the deets!" she says, excitedly kicking her feet.

"it's none of your business, get lost," he mumbles, grabbing a drink from his mini fridge, snapping it open with his middle finger and taking a sip.

toga skips over to his desk, snagging a drink for herself which earns her a scowl from dabi, before she speaks, "mhm sure! let me know if your loser ass needs some advice."

"get out."

streamer! dabi who decides to give in to his chat's requests and go live while dyeing his hair.

dabi’s bathroom was lit up by the harsh, overhead fluorescent lights. he was leaning over the sink, one hand gripping a box of black hair dye and the other clutching a pair of disposable gloves. the mirror was fogged up from the hot water he’d run earlier, but the camera in front of him was crystal clear, broadcasting his every move to a growing audience.

“hey degenerates, what's ip?” dabi’s voice crackled with a hint of amusement as he adjusted the camera angle. “welcome to the chaos. you all wanted me to touch up my roots on stream for whatever freaky reason so, here we are—dyeing my hair live.”

he chuckled, the sound mingling with the chatter of his chat. The screen was a whirlwind of comments, emojis, and questions. before he did anything, he looked down at his shirt pondering for a moment. "i should take this off right? don't want it to get stained or anything" he says nonchalantly as he pulls it over his head.

now some might think this was unnecessary, i mean — taking off his black shirt because he was scared it was going to get stained with black dye? it almost seemed like he had done it on purpose..but the chat didn't seem to care.

touyaslefttit: the first thing i look at in a man is his heart. the fact that his tits are in front of his heart is NOT MY FAULT hellokittylvr: GIRL DINNER 😻😻 pookieschmookie: no guillotine could take away the head im about to give him ilovefictionalmen: i wanna take a shower with him I MEAN i wanna keep him as a pet I MEAN loverriots: very demure shigaraki: 🍅🍅🍅

he tossed his shirt aside, constantly eyeing the screen and reading the chat box and donations carefully as he put on his gloves and squeezed dye into a bowl.

cutiepatootien/n donated $10

just opened the stream and the first thing i see is your chest 😓 not complaining tho 🙏🙏

dabi immediately looks down, keeping his eyes on the dye. "i can show you more than my chest cutie" he says boldly, trying to hide the stupid smirk on his face. [a/n: fake nonchalant dreadhead!! i see him chalanting!!]

streamer! dabi who was waiting for you to join his stream.

streamer! dabi who shamelessly flirts with you on stream, causing many fans to talk about you and try to speculate who this 'cutie' could be.

"so their name is y/n!" toga yells into dabi's ear. she was once again in his room, uninvited, staring at him with sparkly and excited eyes. she had somehow found out your name and was now shoving her phone which had twitter open in his face. the tweets were from his viewers, all about who this 'cutie' could be.

dabi groans. yeah he was the one who drew attention to you but, uh oh! he's now facing the consequences of his own actions as he stares at your account which is now on private. you were smart and new it was best to keep your socials private and out of view from any jealous or crazy fans dabi might have.

"just send them a follow request if you wanna see them so bad!" toga says, getting slightly impatient and snatching dabi's phone out of his hand and speed walking away. "TOGA STOP DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!" he yells as he chases her. "you're too much of a pussy dabi, you have a crush and you should confess!" she says, tossing the phone back to dabi. he hurriedly grabs it and stares at the screen in shock.

there your account was..now public? no. he was following it.

"you actually sent them a follow request?" he says, glaring at the blonde who just flashes him a cheeky smile. "but they accepted right? shoot your shot!"

"i'm going to kick you out of my house."

streamer! dabi who spends a lot of time with you floating around in his mind and eventually musters up the courage to text you.

NOTE — i fear i yapped too much for this one, dabi having a silly internet crush is just so cutesy to me. did you guys notice me and shigaraki sneaking into this fic i thought it was funny. might make this into a series?? idk.

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[reiding-writing]

i can totally see Spencer buying tickets for a movie and asking cold!reader to go with him cuz he knows she'd say yes

À BIENTOT— SPENCER REID!

spencer takes an opportunity to get closer to you based on nothing more than a passing comment.

spencer reid x cold!reader | fluff | 2.2k | cold!reader masterlist

a/n— this may be a tiny bit of self projection bc i’m trying to pick up my french again (ça ne marche pas)

main masterlist.

It’s a quiet day in the office. Quieter than usual for a Friday.

Quiet enough in fact, that you actually had time to take the whole hour of lunch that you were technically mandated to have every single day.

Most of it was still spent at your desk, although with a book in your hands instead of a case file. A distraction, maybe, but not a very optimistic one.

It wasn’t long before you had company. Spencer wasn’t really a ‘socialist’ in the physical sense of the word, and once he’d had enough of sitting in the kitchen eye with the group he too had decided to retreat back to the bullpen.

There’s a tinge of curiosity as he spotted you, sat cross-legged in your chair with both elbows leant on your desk and an open book in hand.

“Auschwitz and After?” He had to tilt his head to see the cover, but his ‘question’, his assessment, was confident.

You hum passively, like you’d already known he was coming over despite his quiet footsteps and your eyes trained on the pages. He’s not too surprised, it wasn’t very easy to catch you off guard.

“What drew you to it?” Spencer questioned, his gaze leaving your blank expression as it went back to observing the book in your hands, scanning the words on the pages.

“Practicing my french,”

Simple and to the point, and to your credit it made sense—when Spencer was knee-deep in a book he didn’t want to interrupt that focus either.

“You’ve read it before?” Socialist he may not be, but he wasn’t ready to leave you in your solitude yet.

“In English,” You turn the page with another small hum. “Doesn’t really count,”

Spencer hummed in agreement.

He could go on for hours about why reading a text in its intended language was superior to reading its translation. How much meaning and sub-context is lost in the transition between languages and completely distort the original meaning.

But you didn’t need to hear that. You already knew it.

So he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to focus his gaze on your face for a few more minutes, wondering if he’d be able to read the emotion on your face like he was so used to doing.

There was still nothing though. No facial twitch. No eyebrow raised. Nothing to indicate what you were thinking.

It was almost like your face was carved from marble.

If he thought about it too much he’d probably say your face deserved to be carved into marble, to keep a relic of you perfect and untouched forever.

But that was a bit too much for him to settle with.

Spencer shifted nervously on his feet, trying to think of something else to say to rid of the silence that was leaving him with his own overthinking.

“Hey— uh— There’s this um— If you’re wanting to brush up on your french—”

“Spit it out, Reid,” Your voice isn’t as harsh as it is blunt. You appreciated conciseness, although you’d never cut him out of a tangent unless it was something that was unproductive.

This one definitely was.

“Uh— Right, right,” he stumbled over his words for a moment before finally taking a deep, steadying breath. “There’s this movie coming out in a few weeks— well technically it came out in France back in May but—”

Spencer’s words came out so fast in his rush to just get to the point, that, for a moment, he was worried that you would only understand half of what he was saying.

“Reid,” You hold up your hand towards him as an indication for him to stop, before moving your hand in a single spiral as a non-verbal instruction for him to breathe.

His rambling stopped almost immediately, and if he had the conscience to be embarrassed, he most definitely would be at how readily he follows your order to take a second to calm down.

Especially considering you still hadn’t even turned your eyes up from your reading in the process.

Still, he follows you with no hesitation, and once you signal for him to continue, he starts back up again, slower this time.

“‘L’armée du crime’, uh, ‘The Army of Crime’, it’s only being shown in a few select theatres here in DC, but—”

The words came out slightly more measured this time, although that little hint of the usual rambling was still, very much present.

“It’s in the original French,” he continued after a beat, his previous hesitation slowly disappearing under the knowledge you weren’t put off by him just yet.

“With subtitles, of course— but still, the entire— dialogue is in— is in French.”

He exhales heavily.

“I was thinking of going to see it.”

He paused again, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

“What’s it about?”

He swears the whole office can hear his sigh of relief.

“Um, it’s a war-movie,” he said after a few, silent moments, pointing lamely towards your book.

“Set during the Second World War, it talks a lot about the French Resistance, and how it’s not only the people who were fighting in the trenches who made it possible for the Allies to win…”

The start of his explanation is seemingly enough to grasp your full attention, echoed by the way you shut your book with no effort to remember your placement and leave it on your desk to look at him instead, eyebrow raised.

That little gesture, the almost unnoticeable quirk of your eyebrow, was all that Spencer needed to know that he didn’t need to summary the entire movie.

You were interested, but you didn’t want to know the entire plot ahead of the time.

He chuckled lightly at that, before biting his lower lip slightly. The next words that came out of him were almost just breaths.

“… Do you want to come with me?”

It’s enough for your eyebrow to raise more noticeably, enough that Spencer wouldn’t have to be standing less than five feet away to notice it.

“When?”

“Friday night—” It felt like the words were tumbling out of his mouth, like if he didn’t get them out fast enough he’d loose your attention and go back to square one.

But when he actually said the words out loud, he realised how much they sounded like he was asking you out on a date.

He was worried that you would reject him if you thought it was a date.

“…Unless you have other plans?”

There’s a small moment of silence, and Spencer feels like he might vomit from the anticipation.

“Friday’s fine,”

That’s it took for a small, satisfied smile to pull at Spencer’s lips. Those two words, combined with the small nod you throw in his direction, was all the reassurance that he needed to take you at your word.

“Great. That’s uh, that’s— that’s great,” he fumbled over his words, just barely reeling himself in from another ramble of him over-explaining his appreciation for your company.

“Friday’s fine for what?”

He doesn’t really have to worry about that.

Morgan walks over with a mug of coffee in his hand, eyebrow raised in amusement. “A hot date?”

“If you consider watching a french re-enactment of world war two as ‘hot’, then sure,” There isn’t a single ounce of sincerity in your tone, and Morgan glances between the two of you with a barely hidden smile, a chuckle bubbling in his throat.

Spencer, meanwhile, was just staring at Morgan with an indignant expression, silently begging him to not make this into a ‘thing’.

Unfortunately for Spencer though, Morgan was, well, Morgan.

He took one sip of the coffee in his hand, his eyes drifting between the two of you once more.

“French reinactment of the Second World War, huh?” he repeated, his smile turning into a cheeky smirk. “Why am I not surprised?”

There it was, that smirk.

It was the same one he always had on his face when it came to you two.

“It’s- it’s not like that” Spencer mumbled, his tongue quickly flickering out to lick at his suddenly dry lips.

“Sure, it’s not.” Morgan chuckled, enjoying every moment of this as he took another sip of his coffee. “The two of you are just gonna be sitting in a dark room… all alone… together…”

“Watching people get tortured…” You mimic the song-like drawl of Morgan’s voice to throw his ‘joking’ back onto him, rolling your eyes. “So romantic,”

A smirk remained fixed on Morgan’s face as he leaned over your desk until he was looking Spencer directly in the eye.

“I don’t know, you’re both nerds. This sounds like a perfect date to me”, he teased, causing Spencer to scoff in response.

“If that’s your idea of a ‘perfect date’ then I pray for whoever has the unfortunate circumstance of ending up with you,”

“Nah, don’t worry about me, Snowflake,” he chuckled, lifting the mug of coffee to his lips once more. “I’m not the one who’s gonna be sitting in a dark, lonely movie theatre with Doctor Genius here,”

“I don’t need to be ‘prayed for’, Reid is perfectly fine company,” You give Morgan another roll of your eyes, although whether at his comment or his ‘nickname’ Morgan is unsure.

“Sure, sure” he murmured, before pushing himself up off your desk with a smirk. “Enjoy the movie, lovebirds.”

He leaves the bullpen with a blown kiss in your directions, throwing the two of you a wink as he catches up to Garcia walking into the conference room.

You re-open your book once he’s out of sight, letting out a soft groan in lieu of Morgan’s tormenting.

You didn’t really hate it per se , but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get on your nerves.

Spencer wasn’t unalike in his reaction, a breath of relief leaving his lips once Morgan’s back was turned.

‘Lovebirds’.

Spencer tried to mentally scoff the thought away, and tried not to blush at the thought either.

He glanced back at you, praying that hopefully you didn’t notice that small, involuntary flush that seemed to be crawling across his cheeks.

He continued to be frozen on the spot, eyes locked on your relaxed expression as you scanned the pages to see if you recognised certain parts of the text.

“Page 212...” His voice came out quiet as he spoke.

“What?” You take a second to divert your attention from the pages, eyebrows furrowed curiously in his direction.

Spencer swallowed, hoping that he at least looked composed despite feeling like the exact opposite.

“You were on page 212,” he explained, a small smile pulling at his lips as he caught your gaze.

“Right,” You don’t question his recollection as you skip to page 212, throwing him a dismissive “Thanks,” once you confirm you’re in the right place.

“You’re welcome,”

Spencer’s voice was quieter once more, not as anxious as before but still quiet. He watched you as you returned your gaze back to the pages of the hardback copy, and he was torn between the urge to just stand there and keep looking at you reading the book, or heading back to his desk to work on one of the many case files that had stacked themselves there.

Deciding that it would probably be a little creepy for him to just stand there watching you read, even if you didn’t seem to particularly mind it, he forced himself to look away.

Just as he turned to head around to his desk, he found himself blurting out something without even realising.

“You look nice today,”

Your eyes flicker back upwards from your book through furrowed eyebrows. “Thanks,”

You hadn’t actually changed anything about your appearance, the outfit you were wearing was practically identical to the one you wore most days, your hair was done the same, you hadn’t even showered that morning.

He quickly realised that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot and, for a moment, was wondering if he could rewind time to not say what he had just said.

“Uh, I mean—” he tried to backpedal, hoping that his awkward rambling could save him from this situation. “Not that you don’t usually look nice! I meant-!”

As he fumbled over his words, he mentally slapped himself. Why couldn’t he just be normal and not blurt out something so stupid at such a random time.

God he hoped this wouldn’t make you change your mind about wanting to spend time with him one on one.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to have a little mercy on him.

“Team, I need you in the conference room.”

So much for a full lunch break.

[yesimwriting]

Okay, so, secretly pining best friends with Logan! Very fun! Loved it!

But also, adults do have "sleepovers," (too tired/drunk/late to drive home, so you crash overnight on the couch) and depending on the dynamic of your friendship, can actually be a little taste of what domestic life would be like together. Just. Sitting together quietly, winding down from a good day, then getting ready for bed when one of you decides it's time to be A Responsible Adult and get a decent night's sleep (you're not kids anymore, after all. Sleep is important).

Waking up in the morning, knowing your best friend is here. Quietly making breakfast together, laughing over how sleepy you both are before coffee, lightly teasing each other over bed head and morning breath. Doing your morning routines together, pointing out stupid shit in the news or bitching over work emails, just drawing out the time before you have to get ready to face the real world.

Imagine Logan being one of those sleepy bear types who grumbles until he fully wakes up, who's soft and warm and domestic when he's with someone he trusts. Also, I imagine that if you tease him about needing to shave in the morning, he'd be the type to chase you down and rub his scruffy face on you in revenge, which is basically how a scruffy guy marks you as his. (His best friend? His potential future partner? No, just his in general.)

a/n yes, a hundred percent yes to all of this

----

The soft glow of the bedside lamp has transported you into another world. A universe made up of the faint scent of detergent and the feel of warm bedding beneath your fingertips.

You blink. There's no reason to feel as drowsy as you do, not when Logan's spent the last ten minutes scolding you. Still, though, something about sitting at the foot of his bed makes it easy to give into your lingering haze. It'd be easy to fall asleep like this.

"Don't," the instruction is flat, "Stay awake."

His back is still to you, which means there's no harm in openly frowning. "I am."

Logan's sigh is nearly masked by the gentle groan of a drawer being pushed shut. He turns around, expression still pinched but much less irritated than before. "Barely." You part your lips, some nonsensical protest waiting on the tip of your tongue, but Logan beats you to it, "Here."

He's extending an arm, a piece of fabric clutched loosely between his fingers. You blink again, this time focusing on the weight of your eyelids. The gesture is such a sharp contrast from his earlier attitude, you're nearly overwhelmed by your whiplash.

You stand before accepting the T-shirt. "Thought you were mad at me."

He lets out a breath, the sound sharp enough to constitute a warning. "I'm not--" His gaze shifts towards the ground. "You should have called me."

This again. "I was fine." His eyebrows draw together with the same level of offense that he used when you first presented this argument. "And I wasn't even alone, I was with Jean and Scott." He scoffs. "And you said to call you if anything went wrong, and nothing did."

Logan walks forward slowly, his steps measured until he's close enough to fully deteriorate your already fragile train of thought. In an attempt to regain control, you lift your head to look him in the eye. He frowns as he raises a hand, his fingers coming to rest beneath your chin.

He's careful as he tilts your head back. There's a weight to his silence. "You're drunk." All you can think to do is blink. He's known this, it's the main reason he's been lecturing you since the couple that graciously allowed you to third wheel all night dropped you off. "You're unreliable."

"Not that drunk."

The correction doesn't ease him. He studies you for another long moment before releasing you with a tired sigh. Maybe you should take it easy on him. It's not his fault he has the heart and patience of someone that's lived two centuries. You sigh. "Fine, next time I go out, I'll wake you up to come get me, even if I'm totally okay."

He ignores your sarcasm with expert ease. "Knew you'd get it, Princess."

You squeeze the T-shirt's fabric between your fingers in an attempt to ignore the warmth threatening to crawl up your neck. "I'm full of understanding."

"Yeah," he mumbles flatly, turning away from you as he walks towards his bed. You watch him with an openness that a more sober you would have never gotten away with. Logan had come to the door in a pair of loose sweats and no shirt. It had been easy to ignore his appearance when you were still in the giggly stages of being drunk. "Go change."

An instinctual desire to argue almost has you protesting, but you are tired of your going out clothes. And the thought of getting to pass out in Logan's bed for a few hours isn't exactly unappealing.

You pull the T-shirt over your head. Logan says your name, but you're too focused on adjusting the hemline to react. The shirt's large enough to cover most of your upper thigh, falling only an inch or two above the dress you're wearing. You slip the dress's straps off of your shoulders before reaching beneath the shirt's loose fabric. You tug at the dress's zipper before slipping the material down your legs.

You pick up the discarded fabric, folding the dress before placing it on top of Logan's dresser. He's uncharacteristically quiet as you approach the available side of his bed. "You seem tired."

He leans towards his nightstand, arm stretching outwards to turn of his bedside lamp. His eyes settle on some point a little past your shoulder. "Not all of us are 20-somethings that can stay up all night."

It's a teasing comment, likely an attempt at preemptively limiting your usual 10 to 15 minutes of yapping before actually attempting to fall asleep, but it digs at you. Jean was the one that insisted on letting Logan babysit you, you wanted to let him sleep. "I didn't want to wake you up."

Logan shifts, his bent leg nearly brushing against yours. "I wasn't asleep," the words are low, careful, "But if I had been--you wake me up." He pauses. "I'd rather that than know you're walking around drunk and looking like that."

An uneasy heat spreads through your chest. You focus on the bedding pooled over your lap. Like that--the kind of comment that'd usually have you insulting the person making it for attempted slut shaming. But Logan's voice is too distant for you to find any insult in it, even in a teasing context.

You bend fabric between your fingers, pressing the nail of your thumb into the material. You nod once.

He shifts towards you, his warmth becoming impossible to ignore beneath shared bedding. "I sleep better like this anyway."

The words are uncharacteristically soft, almost cautious. You lean into the feeling of them, allowing your back to relax against a pillow.

You've shared a bed with Logan before, usually after hanging out with him a little too late and once on a mission where you had to pretend to be recently engaged to avoid blowing your cover. It's not exactly common, but you know how he sleeps enough to know that he's not exaggerating. As soon as he's asleep, he loses the ability to be aware of personal space, an arm across your waist and chin pressed into your shoulder.

"Considering the way you take up the entire bed, I'm sure."

He exhales, the sound more pointed than it needs to be. "You steal blankets."

You scoff. "That's so not true." The corner of his mouth pulls itself upwards, the look much too triumphant. What a lame argument--you don't steal blankets, you're not given a chance to. As soon as Logan's on you, it's nearly impossible to move. "Like I can steal blankets out from under your adamantium skeleton."

Logan tilts his head, eyes narrowing in a way that promises nothing good. "You're saying I'm heavy."

Well, when framed like that, anything can sound rude. "No." You press your lips together to keep from laugh. "I"m saying your skeleton is literally made of metal..." You straighten in an attempt to make yourself focus. "...And metal is--" Your mental hold slips, a soft laugh tumbling past your lips as you try to think of a politically correct way to make your point. "...Heavy."

He leans forward, his knee brushing against your leg. There's a tact to his movement, a deliberateness better suited for the violence of the outside world. A warning, you realize, a moment too late.

Logan shifts his weight. You laugh as his hands find a place on each of your shoulders. "That's the same thing."

Helplessly, you press a palm against his chest. Your halfhearted protests do nothing to sway him. You laugh again, elbow pressing into the mattress in an attempt to steady yourself. Logan moves a hand to the back of your head before letting the brunt of his weight fall onto you.

You let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a squeal as you're pushed down. Your head hits the pillow, but the suddenness of the motion doesn't hurt. His forearm is resting near your head, turning him into more of an implication than an actual force capable of crushing you.

You let yourself smile openly. For someone that's always willing to remind you of his age, he has no problem acting like a child. Your lips part, but the laugh attempting to crawl up your throat dies before it can slip out.

Logan's watching you, his eyebrows drawn together in a way you can't interpret. His warmth, the feel of him against you, all of it, loses its humor.

He stays like that for what could be awhile, or no time at all. Then, Logan shifts, his arm moving away from the side of your head. Before you can overthink the change, he's resting his head against your upper stomach.

He's--there's never been this much openness about physical contact. Sure, you guys are comfortable with each other, with you having no issue resting your head against his shoulder during movies or reaching for his hand after a particularly rough mission, but that's--that's usually you.

You force yourself to recover, focusing on your breathing to keep from outing yourself. With the kind of care you'd use to keep from scaring off a skittish stray, you move a hand towards his back. He briefly stiffens as you drag your fingers against his skin, but after a second, he exhales. "You're like a house cat."

You feel Logan's sigh more than you hear it. "I'm not answering that." That's okay. You're happy enough without his validation.

Things stay quiet, and you slip further into the realm between sleep and consciousness. "You--you're um--okay, right?" The question is stiff, maybe even a little awkward. You're so close to sleep, you can't bring yourself to get what he's asking. "Comfortable?"

You're glad to not have to hide your smile. "Yeah," you mumble, voice distant, "It's nice."

You're not sure what you're referencing, but Logan doesn't ask, so you decide it doesn't really matter.

----

The light is a tangible thing, felt against your skin before you can squint your eyes open to see it.

You shift, noting the dull ache of your head as you lift your hand to wipe at your face. Wait.

It comes back to you all at once--the drinking, the after drinking, Logan.

You open your eyes fully. It's instinct to shift, but it's nearly impossible to do much more than lift your head. Logan's asleep, his head resting against your ribs and arm draped over your waist. How did you not notice this?

It would make sense for Logan to be a light sleeper. Even when he's at ease, he never seems fully settled in the feeling. So you're careful as you move, head turning as you try to look at him.

Logan's breathing loses its consistency before you can fully embrace the privacy. His fingers press into your hip so briefly you almost convince yourself the contact is only a product of your early morning haze.

He moves onto his back, palm brushing against your shirt as he leaves you. "Morning, princess."

There's something comforting about hearing his voice first thing in the morning. "Good morning." The words are a little raspier than you thought they'd be, difficult to force out around your hazy discomfort.

The corner of Logan's mouth pulls itself upwards. "I thought 20-somethings didn't get hangovers."

You roll your eyes. There are a lot of aspects of Logan's personality that warrant old man jokes, but his alcohol tolerance isn't one of them. You roll onto your side, propping your head up on one elbow. "I'm not hungover."

The almost-smile grows into something more assured. You let yourself enjoy the easiness of it. "Sure you're not, bub." The response is so warm you have to work at keeping your halfhearted pout.

Logan shifts, the mattress dipping as he sits up. "C'mon." He turns his head, looking at you from over his shoulder. "You'll feel better after you eat something."

The mention of food makes you aware of a hollowness you hadn't yet noticed. The thought of breakfast feels perfectly settling. You sit up with a smile, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "You're not gonna make me eat weird hangover cures, are you?"

He pushes himself to stand. "You're going to have to take that chance."

There's no humor in his tone, and his back is to you so you can't read his expression, but something tells you it's safe to follow him out of his room, anyway.

[roosterr]

only you

note: him. that is all.

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

summary: you and soap get to talking about your love life. gaz gets jealous.

warnings: little bit of miscommunication, jealousy, you and gaz make out, the mildest of spice

ao3

sleepless nights were not a rarity for you. it comes with the territory in this line of work, unfortunately, something you and your fellow sergeants have in common. it also wasn't out of place for the three of you to find each other in the rec room well into the early hours of the morning, which is exactly where you'd ended up tonight.

perhaps it was the result of the insomnia that had kept you up far later than your mind could handle, but you'd foolishly divulged that you hadn't been on an actual date in a depressingly long time – soap seemed to find that far more amusing than you would've liked, and quickly took it upon himself to demonstrate his unique ability to make you wish you'd kept your mouth shut.

"c'mon, you cannae be serious," soap wears a shit-eating grin as he leans forward in the armchair, leaning his elbows on his knees as you roll your eyes. gaz stays quiet beside you, which you're silently grateful for, but you do feel his eyes on the side of your head.

"i just don't have the time for it," you sigh, resting your elbow on the arm of the sofa and dropping your hand into your palm.

it's true, your job didn't allow room for much of a social life, what with being sent all over the world for months at a time– really, it was a miracle you did anything except work.

that wasn't the main reason, he was sitting on your other side, but you'd be damned before you revealed that to soap,  of all people.

"well, if you can't get any, then there's nae hope for the rest of us." soap chuckles, reaching over and playfully nudging your arm.

you let out a groan, shoving his hand away and dragging your own down your face. "shut up, soap, that's not how it is…"

he laughs again at your reaction, still showing no signs of relenting. "maybe i'll have to take you out, then."

"on what? a pipe-bomb masterclass?" you scoff, the grin on your lips betraying your attempt at looking unimpressed. both of them laugh at that, soap raising his hands in a gesture that says 'so what?'.

"dinnae try'n tell me that wouldn't be an excitin' date." he reasons, tilting his head and quirking his brow at you. you narrow your eyes, humming in faux-consideration and playfully tapping a finger on your chin.

"for a pyromaniac, maybe…" gaz grumbles from beside you. the sofa moves under you as he shifts his weight around, and if you weren't so tired you would've noticed the way his voice trailed off in such an uncharacteristic manner.

"maybe," you laugh, shaking your head at the very idea of it, and the fact that soap definitely would if he could convince someone to go along with it. "that's if i don't wind up dead by the end of it."

"i wouldn't let anythin' happen to ya, bonnie, cross my heart." he grins, making an x over his chest with one finger.

"but you'd still make a homemade bomb right in front of me?" you lift an eyebrow at his teasing expression.

"my two favourite things; a good explosive  and a good view,"

"oh god, shut the fuck up." you groan, reaching to swat the back of his head as you stand up. "that's enough for tonight, i need sleep."

"think i'll call it a night too." gaz mumbles half-heartedly from his spot beside you, quickly standing and making his way to the door without another word. you frown, confused by his sudden coldness, waving to soap and calling a quiet 'goodnight' before you step out into the hallway after him.

"night, bonnie, i'll pick you up at eight!" soap calls, loud enough for you to hear in the corridor, earning a soft chuckle and another shake of your head as you catch up to gaz.

he doesn’t even spare you a glance as you trail behind him, marching ahead with a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. his abrupt switch in attitude concerned you; he was fine not even five minutes ago, what could’ve happened to change that? 

"you okay, gaz?" you ask with a hesitance that feels strange directed at him, someone you’re usually so confident around. for a moment there's no response, but he does slow down slightly, taking a right into a corner of the building with the lights shut off. you follow still, growing more concerned with every second that passes.

you’re about to ask again, but a few paces into the shadows gaz turns sharply on his heel, catching you off guard with how suddenly he stops walking and causing you to bump into his chest. 

"gaz…?" you utter, your quiet voice a ripple in the stillness of the empty corridor. he meets your eye as you look quizzically back at him, a conflicted expression taking over his features.

you open your mouth to say something more, but before you can get the words out he's laying a hand on your shoulder and gently pushing you against the wall. the hand on you shifts to rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, while he leans the other on the wall with his hand next to your head.

your breath catches in your throat, and your previous exhaustion is completely forgotten. the way he's looking at you, staring straight through you with that deep brown gaze and right into your soul, it's like a spell has fallen over you.

kyle leans even closer, caging you in with his broad shoulders and blocking out the world around him, so he's the only thing you can focus on– as if you could possibly think about anything else when he's touching you so tenderly.

"don't go out with him…" he utters, his eyes flickering back and forth as they search yours. the pause between you hangs heavy in the air. when your questioning expression doesn't change, he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and drops his gaze, letting his eyes fall shut as he continues. "don't fuckin' go out with him, please…"

"wh…" you stutter, trailing off as you wonder inwardly what the hell he's talking about; and then it hits you.

there's another pause, and you swallow thickly at the realisation that he was talking about your earlier conversation with soap; that he was reacting like this because he thought you would actually take johnny seriously. "kyle… he was joking."

"i'm not." he mutters in response, shifting closer again by resting his forearm against the wall instead of his hand. he's looking at you again, with heavy eyes that keep you entranced by him. you can't help the uneven breath that escapes you under his intense gaze and the way his thumb begins to stroke your jaw. "let me take you out, i'll give you anything you want if you'll have me, love."

it's hard to concentrate on anything other than the sparks his touch creates as he caresses your skin. you're sure he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his fingertips. there's no one but him in this moment, the minimal distance between you still somehow feeling too great as you subconsciously lean your face closer to his.

the silence and your heartbeat are so loud in your ears, you almost don’t hear his next words.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, little more than a whisper, tilting his head so his lips ghost over yours. you breath another shuddering sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as you nod almost imperceptibly.

"please."

time seems to slow as the word hangs in the air, the warmth radiating from him seeps into your skin as he closes the final distance and presses his lips against yours.

the hand on your neck travels up to your face, cradling your cheek with a touch so soft, almost disbelieving, like he expected you to disappear at any moment.

"i'm yours, love," he mumbles against you, never straying too far from your lips as he caresses your cheek, "i'm all yours…"

you loop your arms around his neck, knocking his hat loose in the process, but neither of you pay it any mind as it lands on the floor at your feet – too lost in yourselves to care. in the brief moment you part for air, a breathy whisper of his name escapes you, and as if a switch has flipped, his mouth is back against yours with a fervour that you struggle to keep up with.

he's running his hand up and down the length of your waist, your hip, hiking your leg up and around his side, dragging his touch over your thigh, like he can't get enough of you. it's intoxicating, the way you pant into each other, flush against one another yet still itching to get closer.

your lungs burn as he pulls away again, just enough to whisper, his voice low and needy, "god– the things you do to me, sweetheart,"

his touch is reverent as he takes you in; your touch, your skin, your taste, the sounds he pulls from you as he kneads the flesh of your waist under your shirt. it sends your head spinning, the blood rushing in your ears stopping you from thinking about anything other than the feel of his lips on yours.

you trail one of your hands down his body, over his chest and down to the hem of his shirt, where you slip your fingers under to rest against his toned stomach. his skin is hot under your hand, drawing another groan of your name from him, and he slowly moves his hands up your own abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers–

"awh, c'mon!"

the sound of soap's voice startles you into knocking your head against the wall behind you, both yours and kyle's hands darting back from their less than appropriate positions.

you look over to the scott, a sheepish grin on your face at his disapproving face. kyle buries his face into your shoulder, a groan of both embarrassment and annoyance escaping his chest. you resist the urge to laugh, instead running your hands up and down his back in an attempt to comfort him.

"fucks sake, soap…" kyle grumbles, wrapping his arms back around your waist. he doesn't look up at your friend, opting to keep his undoubtedly embarrassed expression hidden by your neck.

"think i'll have to cancel that date after all." you cant keep the amusement off your face when you speak, earning a dramatic eye roll from soap.

"too right, ye animals…" he mutters, shaking his head in exasperation as he disappears around the corner again. neither of you move as you listen to his footsteps retreating down the corridor, staying frozen in place until it's quiet once more.

only once you're sure johnny's gone does the laugh you've been stifling bubble up from your chest, escaping into the otherwise quiet night as kyle finally lifts his head to meet your gaze.

he eyes the bashful smile pulling at your lips and lets out a laugh of his own, pressing his forehead back to yours and letting his eyes fall closed again.

killing soap could wait until tomorrow; right now, it was just you and him, and that's how you want to keep it.

[avanatural]

The Talk

Summary: Jack catches Dean and Y/N while they're being intimate. The Nephilim has a lot of questions about what he witnessed, and Dean takes it upon himself to answer at least the most important ones.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Smut, fluff, some humor, 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, mentions of non-con, getting caught during sex

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Thank you to the lovely people who expressed their interest in this particular story. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Y/N cried out in ecstasy. Her fingers curled around the headboard, holding on for dear life. Dean was ramming into her at a rapid pace, kneeling behind her. His skin was slapping against hers. Every push was forceful enough to take her breath away.

“How’s that feel?”, he checked in with her, bending forward, folding his body across hers, his lips grazing her cheek. His thrusts slowed down, but their force increased.

“So good,” she panted through the powerful sensations.

“You want me to keep goin’ like that?”

“Oh God, yes…”

She clenched around him, causing him to hiss loudly in pleasure. He could feel his body vibrate as a familiar intense sensation settled in his lower regions.   

Until…

“What are you doing?”

Dean and Y/N tensed violently at the sudden intrusion. Their souls took a leap out of their bodies, prompting them to abruptly still their movements. No one else was supposed to be in the bunker. Their heads snapped towards the open door of Dean’s bedroom.

None other than Lucifer’s son himself, Jack, was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him, his head tilted to the side. 

“Dammit, Jack!”, Dean roared, swiftly pulling out of Y/N and throwing his cream-colored sheets over her naked body.

Y/N’s eyes were wide, her breathing heavy. She gladly accepted the sheets to cover her body. A scorching heat lit up her cheeks. She felt like she’d just run a marathon, but with a mighty dose of embarrassment tossed into the mix.

“What are you doing?”, the Nephilim repeated, staring at the two hunters with a crease between his innocent eyes.

“Having sex!”, Dean snapped, snatching his pillow from the bed to hide his softening member.

Jack’s lips pursed as he mentally went through his vocabulary to find that particular word. When it didn’t ring a bell, he shook his head. “What does that mean?”

Y/N groaned internally and hid her burning face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing back early? Jack and Sam were supposed to be out.

“It’s what adults do for fun,” Dean snarled, hoping that, by some miracle, Jack was going to take the hint and leave them alone.

Instead, the purest smile spread across Jack’s face. He looked even more interested in the subject now. “I like fun.”

Dean pushed his jaw forward. He was irritated, but he was also embarrassed. Y/N could tell by looking at his flushed freckled cheeks and the reddening tips of his ears. “You remember the talk we had about privacy?”, he demanded.

Lucifer’s son drew his eyebrows together. “Of course.”

“You wanna give us some of that?”, Dean barked, sarcasm dripping from his rough voice.

“Hey, Jack, I was wondering where you headed off to…”, Sam’s voice trailed off as he appeared in the doorframe. He took in the scene before him, quick to avert his gaze and clear his throat. “Jack, uh… Come on, we’ll give them some privacy.” Sam placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steered him away from the door.

Dean groaned and let his sweaty forehead drop to Y/N’s shoulder. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“But the door was open,” they could hear Jack protest down the hall.

Y/N sighed deeply, hoping that it would somehow rid her of the uneasiness that tickled her limbs. When Dean lifted his head back up and met her gaze, she was almost amused by the obvious disappointment on his face. Almost. The smile didn’t break through, but her eyes reflected her bashful internal laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbled, frowning as he spotted the beginning of the awkward smile on her face.

The mood had definitely been killed.

“Come on…” Y/N gently patted Dean’s bare thigh. “Let’s get dressed. It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

“Dean?”, Jack asked.

The Nephilim, Dean and Sam were sat at the library table, their noses buried in books and newspapers. The earthy scent of paper wafted through the air.

“Hm?”, the older Winchester brother half-heartedly replied, raising his mug to his lips.

“Does… sex… hurt women?”

Sam gave the Nephilim a confused side-glance while Dean audibly gulped down the hot sip of coffee. “What?”

“I think you hurt Y/N,” Jack stated with an accusing tone in his voice.

Sam’s lips transformed into a tight, thin line to prevent him from laughing.

Dean sent a glare his brother’s way. He was not in the mood to give the son of Lucifer ‘the talk.’ “It’s none of your business what I do with Y/N. Capiche?”, he grumped. The hunter’s muscles tightened in his jaw as he took another sip of his coffee.

“But I don’t want you to hurt her.”

“I wasn’t hurting her,” Dean huffed, putting down his mug. He didn’t want to defend himself for what Jack had witnessed, but if someone claimed that he hurt Y/N, and that he hurt her on purpose, the hunter was bound to get offended. “Relax.”

Sam chimed in, showing mercy for his brother. “Jack, Dean would never hurt Y/N. You know that.”

“But it looked like he was.”

Dean sighed grumpily and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I was doin’ somethin’ she likes. Okay? That’s rule number one with sex,” he explained, lifting a single finger in the air for emphasis, “You both need to enjoy it.”

“So, it’s possible not to enjoy it?” Jack’s forehead furrowed, causing his brows to move closer together. “I thought adults do it for fun.”

“Yes, it’s possible, but that should never, ever happen,” Dean clarified, “You need to communicate, make sure you’re on the same page.”

Jack’s eyes squinted at the unfamiliar expression. “On… the same page?”

“Yeah. For example…” Dean briefly shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to believe he was actually talking about this to Jack, of all people. “Uh… Y/N told me she doesn’t want me to leave hickeys on her body, so I can’t do that. Even though I’d like to.” At the thought of marking Y/N up as his, he ran his tongue across his lower lip. “I’d really, really like to…,” he muttered to himself dreamily.

Sam scoffed, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. Never in a million years could he have guessed that his older brother was going to give Satan’s son the talk one day.

Meanwhile, Jack nodded, clinging to Dean’s every word. “So, it’s about… permission,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Dean responded, snapping his fingers and pointing one at Jack. He felt something dangerously close to pride swell in his chest as the boy drew the correct conclusion. “Bottom line is, you can only do what your partner allows you to.”

Jack nodded and let the information sink in for a second. Then, one of his eyebrows rose up and he inquired, “So, Y/N is your… partner?”

The question was a curveball to Dean, whose mouth puckered in reply. He was stunned into stammering, “Uhm, well…”

Curiously, Sam sat up straighter and watched his sibling’s reaction like a hawk.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally, shrugging his wide shoulders, which, to his surprise, suddenly felt a lot lighter.

Jack clasped his own hands on the table, copying Dean’s posture. “Are there any other rules?”

“Yeah. Like protection.” When Jack opened his mouth to ask further questions, Dean silenced him by lifting his pointer finger back in the air. “But I ain’t teachin’ you about that, kid. One lesson at a time.”

Dean got up, empty mug in hand, and headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the hallway, he almost bumped into Y/N, who was standing right there, resting against the wall. She smiled up at him, irises gleaming with joy and a little bit of mischief.  

“What’s gotten you all cheerful?”, he demanded playfully, eyebrows arching.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning at him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. But he didn’t get to say another word when Jack’s bewildered voice suddenly rang through the library.

“Sam… What are hickeys?”

When Sam’s groan reached their ears, Dean and Y/N burst into quiet laughter, leaning forward, their heads almost bumping into each other.

That night, Y/N listened to Dean’s calming heartbeat, cuddled up against his torso. He sighed with content when she pressed her lips to his anti-possession tattoo.

“You know… I really liked how you gave Jack the talk today,” she said.

Dean’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “So, you were eavesdroppin’.”

“Guilty.” Y/N laughed softly for a second, smiling at the green-eyed hunter who was holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “But seriously... I liked how you taught him about consent.”

His fingers traced an affectionate pattern on her hip. “Well, that's sex 101, isn’t it?”

She nodded against his skin. “It should be.”

Dean slowly brushed his fingertips across her ribs and felt her muscles contract. When he realized she was ticklish, he dragged his fingers along the same spot again. He enjoyed the sweet sounds of laughter that spilled from her mouth. He loved having her in his arms, whether they were having sex or not. She made him feel good. About his life. About himself.

“So… I’m your partner, huh?”, Y/N asked, catching his hand in hers so he would stop tickling her. She proceeded to bite her bottom lip and sneak a peek at Dean’s face while she waited for his response. So far, neither of them had brought up the question of what exactly they were to each other.

At first, she was met with complete and utter silence. That was okay. Truth be told, she had no idea what to expect. She knew they each had their own difficulties when it came to relationships. But she needed to know if Dean had told Jack the truth, or if he’d just called her his partner to appease the young Nephilim.

Then, after a few seconds, Dean gave his silent reply. The way he clenched his arm around her, squeezed her against him, and firmly kissed the crown of her head told her more than words ever could. He then transformed his response into one single word, quietly whispering it into her hair. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and hid her smiling face in the crook of his neck. His embrace was the most comfortable place in the entire world. She felt his chest rise and fall steadily, heard the deep breaths coming from his nose, and shut her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt at peace. “Dean?”, she asked after a few minutes, wondering if he was dozing off.

“Hm?”

“I think you still owe me an orgasm or two.”

His sleepy, spiky-haired head rose up the second she finished her sentence. He rolled on top of her body, grinning like a Cheshire cat while she giggled her heart out.

“Just two?”

“Ohh, are we feeling ambitious tonight?”, she chuckled, circling her arms around his neck.

“It’s on, sweetheart,” he rasped, molding his lips against hers in a breathtaking kiss.

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @libre1rose8 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12 @golden-hoax @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin @globetrotter28 @spnwoman @mrsjenniferwinchester @may85 @100percentserenity @tmb510 @roseblue373 @iamsapphine

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Hi! Can you write a fic where Steven and Marc are jealous of each other about who loves the reader more and who's better in bed? Maybe they could confront reader too

pls make it smutty if you're okay with that

Hello!! <3

Let's see who's better

Steven Grant & Marc Spector x fem!reader

Warnings: Jealousy, p in v, soft dom Steven, oral fem!receiving, smut, nsfw, happy ending.

Steven just got out of the bathroom after a refreshing shower, your sleeping form caught his attention.

"She looks so beautiful asleep. Love her so much." Steven smiled.

Meanwhile Marc felt the need to take part.

*Me too, buddy.*

Steven turned to look in the mirror, seeing indeed Marc with a cheeky smile on his face.

"I love her more."

*No I do.*

"Not a chance mate."

*I met her first.*

"Bloody hell, Marc."

Marc just gave an arrogant smirk.

"If you think that, then let's just ask her."

*You challenging me now, buddy?*

"You bloody bet I did, mate."

*Did you bump your head?*

"No, of course not! Did you?"

Marc and Steven were so into arguing, they didn't notice you waking up.

"Boys? What are you yapping about?"

*Great, you just woke her up.*

"You're the worst." Steven scoffed, returning to the bedroom. "Sorry love, Marc and I were just uh, making bets..."

You raised your eyebrow "Sounded like a sudden deep hatred."

Steven shrugged. "You know how we can get sometimes."

"Yeah, sometimes you two are acting like an old couple." You chuckled.

"Are we that bad?" Steven fiddled with his fingers, making a nervous expression.

"No! You're simply too innocent, Stevy!" You laughed, getting out of the bed and hugging him.

Steven was actually surprised, but he loved the affection from you. While you hugged him, he turned to look back at the mirror to see Marc's face.

Marc's mouth was opened in a surprised manner, he raised a finger as if he wanted to say something, but for once he couldn't come up with anything.

Steven shot Marc an arrogant smile, Marc's jaw clenched and he crossed his arms, looking offended.

Steven couldn't help but laugh a bit.

You nudged his foot with yours. "What's so funny?" you asked with amusement.

"Marc's offended like a child because I emptied all of his aftershave." Steven lied but played it cool.

You snorted before bursting out in laughter. "Wait what?" you gently pulled away. "Poor guy, but he will get over it." you chuckled.

"You're right, he will get over it." Steven said, his tone was laced with pure amusement and arrogance. He glanced back to the mirror, seeing Marc narrowing his eyes dangerously and scowling back at Steven.

"Is he pissed now?" You asked.

"Not even Khonshu would dare mess with him now, pissed is not even close." He lied.

"I never expected you to be so cruel Steven, maybe you should make it up to him." You smiled before heading over to Gus to feed him.

*Yeah you heard her. Make it up to me. Give me the body.* Marc said in their shared headspace.

Steven saw you heading to the couch, flopping down. He took the opportunity to get back to the bathroom again.

"No, I'll stay with her."

*I'm the main. I get to choose.*

"Not now."

*Fuck, who did something to you?*

"You did."

Marc scoffed.

"Steven!? You pissing off Marc again?" They heard you call out.

Steven just left the bathroom and sat down next to you on the couch.

You raised an eyebrow. "Damn, what's up with you two today? Who did you kill?"

"No one." Steven replied a bit nervous.

"Stevennn! Speak with me, what's wrong?" You straightened, turned to face him and crossed your legs.

Steven took a deep breath. "Which one of us do you like more?" he asked carefully.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope, houndred percent real."

"Not gonna answer that. I love you both."

"Let's say you have to save one of us, who would it be?"

"You two are one body, it's a two in one, that means I'll save both of you." You shrugged. "Now spill it, what's happening between you two?"

"Alright. Marc and I were arguing on which one of us loves you more." Steven sighed.

"And you two really thought I'd only love one of you?" You asked.

*Hold on. Steven ask her who's better in bed. This way she can't come up with the one body excuse.* Marc told Steven, who looked back in the direction of the bathroom.

"Oh my god..."

You figured Marc must have said something to Steven "What did he say?"

"Well, he uh... he asked who's better in bed.." Steven stammered.

You shot a flabbergasted look. "For the protocol..." you squinted your eyes and raised one finger, "you two wanted to know which one I love more. Now it looks like you finally accepted and made peace knowing I love both of you," you paused "and now you want to know which one fucks better?"

Steven nodded.

"Hell no, I'm not gonna answer that."

"Because that one body argument you made doesn't count for sexy time, right love?" Steven smiled teasingly.

"You are unfair. Both of you." You wagged with your finger.

*We got her. Now we have to see who's better.*

"Don't be shy love. Speak." Steven grinned.

"Fine. But I will make it fair. So don't even think about being upset."

"Alright." Steven agreed.

"Marc when I had a rough day, you when it's a normal day."

*Interesting...*

"Really?" Steven teased.

"Happy now?"

"Think you're able to choose?" Steven scooted a bit close.

"Nuh-uh, don't you fucking dare." You uncrossed your legs, scooting back.

"I bet this will make you rethink." Steven gently grabbed your ankles, pulling you close to him, hooking his fingers under your sleeping pants and pulled them down along with your panties.

"Steven?"

"No no, don't think, just focus on me, yeah?" Steven spreaded your legs and leaned down between your legs.

"W-wait not- o-oohh fuck..." Steven didn't even let you finish, he dipped right in, lapping at your pussy, licking and sucking like a starved man about to die.

Steven was licking so intense, your thighs snapped shut around his head.

"Feels good yeah? Wait till I fuck this cunt." Steven moaned against you, his tongue thrusting into your hole as deep as possible.

"What's gotten into you, Steven?" You slured out, already feeling your orgasm building up.

"You. Just you." He smiled, his hand coming up to rub your clit.

"Oh fuck! Steven you're so good!" You're already seeing stars, Steven's demonstrations on you we're almost too much.

"Can feel you getting tight around my tongue." Steven's hand came up, rubbing your clit, determined to bring you over the edge.

"Shit! Steven I'm about to cum!" You cried out in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you couldn't take it any longer, gushing your juices into Steven's mouth.

"Yeah that's it, love." Steven's greedy mouth slurped every last drop of your orgasm up. He got up, licking the remains of your juices from his lips.

"Ready for another one?" He asked teasingly, kneeling between your legs, you could already see his hard cock straining.

"You're driving us mad, y'know that?" He reached down, pulling his raging cock out and positioned himself on top of you.

"And I bet you like it right?" Steven grabbed and lined his cock at your swollen pussy.

"Wait so you two are just kidding?" You asked, still slightly out of breath.

"No, that's real. But you like seeing us jealous, hm?" Steven pushed inside you, already setting quite a fast pace.

You let out a gasp at the overstimulation. "You're starting to get as dirty as Marc." you chuckled.

"Yeah? Good." Steven teased, he slowed down a bit, aiming for deep and hard thrusts.

"Oh god, Steven..." Your eyes fluttered shut, Steven hit your spots with each thrust.

"Told you, love." He teased, rolling his hips just right to make your mind go cockdrunk. Steven continued to switch between slow and deep thrusts and hard and fast ones.

You felt your peak build up once again, tightening around Steven's cock. He felt it and sped up, hitting all your sweetspots as he felt himself getting close too.

"Stevennn!" It wasn't long before you clenched around him and drowned his dick in your juices.

"Fuck, feels so good.." Steven moaned, releasing himself into you before stopping his movements.

"Are you happy now?" You chuckled.

"Only if you say I am the best." He teased.

"Fine, have it." You spoke without thinking before your eyes widened and you remembered Marc as your mind came back to it's senses. "Shit."

"Good answer, thanks love." Steven smiled. "Marc, better accept it."

*Nope. I didn't even had my chance yet...* Marc spoke lowly in the headspace.

You got up, put only your panties back in and made your way to the bathroom to clean up. You didn't know where Steven went, but as left the bathroom and were about to pass the bed you heard a voice.

"Honeeyy." Marc's voice hit your ears sharp. As you turned around, he was already there.

"Hi." You played it cool.

"Hey there." Marc gave a dirty smile.

"Let me guess, you want your piece of the cake now?"

"Yeah. After that we'll see who's better." He stopped infront of you, leaning in close. "And now, get on the bed, spread your legs and let me fuck you stupid."

You obeyed, laying down on the bed, slipped off your panties and opened your legs.

"You two are the worst when you're jealous at eachother."

Marc stepped between your legs, reaching down to run two fingers along your folds, making you whimper. "Means your pussy's getting spoiled."

"Funny."

"Yeah." He joked.

Marc was already hard, he couldn't wait any longer, freeing himself and positioned his cock at your hole, nudging you with his tip. He entered slowly, making you gasp. "O-ooh fuck, Marc..."

"Mhh-mm.." He hummed, slowly starting to roll his hips. The pleasure came back, causing your head to fall back.

He grabbed your hips for leverage, slamming his cock in and out of you. "Can you feel yourself getting cockdrunk, hm?"

"Can't help it." You slured with half your mind drifting off into numbness.

"That's my girl." Marc praised, pulling his cock almost all the way out and slamming right back into your depths.

"Ohh my ggod!" You moaned, arching your back.

Marc leaned down "Honey, I want you to say I'm better in bed if you wanna cum." He demanded, using your current state of mind for his advantage.

You couldn't say anything, the only thing you could do, was moaning.

He chuckled. "Can't think straight, huh?"

You shook your head, getting louder as Marc set a fast pace, hitting the spots deep inside. You gripped the sheets, biting your lip as you tried to say what he wanted in order for him to make you cum.

"You're b-better M-Marc..." You moaned, feeling desperate to cum.

"I'm better?" He increased his pace, feeling his orgasm approach.

Your pussy tightened around Marc's cock. "Yess, please let me cum!"

Marc grinned. "Such a good girl for me. Now cum on my cock."

As if on command, your pussy clamped down on his cock, squeezing tight.

"There you go, baby." He groaned, releasing his cum into you.

Marc stayed inside you while catching his breath, and then pulled out of you. "Fuck... now you may take a shower." he chuckled.

You panted, taking your time to catch your own breath. "I earned that shower."

"Looks like you did." He nodded, tucking himself back in and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Made up your mind yet?" He ruffled your hair, smirking down at you.

"You share. Get used to it, you and Steven. I'm not a fan of choosing." You sat up on the bed.

Marc let out a breath, looking at the mirror in the bathroom. "Fine. Steven wanna quit this shit and just accept it? Boss lady demands it."

*Yeah, let's get this over with. But hey, we spoiled her.* Steven chuckled.

"You're right." Marc grinned.

You just raised an eyebrow. "Hey you two, what are you talking about."

Marc looked at you, his hands moved to gently pull you up. "Nothing, we agreed we will be friends again. No more fooling around. Now go get your shower." He gently ushered you before he softly smacked your ass.

You, amused, shook your head at them, making your way into the bathroom for your well deserved shower for the day.

[morgluvsconnie]

BOUND, c.springer

chap.6 | smut, mentions of violence, angst if you squint, comfort. | chap.5

"which one of yall know where reiner at?"

connie breathed hardly through his nose as no one had an answer. "it wasn't even him." you tried to calm connie down, but it seemed like the more you tried, the madder he got.

"stop saying that shit."

you furrowed your eyebrows, cursing at yourself internally from the amount of drama this was about to cause. not only for you, but for connie too. you remembered what reiner said he'd do, and as much as you wanted somebody to beat his ass, deep down you didnt wanna see connie get hurt.

"ion wanna get you involved in something that has nothing to do with you." you mumbled loud enough for connie to hear.

as he speed walked around almost the whole club, coming to a stopping point, connie turned around and looked at you.

"where he stay at?"

"im not telling you that."

"then tell me what happened." connie pursed his lips together, putting his hands in his pants pockets. you looked to the side and sighed. "i dont feel like it."

"y/n stop actin fucking stubborn and tell me what happened. stop actin like reiner supposed to be somebody im scared of." connie frowned at you. "shouldn’t no boy be putting his hands on a female, especially somebody like you."

you looked to the ground. as much as you didnt wanna hear him out, you listened to his words, taking in the compliment. unknowingly staying silent, connie grabbed your hand and walked you to his car. "im takin you home. you gon explain what happened, and ima do what i do." connie opened the car door for you with a sigh.

he walked to the other side, getting in and starting the car, glancing at you.

you didnt even wanna look at him.

pure anger is what filled his eyes, even if he tried his best not to show it.

even if he tried to make it seem like the second main reason he was defending you wasnt because he cared about you.

you stared at the window as connie drove to your house, getting out after those regular three minutes.

you opened your door and walked in. so much for staying out the rest of the night. "you really dont gotta do nothing connie, ion wanna get you involved." you tilted your head at him as he sat on the glass table in front of your couch, where you sat.

he didnt even reply to that.

and youd hate to admit he was the main cause of the situation, but all because of a big misunderstanding.

you crossed your arms with almost a pouty expression. you were still half drunk.

"what happened." connie asked, staring at you with his elbows resting on his knees. it wasnt even a question, it was more of a demand.

you stayed silent while looking at the ground.

you’d hate to cry all over again. you didnt even wanna explain what he did, in fear of him manhandling you all over again. what if connie wasn’t here and he came? what if he got more aggressive? what if y/n...

y/n

"y/n"

you looked up with slightly raised eyebrows, connie still waiting for you to answer his question.

"he..." you tried to remember from the beginning. "dont do anything connie... like for real.

"im not." connie stared lazily at you.

"he came to my house... yesterday i think. and... he started yelling at me" you paused and looked at connie. "about you."

connies expression slightly changed.

"he basically thinks we go together because of the dude that came up to me that night we talked. and he said he didn’t wanna see us together." you looked at the ground again.

"what, he must gon beat my ass?" connie leaned back a little, staring at you with a slightly confused expression. you sighed softly. "thats what he said."

"oh." connies eyes fell on your wrist, softening them. "so what he touch you for?"

you shrugged.

connie looked back at you, biting his lip a little. he bit his cheek as you looked up at him. thats when he stood up. "come here." he mumbled. you stood up. "where yo room at?" connie stretched.

you gave him a confused look for a second before going upstairs towards your room. as you opened your door, you stood to the side, letting him in. connie looked around your room for a few seconds before taking off his hoodie, putting it on your vanity.

as he walked over to your bed, he sat on the edge.

"c'mere." he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

you walked over to connie, standing in front of him. there was no doubt he was still slightly intoxicated. but he knew what he was doing, and he knew how to control his self.

connie looked at you, your face first, his eyes roaming yours, your lips, your whole face. he trailed all the way down your body, forcing himself not to look at that, now, visible hand print on your wrist.

when he made his way to your feet, he looked back up at you, licking his lips.

"can i?" he asked in a quiet tone.

you slowly nodded, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

connie brought his hands to your waist, hips, thighs, like you were a doll, but not a toy. in his eyes,

"you so damn beautiful." he mumbled. "thought that since the night i gave you that tattoo. you know that?" he kept his eyes on your face. "come on." he mumbled, reaching down to untie the strings on the back of your leg, both of them.

you stepped out of your shoes, staring at connie with soft eyes. those eyes hes been wanting to see in private every time you flashed them at him.

he stood up, softly sitting you down on your bed, getting in front of you. your faces got closer, your eyes moving from his eyes to his lips every second. "i wanna kiss you." you said in barely a whisper. it was really only supposed to be a thought. but damn.

connie licked his lips, looking at yours. before you knew it, your lips touched, the light taste of alcohol on your lips and his lips. connie groaned a little at the feeling of your lips on his.

as you leaned back, you pulled him in with you, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck, soft breaths leaving your lips as you felt him softly suck hickeys on your collarbone and chest.

your hand rested on the back of his head, he glanced up at you, his hands moving down to your hips as he pulled you closer to him, slightly spreading your legs with the movement.

"we gon take this off, okay?" connie got up, reaching towards your shoulder to pull your jumpsuit down. you nodded with a small giggle, making connie smile a little. when he finally got your jumpsuit to your ankles, a little help from you, he placed it to the side, admiring your body from beneath him.

"how could somebody hurt something as perfect as you?"

your lips slightly parted, but you didnt have any words. no ones ever admired you as much as connie did. you got compliments here and there, but right now, he was basically worshiping you. with his eyes furrowed, throwing his head back at that aching sensation he had, connies hand moved down to his pants, him groaning softly before looking back down at you.

the way you looked at him with those pleading eyes.

he could just cum right there.

as he grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him, he got off the bed, dropping his pants to his knees and pulling out his throbbing cock, precum already leaking from the tip. and you? you were practically dripping.

"c'mon connie, stop teasing me..." you said in almost a whine. connie chuckled a little at you. what were you doing to him?

he was almost practically teasing his self.

as he reached towards your panties, pulling them to the side to see how wet he'd made you, he exhaled, closing his eyes as he slowly stretched you out, you, softly whining at the pain.

"bigger than yo last, huh. i know, its okay." he mumbled, thrusting just once, and that already sent you over the edge. "fu-ck.." you closed your eyes and grabbed his wrists.

"i know, pretty. you can handle my dick, i know you can." he bit his lip, slowly thrusting in and out of you. "you’re so... big.." you moaned, opening your eyes just to barely look at him. "mhm..." connie hummed before quickening the pace. "loosen up... c'mon." he groaned at how tight you were.

it wasnt a problem of course, but he wanted to make sure you got more pleasure out of this than he did.

as he fucked you at a nice pace, he leaned down a little, you moving your hips against him, feeling him even deeper inside of you. "ah, fuckkk.." you threw your head back. as connie thrusted even deeper inside of you, he rubbed your hips, pulling you closer with every thrust, hitting your sweet spot every time.

"connie..." you moaned. "'s too much..."

"uh-huh" connie bit his lip, slowing down. but not to slow down for you. he flipped you over, pushing your back into an arch. "shit!" you moaned louder as you felt him forcefully thrust into you, a grin forming on his face as he heard you carelessly and endlessly moan his name.

it was like music to his ears.

"f-fuck, connie!" you gripped the sheets, feeling your back start to ache a little, feeling the pleasure running through your stomach, legs, pussy, everywhere.

"you ever... hah... been fucked this good mama? huh?" connie said in slight pant, nails digging into your hips and ass. "no..." you furrowed your eyebrows. "use that pretty mouth the way you always do."

you felt a sharp pain on your left cheek, making you arch your back and cry out. “no!” you let your eyes roll to the back of your head, reaching back to make connie slow down.

connie grabbed your wrist, only using it to pull you harder as he pulled out his phone.

“you wanna show reiner what he can’t do? hm?” he cooed. you were almost drooling, dumb with dick, you had no idea what he was saying until you looked back, seeing connie’s phone out.

“uh-huh” you said without thought. connie cheesed, pressing the record button on his phone, giving him a chance to fuck you even harder, the sound of your ass slapping his stomach and your whines filling the room.

“you like that?” connie threw his head back, the phone nearly shaky with the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you.

“yesss” you started to move your body against him, fucking him back. connie’s hand went from your hip, down to your clit, rubbing it softly, all while still recording.

“can reiner do this?”

you basically jolted forward at the feeling, your legs getting weaker at the feeling of his middle finger gently rubbing your clit. he could feel you tighten against him every few seconds. as you replied with a whiney no, connie groaned, looking down at the phone.

“you want me to whoop his ass? hmm mama?” connie’s hand slid down your back and to your neck, pulling you against him forcefully as he pounded into you.

ugly (beautiful to him), groany moans spilling from your throat. “ah, yes, please” your eyes glued closed as you felt the phone being tossed to the side of the bed.

with one hand holding your hips up and another hand holding your neck, your arms stretched in front of you, twisting the sheets in your hand as you felt yourself start to shake, going completely silent, nothing but soft, barely audible moans coming from your lips with every thrust.

“shittt” connie pulled out of you, your body collapsing on the bed as you felt his warm stringy cum on your back. “you did so good mama.” connie squeezed your thigh before fixing his pants and walking to the bathroom to grab tissues.

after cleaning you up, connie walked out of the bathroom, head slightly tilting as he looked at you, almost fully asleep across the bed. smiling a little, connie walked over to you, sitting beside you and leaning back a little, seeing if you were fully asleep.

“aye.” connie laughed a little at the sight of you. completely slumped over his dick. if anything he felt honored.

“look at yo track.” he smiled, lifting a track in your head that was only hanging on by a thread. “you still so pretty.” he mumbled. you hummed in response, a small smile creeping onto your face. “ima leave for the night tho, ight?” as connie was about to get up you stopped him.

to say the least, even after everything, you knew he sent that video to reiner, and you knew reiner would not only try to get to connie, but he’d get you first.

“just stay the night. you don’t needa be going home this late.” you dragged your words. even though that wasn’t the complete reason you wanted him to stay.

connie sat back down and slowly nodded. “ight. ima see if i got some clothes in the car first.” he said, poking your side, making you jump a little.

“don’t wait up pretty.” he mumbled before walking out of your room.

chap.7

[charlieg1rl]

"𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬"

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞

Jeongin is seated comfortably on the floor between Y/N's legs, his back resting against the couch where she’s perched. He’s got a relaxed, easy smile on his face, his attention flickering between the TV and the gentle, rhythmic movement of Y/N's fingers in his hair. She’s absentmindedly playing with his soft strands, twisting them into little braids and occasionally running her fingers through them to undo the twists, only to start again.

Her nails lightly scrape against his scalp, making Jeongin let out a soft sigh, his body leaning even further into her touch. It’s such a natural, comfortable gesture, and to anyone who didn’t know better, it would seem like they were a couple lost in their own little world.

From the other side of the room, Seungmin raises an eyebrow at the sight. He’s sprawled out on the floor, leaning on one elbow, and after a moment of watching them, he smirks.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that, right?” Seungmin comments, breaking the silence. His tone is casual, but there’s a teasing edge to it. The rest of the group’s attention shifts to Jeongin and Y/N, who both look up at the sudden remark.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asks innocently, still threading her fingers through Jeongin’s hair, though there’s a knowing smile tugging at her lips. She’s heard this kind of teasing countless times before.

“I mean,” Seungmin says, sitting up now and gesturing toward the two of them, “look at you guys. Are you really going to keep pretending you’re just best friends when you act like this all the time?”

Jeongin’s eyes flutter open, and he glances over at Seungmin, his expression calm but amused. “We are just best friends,” he says with a shrug, though the smile on his face shows that even he’s not fully convinced by his own words.

Y/N lets out a soft laugh and continues braiding a small section of Jeongin’s hair. “Exactly,” she chimes in, her voice light and teasing. “What’s wrong with a little hair braiding between friends?”

“You guys are unbelievable,” Hyunjin says from where he’s lounging against the armrest of the couch, shaking his head with a grin. “Do you even realize how couple-y you look right now?”

Jeongin’s head tilts back slightly, his neck resting against Y/N's knee as he looks up at her with an exaggeratedly innocent expression. “Do we?” he asks with mock surprise, playing along with the teasing. His eyes sparkle with mischief, and Y/N rolls her eyes in response, though she’s smiling, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

“Uh, yeah,” Felix adds from his spot on the floor, pointing at them with a wide grin. “It’s like watching one of those cheesy dramas where the two main characters are oblivious to their feelings for each other.”

Jeongin lets out a soft chuckle and shrugs again, clearly unfazed by the teasing. “We’re just comfortable with each other. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” Seungmin says with a smirk, “is that you’re basically an unofficial couple at this point. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

At this, Y/N pauses for a second, her fingers stilling in Jeongin’s hair as her eyes flicker to his, catching his gaze. There’s a split-second of something—something unspoken, something warm, and maybe a little bit uncertain—that passes between them. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, and Y/N playfully flicks the back of Jeongin’s head.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Jeongin,” she teases, though there’s a hint of softness in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by their friends. “They’re just trying to mess with us.”

Jeongin grins and reaches up to gently tug at one of the braids she’s made. “Mess with us? Nah, they’re just jealous of how good you are at playing with my hair,” he says, his tone light and playful.

“That, or we just love making fun of how whipped you are,” Hyunjin adds, winking at Y/N. The others laugh, but the playful energy in the room shifts slightly as Y/N's cheeks flush a little at the comment, and she instinctively starts running her fingers through Jeongin’s hair again, avoiding the others’ teasing gazes.

Felix leans forward, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “So, if you’re just best friends,” he starts, leaning into the conversation, “would either of you care to explain why you guys hold hands when you think no one’s looking?”

Y/N's eyes widen, and she lets out a surprised laugh. “What? We do not!” she protests, though there’s a slight wobble in her voice that betrays her.

Jeongin, however, smirks at the comment, clearly unfazed. “Oh, we definitely do,” he says casually, his tone so nonchalant it takes Y/N by surprise. He looks up at her with a playful grin, his eyes twinkling. “Come on, Y/N. You’re not going to deny it, are you?”

She narrows her eyes at him, but she’s still smiling. “You’re the worst,” she mutters under her breath, but there’s no real bite to her words.

The room explodes into laughter at this, and Y/N feels her cheeks burn with warmth. She glances down at Jeongin, and he’s grinning up at her, clearly enjoying the way the teasing has shifted in his favor. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at her that makes her heart skip a beat—something soft and familiar, yet new at the same time.

Before she can say anything more, Seungmin pipes up again, unable to resist adding one last teasing comment. “Face it, you two. You’re already halfway to dating, and everyone knows it but you.”

Y/N shakes her head, trying to brush off the comment with a laugh, but the words linger in her mind. She glances down at Jeongin, who’s now resting his head against her leg, his eyes closed once more as her fingers resume their gentle movements in his hair.

And for just a moment, as the laughter dies down and the conversation shifts to something else, she wonders—just for a moment—if maybe, just maybe, their friends aren’t entirely wrong.

Maybe there’s more to their friendship than she’s ready to admit.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

tags: @estella-novella

[reidmarieprentiss]

Whispers in the Dark

Summary: Derek Morgan's best friend from back home moves to Virginia, Spencer takes a liking to her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), angst

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, JJ is not a good person in this story, a little Hotchniss, reader wears a dress, alcohol consumption

Word count: 14.7k

a/n: i think this is absolutely adorable! i'm so sorry jj is bad in this, having a few plot points felt more fun :/

main masterlist

Additional warnings: fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, penetrative sex, no condom (wrap it before you tap it), nipple play

The break room was buzzing with the familiar hum of the coffee maker as Derek filled three mugs with steaming hot coffee. Emily and Penelope stood nearby, eagerly awaiting their morning caffeine fix. Emily leaned against the counter, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, while Penelope practically bounced on her toes in excitement.

"So, who exactly is this friend of yours?" Emily asked, tilting her head slightly.

Derek chuckled, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Y/N? I guess she just landed early this morning."

Penelope's eyes widened with delight. "Oh, Derek, that is so exciting! I cannot wait to meet her. I just know we are going to be the best of friends already!"

Derek held up a hand, his expression playful yet protective. "Whoa, whoa, whoa now! No one is stealing my best friend, and no one is stealing my baby girl."

Penelope grinned mischievously. "Oh, come on, Derek. You know she's going to love me. I have that effect on people."

Emily sipped her coffee, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "From what I've seen, Y/N is quite the catch. She's gorgeous."

Derek's protective instincts flared up instantly. "Hey, hey! She's like a sister to me, and that's all there is to it."

“Bold of you to assume I was suggesting you might like her,” Emily wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Penelope giggled, poking Derek playfully in the ribs. "Relax, big brother. We're just teasing you. Though, I wouldn't blame any of the people around here for trying to get her attention."

Derek rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. "Y/N is amazing, no doubt about it. But she is a little shy sometimes. Just don't scare her off with all your excitement, okay?"

Penelope placed a hand over her heart, feigning innocence. "Who, me? Scare someone off? Never!"

Emily took another sip of her coffee, her expression turning thoughtful. "So, what's the plan? Are you bringing her by the office?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I thought I'd show her around, introduce her to everyone. She's moving pretty close to me, so you'll be seeing a lot of her."

Penelope clapped her hands together. "This is going to be so much fun! I'm already planning a welcome party in my head."

Derek shook his head, chuckling. "Just remember, she's shy. Take it easy on her, okay?"

Emily smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Derek's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make her feel right at home."

Penelope leaned in closer to Derek, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "So, are you going to help her unpack tonight?"

Derek shook his head. "She actually made a trip earlier to move her stuff into her new townhouse. She's already unpacked and settled. She was just using up the last of her vacation hours from her previous job before moving in today."

Emily's eyes lit up with interest. "She sounds like she's got everything under control."

Derek nodded proudly. "She always does. She's incredibly organized and independent."

Penelope's eyes gleamed with an idea. "Why don't we take her out to the club to celebrate her arrival? It could be a great way for the team to meet her."

Derek hesitated, thinking about Y/N's shy nature. "I don't know, Pen. She's not really the clubbing type."

Penelope waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, come on, Derek. She'll have a blast. It's the perfect way to meet everyone in a low-stakes environment."

Emily nodded in agreement. "Yeah! It could be fun, Derek. And it would give us all a chance to get to know her better. Or we could bring her in for interrogation if you prefer."

Derek sighed, knowing they had a point. "Alright, alright. We'll take her out to the club. But if she starts feeling uncomfortable, we're out of there. Got it?"

Penelope and Emily nodded enthusiastically. "Got it!"

“Got what?” Rossi entered the break room, curiosity piqued by the lively conversation.

"Oh, nothing!" Penelope exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "Just that we convinced Derek to bring his new lady friend to the club tonight!"

Derek huffed, rolling his eyes and glaring at Garcia. "Would you not put it like that? She's my best friend from back home. She just moved here."

"Sounds fun. I'll go," Rossi said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Well, yeah, someone has to pay," Emily snickered, giving Rossi a playful nudge.

Rossi chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Alright, I'm in. It'll be good to meet the woman who managed to keep Morgan in line all these years."

Derek shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Y/N is amazing, but she's not some wild party girl. Just promise me you'll all be on your best behavior."

Emily placed a hand on her heart. "Derek, I solemnly swear that we will make her feel right at home. Right, guys?"

Penelope and Rossi nodded in agreement, their faces equally sincere.

"Okay, okay, nerd," Derek teased and relented. "I'll let her know the plan."

Penelope clapped her hands together, her excitement bubbling over. "This is going to be so much fun! I can't wait!"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "You guys better not scare her off. Let's make sure her first night out is a good one. No green fairies, I’m looking at you, baby girl."

Penelope pouted dramatically. "Spoilsport! I was just going to introduce her to the joys of absinthe."

Emily laughed, patting Penelope's shoulder. "Maybe we should stick to something a bit more tame for her first night, Garcia."

—

Emily made it her personal mission to get Hotch on board with the club—sue her if she wanted to see him let loose a little.

She found him in his office, buried under a stack of case files. Knocking lightly on the doorframe, she stepped inside. "Hey, Aaron. Got a minute?"

Hotch looked up, his expression serious as always but softened slightly when he saw her. "Sure, Emily. What's up?"

She closed the door behind her and took a seat across from him, leaning in slightly. "So, you know Derek’s friend Y/N is moving to town, right?"

Hotch nodded, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. "Yes, Derek mentioned it."

"Well, we're all planning to go out to the club tonight to welcome her. I think it would be great if you joined us," Emily said, her tone persuasive and her gaze steady.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A club? Emily, you know that's not really my scene."

Emily leaned forward slightly more, her eyes locked on his. "Come on, Hotch. It's not about the club. It's about making Y/N feel welcome. Plus, it’s been ages since you let loose and had some fun."

He sighed, considering her words, his gaze drifting momentarily to her lips before he caught himself. "I appreciate the sentiment, Emily, but I've got a lot of work to catch up on."

She gave him a knowing look, her voice dropping to a softer tone. "You always have a lot of work, Aaron. But sometimes you need to take a break and spend time with the team outside of work. Besides, we might need someone responsible to keep an eye on Derek and Penelope."

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head, but his eyes never left hers. "Alright, you’ve got a point. But if I go, I'm not staying out all night."

Emily beamed, feeling the electricity in the air between them. "Deal. I'll make sure you have a good time. Just think of it as a team-building exercise."

Hotch leaned back in his chair, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "Fine. I'll go. But you owe me one, Prentiss."

"Absolutely," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "Thanks, Hotch. Y/N’s going to appreciate it."

As she stood to leave, their eyes locked once more, and the room seemed to shrink around them. "And who knows," Emily added, her voice low and teasing, "you might even enjoy yourself."

Hotch's smile widened ever so slightly, a rare sight. "We'll see about that."

As she left his office, Emily felt a rush of adrenaline. The tension between them was palpable, and she knew that tonight, with the boundaries of the office left behind, anything could happen. The night was shaping up to be more than just a welcome for Y/N; it was an opportunity for something else entirely.

—

Penelope found JJ at Spencer's desk, talking to him while he looked through a stack of files. Spencer was engrossed in his work, his fingers skimming over the pages with practiced ease, but he glanced up occasionally, clearly engaged in their conversation.

"Hey, you two!" Penelope called out, her usual bubbly energy on full display as she approached them. "Got a minute?"

JJ turned to face Penelope, her expression curious. "What's up, Garcia?"

Penelope beamed, her excitement practically radiating off her. "So, Derek’s friend just moved to town, and we’re all planning to go out to the club tonight to welcome them. I think it would be great if you both joined us."

Spencer looked up from his files, adjusting in his seat slightly. "A club? That's... not really my thing, Penelope."

JJ nudged him playfully. "Come on, Spence. It could be fun. Besides, it's not about the club; it's about making Derek’s friend feel welcome."

Spencer hesitated, glancing between the two women. "I suppose it would be nice to meet a friend of Derek’s."

Penelope clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. "Exactly! Plus, it'll be good to see everyone outside of work for a change. We've all been so busy lately."

JJ smiled, a hint of something more lingering in her gaze as she looked at Spencer. "Yeah, it'll be nice to have a night out. We can all use a break."

Spencer nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll go. But don't expect me to dance."

Penelope laughed, patting his shoulder. "No worries, Boy Wonder. Just having you there will be enough."

As Penelope walked away, Spencer turned back to his files, but JJ's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, a small, almost wistful smile on her lips. The prospect of the night out was exciting for more reasons than one, and she found herself looking forward to it more than she should.

—

Y/N stood in front of her closet, the door wide open, revealing a spectrum of clothes ranging from modest to daring. She bit her lip, fingers trailing over the hangers as she contemplated her options. Deep down, she knew she hadn’t gotten rid of her party clothes because she felt good in them, even if she hadn't put them on in half a decade. But Derek lounged on her bed, watching her with a supportive smile, and she strayed to that daring side of her closet.

"I don't even know where to start," Y/N admitted, a touch of frustration in her voice. "I used to love wearing anything skin-tight, sheer, and low-cut, but... Andrew didn't like it when I was on display for other men."

Derek frowned at the mention of Andrew, her recent ex, but quickly masked it with a gentle smile. "Y/N, you're not with Andrew anymore. This is about you. Wear what makes you feel good, not what you think anyone else wants you to wear." He didn’t exactly want to see her pop a tit on the dance floor, but if she found an outfit that she felt good in, he would never tell her otherwise.

She pulled out a sleek, black dress that clung to her curves but had a modest neckline. She held it up, examining it critically. "I don't want to show too much, but I also don't want to feel... boring."

Derek chuckled. "You could never be boring, Y/N. And besides, you should wear something that makes you feel confident and happy. Remember how you used to rock those outfits in your early 20s? That confidence is still in there."

Y/N smiled wistfully, thinking back to her younger self who loved the thrill of dressing up and going out. She pulled out another dress, this one with a sheer overlay and a plunging neckline. "What about this one? Is it too much?"

Derek's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Honestly? It's a little... revealing. But if you feel amazing in it, go for it. Just make sure you're comfortable. That's all that matters to me."

She hesitated, looking between the two dresses. "I want to feel like myself again, Derek. Not the version of me that Andrew wanted."

Derek stood up and walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Then wear what makes you feel like Y/N. Forget about Andrew. This is your night. Be that confident, fun-loving woman you are."

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a sense of determination. "You're right. I should wear something for myself." She put back both dresses.

Y/N went digging in her closet until she found what she was looking for: a dress low enough to show what she wanted without fear of exposing herself. It hugged her body the way she liked without highlighting anything she didn’t, and so what if it was a little on the shorter side? She went to the bathroom to change, coming out and doing a spin for Derek.

Derek wolf-whistled and clapped his hands together once. "There you go. That's the Y/N I know. You're going to look amazing, and you'll feel amazing too."

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "Thanks, Derek. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He pulled her into a quick hug. "That's what best friends are for. Now, let's get some accessories on. You can’t leave the house this bare."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, let's see what I've got." She returned to her closet, pulling out a few pieces of jewelry. "What do you think?"

Derek nodded approvingly. "Perfect."

“Okay, now your turn.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been ready, sweetheart.”

“Derek, I love you, but you look like an idiot.”

Derek was wearing a forward-facing snapback hat, not sitting all the way down on his head, with a too-tight gold chain around his neck and a black button-up. 

“Wow, don’t spare my feelings,” he said with a mock-hurt expression.

“Just put this on. I’ve been thinking about your outfit this whole time too,” Y/N said, handing him a longer chain and a deep maroon V-neck shirt.

Derek raised an eyebrow but took the items from her. He whipped his hat and shirt off, and once the new one was on, Y/N could see the outfit did its intended purpose, showing off every ridge of his chest and abdominal muscles.

“And now you look hot and slutty! Derek, don’t you dare put that hat back on,” Y/N said with a laugh.

—

As the evening approached, JJ took on the role of designated driver, knowing she needed to get back to Henry and Will at a decent time. She picked up Spencer, Penelope, and Rossi, her car filled with excited chatter about the night ahead.

Penelope was the most animated, talking nonstop about the club and how much fun they were going to have. Spencer listened quietly, a small smile playing on his lips, while Rossi chimed in with the occasional witty remark.

They were the first to arrive at the club, the neon lights casting a vibrant glow over the entrance. The music was already thumping inside, creating a palpable energy in the air.

JJ parked the car and they all headed inside. As they found a spot to settle, JJ turned to Spencer. "Hey, I'm not drinking tonight, but could you get me a soda when you go up to get yourself something?"

Spencer nodded. "Sure, JJ. What kind of soda do you want?"

"Just a cola, thanks," she replied with a smile.

Penelope looped her arm through Spencer's. "Alright, Boy Wonder, let's go get those drinks. I need something fruity and fun!"

Rossi chuckled, watching them head towards the bar. "Just make sure you come back, Spencer. Don't let Garcia drag you into any trouble."

Spencer gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

At the bar, Spencer ordered JJ's cola, a fruity cocktail for Penelope, and a simple soda for himself. As they waited for their drinks, Penelope nudged him playfully. "So, Spencer, you ready for a night of fun?"

Spencer smiled, though a bit apprehensively. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Penelope grinned, handing him the drinks. "Good. Because tonight is all about making Y/N feel welcome and showing her a good time." 

“Wait, her? I thought you said it was a friend of Derek’s,” Spencer said, looking slightly confused.

“It is, Reid. Boys and girls can be friends, hun,” Penelope replied with a playful smile.

“I know that, Garcia. But it’s Morgan,” Spencer insisted, his eyebrows knitting together.

Penelope shrugged, her smile turning a bit more thoughtful. “I guess we’ll see what their dynamic is. He seems pretty dead set on seeing her like a sister.”

Spencer nodded slowly, still processing the information. “Yeah, I suppose.”

His mind flashed back to past interactions where his awkwardness had gotten the best of him. The fear of saying something wrong or not knowing how to respond often made him retreat into his shell. Even though he had grown more confident over the years, the nervousness never entirely went away.

Penelope nudged him gently. “Don’t overthink it, Spencer. Just be yourself and have a good time. You’re so loveable and your cheeks are so squeezable, you’ll do great!” She pinched his cheek playfully.

Despite Penelope's playful encouragement, Spencer couldn't shake the nervous flutter in his stomach. He'd always found it challenging to navigate social situations, especially those involving women. His intellect and eidetic memory often set him apart, making him feel awkward and out of place.

“Hey, ow, rude,” Spencer protested, rubbing his cheek with a mock glare.

Penelope laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Just a little encouragement, Pretty Boy. You’ll be fine. Besides, I think Y/N will find you just as charming as the rest of us do.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more reassured. “Thanks, Garcia. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Spence. Now, let’s get back to the table,” Penelope said, giving him a supportive pat on the back as they rejoined the others.

They made their way back to the table, where JJ and Rossi were engaged in a light-hearted conversation. Spencer handed JJ her soda, and she thanked him with a warm smile.

"Thanks, Spence," she said, taking a sip. "This is going to be fun. I'm glad you decided to come."

Spencer nodded, settling into his seat. "Me too. It'll be nice to see everyone outside of work."

Just then, Aaron and Emily walked in together, their presence immediately causing a ripple of silent curiosity. They had grabbed a cab together, which wouldn't have raised eyebrows except for the fact that they didn’t live anywhere near each other.

No one said anything about it, but the thought was clearly on everyone's mind. Penelope's eyes widened slightly, and she exchanged a quick glance with Spencer, who raised an eyebrow. JJ's lips curled into a knowing smile, and Rossi simply shook his head with a bemused expression.

Emily, seemingly unfazed, waved at the group as she and Aaron approached the table. "Hey, guys! Sorry we're late. Traffic was a nightmare."

Aaron nodded in agreement, his usual composed demeanor in place.

Penelope, ever the enthusiastic one, quickly jumped in to keep the mood light. "No worries! We're just glad you could make it. We’re still waiting on Derek and Y/N."

Emily took a seat next to JJ, while Aaron settled in beside Rossi. The unspoken questions hung in the air, but the team was seasoned in reading between the lines. There was a palpable sense of something more between Hotch and Emily, though no one dared to bring it up.

The atmosphere around the table became more relaxed as they chatted and laughed, each member of the team silently noting the unspoken connection between their two colleagues. 

“Alright, I need a drink. Emily, do you want anything?” Hotch asked, standing up and glancing around the table.

JJ looked up, a bit surprised. “Hotch, you’re drinking?”

“Yeah, you never drink,” Spencer chimed in, his eyebrows raised.

“Would you guys leave the man alone?” Rossi interjected, shaking his head with a small smile.

Emily chuckled slightly uncomfortably, nodding at Hotch. “Uh, yeah, thanks. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

Hotch gave her a small smile and headed towards the bar, leaving the rest of the team exchanging curious glances. 

Spencer leaned over to JJ. “Do you think something’s going on?”

JJ shrugged, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Who knows? But whatever it is, I’m glad to see him relaxing a bit.”

Hotch returned to the table with drinks in hand, distributing them to Emily and the others. The group settled into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying each other’s company, their laughter and chatter blending with the club’s energetic ambiance.

After a while, Spencer excused himself to go to the bathroom. He navigated through the crowd and found a line, which took longer than expected. By the time he made it back to the table, he noticed Penelope, Emily, and Rossi animatedly gabbing and pointing at something, their expressions reminiscent of gossiping schoolgirls.

Curiosity piqued, Spencer took his seat and leaned in. “What are you all looking at?”

Penelope, barely containing her excitement, gestured towards the dance floor. “Just look!”

Spencer turned to see Derek on a small stage, completely in his element, dancing with a beautiful woman. Derek's moves were smooth and confident, his body swaying in perfect rhythm with the music. The woman with him was equally captivating, moving with a fluid grace that matched Derek's intensity. The two of them were completely in sync, the chemistry between them palpable.

Spencer’s eyes widened as he watched his usually composed friend get down and dirty on the dance floor. “Wow,” he muttered, unable to hide his surprise.

Emily chuckled, leaning closer to Spencer. “Looks like Derek’s having a good time.”

Rossi nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “That’s an understatement. He’s really letting loose tonight.”

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Isn’t it romantic? Derek and his beautiful dance partner, lost in the moment.”

Emily lightly swatted her arm. “Oh, shush. He told us not to make those jokes. They’re basically family.”

“Wait, that’s Y/N?” Spencer was baffled, his eyes widening in surprise.

Penelope nodded, her grin widening. “Yep, that’s her. The infamous Y/N we’ve heard so much about.”

Spencer shook his head, still processing the scene before him. He couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable. Y/N was so captivating and beautiful, but seeing her and Derek on the dance floor, she didn’t look like just a friend. A pang of something unpleasant twisted in his chest, and he felt upset but also silly for feeling that way.

Everyone around the table seemed to be speculating about the nature of Derek and Y/N's relationship. Spencer cleared his throat, trying to push past his discomfort. “Did you all get to meet her before they went on the floor?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah, we did. Y/N’s great. We took shots with her and Derek before a song she clearly loved started playing, and she said she just needed to dance.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “She’s got such a good, vibrant energy. You’ll love her, Spencer.”

Rossi chuckled. “She’s definitely something. It’ll be hard not to like her.”

JJ, however, stayed quiet, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she commented, “Their relationship is... interesting.”

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the dance floor where Derek and Y/N were still enjoying themselves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of confusion mixed with intrigue. Y/N was unlike anything he’d ever seen, and seeing her with Derek stirred emotions he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

As Derek and Y/N finally made their way back to the table, laughing and slightly breathless, the group fell silent for a moment, taking in the sight of the duo.

“Hey, guys! Did you see us up there?” Derek asked, his arm draped casually around Y/N’s shoulders.

Penelope was the first to speak, her voice filled with warmth. “Derek, you were amazing up there! And Y/N, girl, that was so sexy! Who knew you could move like that!”

Derek grinned. “Hey, what about me, mama?”

Penelope laughed. “Oh, my chocolate thunder, we all knew you could move like that. But, Y/N! You told us she’d be shy!”

Y/N hid her blush in Derek’s shoulder, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“She is, Garcia. She’s just got some liquor in her, don’t you, sweetheart?” Derek said, giving Y/N a gentle squeeze.

Y/N nodded before looking back to the group. Her eyes landed on a new face, and she nudged Derek lightly.

“Ah, pretty boy, this is Y/N, my oldest, longest, best friend.” Derek stated proudly. 

Spencer, feeling a mix of nerves and fascination, blinked up at the flushed, slightly sweaty beauty in front of him. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too, pretty boy,” Y/N giggled, and Spencer blushed like a tomato.

JJ cut in, her tone slightly more serious. “His name is Spencer.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Spencer, not noticing JJ’s tone. “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

Spencer managed a shy smile, still feeling the heat in his cheeks. “I hope it’s been good.”

“Well, I told her about your kiss with Lila Archer, the shot to the knee, and that one time your biggest fan was a serial killer…” Derek teased.

Spencer’s mouth gaped like a fish, mortified. “Derek!”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You didn’t tell me any of that!” She turned to Spencer with a warm smile. “Spencer, he told me you’re smart and pretty, and one of his best friends. I was jealous that I had competition, but I think I’m okay with sharing now.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he managed to laugh along with her. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Derek chuckled, patting Spencer on the back. “See, Pretty Boy? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Penelope chimed in, her eyes twinkling. “Absolutely! Now who wants a green fairy?”

It couldn't be known who shouted "no" first, but everyone did at least once. The chorus of protests rang out, blending into a collective and resounding rejection.

Penelope pouted dramatically. “You guys are no fun!”

Rossi raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to keeping the green fairy far, far away.”

The group laughed at Rossi’s comment, but it made Y/N realize she didn’t have a drink, having only taken shots. Spencer, noticing the same dilemma unfold on her face, offered to get her something. 

Y/N looked at him gratefully but unsure. “I’m not sure what I want yet. I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.”

JJ cut in again, her voice playful. “Spencer doesn’t drink, but—”

Before she could finish, Spencer smiled and said, “Why don’t you come up with me? We can pick something out together.”

Y/N’s face lit up with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Derek gave her a gentle nudge. “Go ahead, Y/N. You’re in good hands with Spencer.”

As Spencer and Y/N made their way to the bar, the rest of the team watched with amused curiosity. Emily leaned over to Penelope, whispering, “This should be interesting.”

At the bar, Spencer turned to Y/N, feeling more at ease now that they were away from the table. “So, do you have any preferences? Something fruity? Strong?”

Y/N thought for a moment, then smiled. “How about something fruity and fun? Surprise me.”

Spencer nodded, signaling the bartender. “Two fruity cocktails, please.”

As they waited for their drinks, Y/N looked at Spencer, her eyes warm. “Thanks for this, Spencer. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this welcomed.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a connection forming. “You’re welcome, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here. Derek’s talked about you a lot, and it’s great to finally meet you.”

Their drinks arrived, vibrant and colorful. Spencer handed one to Y/N, raising his own glass. “To new friends and new beginnings.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her smile genuine. “To new friends and new beginnings.”

As they returned to the table, the group welcomed them back with cheers, and the night continued with even more laughter and bonding. For Spencer, the initial nerves had given way to a sense of excitement and possibility, thanks to Y/N and the help from some liquid courage.

—

The night wore on, and the group became well-lubricated with alcohol. JJ reluctantly decided to head home after confirming that Spencer, Rossi, and Penelope would be able to find their own ways home. They all agreed, not wanting the night to end just yet.

The group moved to a more subdued bar where they could engage in conversation without yelling over the music. The new bar was cozy and intimate, with warm lighting and a quieter ambiance. They settled into a long double-sided booth, perfect for their relaxed conversations.

Aaron and Emily sat against the wall, casually pressed together, their shoulders touching. Penelope was on Emily’s other side, drunk and blissfully unaware of the tension and subtle touches between Aaron and Emily. Across the table, Derek sat against the wall with Y/N in the middle and Spencer next to her.

The cozy setting allowed for a more intimate atmosphere. Derek and Y/N were laughing and chatting about old memories, their camaraderie evident. Spencer, still a bit nervous but more comfortable now, found himself drawn into the conversation.

“So, Y/N,” Spencer began, his curiosity piqued. “What made you decide to move here?”

Y/N smiled warmly, glancing between Spencer and Derek. “Well, aside from Derek being here, I got a great job offer. It was the perfect opportunity for a fresh start.”

Derek grinned, nudging her playfully. “And I promised her we’d make sure she never regretted the move.”

Spencer nodded, feeling more at ease. “It’s good to have you here. Derek’s always talked about you, and it’s clear you two have a special bond.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at Derek. “We’ve been through a lot together. He’s like the brother I never had.”

Across the table, Aaron and Emily were engaged in their own quiet conversation, their heads close together. Penelope, despite her drunken state, was happily chatting with Rossi about their latest case, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

The intimate setting of the bar allowed the group to relax and enjoy each other’s company without the noise and chaos of the club. Until, of course, ever the trouble starter, Penelope suggested they play a game.

"Alright, everyone!" Penelope announced, her voice carrying a mischievous edge. "How about we play a game? Truth or drink!"

The group exchanged reluctant and curious glances. Derek raised an eyebrow. "Truth or drink? How old are we?"

Y/N nudged Derek and with a friendly smile asked, “What are the rules?”

Penelope grinned, leaning forward. "Simple! You either answer the question truthfully, or you take a drink. No lying, no skipping, and no half-truths."

Emily chuckled, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, Penelope. Who goes first?"

Penelope pointed a wobbly finger at Spencer. "Pretty Boy, you start. Truth or drink?"

Spencer, slightly apprehensive and very nervous because of his awkwardness in social situations and the fear of exposing something embarrassing to Y/N, nodded. "Alright, truth."

Luckily, Spencer and Y/N had switched to water for this drink, so at least he wasn’t drinking alcohol. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever Penelope might ask.

Penelope's grin widened. "What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you in front of a girl?"

Spencer blushed, glancing around the table. "Well, there was this one time in high school when I accidentally spilled my entire lunch tray on a girl I had a crush on. She was not amused."

Everyone laughed, the tension easing with Spencer's confession. He glanced at Derek, then grinned. "Alright, Derek, truth or drink?"

Derek smirked. "Truth."

Spencer leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's the most ridiculous thing you've done to impress someone?"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, I once pretended to be an expert salsa dancer to impress a girl at a party. I had no idea what I was doing and ended up stepping on her feet multiple times. She never talked to me again."

The group erupted in laughter, with Penelope practically in tears. Derek pointed at Emily next. "Your turn, Em. Truth or drink?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, considering. "Truth."

Derek grinned. "What's the most scandalous secret you're willing to share with us?"

Emily thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, here it goes. I once crashed a high-profile wedding just for the free champagne and food. I even gave a toast, and no one knew I wasn’t invited."

Everyone laughed and looked at Emily with newfound respect. She turned to Rossi. "Alright, Rossi, truth or drink?"

Rossi smirked, taking a sip of his drink before answering. "Truth."

Emily leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What’s the craziest thing you've done on a case that no one else knows about?"

Rossi chuckled. "There was this one time in Vegas. I ended up in an Elvis impersonator contest. I didn’t win, but I got second place and a pretty good story out of it."

The group laughed heartily, imagining Rossi as Elvis. He then turned his attention to Penelope. "Garcia, truth or drink?"

Penelope grinned, eyes twinkling. "Truth."

Rossi smiled. "What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve hacked into, and why?"

Penelope leaned back, thinking. "Okay, this one’s a bit crazy. I once hacked into the Pentagon’s system just to see if I could. Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything. It was purely for the challenge."

The group exchanged wide-eyed glances, impressed and amused. Penelope turned to Y/N, her smile playful. "Alright, Y/N, truth or drink?"

Y/N considered for a moment. "Truth."

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in front of a crush?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "During a test in high school, my teacher thought I was trying to look at my crush's test to cheat, but really I was just trying to smell his cologne..."

The group erupted in laughter, the mental image of a young Y/N being caught in such a situation too funny to resist.

“Oh, that’s priceless!” Penelope giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. “Did you get in trouble?”

Y/N nodded, still laughing. “Yeah, I got detention. And my crush thought I was a weirdo for the rest of the year.”

Derek wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, grinning. “Well, I’m sure he missed out on getting to know an amazing person.”

The group laughed, and Y/N turned to Aaron. "Alright, Hotch, truth or drink?"

Aaron, with a rare relaxed smile, chose truth. "Hmm, truth."

Y/N grinned. "What’s the most spontaneous thing you've ever done?"

Aaron paused, his gaze drifting to Emily briefly before he answered. "I once decided on a whim to take a weekend trip to Paris. Bought the ticket the night before and just went."

The group exchanged impressed looks, and Emily nudged him playfully. "Paris, huh? I didn't know you had it in you, Hotch."

He smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "It was a long time ago."

Aaron looked around the table and then settled on Penelope. “Alright, Garcia, truth or drink?”

Penelope, still bubbling with excitement, chose truth. “Truth.”

Aaron’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What’s the biggest secret you’re keeping from us right now?”

Penelope's eyes widened, but she quickly recovered, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Well, I’m actually planning a surprise party for Reid’s upcoming birthday.”

Spencer looked surprised and touched. “Really?”

Penelope nodded. “Really. And now you all know, so keep it a secret!”

Everyone chuckled, the playful atmosphere growing even more relaxed. Derek leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked at Emily. “Alright, Em, truth or drink?”

Emily smirked, sensing the challenge in Derek’s eyes. “Truth.”

Derek’s grin widened. “What’s the most scandalous thing you’ve ever done that you haven’t told anyone here?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she thought for a moment. “Alright, once during an undercover operation, I had to seduce a suspect to get information. It got a little... heated.”

The group’s reactions ranged from raised eyebrows to playful whistles. Penelope fanned herself dramatically. “Emily, you vixen!”

Emily laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Your turn, Penelope. Truth or drink?”

Penelope tilted her head, considering. “Truth.”

Emily’s smile turned sly. “What’s the wildest place you’ve ever had a romantic encounter?”

Penelope’s eyes widened, but she quickly recovered, grinning. “Okay, it was in the server room at Quantico. During a late night shift. I was young and in love.”

Laughter erupted again, and Rossi shook his head in amusement. “Garcia, you never cease to surprise.”

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that,” Aaron teased and lectured.

Penelope turned her attention to Spencer, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Alright, Reid. Truth or drink?”

Spencer, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, nodded. “Truth.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “What’s the most surprising thing about you that most people don’t know?”

Spencer thought for a moment, then smiled. “I actually love cooking. It’s a great way to relax and get creative.”

Y/N’s eyes widened with interest. “Really? I’d love to try something you’ve cooked sometime.”

Spencer’s smile widened, feeling a surge of confidence. “I’d love that. Maybe we can have a cooking night.”

Emily, sensing that the was game shifting, turned to Aaron, her smile teasing. “Alright, Hotch. Truth or drink?”

Aaron met her gaze, his expression intrigued. “Truth.”

Emily leaned in, her voice low and challenging. “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone?”

Aaron’s smile softened, his eyes holding Emily’s. “I once arranged a candlelit dinner on the rooftop of a building overlooking the city. Just the two of us, under the stars.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed, and she found herself drawn into his gaze. “That sounds amazing, Aaron.”

Aaron smiled back, the tension between them palpable. “It was.”

Emily turned to Derek, her voice still carrying that playful edge. “Alright, Derek. Truth or drink?”

Derek smirked. “Truth.”

Emily leaned in, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “A romantic getaway on a secluded beach, just me and... someone special.”

The group continued to laugh and tease each other, the game drawing them closer. Spencer took the opportunity to ask Y/N another question, feeling more confident with each passing moment.

“Y/N, truth or drink?” Spencer asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

Y/N smiled, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “Truth.”

Spencer’s voice was soft but filled with curiosity. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The team whooped, and they were all very impressed with Spencer's forwardness. Who knew alcohol gave the boy wonder so much confidence?

Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly, but she kept her gaze on Spencer. “No, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

The whooping and teasing continued, with Penelope playfully fanning herself. “Look at you, Spencer! Bold and direct!”

Derek chuckled, raising his glass. “I’m impressed, Pretty Boy. You’ve got guts.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a mixture of pride and relief. “Thanks, guys.”

Y/N leaned closer to Spencer, her eyes twinkling. “Your turn, Spencer. Truth or drink?”

Spencer, feeling emboldened by the supportive atmosphere, chose truth. “Truth.”

With the eyes and ears of everyone still on them, Y/N asked, “Do you want to share a cab home?”

The team collectively held their breath, waiting for Spencer’s response. His cheeks flushed, but he maintained eye contact with Y/N, his heart racing. “I’d like that.”

The group erupted in cheers and teasing, clearly impressed with the turn of events. Penelope clapped her hands together. “Look at our boy, all grown up and making moves!”

Emily leaned into Aaron, whispering, “I didn’t expect that, but I’m loving it.”

Aaron nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s good to see Spencer coming out of his shell.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Great. It’s a date, then.”

Spencer’s smile mirrored hers, feeling nervous but excited. He then glanced at Derek, feeling the man’s gaze on him.

“Reid, I think you know better than to need for me to give you the shovel talk. But so help me God,” Derek said, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

“Yup. No worries. Ha. Got it,” Spencer replied, a nervous laugh escaping him.

Derek nodded, his expression softening. “Good. Just get her home safe.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of Derek's words. “I will.”

Y/N smiled reassuringly at Derek. “It’s okay, Derek. Better an FBI agent than anyone else, right?”

“You’re right,” Derek resigned with a small smile.

Soon after, everyone was losing their steam, piling into cabs together, leaving Spencer waiting outside for Y/N, who needed to use the bathroom. When she came out, they stood together waiting to hail a cab for themselves. Spencer noticed Y/N shiver and, ever the gentleman, he offered her his suit jacket. As he draped it over her shoulders, he also ran his hands up and down her upper arms to generate warmth.

“I think you’re the sweetest man ever, Spencer,” Y/N said, looking up at him.

“And I think you’re intoxicated, Y/N,” Spencer replied with a gentle smile.

“So are you,” she challenged playfully.

“I am,” he admitted.

“But you’re still sweet.”

“I’m not that sweet,” Spencer said with some self-doubt creeping in.

“Let me taste you then.”

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

Y/N leaned up and kissed Spencer, one hand tangling in the hair at the back of his neck and the other sliding under his shirt to caress his tummy. Spencer’s initial shock melted away as he responded to the kiss, his hands gently holding her close.

The kiss was warm and tender, filled with the promise of something new. When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their faces flushed.

Spencer looked into Y/N’s eyes, a mixture of amazement and happiness in his gaze. “Wow.”

Y/N smiled, licking her lips, her fingers still resting against his skin. “See? Sweet.”

Spencer chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to be dangerous, aren’t you?”

“Not if you give me everything I want.”

“I’m a little scared to ask what that is.”

Saved by the bell, a cab pulled up next to them. Y/N grabbed Spencer's hand and pulled him into the backseat. The cab driver asked, “One stop or two?” and before Spencer could speak, she gave the cab driver her address and said, “One stop.”

Spencer was so nervous, thinking about how wrong this was—they were both intoxicated—but Y/N just rested his hand on her thigh and her head on his shoulder. Feeling her warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand, he decided to go with the flow, his worries easing as the cab drove through the city streets.

As they sat in the backseat, Spencer found himself relaxing into the moment. The quiet hum of the cab and the city lights flashing by created an almost surreal atmosphere. He glanced down at Y/N, who looked up at him with a soft, content smile. Her presence was intoxicating in its own right, and he felt a sense of calm and excitement mingling together.

When they arrived at Y/N's place, she led Spencer up to her townhouse. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. She turned to him, her eyes filled with a mixture of playfulness and sincerity.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Y/N asked softly, her hand still holding his.

Spencer nodded, his heart racing but his mind surprisingly clear. “Yes, I’d like that.”

They entered her townhouse, and she closed the door behind them. The night was quiet and still, the tension between them palpable. Y/N took his hand and led him to the living room, where they sat on the couch, facing each other.

“Thank you for helping me home, Spencer,” Y/N said, her voice tender.

Spencer smiled, his nerves settling as he looked into her eyes. “I don’t think you needed any help, but I’m glad I got to spend more time with you.”

She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise, hinting at something deeper, something more.

When they pulled back, Y/N rested her forehead against his. “Stay with me tonight?”

Spencer nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “I’d love to.”

Y/N led Spencer to her bedroom. In her still-intoxicated state, although she had sobered up some, the comfortability with Spencer was palpable. She stripped down to her underwear and threw on a t-shirt, Spencer very quickly averting his eyes.

She giggled, handing him some sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. “Here, you can wear these.”

Seeing Y/N so comfortable, Spencer also shucked his clothes off down to his briefs, all the while Y/N quietly cheering teasingly from the bed. Spencer felt a mix of giddiness and nervous excitement. He went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, trying to clear his head and calm his racing heart.

By the time he made it back to the bedroom, Y/N was heavily passed out, her breathing deep and steady. Spencer smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her. He carefully climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over both of them. He lay there for a moment, watching her sleep, feeling the warmth of her presence beside him.

With a contented sigh, Spencer turned off the bedside lamp and settled into the pillow. The events of the night played through his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder at how things had unfolded. As sleep began to take over, he felt Y/N shift slightly, her hand unconsciously finding his and holding on.

Spencer smiled in the darkness, feeling a deep sense of contentment and peace. 

—

The first thing Y/N noticed when she woke up was how warm she was—too warm. She went to throw off the covers before realizing that there was an entire other human beneath her head. Spencer. At some point in the night, her hand had found its way under his shirt to rest on his tummy. She was too afraid to move, not wanting to wake him and face reality. 

Y/N didn't black out; she knew they just went to sleep. But she also remembered asking him to take her home in front of everyone, kissing him, inviting him in, and asking him to spend the night—things Y/N typically did not do. 

As she lay there, her mind raced. She hadn't felt this comfortable or confident in a long time, not since before Andrew. Last night had been a glimpse into who she used to be and who she could be. 

Spencer stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked down at her, a sleepy smile forming on his lips. "Good morning."

Y/N blushed, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "Morning." She mumbled.

Spencer gently moved his hand to cover hers on his stomach, his touch comforting. "Are you okay?"

Y/N nodded, her voice soft. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... processing."

Spencer's smile remained gentle and understanding. "Last night was... unexpected, but nice."

She smiled back, feeling a surge of affection for him. "It was. I don't usually... I mean, I'm not usually that bold."

“Do… do you regret it?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

“No, no I don’t. Do you?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” they both said, wearing dopey smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked.

“No.”

“Oh.” Spencer felt a pang of rejection.

“No, sorry, I just, we haven’t brushed our teeth.”

Spencer laughed, relief flooding his features. “Correct you are. Is that something we can fix?”

Y/N shyly led Spencer to her bathroom, grateful everything was so clean due to her just moving in, and handed him a spare toothbrush. They stood side by side at the sink, making cute faces in the mirror, shyly blushing and enjoying each other's company.

As they brushed their teeth, they exchanged playful glances and giggles. The simplicity of the moment made it all the more special. When they finished, Y/N turned to Spencer, her cheeks still pink from their shared embarrassment.

“Better?” he asked, his smile bright.

“Much better,” Y/N replied, her eyes warm. 

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. “Okay, now you can kiss me.”

Spencer leaned in slowly, their faces inches apart. He hesitated for just a moment, taking in the way her eyes sparkled in the morning light. Then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and sweet, filled with the promise of something new. As they pulled away, both of them were smiling, the connection between them growing stronger.

Y/N rested her forehead against Spencer's, her heart racing. “I’m really glad you stayed.”

“Me too,” Spencer whispered, his hand gently caressing her cheek.

Y/N and Spencer walked to the kitchen to put on the coffee and find something for breakfast. Y/N was deep in her cupboards, searching for where she had put her spatulas for the eggs.

“Can you get that, Spencer?” she asked when someone knocked on the door. “I don’t want to forget where I already looked.”

“Sure,” Spencer replied, heading to the door.

Spencer felt his face heat up. “Uh, morning, Derek. I... um...”

“Reid, I told you to get her home. I didn’t say you needed to stay.”

“I—I know, she, um, she asked, and I—”

“You what?”

Y/N, sensing the silence, called from the kitchen. “Who is it, Spencer?”

“It’s Derek,” Spencer called back, his voice slightly strained.

Derek stepped inside, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, you decent?”

Y/N popped her head out of the kitchen, her expression surprised. “Derek! Oh my god, shut up,” she mumbled, realizing what he said. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Just checking in on you,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Wanted to make sure you were feeling okay after last night. Looks like you had company.”

Y/N blushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, Spencer stayed over. We, um, I was just about to make breakfast. Want to join?”

Derek chuckled, his gaze flicking between Y/N and a visibly uncomfortable Spencer. “Sure, why not. I’d love to.”

As Derek made his way to the kitchen, Spencer closed the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. This was not how he had expected the morning to go.

In the kitchen, Y/N found the spatulas and set them on the counter. “Coffee’s almost ready. Spencer, can you get some more mugs?”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said, moving to the cupboard.

Derek leaned against the counter, watching them with a knowing smile. “So, Pretty Boy, how was your night?”

Spencer fumbled with the mugs, his cheeks burning. “It was... nice. We just... talked and then slept.”

“Is that so?” Derek said, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

Y/N shot Derek a look, a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Derek, don’t tease him.”

Derek held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

“So, Reid… how comfy is her bed?”

“Oh, it’s actually really nice,” Spencer replied honestly.

“I knew it!” Derek laughed, and Y/N hid her face in her hands.

Y/N peeked through her fingers, her face flushed. “Derek, stop. You’re embarrassing us.”

Derek laughed heartily, the sound filling the kitchen. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

As they settled into making breakfast together, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by the easy camaraderie of friends. Despite the unexpected visit, the morning turned out to be filled with laughter and warmth, a continuation of the night before. 

After breakfast, the three of them sat around the table, finishing their coffee. The conversation was light and easy, but eventually, Derek glanced at his watch and then at Spencer.

“Hey, Reid, I can give you a ride home if you want,” Derek offered casually.

Spencer hesitated, not wanting to leave Y/N’s company just yet, but he knew it would be rude to refuse. “Uh, sure, thanks, Derek.”

Y/N gave Spencer a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you later, Spencer.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and resignation. “Yeah, see you later.”

As they walked out to Derek’s car, Spencer took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable grilling. Once they were on the road, Derek wasted no time.

“So, Reid,” Derek began, his tone deceptively casual, “what exactly happened last night?”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his seat. “We went back to her place and then went to sleep. That’s it.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, glancing at Spencer. “Just slept, huh?”

Spencer nodded, feeling the need to defend himself. “Yes, Derek. That’s all we did. She was feeling comfortable and wanted me to stay, so I did.”

Derek’s expression softened slightly, but he wasn’t done yet. “Look, man, I know Y/N is an adult, and so are you. But that’s my girl. Just... be careful, okay?”

Spencer nodded earnestly. “I will, Derek. I promise. She’s… special.”

Derek sighed, his protective instincts still on high alert. “Alright, Pretty Boy. I trust you. Just remember, don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” Spencer said, his voice firm.

Derek gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as they pulled up to Spencer’s place. “Good. Now get some rest, and I’ll see you at work.”

Spencer got out of the car, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. “Thanks for the ride, Derek. See you later.”

As he walked to his door, Spencer couldn’t help but think about the night before and the possibilities that lay ahead with Y/N. Despite the grilling, he felt a sense of clarity and purpose. He knew he wanted to see Y/N again, and he was determined to take her on a proper date.

—

A week passed, and Y/N didn’t hear from Spencer. She kept busy with her new job and fully settling in, but she thought he might have asked Derek for her number or showed up at her door. But nothing.

Sunday evening, Derek and Y/N went to see a movie. As they walked home after, Y/N tried to get Derek to bring up Spencer without having to ask directly.

“So, how’s the team been this week?” Y/N asked casually, glancing at Derek.

Derek shrugged. “Same old, same old. Cases, paperwork, the usual.”

“Any interesting cases?” Y/N prodded, hoping to steer the conversation toward Spencer.

Derek chuckled. “Trying to get insider info now, huh?”

Y/N laughed, playfully nudging him. “Maybe a little. I’m just curious how everyone’s doing.”

“Everyone’s fine,” Derek said, then paused, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re really asking about Reid, aren’t you?”

Y/N blushed, caught off guard by Derek’s directness. “Well, yeah. I mean, I haven’t heard from him all week. I thought...”

Derek sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Pretty Boy’s been keeping to himself. He’s been swamped with work, but I think he’s also overthinking things, as usual.”

Y/N looked down, feeling a bit disappointed. “Oh. I see.”

Derek stopped walking and turned to face her. “Look, Y/N, Spencer likes you. But he’s got this thing where he second-guesses himself. He probably thinks he’s messed up somehow.”

Y/N’s eyes softened. “I thought we clicked, or something. I wish he’d just talk to me. I don’t bite.”

Derek grinned. “I know. You just need to be patient with him. He’ll come around.”

They continued their walk, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. However, Y/N’s thoughts lingered on Spencer. She hoped Derek was right and that Spencer would find the courage to reach out.

—

Monday morning, Spencer was sitting at his desk, engrossed in a case file, when Derek approached with a mischievous grin. Without warning, Derek smacked a sticky note on Spencer's forehead.

“Call her, dumbass,” Derek said, chuckling as he walked away.

Spencer blinked in surprise, reaching up to peel the note off his forehead. He read it and felt a mixture of embarrassment and determination. He glanced around to make sure no one else had noticed, then pulled out his phone. He entered Y/N’s number for safekeeping, deciding he’d call later.

“I saw that, Reid. You better call her, or I won’t hesitate to whoop your pretty boy ass,” Derek said, his tone half-serious.

Spencer shrunk in on himself before giving Derek an affectionate middle finger. He then stood up and walked into an empty office, dialing the number.

“Hello…?”

“Hi! Um, Y/N? It’s Spencer. Uh, Derek, he kind of hit me with a sticky note that had your number on it.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted your number! I want to take you on a date if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, yes, uh, yeah, Spencer, I’d love that. I thought when I hadn’t heard from you that you’d changed your mind.”

“No, no. I’m sorry, at first I didn’t want to seem too eager, and then I started to think too much and then I was hit,” Spencer explained, his voice tinged with a mix of apology and humor.

Y/N laughed softly. “Well, I’m sorry you got hit… but I’m also glad Derek gave you that push. When would you like to go out?”

“How about Thursday evening? I know a nice Italian restaurant,” Spencer suggested, feeling more confident.

“That sounds perfect. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Great. I’m looking forward to it, Spencer.”

“Me too, Y/N. See you then.”

After hanging up, Spencer felt a wave of relief and excitement. He stepped out of the office and saw Derek watching him from across the bullpen, giving him a thumbs up. Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer said, feeling grateful for his friend’s push.

Derek grinned. “Anytime, Pretty Boy. Now get back to work. You’ve got a date to prepare for.”

Spencer nodded, turning back to his case file, his mind buzzing with anticipation for Thursday. He was determined to make it a night to remember for both him and Y/N.

—

It was Thursday evening, and Spencer stood nervously outside Y/N’s door, holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers. He took a deep breath and knocked, his heart racing with anticipation.

A moment later, Y/N opened the door, her eyes lighting up as she saw the bouquet. “How did you know?”

Spencer smiled, a bit sheepishly. “Derek.”

Y/N chuckled. “Of course. Thank you, Spencer, they’re beautiful.”

Spencer handed her the flowers, his smile growing. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Come in for a moment while I put these in water,” Y/N said, stepping aside to let him in.

Spencer entered, feeling the warmth of her home. As Y/N arranged the flowers in a vase, he admired how comfortable and inviting her space was. Once Spencer looked at Y/N, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked absolutely stunning. She was in another dress that fit her perfectly, accentuating every asset flawlessly. Spencer swiped at his mouth, afraid he was drooling.

Y/N turned around and noticed Spencer’s intense stare. “Is everything okay? Is there something on my dress?”

In her self-conscious attempts to brush anything off her dress, Y/N managed to make the dress frame her breasts even better, causing Spencer’s brain to shut off. He hadn’t been this unable to control his desire since he lost his virginity.

“Spencer? Hey, you’re scaring me.”

Spencer didn’t say anything. He walked quickly toward Y/N, grabbing her face in his big hands, engulfing almost her whole head, and kissed her. Y/N was caught completely off guard, but after a moment of surprise, she melted into the kiss, responding with equal passion.

The kiss was intense and filled with the unspoken tension that had been building between them. Spencer’s hands moved from her face to her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their eyes locked in a heated gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer whispered, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Spencer’s heart raced, and he leaned in to kiss her again, this time slower and more tenderly. He slowly slid his hands down to her ass, pulling her body against his. Now with full contact, Spencer was able to grind his growing erection against Y/N’s lower stomach. The noise he let out was deep and guttural; it had been a long time since he’d had any intimate contact with someone other than himself.

“Spencer… mmm,” Y/N moaned softly, her breath hitching at the intensity of his touch. “Spencer, the restaurant…”

“Forget about it,” Spencer murmured, his lips moving against hers.

Y/N was torn between the logical part of her that knew they had plans and the overwhelming desire she felt in Spencer’s arms. The heat between them was undeniable, and the way he held her made her feel wanted and cherished in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Spencer’s lips captured hers again, and they moved together, stumbling toward the bedroom. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, exploring and savoring every touch. The anticipation built with each step, making their hearts race even faster.

Spencer smiled, and with that, they let go of any remaining hesitations. They fell onto the bed together, their kisses growing deeper and more urgent. Spencer pulled back slightly to pull Y/N’s dress over her head, revealing her bare chest.

“Fuck, you are so goddamn gorgeous,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire.

“Spencer, please,” Y/N moaned, her voice tinged with need.

“Oh baby, I got you,” Spencer replied, his voice husky with passion.

Spencer dove down and attached his mouth to Y/N’s nipple, biting, sucking, and licking. Y/N's moans filled the room, her body arching toward him as he continued his ministrations. His hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her skin, committing each sensation to memory.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Spencer's hair, pulling him closer as she reveled in the pleasure he was giving her. She could feel the intensity of his desire, matched only by her own. Spencer's mouth moved from one nipple to the other, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving Y/N wild with need. What made her thrust her hips up in desperation was when Spencer looked up at her with her breast in his mouth, smiling with her nipple between his teeth and tugging gently. Y/N thought she was going to orgasm right then and there.

“Spencer! Oh fuck! Please, please, do something, I need you to do something,” she pleaded, her voice filled with urgency.

Spencer's hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly as he continued to lavish attention on her chest. He could feel her body responding to his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Slowly, he moved his hand down to her panties, lightly tracing his pointer finger down the seam, making her whine desperately and wiggle for more.

"Patience, Y/N," Spencer murmured against her skin, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N's hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction. "Please, Spencer, I need you."

Spencer's smile widened as he hooked his finger under the fabric of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs. His fingers teased her folds, brushing lightly against her clit, making her moan and writhe beneath him.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

He continued his slow, deliberate exploration, his fingers finally applying pressure to her clit. He rubbed gentle, teasing circles, making Y/N gasp and clutch the sheets. Her hips moved in rhythm with his touch, her body aching for more.

"Spencer, please," she begged, her voice trembling with need.

“God I love it when you beg for me, you’re so sexy,” Spencer breathed out, biting gently now on Y/N’s throat.

Spencer slipped a finger inside her, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure from Y/N. He moved his finger slowly at first, then added another, his movements precise and controlled. Y/N's moans grew louder, her body arching off the bed as she chased her release. He curled his fingers up, feeling the wetness grow and splash out around his fingers.

Y/N was writhing in pleasure, the feeling of Spencer’s long, slender fingers pushing into her over and over was beginning to be too much. So much she felt herself drawing near a release, her core clenching tightly around Spencer’s fingers.

"You're doing so well," Spencer murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N could feel the tension building, her entire body tightening as she neared the edge. "Spencer, I'm so close..."

Spencer increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb finding her clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, rubbing quickly. "Let go, Y/N," he urged softly. "I've got you."

With a final, desperate cry, Y/N's body convulsed as she came around his fingers, waves of pleasure washing over her. Spencer held her through it, his fingers never stopping their gentle caress until she finally came down from her high, trembling and spent.

Spencer kissed her softly, his lips gentle against hers. "You okay?" he asked, his voice full of tenderness.

Y/N nodded, her breath still coming in short gasps. "Thank you."

Spencer laughed, his eyes filled with affection. "Did you just thank me?"

“Uh huh,” Y/N replied, dazed and satiated, her eyes half-closed with contentment.

Spencer chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I could make you feel good.”

“Where… where did you learn how to do that?” Y/N asked, curiosity and surprise in her voice.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Did you think I was a virgin?”

Y/N hesitated, a sheepish smile on her face. “No… maybe.”

Spencer laughed softly. “Well, thanks for that. I’m not a virgin. But… to answer your question… I read a lot of Doctor Who fanfiction.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and then she burst into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

Spencer shook his head, grinning. “Nope. It’s amazing what you can learn from well-written fanfiction.”

Y/N shook her head in amused disbelief. “Well, I’m impressed. And grateful for all those fanfic authors out there.”

Spencer’s grin widened. “Me too.”

They shared a quiet moment of laughter, the lightness of the conversation adding to the intimacy they felt. Y/N reached out, taking Spencer’s hand in hers. “Thank you for being so… you.”

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. “And thank you for accepting me as I am.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Do you want to show me what else you learned?”

“Fuck yeah,” Spencer replied, his voice filled with eager anticipation.

He moved to kneel between her thighs, but Y/N stopped him. He looked up at her, curious.

“Can you take your shirt off? Please?” she asked softly.

Spencer had a smug smile as he took his shirt off, revealing his lean, toned torso. He then resumed his position between Y/N’s thighs. He breathed out on her core, making her squirm and laugh quietly before licking through her soaked folds. Spencer groaned at the taste, loving everything Y/N had to offer.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his hair as she felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue against her clit. Spencer took his time, savoring every moment, using everything he had learned to bring her pleasure. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, alternating between gentle licks and firmer presses.

As Y/N’s moans grew louder, Spencer’s confidence soared. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations. Her body responded eagerly, arching and trembling beneath his touch.

“Spencer… oh god, that feels so good,” Y/N gasped, her voice breaking with pleasure.

Spencer smiled against her center, increasing the intensity of his efforts. He used his fingers to part her lips, giving him better access, and began to focus on her most sensitive spot with his tongue. Y/N’s moans turned into cries of ecstasy, her grip on his hair tightening. Spencer groaned deeply at the feeling of having his hair pulled, in turn Y/N thrashed as Spencer’s groan vibrated through her. He tightened his grip on her thighs, keeping her secured to his mouth.

“Please, Spencer… don’t stop,” she begged, her voice barely a whisper.

Spencer had no intention of stopping. He continued to lick, suck, and tease, driving her closer and closer to the edge. He entered two fingers once again, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot in Y/N’s core. When he sensed she was about to reach her peak, he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending her over the edge with a powerful, shuddering release.

Y/N cried out, her body convulsing with pleasure as she comes around Spencer's fingers and tongue. He held her through it, his mouth never leaving her until she finally collapsed back onto the bed, panting and spent. 

Spencer’s head pops up from between her legs, chin shining in the moonlight. “How was that?”

Y/N looked down at him, her eyes still dazed with pleasure. “That was... intense. You’re amazing, Spencer.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss her gently. “So are you, Y/N.”

“Oh my god! Did you just kiss me? Is that what I taste like? I’ve never tasted myself before,” Y/N exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N. Did that make you uncomfortable?” Spencer asked, concern flashing across his face.

“No, I was just surprised is all,” she reassured him, still processing the new experience.

“Well, I think you taste delicious. In fact, we can go for another round if you need me to prove it to you,” Spencer teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Ahhh,” Y/N covered her face with her hands, embarrassed but pleased. “No, I need a breather.”

Spencer chuckled softly, pulling her hands away from her face and kissing her forehead. “Take all the time you need. I’m just happy being here with you.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection. “I’m happy you’re here too, Spencer.”

Spencer cuddled up to Y/N, and she felt his bulge against her side. She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Oh, um, do you need some help with that?” she asked softly.

“What? Oh no, you don’t need to do anything,” Spencer replied, his voice a bit strained.

“I want to,” Y/N insisted, her eyes meeting his.

Spencer's eyes softened, and he nodded. “Okay, then yeah, baby, you can touch me.”

“Okay,” Y/N breathed out slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

“Have you been with anyone before?” Spencer asked gently.

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that right now,” Y/N replied, her voice firm yet kind.

“Of course,” Spencer said, respecting her boundaries.

“Just, kiss me. Please.”

“With pleasure,” Spencer whispered, leaning in to capture her lips.

Y/N reached down into his pants and grabbed Spencer’s cock, feeling its smooth, heavy weight in her palm. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, already beginning to pant against her mouth. The sensation of her touch sent shivers down his spine, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with renewed fervor.

As Y/N stroked him, Spencer’s breathing grew more ragged, his body responding eagerly to her touch. He moaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Y/N’s grip tightened each time she got close to the head, which made Spencer blurt precome continuously. 

“Y/N… you’re driving me crazy,” Spencer managed to say between breaths.

She smiled against his lips, feeling a surge of confidence and desire. “I want to make you feel good, Spencer.”

“You already are,” he panted, his eyes dark with need.

Y/N’s movements became more deliberate, her hand sliding up and down his cock with an easier slide due to the pre cum he was producing, eliciting deep, guttural moans from him. Spencer’s body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

“Y/N… I’m so close,” he warned, his voice trembling.

Y/N took her hand away quickly, not wanting it to be over. “What? Y/N, why did you do that?” Spencer spoke quickly in a higher pitch, his frustration evident.

“I want you inside me,” Y/N said, her voice filled with need.

“Oh my god, okay, yes,” Spencer responded, his eyes widening with desire.

Spencer quickly took off the rest of his clothing, his heart pounding in anticipation. He looked at Y/N, his eyes searching hers. “How do you want me?”

“I want to look into your eyes,” she replied softly.

Spencer nodded, positioning himself above her, their bodies aligned. He paused for a moment, looking deeply into her eyes, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice tender.

“Yes,” Y/N breathed, her eyes locked onto his.

Spencer entered her slowly, both of them gasping at the sensation. He moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every moment, their eyes never breaking contact. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, and they both felt an incredible connection, deeper than anything they had experienced before.

Y/N wrapped her legs around Spencer’s waist, pulling him closer, encouraging him to move faster. Spencer complied, increasing his pace, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Spencer,” Y/N moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his movements becoming more urgent.

They continued to move together, their breaths and moans mingling in the air. The intensity built, the pleasure growing with each thrust. Spencer could feel himself nearing the edge again, and he could tell Y/N was close too.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” Spencer gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

“Oh god, Spencer,” Y/N moaned, her eyes wide with desire.

“You gonna let me finish this time?” he teased breathlessly in her ear.

Y/N nodded frantically, the thought of Spencer finishing inside her and filling her up driving her crazy. She brought her hand up to his back, dragging her nails down, scratching him up. Spencer groaned wildly, loving the pain.

“Fuck… I’m coming,” he moaned, his body tensing as he thrust into her one final time.

Y/N felt Spencer’s cum filling her up, squelching out of her as he continued to thrust gently through his orgasm.. The sensation has her crying out, her body shaking with pleasure.

They clung to each other, their bodies trembling from the intensity. Spencer buried his face in Y/N’s neck, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Y/N held him close, her fingers still tracing patterns on his back.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, Spencer lifted his head to look into Y/N’s eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with affection and satisfaction. “My pleasure.”

Spencer gently rolled to the side, pulling Y/N into his arms. They lay there, basking in the afterglow, their bodies still intertwined. The bond between them had deepened even further, and they both knew they had found something truly special.

“I’m sorry we never made it to dinner,” Spencer said softly, a hint of regret in his voice.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We can go another time… if you still want to see me after this,” Y/N replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to see you again. This was not just a one-time thing. I really like you, Y/N,” Spencer said earnestly.

“I really like you too,” Y/N replied, her smile radiant, now looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

They shared a long, tender kiss before deciding to order takeout. After they ate their food, they settled on the couch and put on Doctor Who reruns.

Y/N nestled into Spencer’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. “So, tell me, what happened in those fanfictions? Which character taught you how to please a woman?”

Spencer laughed, a bit embarrassed. “Well, there were a few. But I think the one that stands out the most was a story where the Doctor and Rose... um, let’s just say they had some very detailed adventures.”

Y/N giggled, her fingers tracing patterns on his tummy. “I see. I’ll have to thank those fanfiction writers someday.”

Spencer blushed, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d actually use any of that knowledge.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Y/N said, looking up at him with a playful smile. “You certainly know what you’re doing.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m glad I could put them to good use.”

By the time the credits rolled on the last episode, they were both feeling a deep sense of contentment and happiness. Spencer held Y/N close, feeling grateful for the connection they had found.

“Thank you for tonight, Y/N,” Spencer said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you, Spencer,” Y/N replied, snuggling closer. “I’m really glad you stayed.”

They fell asleep in each other���s arms, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

—

Weeks had passed, and Spencer and Y/N had already had their first, second, third, and fourth dates. They were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend, but they had only told Derek, wanting to keep their honeymoon bubble intact. Life was sweet, and their bond had only grown stronger with each passing day.

One afternoon, Spencer was walking down the hallway when he overheard JJ talking to a random FBI agent. She was speaking in a low voice, thinking no one else could hear her.

“I just don’t get it,” JJ said, her tone laced with bitterness. “What does he even see in her? Y/N is just so… plain. She’s not even that interesting. Spencer deserves someone better.”

Spencer felt a surge of anger and hurt on Y/N’s behalf. He couldn’t believe JJ was talking about Y/N like that. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped forward, making his presence known.

“Excuse me, JJ,” Spencer said, his voice firm and controlled.

JJ jumped, her face flushing with embarrassment as she turned to see Spencer standing behind her. The random agent quickly excused himself, sensing the tension.

“Spencer, I… I didn’t think–,” JJ stammered, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Think? That’s the problem, JJ, you didn’t think. And I didn’t realize you had so much hatred towards my girlfriend. I have to say, I’m really disappointed in you, JJ. Y/N is an incredible person, and she deserves so much better than the petty, jealous remarks you just made,” Spencer said, his voice steady and firm.

JJ’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Spencer, I didn’t mean—wait, girlfriend?”

“Yes, JJ, Y/N is my girlfriend,” Spencer replied, his eyes narrowing.

“You picked her over me?” JJ asked, her voice a mixture of shock and hurt.

“Over you? JJ, you weren’t even an option, on my radar, or in the running! You have Will and Henry!” Spencer exclaimed, his frustration clear. “You have a family, JJ. Y/N is the one I’ve chosen to be with because she makes me happy, and I care about her deeply.”

JJ’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked down, unable to meet Spencer’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you.”

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions. “JJ, I need you to understand something. Y/N is important to me, and I won’t tolerate anyone speaking badly about her, especially not someone I consider a friend.”

JJ nodded, wiping away a tear. “I get it, Spencer. I’m really sorry. I let my jealousy get the best of me, and it was wrong.”

Spencer’s expression softened slightly, though his disappointment remained. “Just remember that, JJ. Y/N hasn’t done anything to deserve your disdain.”

“I understand,” JJ whispered. 

Spencer nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Good. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

As he turned to walk away, JJ called out softly, “Spencer, I really am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Spencer paused for a moment before responding. “I hope so too, JJ.”

Walking back to the bullpen, Spencer felt a mix of relief and sadness. He caught Derek’s eye, who gave him a questioning look. Spencer nodded slightly, indicating that everything was handled. Derek gave him a supportive smile and a thumbs up.

Returning to his desk, Spencer felt the weight of the confrontation lift a little. He knew he had done the right thing by standing up for Y/N. Their relationship was worth protecting, and he was determined to make sure it remained strong, no matter what obstacles they faced.

—

JJ, feeling a mix of shame and desperation after her confrontation with Spencer, decided she couldn’t continue working at the BAU. She needed a fresh start, away from the tension and the unspoken feelings that had now come to light. With a heavy heart, she made her way to Hotch’s office, determined to ask for a transfer.

Without knocking, JJ opened the door and walked in, only to be met with a sight she hadn’t expected. Hotch and Emily were in an embrace, their lips locked in a passionate kiss at his desk. They broke apart abruptly at the sound of the door opening, both of them looking startled and embarrassed.

“JJ!” Hotch exclaimed, his face turning a deep shade of red. “I—uh, we—”

Emily stepped back, smoothing her hair and trying to compose herself. “JJ, we didn’t realize—”

JJ held up her hands, her own embarrassment mixing with the turmoil of her emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just… I need to talk to you, Hotch. It’s important.”

Hotch cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Of course, JJ. What is it?” He nodded at Emily, silently signaling her to leave.

Emily walked out of the office, flushed, embarrassed, and nervous.

Derek, noticing her discomfort, raised an eyebrow. “Wow, Prentiss. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You good?”

Emily tried to shake off her nerves. “Wanna get a drink?”

“It’s 10 am,” Derek pointed out, though his tone was more curious than disapproving.

“Okay,” Emily replied, clearly in need of a distraction.

Derek chuckled softly. “Yeah, alright. What about Hotch?”

“He’ll understand,” Emily said, glancing back at the office door.

As they headed towards the break room, Derek couldn’t help but probe a bit more. “So, what happened in there? You and Hotch seemed pretty cozy.”

Emily sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid the topic forever. “It’s… complicated, Derek.”

He gave her a supportive smile. “Hey, whatever it is, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

Emily nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “I know. Thanks, Derek.”

The two agents walked to a nearby bar. Emily got them a pitcher of beer and they found a quiet corner to talk.

Derek poured them both a glass, then leaned back, looking at Emily expectantly. “Alright, Prentiss, spill.”

Emily took a deep breath, taking a long sip of her beer before speaking. “After the club night, Aaron and I slept together, and we’ve been secretly seeing each other ever since. JJ just caught us.”

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise. “You and Hotch? Seriously?”

Emily nodded, a mix of anxiety and relief on her face. “Yeah. It just… happened. And we’ve been trying to keep it under wraps because, you know, the team and work dynamics and all that.”

Derek took a moment to process the information, then let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s... a lot. But, hey, I’m happy for you guys. You both deserve to be happy.”

Emily smiled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks, Derek. I really appreciate that. It’s just been so stressful trying to keep it a secret, and now with JJ finding out…”

Derek nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. But you know, JJ will come around. And the rest of the team? They’ll support you.”

Emily sighed, feeling a bit lighter. “I hope so. I really care about him, Derek.”

Derek reached out and squeezed her hand. “If Hotch makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

Emily nodded, grateful for Derek’s support. They clinked their glasses together and took a drink, the weight of their secrets feeling a little less heavy with each passing moment.

—

After finishing work, Spencer found himself unable to wait to see Y/N. On impulse, he decided to show up at her townhouse unannounced. He knocked on her door, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

Y/N answered the door, looking surprised but pleased to see him. She was dressed casually in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair tousled and face free of makeup. She looked completely undone, clearly not expecting visitors.

“Spencer! What a surprise,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, his eyes taking in her appearance. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful, her natural state only enhancing his feelings for her. He couldn’t help but stare at her with a dopey, lovesick, contemplative expression.

Y/N noticed his intense gaze and felt a bit self-conscious. “What’s going on, Spencer? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer snapped out of his reverie and smiled. “Sorry, I just… you look beautiful. I couldn’t help but stare.”

Y/N blushed, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh, stop. I look like a mess.”

“To me, you look perfect,” Spencer said sincerely.

Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest at his words. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Want something to drink?”

“Sure, thanks,” Spencer said, following her into the living room. He took a seat on the couch, still watching her with that same affectionate gaze.

Y/N brought him a glass of water and sat down beside him. “So, what brings you here unannounced?”

Spencer’s expression turned serious, and he took a deep breath. “I wanted to see you, and… there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What is it, Spencer?”

“It’s about JJ,” Spencer began, his voice hesitant. “Today, she was talking to another agent, and she said some really hurtful things. I overheard her, and I confronted her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”

“What she said isn’t important,” Spencer said, a mixture of anger and sadness in his voice. “She was jealous and bitter, and she didn’t realize I was standing right behind her.”

Y/N’s heart sank. “I see. What did you do?”

“I defended you. I told her that you’re my girlfriend and that I care about you. I made it clear that I won’t tolerate anyone talking badly about you, especially not someone I consider a friend,” Spencer said firmly.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she managed a smile. “You did that for me?”

“Of course I did,” Spencer said, taking her hand in his. “I care about you so much, Y/N. I won’t let anyone come between us.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, feeling a surge of love for him. “Thank you, Spencer. That means more to me than you know.”

Spencer leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” Y/N whispered, her heart swelling with emotion.

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise no Bimbo! Part TWO!

My mind is literally reeling with ideas on this series!!! Hazbin Hotel has meeeee hoookked! And those naughty Vee's definitely have me hooked good and proper!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Enjoy my darlings xoxoxox

Your mouth opens in shock when you see THE Velvette had liked your photo. Heart racing a little you couldn’t control the smile that stretched across your lips, holding in the little squeal you desperately wanted to let out you settled for giving a little excited wiggle in your seat. Or you were until a shadow encased you. Looking up you lock eyes with the main V. Vox. Uh oh.

“And who is this lovely lady, Val?” 

Bugger. Swallowing nervously, you observe the TV demon in front of you that you had seen on your own TV screen at home. Tilting you head up, he was a lot taller than you thought he would be and a lot more handsome.  Realising the other Overlord was making his way towards you both, you quickly stood from your seat while clocking a very worried-looking Angel Dust shoving on their dressing gown behind Valentino.

“Hello Sir, I am Y/n, a friend of Angel Dust”, you hold out your hand to the TV Demon for a handshake. His cold claw like hand took your own in his, raising it up to his face screen and placed a small kiss on the back of it, your blackened fingers and vibrant pink nail varnish reflecting off his screen.

“Ah any friend of Angel’s is a friend of ours, right there Val” his charming smile took up half his screen while his eyes focused on Valentino who arrived at his side towering over us both. Gulping down a shot of nervousness you smile at them both, tapering down the need to take a few steps back. The chair behind you also reminded you that you were cornered by two of the most powerful Overlords in Hell. Remembering a few stories which Alastor recounted for you in the Radio Tower you were doing your best not to panic.

“Yes of course baby, our delicious Y/n is just waiting for Angel Dust to finish his scene – though they did refuse my offer of a job now didn’t you princessa?” Having both their attention directed at you was nerve-wracking but also made you feel a little bit powerful. But you shot down that feeling as soon as you felt it! Dangerous thinking!

Cracking a anxious smile at them you decide to try for an apologetic attitude: “I’m sorry but I did, but I love my job at the moment Sir, so like I said before if I decide to change my career then I will give you a call”.

“And what is it exactly that you do Miss Y/n?” Vox has such a charismatic voice it was easy to get distracted by it and not the words he was saying. Luckily you were doing your best to pay attention to what the Vee’s were saying and doing.

“I am a Singer and Dancer in one of the clubs in Pride Ring and at Cannibal Town”, as you mentioned the last place you watched both their eyebrows raise and look at you a bit differently. Biting your lip slightly to stop the giggle escaping you instead explaining: “not that I am a cannibal but they like my singing and pay good money. As long as I’m singing and they’re paying and not biting it’s a good gig”.

Valentino moved closer, you could tell he was the type of demon that just had no boundaries when it comes to others, trying hard not to flinch as he blew some of that red smoke towards you, “oh don’t you like biting princessa?” That question in his sultry voice, he managed to make a slight blush brighten your cheeks.

“Ah that is between me and my lovers, Sir” you attempt to charm back while trying to find a way to escape from this corner. Almost as if he had read your mind suddenly there was an arm cutting off your escape route, flicking your gaze up to Vox’s amused expression you grumble inside. He must have seen a drop in your face, chuckling under his breath as he smirks at Valentino, the latter was just eyeing you up like you were his next meal. Time to get out of this situation. Like now.

“Sooo … is Angel done? Not that it isn’t lovely to speak to you both gentlemen, but I didn’t put this outfit on just to chat,” you try to look over Vox’s shoulder to see if you could see Angel Dust, who you hoped was coming to your rescue. A gloved finger tapped your chin, making your gaze go towards the tinted one of Valentino.

“And what is the reason for this outfit?” He croons, keeping that gloved finger against your chin challenging you to defy him by removing it.

“To dance the night away” you shake away the urge to flick his finger off your face and instead just glare up into his tinted one, challenging him in your own way. His smirk was just getting larger, his gold tooth glinting in the low light of his studio.

“Uh Y/n you uh ready?” You nearly let your eyes shut with relief when you heard Angel Dust’s voice, as an alternative you turn your head towards the demon letting Valentino’s finger drop from your face with the gesture. A sharp growl was the only tell that he wasn’t happy. Ignoring it you focus on Angel.

Angel’s face appeared in the space between the two Overlord’s shoulders, a concerned expression covered it seeing you cornered by the two. A relieved smile graced your lips trying to put him at ease, or as much ease as you could in this situation. You turn back to the seat behind to grab your coat and purse but before you could two pairs of hands grab them. Cocking your head at the TV Demon, he responds with a charming smile holding your coat up to help you put it on. If you hadn’t heard stories of his temper and what he was like you’d almost be charmed by him.

Thanking him softly, you slip your arms into the coat and allow him to slip it up over your shoulders. What you didn’t expect was him encasing you in his arms as he buttons it, his chest pressed against your back and his breath against your neck. You really hoped he couldn’t feel how hard your heart was beating from nerves right now. With Vox at your back, Valentino moved forwards boxing you in against the other Overlord, his one hand was slipping your purse into your slightly trembling ones as his other brushed your cheek and lifted your chin up, so you were looking up at him.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see a panicked Angel Dust trying to think of ways to save you. Unfortunately, you think this isn’t a situation you might be able to be saved from unless it was yourself doing the saving.

Licking your bottom lip nervously you release a breath before shaking yourself free from both of them. Valentino squeezed your chin briefly for a moment before taking a step back – strange as you thought it would be him that would be the clingy one. Gently, you pry Vox’s hands from your hips pretending not to feel warm sparks from where they rested, they had sat on your hips after buttoning your coat. You give them a soft squeeze as you push them away so they rested at his own hips. Breaking away from them you take a few steps towards Angel Dust. Twisting back vaguely towards the two Overlords you give them both a generous smile.

“Thank you for your company and goodnight gentlemen”. You nod towards them, turning back to Angel you link your arm through one of theirs and almost drag him towards the elevator. Feeling your tenseness, he quickens his pace grabbing his jacket from a chair that you pass, throwing a goodbye to them both over his shoulder.

Getting in the elevator you almost didn’t turn back to face the two Vee’s. Your nerves almost getting the better of you. But if you didn’t turn you just knew that would be a win for them. So, you straighten your spine, mentally pull your big girl panties up and turn as gracefully as you can with your best award winning smile to face them both.

The two predatory smirks and narrowed eyes directed at you made your dead heart thump in your chest.

You were so fucked!  

tagged @tasha-1994

link to A03 just here

[jetii]

Hello! I was wondering if I could 36 NSFW with Tech x fem!reader? Maybe where he said that nobody really gave him a challenge at the game, and readers ego is too high to back down from that offer even though she loses horribly. Established relationship perhaps? Also, I love your writing it’s amazing! You deserve all the love and followers

Hiii I'm so happy you requested this!!! I've been addicted to playing Kessel Sabacc in SW Outlaws for the past few weeks, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to work my knowledge into a fic. Literally wrote this as soon as I saw it in my inbox.

I consider this reader the same as the one from On Impulse if anyone cares!

Strategy

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,069

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom Tech, rough (but affectionate) sex

Prompt: 36. “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Pure sabacc," you announce, throwing down your cards and leaning back in your chair. A relieved grin spreads across your face at Tech's expression. His mouth is a thin line and his eyes are squinted, but there's an exasperated glint in them.

"Yes, I know," he grumbles, dropping his own cards on the table. Tech isn't a sore loser, but he is a competitive one. And the fact that this is the second hand you've won in a row is definitely irking him.

You snatch up his discarded cards and start to shuffle. "What was that about me never winning a round?"

"It is an anomaly," Tech states emotionlessly.

"And you've done the calculations to prove it, haven't you?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, maybe I'm just lucky tonight." You cross your arms, reveling in his annoyance. "You know, I was beginning to think you were cheating with all the times you've been winning."

Tech rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's fighting off a smirk.

"I wouldn't cheat. Besides, I don't need to. My superior memory allows me to calculate the chances of each outcome with ease, making me naturally skilled at the game. Whereas you," he continues, leaning across the table and resting his elbows on it, "must rely on luck, because your memory is abysmal. It's no surprise you've been losing so often."

"Hey!" you protest, tossing a card at him. It flutters through the air, but he catches it before it hits his goggles.

Tech leans forward, the card trapped between his index and middle finger. "I am merely pointing out the facts, darling."

You snatch the card from him and return it to the deck, refusing to meet his smug gaze. He's trying to distract you, and he knows it's working.

"You can't always rely on the facts," you say, dealing the cards out once again.

"I don't. I also use strategy. Which you should try, seeing as it would certainly help you win."

"Strategy?"

"Yes, like—"

"Like how you're trying to distract me by insulting my memory?"

Tech huffs a breathy laugh and tilts his chin down. "Is it working?"

"Absolutely not." You glance down at your cards, trying your best not to smirk at your hand. Another sylop. The deck is stacked in your favor this round, and you have a perfect chance of beating Tech.

"What do you say we make this more interesting?" you propose, watching Tech's head tilt in curiosity.

He places a chip down and draws a card before his eyes dart back to yours. "I'm listening."

"Strip sabacc."

Tech's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he almost drops the cards he's holding. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," you tease, setting your cards down. "Whoever loses a round has to remove an item of clothing. If you lose all your clothes before I do, I win. If I lose mine first, you win. Deal?"

He takes a moment to contemplate the suggestion, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and his eyes narrow, calculating the possibilities. When his lips curve into a smirk, you know he's made up his mind.

"Deal," he agrees, nodding once and adjusting his goggles. He lays down his cards face up—pair of ones. You frown at your own hand and drop them onto the table.

"Oh, come on! Again?"

Tech chuckles, leaning back in his seat. "I believe you're the one who suggested this game. Now, please, take off an item of clothing."

The cockiness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Tech may be a terrible flirt, but his confidence in himself is incredibly sexy.

You slip your boots off and kick them under the table, then lean back in your chair and cross your arms. Tech's eyes are locked on you, a devious smile playing at his lips.

"Now who's distracted?" you taunt, winking at him.

"Hardly," he answers. But you can see the flush on his face and the way his chest is rising and falling just a little bit faster than usual. He's excited, and he's trying to hide it.

“You know, you’re wearing a lot more clothes than I am," you argue, leaning forward on the table and batting your eyelashes innocently. “You should take off an item, too, for fairness' sake."

"Fine." He pulls his boots off and drops them onto the floor. "Happy now?"

"Very."

Tech picks up the deck and shuffles the cards, the corners of his lips turning up.

"This was your plan, wasn't it?" he asks.

"My plan was to finally win a game of sabacc against you. And maybe see you with less clothes on, but that's an added bonus."

Tech chuckles and slides the cards toward you, his eyes burning into yours. "You are very devious. Now, deal the cards, darling."

You quickly learn that the stakes have made the game a lot more fun. Your heart races as the tension between the two of you rises, each of you sneaking glances at the other while pretending not to. And it doesn't take long for Tech to get the upper hand, much to your dismay.

"I told you," he teases, smirking at you over his cards, "my superior memory allows me to calculate the probability—"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to brag," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. You draw another card, cursing when it doesn't help you in the slightest.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc," he says. You look up at Tech to see he's staring at his own cards, but the slight smile playing on his lips tells you he's aware of your annoyance.

You can't argue with that. You're the one that proposed the idea, and you're the one that can’t seem to stop losing, so now you're the one sitting on the ship with no shoes, socks, or a shirt, leaving only your pants and undergarments. Meanwhile, Tech has only removed his gloves and belt.

He places his cards face-up on the table, revealing another pure sabacc.

"Dammit," you sigh, throwing your own cards onto the table. "Again."

"Strip," Tech commands, and there's a huskiness to his voice that wasn't there before. His eyes are dark and intense as they follow your every move, and his mouth is curved in a devilish smile.

"Are you enjoying this?" you ask, unbuttoning your pants and standing from the chair.

"Immensely," he admits, his eyes not straying from you.

Heat spreads throughout your body at the intensity of his gaze. He watches with bated breath as you push the fabric down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs, and he licks his lips subconsciously. The pants pool around your feet, and you kick them under the table before returning to your seat.

"Now who's the distracted one?"

"Not distracted," Tech replies, his eyes meeting yours. "Appreciating."

His words are heavy and sultry, and you can't stop the flush that colors your cheeks.

"You can appreciate me better if you lose another round," you tell him, shuffling the cards once again.

Tech's eyes narrow. "I think I'd prefer to watch you lose a few more."

The cockiness in his voice goes straight to your core, and a heat pools in your abdomen. Tech doesn't break eye contact, his stare intense and challenging, and a thrill shoots through you at the thought of what he could be thinking.

"I guess we'll see," you tell him, smirking.

You deal the cards, and Tech immediately throws a chip down, drawing his next card. A satisfied smile curves his lips. He's not even trying to hide his glee at your frustration, and it's infuriating.

You throw a chip onto your pile, drawing a card and praying that the Force will be on your side this round. You peek at the numbers and symbols on the card, and the disappointment is instant. It's the worst possible combination—a six and one. And you're out of chips.

When Tech sets his cards down, he does so slowly, drawing out the moment and relishing in your scowl.

You sigh, dropping your useless cards, and Tech's eyes brighten at the sight.

"Well, would you look at that?" he says, his voice filled with fake innocence. "I believe that's five in a row for me."

"No shit, really?" you mutter, rolling your eyes. "I had no idea."

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his hands folded together and his chin resting on top. "Strip."

It's the way he says it, like a command. His voice is low and gravelly, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the tone. He's so sure of himself, so cocky, and it's driving you wild.

"Do I have to?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Tech's eyes narrow in on you. "Yes."

You stand and unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders and slipping it off your arms. The cold air makes your nipples harden instantly, and his eyes widen when he sees them. He stares for a moment, taking in the view, and then his tongue darts out and licks his lips.

"I must admit, I'm finding this game more enjoyable than I originally thought," he says, his voice thick.

"Only because you're winning."

He hums in agreement and deals the next hand, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Throughout the round, Tech's eyes keep flicking back and forth between the cards and your chest, and you have to bite back a smile. He's trying so hard to concentrate, and his obvious struggle is adorable.

Tech's confidence fades as the round progresses, and by the time he sets his cards down, he isn't wearing his usual cocky smile. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted together when he shows you his hand.

"What's wrong, Tech?" you tease, leaning back in your seat. "Disappointed that you lost?"

"Of course not," he scoffs. "I've already calculated the possibilities and I know how this will end. I have no doubt that I will win."

"Then why are you pouting?"

"I am not pouting."

"Uh-huh. Well, whatever the reason, it's time for you to remove some clothes."

Tech sighs and slips off his goggles. His warm eyes meet yours, and you notice that they're slightly glazed over.

"There," he grumbles, pushing the goggles across the table toward you. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you reply, a wide smile on your face.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in his appearance. It’s rare that you get to see him this way, and you savor the moment. Tech has always been handsome, but the way he looks right now, with his hair mussed and a blush coloring his cheeks, is absolutely enticing.

You pick up the deck and shuffle it, and the sound of the cards sliding together is the only noise in the room. Tech's eyes are fixed on your bare chest, and his throat bobs when he swallows.

"Like what you see?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Always."

Your cheeks flush, and you deal the cards. The anticipation is killing you, and the smugness that Tech was showing before is long gone. He seems eager to get the game over with, and the impatience in his demeanor is refreshing.

His eyes flick back and forth between the cards and the pile, and his face gives nothing away. You're desperate to know what his hand is, and it's taking every ounce of willpower not to peek.

He reaches across the table and throws a chip down, his brow furrowing. It's such a subtle change in his expression, and most people would miss it. But you know Tech well enough to understand his emotions, and right now he's frustrated.

Your heartbeat quickens as you draw a card. Another three to match the one already in your hand. Not great, but it's enough to win if Tech doesn't have a better sabacc.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him, watching as his eyes move from his cards to yours and back again.

"Strategy," he mutters.

"What kind of strategy?"

"The type of strategy that will guarantee my victory,” he says. His eyes are determined and his jaw is clenched. He glances up from his cards to meet your gaze, and the fire in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

"Show me your cards," he demands.

You do as he asks, laying the two twos face-up on the table. The look he gives you is nothing short of prideful, and your heart drops.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groan.

Tech reveals his own cards—a sylop and a one. You let out an exasperated huff, and he chuckles.

"Well," he starts, placing his cards on the table and leaning back in his chair. His gaze travels over your body, and his smirk widens. "Go on."

Your cheeks heat up under his scrutinizing stare, and a part of you wants to rebel and refuse to comply. But Tech looks so damn good right now, his eyes filled with mischief, and the excitement coursing through you is too much.

"You're having too much fun," you say, your voice low.

"I'd have more fun if you'd hurry up and finish this little game of ours," Tech retorts.

 You're about to give him a smart retort, but then you notice the way he shifts in his seat. It's subtle, and you doubt he even realizes it, but it's there. The tightening of his thighs, the slight twitch of his hands. He's just as turned on as you are.

And you decide to play into it.

"I'm in no rush." You stand, slowly, and let your hands travel down the expanse of your chest, cupping your breasts and running your thumbs over your nipples.

Tech's breath catches, and his eyes are dark as they watch your every move. You can see his fingers twitching, aching to touch you, but he's refraining. You run a hand down your stomach, over the hem of your panties, and he licks his lips again.

Then, without warning, you turn away from him, exposing your backside. Tech makes a sound of protest, but his objection quickly dies down when he sees you hook your thumbs into the waistband and slide your underwear down. You bend forward to push them down your legs, and you can hear the sharp intake of breath from Tech.

The moment you turn around, a mischievous glint in your eye, you're met with a new expression on Tech's face.

He looks hungry.

His pupils are blown wide and his lips are parted, and you can tell it's taking all his strength not to jump across the table and take you right then and there.

"Well?" you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you waiting for?"

He doesn't waste a second. With one swift motion, he tosses the cards aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and stands. Then, he's on the other side of the table and grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him until your chest is pressed against his.

"I win," he announces, his hands roaming over your body.

"Then take your prize."

He pulls you into a searing kiss, his lips pressing insistently against yours. His hands travel the expanse of your skin, squeezing and caressing. One settles at the base of your neck while the other moves lower, down the curve of your back and to your ass. He grabs it, hard, and pulls your hips towards his, pressing his already-hard erection into you. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it up, his tongue delving deeper and dancing with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and pressing your bare chest against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and his arousal is evident as he rocks his hips into yours, his hand squeezing and kneading your flesh.

When the two of you break away for air, his mouth moves lower, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking the sensitive skin at your pulse point. You tilt your head back, allowing him more access, and he takes full advantage. His tongue laves over the area, teeth nipping at the skin, and a breathy moan escapes your lips.

Tech's lips travel lower, across your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at the valley between your breasts. His breath fans over your skin, and his tongue darts out, licking a stripe along the underside of one breast. His fingers move up, brushing over the bud of your nipple, and you let out a whimper at the sensation.

He looks up at you, a satisfied smile playing at his lips, before bending and taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, his lips sucking the sensitive flesh, and his hand pinches the other one. The feeling sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and your hands find their way into his hair, tangling themselves in the strands.

You gasp as his teeth gently graze over the hardened peak, and your knees nearly buckle beneath you. His other hand comes up and holds your hip, steadying you, and his mouth moves to the other side.

"Tech..." you breathe, your head falling back and your eyes fluttering shut. He's barely touched you, and already, you're a panting mess.

Tech's lips travel further down, past your navel and to your thighs. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing along the curves of your hips, and his lips press kisses into your skin.

"I've been wanting to taste you all day," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You should've told me earlier," you breathe, looking down at him through hooded eyes. "We could've skipped the sabacc." 

"This was far more entertaining." He presses a kiss to your mound, and you shudder. His eyes are dark with lust, and the sight of him on his knees before you makes your core clench with anticipation.

Tech kisses your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. Your hands tighten in his hair, tugging and guiding him to where you need him most. He chuckles, and the warm breath fans over your sensitive flesh. 

His fingers dance across your skin, teasing the crease of your thighs, before one presses against your heat. A moan escapes your lips, and he presses harder, dragging his finger through your folds.

"You're already so wet," he murmurs, his eyes watching the way his finger moves. "Were you thinking about this while we were playing? About what would happen if you lost?"

"Yes," you answer truthfully, and the admission has him groaning.

He rubs circles into your clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Your legs begin to shake, and you place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He glances up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up in a devilish smirk, and he presses a finger against your entrance. You whimper at the contact, and Tech lets out a quiet moan, the sight of you falling apart before him clearly affecting him.

"Tech, please," you beg, rocking your hips into his hand.

"Patience, darling," he coos.

He pushes the digit into you, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch, and then curls it upwards. You gasp, your hand gripping his shoulder tighter, and he begins to pump his finger in and out of you. His arm nudges your thigh, spreading your legs wider, and he leans in and presses his mouth to your clit. He licks a broad stripe up the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue swirling around it, and you cry out in pleasure.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady, while the other continues its slow movements, pushing in and out of you. You feel the tension coiling inside of you, and you know it won't take long for him to push you over the edge. His tongue is skilled and insistent, and he knows you better than anyone.

Tech's eyes are locked on yours, watching every reaction, and you can see the pure delight written on his face. He loves knowing he's the one doing this to you, making you fall apart.

"Tech... I'm..." You can't finish the sentence. The tension is building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment, and your breathing is labored. Tech adds a second finger, pumping faster and curling them against the spongy spot within you. You whimper, your grip on his shoulder tightening, and he knows you're close.

"Come for me," he says, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His palm slaps against your clit, his fingers curling deeper, and the coil inside you snaps.

"Fuck!" you gasp, your legs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. Tech's arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you upright as your knees buckle. He continues pumping his fingers, drawing out the pleasure, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit.

When the sensations become too much, you place a hand on his forehead and push him away, your body going slack. Tech pulls his fingers from you and places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before standing, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Mhmm," you hum, a blissful smile tugging at your lips.

Tech's hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. He takes a step forward, guiding you backwards, and the backs of your legs hit the bunk.

"Tech, please," you beg, breaking the kiss and staring into his eyes. They're black with desire, and he's already reaching down, fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He pushes them down his legs, kicking them away, and his cock springs free, already leaking. Your hand reaches for him, stroking him from base to tip, and he groans, his hips bucking into your touch.

You continue the slow movements, dragging your hand along his length and rubbing your thumb over the tip. Tech's breathing is heavy, and his head falls to your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Stop," he mutters, grabbing your wrist and halting the movement. "I want to last more than five seconds."

You chuckle and press a kiss to his jaw. "Well, let's go, then."

His eyes meet yours, and he nods. Then, in a swift motion, he spins you around and pushes you forward, bending you over the side of the bed.

He presses his body against yours, his cock grinding against your ass, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He's close, his breathing hot and heavy against your neck, and his hands are gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and a shiver runs down your spine. You lean forward, resting your arms on the mattress and tilting your ass higher, and Tech lets out a deep moan at the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers as one hand slides along the curve of your back.

“Hurry up," you urge, wiggling your hips against him.

His hand moves down your hip, across your ass, taking a moment to squeeze the flesh, and lower to the back of your thigh. His fingers dance along the skin, sending shivers down your spine, before coming to a stop at the back of your knee. He lifts it, propping it on the edge of the bunk, spreading your legs wider, and then his cock is lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch. You whimper as he fills you, and his hand comes up, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back.

Tech pauses when he's fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush with yours, and his hand comes around to rest on your lower stomach. The light pressure on the spot is just enough to have you squirming, and you push back into him, silently begging for more.

"Please, Tech," you whimper, and he huffs a laugh.

"Begging already?" he teases, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. "I haven't even started yet."

He pulls out of you, and the drag of his cock has you whining, already missing the sensation. He pushes back in, slow and deep, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, Tech," you pant, and he groans, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck.

His pace is slow and methodical, and you can't help but admire the restraint he's showing. Usually, he's a mess by this point, but now, his fingers are digging into your hips, holding you steady, and his breathing is slow and controlled.

You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the sheets, and glance up at him. His eyes are shut tight, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but he seems determined not to lose control.

"Harder, Tech," you urge, pushing your hips back to meet his. He grunts and snaps his hips, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. You let out a moan, and Tech's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more forceful.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, trying to find purchase as he pounds into you. It's intoxicating, the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. And the sounds coming from his lips—the soft grunts and moans—are driving you wild. He's always quiet during sex, but the sounds he's making now are anything but.

Tech's grip on your hip tightens, and his hand on your stomach presses harder, holding you in place as his hips move faster. His thrusts are sharp and deep, and he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending tingling waves of pleasure through your body.

"Yes," you cry out, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust. "More, Tech."

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice strained.

"You won't."

He lets out a strangled moan and slams his hips into yours, the movement nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. He continues his relentless pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, and your head falls forward, resting against the sheets.

Your legs are shaking, and the tension inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. You can feel the fire burning in your abdomen, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, and the way Tech is panting against your neck isn't helping.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and husky. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I can feel you tightening around me." He groans, his pace never faltering. "You're going to come for me."

It's a demand, not a question. And you have no intention of disobeying him.

Tech's hand slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing the plump flesh. The possessiveness of the gesture has you keening, and you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. He growls at the sight, his hips slamming into yours.

"Stars, you're so fucking beautiful," he pants, his hand moving to your thigh and hiking your leg higher. The new angle allows him to slide deeper inside you, and you can feel the pressure building within you, the tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"Tech, please," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"What do you need, darling?" he asks, his voice strained. "Tell me."

"Make me come, please," you whine, and his hips jerk forward.

His hand is quick, sliding between your legs and finding your clit. He presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow circles, and the tension snaps. Your body goes rigid, and your vision blurs as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, Tech's name falling from your lips, and your knees buckle, the only thing keeping you upright is his firm grip on your hips.

You bury your face in the sheets, muffling the sound of your moans, and Tech keeps pumping into you, his thrusts rocking you forward and sending your orgasm even higher.

He fucks you through the high, his pace never faltering, each thrust punching another gasp from you. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white and jaw clenched, and the pleasure is so intense that tears begin to roll down your cheeks. His cock twitches inside you, and you clench around him, desperate to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He's babbling now, his voice hoarse and broken, and you can tell he's close. "You're perfect, darling. You're— fuck, I love you, I love you, I love—"

His words are cut off by a deep groan, and his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time before he spills into you, hot and thick, and the feeling is enough to make you see stars. His hands are gripping your waist, bruising the flesh, and he pulls you into his lap as he turns and collapses onto the bed.

You both sit there, panting, his chest pressed against your back. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands are roaming your body, tracing gentle patterns across your skin.

"That was..." Tech trails off, unable to form the words.

"Yeah," you agree, leaning back against him. You take in a shaky breath and sigh. "I love you too, by the way."

"I know." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin. "I can't believe you suggested strip sabacc."

"And I can't believe you agreed."

"Well, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see you naked," he chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles across your abdomen.

You laugh, and the sound is bright and clear. You shift in his lap, turning around and straddling his hips. His eyes are soft as he stares up at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe we should play it more often then," you joke, leaning down and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

"We will, if this is how you plan to reward me every time I win."

"Deal."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

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@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[riiwrites]

bsd men taking care of a cat

“Hello! Can I req for some headcannons about how Akutagawa, Chuuya, Fyodor, Sigma and Ada Dazai would react when their roommate brought home a stray cat? (They would be such cute cat dad's 😭)”

a/n : ofc u can! sorry for the long wait :(

fandom : bungo stray dogs

includes : sigma, dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, fyodor

all dividers i use belong to @/cafekitsune !!

masterlist | taglist | main page

SIGMA

• Sigma would just be minding his own business one day, doing something basic and essential like the laundry or cleaning while you were out shopping.

• He’d normally expect you to come in with a bag full of groceries and a big smile on your face, ready to tell him about what you had bought this time for him to try for dinner.

• What he didn’t expect however..was for you to not only do your basic chore of the day - but also bring in a fluffy little creature with its legs dangling as you hold it up in your arms.

• He’s a bit dazed for a second, eyes widening and his lips parted into a shocked 'o' shape as he tries to read what was going on in that head of yours.

• You both stand there for a few moments, the silence slowly turning awkward until you finally break it.

“Do you not like it?” You say with a pout. Sigma drops his washing cloth onto the table as he turns fully towards you.

“I mean..it’s a surprise.” He emphasises, a little chuckle escaping his lips at the end of his sentence. Your smile returns as you tilt your head to the safe, the little kitten coincidentally doing the same thing.

“Can we keep it, Sigma? Pleasepleasepleaseee..” You plead. He lets out a soft sigh at this, seeming unsure of what to do.

“Even if I had decided we could keep it, we don’t have the correct resources in order to properly care for it and we also don’t know what that poor things been through. It could carry all sorts of diseases!”

You gasp dramatically, cuddling the cat to your chest as you glare at your roommate from across the hall.

“Don’t say that to mittens..”

“You named it..?”

• After a while of your pouting and whining that lasted for about 10 minutes, he accepted the kitty with welcome arms.

• ..After it was given its shots and treatments.

• I believe Sigma is a fond cat lover when he gets used to having one around.

• He’ll bring it everywhere with him inside the house.

• He’d never let the cat outside unless it was in one of those cages..

• He’d get so worried if the cat were to leave home, even for a few hours!!

• He becomes so easily attached to the cat, it’s adorable.

“Y/N? Have you seen Mittens..?” Sigma appears at your side with a slightly worried expression, him fiddling with his fingers as he looks around anxiously.

You turn to him with a raised eyebrow, looking at his fidgety hands and then back at him. “I thought you had him with you?”

“I did..! I set him on your desk whilst I was working and the next minute I looked and then he vanished!”

He rakes his pale hands down his face, looking genuinely stressed for this little kitty you’ve both only had for a few weeks.

That was then, you heard the sound of a thud coming from upstairs. You both jump, Sigma having the worse effect of it since he was already on edge in the first place.

You both rush upstairs, Sigma behind you as you peak into your room ; nothing out of the ordinary, until Sigma taps your shoulder only for you to see Sigmas door a tad bit open as if someone had just slyly slipped through the crack.

You both peer into Sigmas room, only to be greeted with a sight that lights mostly Sigmas eyes up.

Mittens, splayed onto Sigmas king sized bed like a luxurious royal with a few knocked over picture frames that obviously had been caused by Mittens himself. But Sigma could only smile at the sight given the outcome that his- sorry, ‘our cat’ as he corrects, is safe.

“..I think you’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to this cat.” You say. Sigma only gives a mere shrug and a few embarrassed chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, not conforming nor denying that statement.

DAZAI

• I’m gonna be honest and say it - he’d be the one bringing the cat in..

• He’d see a homeless little kitty on the sidewalk and be like “Oh! you’re coming with me!”

• He’s like the classic stereotype of a cat lady who’s got thousands of cats living at her feet.

• So when he comes home with the white stray cat in his arms, you sigh.

“No.”

“What?! You haven’t even given me the chance to hear what I have to say!” He argues.

“I know what you’re going to say, Osamu, and it’s a no.”

“But..” He holds up the white fluff ball up to your face.

“He looks like Atsushi-kun..”

“…”

“Fine.”

“Yay!”

• At this point you believe the cat takes care of Dazai more than Dazai takes care of the cat.

• Brings the cat to work at the agency with him.

•Everyone loves the kitty, pouting and stroking his fur as he purrs. Everyone loves him! (Especially Kyokua and Kenji <33)

• Although Kunikida scolds him for it because of how the cat spilled coffee all over his files one time.

• He could only glare at the cat as he licks his paws and meows.

• “..I can always buy more..”

• Dazais definitely the type to play pranks on the cat

• Like, place cucumber next to it so the cat can absolutely shit itself and he’d post it everywhere cuz he thinks he’s funny (Chuuya dislikes every single one and calls it animal cruelty)

• The cat however, doesn’t find him funny.

• Ends up with scratches littered across his face and some down his neck by the time he’s out of his bedroom.

“What the hell..?”

“Don’t..ask..”

Which is why you’re now in this predicament, patching him up in your bedroom.

You place a plaster on his nose, patting it gently before sighing softly.

“You bully that cat too much..” You state.

“Nuh uh! He’s the one that brutally assaulted me, why are you taking his side?”

“Alright let’s not go say brutally here..” You huff out a laugh.

He sighs dramatically, before you both hear a freak coming from your door, noticing the cat pushing through the door and slowly making its way in. Dazai glares.

“No, oh no you don’t..” He gets up slowly, backing away.

“Oh my god stop acting like a child, sit the hell down!” You exclaim, grabbing his arm and dragging him to sit back down.

He huffs and sits down, crossing his arms and looking away.

“I have nothing to say to you!” He says to the cat.

“He doesn’t care.” You say monotone, rolling your eyes.

He glares only until the cat jumps on the bed, strutting over to Dazai and curling up in his lap, purring and nuzzling into him.

Silence fills the room only until it’s filled by Dazais sounds of high pitched noise and kissing sounds.

“Ooooh..I’m just so sorry! It was my fault wasn’t it..? Yes it was..It really was..”

You snort a laugh, chuckling as you smile at the sight, taking out your phone to take millions of pictures to send to the agency.

CHUUYA

• So we know he’s more of a dog person, but..

• Y’know the type of person to be so against the idea but then immediately love the animal like it’s their child?

• That’s him.

“Why are you giving me that face??” You ask with a pout.

“What is it with you and bringing goddamn fleabags back to our apartment?!”

You scoff at Chuuya’s complaint, rolling your eyes as you hold the definite disease filled cat to your chest.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get fucking ringworm!!”

“We don’t even know if he has it!”

“So it’s a he now?”

You nod instantly, seeming so sure. That’s when Chuuya sighs heavily, grabbing his car keys on the kitchen counter and swiftly brushing past you and to the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Where are we going ya mean..we’re getting that damn thing tested and you’re coming with.”

You smile, nodding, but then stop.

“..You’re not gonna put him down are you?”

He squints his eyes and gives you a dirty look, grabbing the door handle.

“The hell? I’m not a damn monster, come on..let’s go.”

• Turns out the cat didn’t have ringworm, the cat was just rather dirty and needed a wash up and a new home.

• Oh, and turns out she’s a girl!

“I could’ve sworn she was a boy..” You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the cat now resting peacefully in the cage Chuuya you had bought for it.

“I knew it was a girl.” Chuuya states matter a factly, keeping his eyes on the road. You give him a glare.

“Oh shut up, just because you want a dog.”

“Hey, I could buy a damn dog if I wanted to, but no, instead I have to put up with your ass bringing back unnecessary things like rats off the street!”

“It’s a cat..”

“Whatever.”

• Around a few weeks later, you come home and your nostrils are flooded with the mixed smell of tuna and cat food, your nose bunches up in disgust.

• You head towards the smell, the living room and your eyes widen in surprise at what you see.

• Chuuya, who was currently sitting on the floor pampering the cat, whilst she had the higher ground by sitting on a pillow which was placed on the glass table you both had recently purchased.

You stand there for a few moments, head tilting as you blink in surprise, then a little smile creeps up on your lips as you let out a snort.

Chuuya instantly turns to his side with an alarmed look, then seeing it was just you his expression softens and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that..” He says with an irritated tone as he looks back to the cat, now stroking her face with the back of his hand.

“I cannot believe I’m witnessing this right now..” You say to mostly yourself, covering your joyful expression with your hand to try and not irritate Chuuya even further, which of course fails due to your snickering.

“Get that stupid look off your face now.”

You roll your eyes playfully, rushing over to join him in pampering your cat.

“She’s grown on me.” He admits, a small smile placed on his face. You also smile, nudging him playfully.

“So you had to buy the entire pet store?” You ask, referring to the clearly high priced items he had purchased ranging from toys to beds and litter boxes.

“Shut your damn mouth..” He mutters, but you could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle escape past his lips just once.

AKUTAGAWA

• Akutagawa isn’t a cat person.

• Infact, he’s not an animal person.

• Not that he doesn’t like them, just that he’s rather..inexperienced when it comes to taking care of a cat.

• Like Sigmas reaction, he’d be confused and more irritated with the fact that the cat you chose had a resemblance to someone.

Akutagawa froze in place, looking at you with an expression of slight shock. There you stand, with a delicate little ball of fluff in your arms. You beckon for him to come closer with a smile on your face, he hesitates for a moment before approaching, hand covering his face but as he got up close, the neutral expression melts to one of annoyance and exasperation.

“Must you have picked that one out of all of them..?” He questions, his arms crossed with a look of disgust placed on his face.

You smirk, holding up the bicoloured kitty in your arms and shoving it in Akutagawas face, with which he instantly turns the other way. You laugh.

“..You did this on purpose didn’t you..?” He questions again. You could only snicker as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

• At first, he lets you handle the kitty, almost like he’s afraid to touch it.

• Stands atleast a few feet away from you whenever it’s with you.

“Are you..allergic..?”

*cough cough* “Yes.”

• He infact, was not.

• However, you don’t let him escape this easily.

• One day, you decide to leave the kitten on his bed whilst he was still sleeping as you leave in the early hours to run your own “errands”.

• It’s safe to say, he wakes up with a fright.

• He let’s out an annoyed groan as he reads the note on his desk.

• “Spend some time with your son! Have to run errands, buhbye~ (￣▽￣)”

• He calls you.

“Hello?”

“You idiot, why would you do this?!” He exclaims.

“Uhh, why would I as a decent human being have to go run errands and keep our home life cozy?” You ‘cluelessly’ ask, biting back a smirk although he can hear it evidently in your voice through the phone.

“No because I know you don’t have any plans to run any ‘errands’ any time soon, what do you take me for some damn fool..?”

“Oh lighten up, Ryū! You never know, it might be fun!” You reassure him, pausing for a moment.

“..But seriously, I really do need you to spend time with him because I read somewhere cats can become depressed if you neglect them for so long, do you want our cat to be depressed, Ryū?!”

“…”

“Don’t answer that..just- haveagood time okaybyeee!!”

“Wait- Y/N!!”

• He ends up awkwardly staring at the cat for a while, before actually getting up and putting in atleast some effort.

• He has to google ‘How to take care of cats’ on your computer and even going out to the library to try and find some books on them.

• A few hours later you stand outside the front door, taking a deep breath as to prepare yourself for the wrath you’re about to receive when you walk through that door.

• But instead, you hear a cough from behind you and a quiet voice speaking.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re home.”

You turn around and your eyes widen.

Akutagawa, had the kitty attached to a leash. You stare, absolutely dumbfounded and shocked. Akutagawa looks at you with a confused expression.

“..Why are you looking at me like that..?”

You shake your head as you put your fingers on each side of your temple, rubbing furiously.

“Okay okay, pause..what are you doing with our cat?” You ask. He looks at you and blinks before responding, looking down at the kitten.

“Oh, well..I read that some animals, especially cats prefer to be outdoors than indoors, so I bought a leash and took him for a walk.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words.

“You..took the cat..for a walk..?”

“..Yes.”

“The cat..for a walk.” You say again, trying to get it through his head.

“..Yes.”

There’s a ring of silence for a few moments, before Akutagawa breaks it.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Cats are more preferred to go out on their own, not tied to a leash.” You explain.

“..Oh..is that why some people were given me strange looks whilst I was walking doing the street with him?” He asks.

“I suppose.”

He looks down at the cat, nodding slowly.

“Just..” You start, opening the door for you guys with a slight smile. “Come in, I’ll help you with untying him.”

He nods again, picking up the kitten gently and you notice that’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed him getting as close to touching him. Your smile grows.

He brushes past you as you open the door for him, he stops just as he enters and turns to you, hesitating to ask something, but then he does.

“Did I..do good..?”

Your smile grows once more, before carefully placing your hand on his head, which he flinches slightly, but doesn’t stop you.

“You did great, Ryu.”

FYODOR

• Fyodors not too fussed on having a pet.

• Although he believes some could be a distraction to his work and plans, he wouldn’t mind them all much.

• But, would probably not pay much attention to them..

• That is until, you put one in his lap.

“My my..” He starts, looking up at you and looking down at the little black cat placed on his lap, now pawing at his desk. “What have we here?”

“A gift, and one more problem for you to deal with!” You say with such happiness in your tone of voice, he had almost chuckled.

“Funny, truly.” He says with a slight smile. “But I won’t be putting up with such.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“I won’t care for it.” He says, referring to the cat. You gasp, furrowing your eyebrows as you glare.

“You’re joking?”

“Have I ever?”

You cross your arms, scoffing at him.

“I bought this just for you, you know? How ungrateful!”

“But, I didn’t ask you to buy this for me, did I?” He says with a smirk, your expression was baffled as you scoff again, slapping your hand over your heart.

“I’m hurt you know.”

He looks at you once more before turning back to his work, ignoring the cat who was still trying to paw at his desk.

You had a sour look on your face all day until the same night as you were walking to your room, you couldn’t help but hear a jingle of bells coming from Fyodors room? Curiosity grew in your bones as you slowly approached his room, peeking through the crack of the door.

There he was, jingling a little bell in-front of the same cat he had ‘claimed’ he was going to ignore with a slight smile on his face, actually seemingly enjoying the cats company as it leaps up with its paws to try and catch the bell.

You couldn’t help but pout as your heart melts at the scene, scrambling in your pocket to find your phone to capture this moment.

However, curiosity did infact kill the cat (you) when you open the photo app and look up, you notice Fyodor gone, and not only that, but he was now behind the door, poking his head around and looking down at your phone.

You jolt up, throwing your phone and covering your mouth with your hand, he smirks. You only glare.

• Soon after that, you had your phone privileges revoked and kept from by Fyodor.

• And surprisingly enough, pays attention to the cat more than you now.

• Always jingling some sort of key or bell infront of its face

• Always having it on his lap.

• At this point you believe he’s just doing it to annoy you.

• But in all honesty, you found it sweet.

• Fyodor had bought the cat an outfit, one that matched his, the hat and all.

“Y/N, come have a look at this.” He says, hand motioning you to come forward. You nod, standing up from your place on the couch and approaching him. You think he’s just going to show you his layout for his current scheme, but no.

It’s the black cat hearing a little shrunken sized version of Fyodors hat and coat and you melt once again.

“Ooohhh..Fyodor you have to give me my phone back so I can take photos please!!”

“Fine.” He says almost instantly, which you find odd at first but quickly brush it off.

You open your phone and open your camera and take lots of photos of the kitty, then going on the photos and scrolling through them until you see some you had never taken before..Fyodor had taken them. You smirk.

“So much for not caring for it huh?”

He merely shrugs, typing on his computer.

“He’s my new sidekick, you’ve been replaced.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you kick his leg.

“I pay the bills, stupid.” You retort, glaring.

“I cook, ‘stupid’” Fyodor shoots back.

The only noise that can be heard is his typing on his computer and you snarl, looking him up and down with daggers as the kitten meows, nuzzling it’s cheek against Fyodors cold hand.

“Yes, i know malen'kiy kotenok (little kitty), they are rather annoying are they not?” He says to the cat, you narrow your eyes.

“Ew.”

-

@/riiwrites - reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤︎︎

[beebee18]

Tattoos..

Jungkook x reader

Genre; Fluff, (older) brother's best friend

Characters; Jungkook, Y/n

Summary; What happens when your brother's best friend, who you haven't see in over 3 years, has to pick you up from the airport?

Warnings; None. (Slightly suggestive)

Main Masterlist Bts Masterlist

(Let's pretend he only has tattoos past his wrist for this one 🤓)

"What do you mean you're not here?"

"I can't be there but I've sent Jungkook, you know him."

"Of course.." I sigh hanging up and braced myself walking out of the airport.

He said Jungkook was here, his best friend. Last time I had seen him was almost 3 years ago. He was a 19yr old typical college nerd at the time, just hot, somehow. I was 17, with a tiny crush.

I tried to hide it at least.

I walked out scanning the number of cars and their owners standing outside, scanning for the same mop of hair, baggy clothes, maybe a beanie..

Someone familiar slid in front of me, shit.

He was tall, buff, hair, longer now, brushed back carelessly, were those piercings? My mouth was probably open for all kinds of bugs.

A hand waves in front of me, snapping me out of my daze. Shit this was him??

"Jungkook?" I widen my eyes a little.

"It's me." He smiles, his toothy grin still the same.

Oh confidence, how it changes a person. And this man had stacks of it he probably chest pressed in the gym.

I think my knees are giving out.

"When did you get piercings?" He chuckles grabbing my bags walking to his car, loading the car walking to open a car door, I followed him absentminded.

"We'll talk when you sit." He gestures to the open door, tilting his head. I nod and sit.

Why did my brother not tell me Jungkook got piercings?! This is life altering information!

I wait for him to climb in, buckle up and start driving. "You've changed, huh?"

He laughs before looking at me, cocking a brow "Good or bad?"

"Good, definitely good." I smile at him, his eyebrow piercing shining when he looks back.

We had a good 45 minute drive home I got bored of looking at the same old architecture from before turning to see, oogle, Jungkook.

I've never seen him drive before, I scan his face, his bedhead evident through his messy hair, slight crease of the forehead, pierced eyebrows shadowing his doe eyes puffy from sleep but focused on the road, an oblivious pout adorning his pierced lips. I slowly travel down, his patented black hoodie covering him along with black trousers. Travelling back upto his face I notice a smirk playing at his lips noting my, not so subtle staring.

I clear my throat "Were you sleeping just before coming here?"

"That hasn't changed." He glances at me once. "For good." I laugh at his addition.

After a moment I look back, continuing scanning him for changes, I look at his hands on the steering wheel, something peeking under his sleeve peaking my curiosity. "What's that? Under your sleeve?"

He glances at his wrist, looking at me with a smug smile "What do you think it is?"

It looked like drawing, maybe ink. Could it be? "You have tattoos?" Surprise evident in my voice, my expression holding the same, eyes widened with my mouth agape.

I look at Jungkook to see his expression holding a sense of pride.

"Jeon Jungkook! Does aunty hate you now?!" He laughs at my reaction as I turn in my seat towards him.

"Now now, no need for all that princess."

He pulls his hands away from the steering wheel, rolling up the sleeve of his tattoo covered arm, resting said arm between us. "You can see, I don't mind."

I stare at his arm, it's covered in tattoos. Drawings, shapes, words, objects. I lean forward, they look intricate, must've taken him hours, days all together.

"Princess?"

I hum in response unable to pull myself away from his arm covered in memories, some meaningful, some silly.

"You can touch..." His voice falters, he didn't think he would be so effected by you simply admiring his tattoos.

I snap my eyes to his as soon as I register his words, I scanned his face to look for hesitation, all I caught was a slight nibbling of his lips. Now I wasn't gonna pass up that opportunity.

"Wait, are you sure? You're driving." Even though I was excited I didn't wanna crash.

"Let me worry about that, princess." He glances at me once a hint of a smile on his face.

"Okay, but don't blame me if it tickles." He laughs at my words, smiling at me, a full smile.

I lean in a little, my hand tentatively going up to his wrist, my touch light as I traced over his forearm. Feeling him shift slightly I stop for a moment but continue.

When I reached the crook of his elbow, I saw more hidden ink, braving myself to push his sleeve further up, I held my breath.

Jungkook on the other hand held a mix of surprise and cockiness in himself. He felt light tingles at your touch, his other hand tightening around the steering wheel.

Jungkook was burning. How was this effecting him so much? You were simply admiring his tattoos, a lot of people do that. Perhaps it was the expression you held, absolute adoration, you looked enthralled or...

...maybe his secret liking towards you.

My thoughts were swirling, I was touching him, he didn't push me away, he's stupidly buff now.

"Princess, we're here."

"What?" I snap my head up, looking out the window to see my parents house, indeed we were here.

Looking back at him, noting the light blush covering his neck, his failed attempt at holding eye contact, was he, dare I say, flustered? I smirked slightly.

"You have beautiful tattoos."

"Huh? Yeah, they're pretty cool." He leans back in his seat, smug smile on his face.

We break out of the comfortable silence when my phone rings, my brother asking how far away we are.

I quickly climb out, Jungkook following. He moved to get my luggage walking in with me.

"You got any other surprises for me?" I look up at him, a ghost of a smirk on my lips.

He chuckles lightly, eyeing me and leaning in a few inches from me, he whispers "Maybe I'll let you look for yourself..."

//