#so technically i can't fault him there

[gracefullou]

Headline is one of his best songs ever. I'm yet to forgive him for doing her so dirty and not giving her a permanent place in the setlist 🤧

[bredforloyalty]

okay what i meant when i said that even the copious amounts of blood didn't satiate me in particular is that the dead wife/nemesis thing was never something i was eager to see explored, just because i think it's something a lot of male characters get? to go through? the ooh i'm so tortured someone took something from me and now i can't help but turn into a monster while i'm on this quest for revenge and being smothered by grief ough i might kill them even or others in gruesome ways and then realize i'm still just as empty

because, i think men often feel the role they must take on as a man or as a father (especially the latter) is a burden, a huge one, where they aren't allowed to sit back or let go or forgive to their own and everyone else's detriment.. and i understand why there is demand for the same type of stories or story elements or arcs, and why they work, and this same overall theme can be present in a story where it's dealt with in an interesting way or where there's love and care involved in the writing process and the characters don't feel like "man pain machine #48" and "generic sensitive character who will cradle mr. man pain's bloody face in their hands (when we want to end this arc and show how good and lovable he actually is)"....

idk i'm just saying it's not even a specific problem i have with male characters that avenge their families or seem like they're defined by anger or by a traumatic event, i do think it can be written lazily and that we've seen it so many times it's a bit worn-out now, but i wouldn't be quick to generalize. it's just that, since we've seen this before (and that's partly why they poked a bit of fun at themselves when in rickmurai jack, rick's dead wife backstory was revealed).. to me it's one of the least interesting aspects of rick? and yet it's clearly important to the writers and they felt they had to tackle this part of his character, really emphasize his unfinished business, or treat it like something that must have a conclusion

for me though, rick's brand of fucked up and evil wasn't compelling because something deeply fucked up happened to him and there's a lot to deal with there and that's cool, it was more compelling to me (iirc) Before knowing much about his past. tbh. i recognized him already, he felt real, his worst side was familiar because a man doesn't need a whole event to become controlling and cruel when dealing with his family... social norms and umm systems sort of already operate within the framework of the patriarchy, i think it's built into our collective ideas of society, concepts of gender and family and the rules those come with.. i liked that about rick, that why he was an asshole wasn't detailed, there was no easy explanation for the way that he was, he just was. and every time they chose to drive home that rick's defined by losing his original family to his own alternate self and that he was still chasing this one guy, it was like, well i thought there were so many other components as well to why he turned out to be who he is. i liked it more when it was mundane, because that's what i see around me, that abuse is rather mundane. and i'm much more interested in the harm he's directly inflicted on his current family and how his past might affect his current life, what might haunt him. so i guess i never wanted prime to be taken care of, each week i find myself thinking that i just want it to be rick and morty and their messed up little relationship up close and personal again

[floralovebot]

listen,, i am Not defending all of sky's actions or his personality but he's genuinely just not as bad as the fandom makes him out to be.

a lot of y'all forget that sky is a prince with extremely overbearing and downright abusive parents that refuse to listen to him or treat him with any ounce of respect. and that the whole diaspro vs bloom situation was started directly because his parents forced an arranged marriage between diaspro and sky, constantly telling her parents that it would work out and never listening to sky the hundreds of times he tried to stop it. like again, he's not great, he's my least favorite specialist. but that situation was never in his favor. he was a 16 year old that dealt with strict, emotionally abusive parents his entire life and got forced into an arranged marriage with someone he never loved and was constantly told that it Needed to happen for the kingdom. trying to play it out like he's a serial cheater with some nefarious master plan is like,, really weird. again! not a great person he does a lot of shitty things. but blaming that specific situation on him, a teen with absolutely no say in his life who just met someone he genuinely likes and could love, instead of his parents is incredibly weird to me.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Mr. Oblivious

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x F!Reader

Summary: Bob is sometimes oblivious to the fact that people find him attractive and/or like him. One of those people includes you.

Warning: a little bit of angst

Marvel Masterlist

You thought you were being obvious, but, turns out, Bob is just oblivious. You're not sure how else you can show him that you like him, other than spell it out in big, bold letters "I LIKE YOU!"

Even then, there's a chance he might interpret that as you liking him as a friend. So, you just kind of settle in your puddle of frustration.

But you can't be mad at Bob. No way. It seems like he's not used to garnering any positive attention to himself. You can tell from the way he blushes and shies away from any compliment you give him, or how he brushes off nice comments about him and counteracts with a self-deprecating comment.

It kind of pains you that he feels unworthy of such adoration and attention, like it seems ridiculous for someone to genuinely like him.

But you try your best. You give him well-meaning and thought out compliments, ones you know to be true in your heart.

And how does he responds, with a shrug and a blush.

It is sometimes cute how oblivious he can be.

You and he ran errands together while the others were on a mission. John wasn't assigned on the mission, but he wanted to stay at the tower and sulk. So it was just you and Bob.

You were checking out at the grocery store when the cashier looked at Bob and said, "Your hair looks so soft. Can I touch it?"

Bob was like a deer in headlights for a moment until he responded with, "Oh, um, sure."

He awkwardly leaned in and the girl ran her fingers through his hair. She giggled and proceeded to ask Bob his hair care routine. You weren't a jealous person, but also Bob wasn't technically yours so you had no right to be jealous in the first place. But also, you found the interaction a little amusing. The girl clearly found Bob attractive and, honestly, you couldn't fault her for her forwardness.

"I don't know, I just shampoo and dry it with a towel." He gave a shrug and a polite smile.

"What kind of shampoo?" the girl leaned in and batted her eyes at Bob.

He leaned back, confused why she was getting closer, "Oh, uh, I forget. Y/N?" he asked.

"Head and shoulders, I think," you answered with a smirk.

"Yeah. Head and shoulders." Bob replied back with a nod.

"Guess I'll try it out sometime," she gave Bob a wink as you paid, trying to hold back a laugh.

After grabbing the receipt and your groceries, you both exited the store. Bob smiled, "She was nice."

You chuckled, "She was flirting with you."

He paused in his step and looked at you confused, "She was?"

You nodded and hummed, "Mhm. It was cute though. She was cute. Did..you wanna ask for her number?"

Bob looked back into the store and looked back at you, "I'm okay." He continued his trek back to your car.

"Not your type?" you asked jokingly, but also you were curious.

"Ah, I'm-I don't know if I have a type. When I was younger, I sorta just dated anyone who was interested in me...don't know if anyone would be interested in me now."

You pursed your lips at the last bit and you wanted to shake him and yell in his face, "I'M INTERESTED YOU, DUMMY!" But you didn't want to overwhelm him, so you continued to keep your feelings to yourself.

It all came to a head when it was post a successful mission. Alexei ordered pizzas and you all were lounging around the living room of the residential floor. People sipping on their respective alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

The random conversations and constant bickering and bantering eventually led to a conversation about each other's love lives.

Seemingly, the only one as close to a love life was John, but it's still iffy.

"What about you, Bob?" Yelena asks. Everyone's eyes turn to him and he's frozen for a moment.

"Uh, what about me?" he asks.

"What are your views on love?" Ava asks before taking a swig from her beer bottle.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I've ever been in love or truly experienced it. Never found anyone who, uh, really loved me, I guess."

"Well, we love you," Yelena says, patting his knee, "In a familial sense."

John snorts, "All of us, but one."

You glare at John and he shrugs, "What? It's not like he knows!"

"Knows what?" Bob looks at you, to John, and back to you.

"Walker," Bucky says his name in a warning tone, "Don't."

"The kid's oblivious! He obviously doesn't know that Y/N is in love with him!"

The world seemed to pause in that moment. People held their breaths as they all turned to you. Seething, you stand up and dump the rest of your drink on John's head.

"What the fuck!"

"Deserved," Ava said.

Yelena shakes her head, "Always have to be such an asshole."

You place your glass onto the coffee table and, without another word, headed upstairs.

Once you're gone, everyone turns their heads back to Bob. He gulps, "Y/N's in love with me?" He starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, "I-" he looks at his found family, "What do I do?"

"Confess your love."

"Give her some space."

"Fuck, if I care."

"Talk to her."

"Walker, shut the hell up!"

Bob abruptly stands, overwhelmed with the various answers he's receiving. That's when they all go quiet.

Bucky clears his throats, "Do you have feelings for her?"

"I-Yeah. I do."

"Then tell her."

"Okay," he replies and then heads upstairs to find you.

He checks your room, which is across from his, but you're not there. Then he hears a curse from John's room. He pushes the door open to find you kneeling at John's bedside table.

"Y/N?" you freeze and look over your should.

"Uh...hi?"

Bob can't help but smile. He crosses his arms over his chest, leans against the doorframe, and asks, "What're you doing?"

"John's a dick so I left his tv on to play Cocomelon videos on repeat and I'm gluing his tv remote to the bedside facing down so he can't turn it off."

Bob chuckles, "That's...fun."

"Yup," you murmur and go back to adding more glue onto John's remote, "You don't have to say anything to me. We can just pretend that never happened."

Bob walks further into the room, "Why?"

"Don't want it to ruin our friendship, so we'll just pretend it's not true."

"But is it?" You stay silent and Bob continues, "Is it true you're in love with me?"

You shrug, avoiding his gaze, "Does it matter?"

"Well...yeah. The one person who means the most to me, loves me back. So yeah, it matters."

You take in what he's just said and your heart beat quickens. You slowly stand and look at him, "You feel the same way?"

He shrugs so nonchalantly, "How could I not?"

You can't help but laugh in disbelief, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't. Scared and didn't want things to change. Also...I don't feel like I deserve you. I mean, I'm not the best person. I have a shitty past and still kind of a mess and-" his words get stuck as you rush forward and press your lips to his.

He's taken by surprise so by the time he starts to kiss you back, you pull away, "Please don't talk about yourself like that. You're not a bad person, Robby. It's okay if you have a shitty pass, because, newflash, we all do and now we're all fucking Avengers! Also, it's okay if you're a mess. You're working on yourself and that's a good thing." you swoop away a curl that got into his face, "I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if I didn't see something in you that's worth loving."

He nods, "Okay."

"I love you."

"I..I love you too."

You lean in and he rests his forehead against yours, "I do have something to request of you."

"Yeah? What?"

"You need to be more situationally more aware because I was so obvious I had feelings for you."

He pulls back with furrowed brows, "What? No, you weren't."

"I was! So painfully obvious!"

"She was," John says as he appears in the doorway, "Also, why're you in my room?"

You pull away from Bob and shrug, "Thought I saw a mouse go into your room. Good night!" you tug on Bob's arm, leading him out of John's room.

You two go into yours, locking the door behind you.

Down the hall, you hear John yell, "DID YOU GLUE MY REMOTE TO THE TABLE?!"

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

juno - spencer reid x afab!reader

reader finds out how good spencer is with kids and can't keep the thoughts from pouring in

requested!

genre: fluff, smut wc: 2179 warnings: established relationship, daydreamer!reader, talk of pregnancy, p in v, unprotected sex(duh), brief breeding kink, i love yous, reader has hair?

my first time ever writing smut!!! keep your pitchforks to yourself please!!!

You've known for a long while of your boyfriend's affinity for the young souls out there. Perhaps he was one of them. Perhaps he was just an overgrown one of them. It was something spoken about early on, his love for kids. He mentioned that he's the godfather of his coworker's little boy and how he's always wanted one of his own. A boy or girl, it doesn't matter. As long as he got to raise one with the fatherly love he never quite received.

That was all fine and well to know until you actually got to see Spencer with a child. Babysitting Henry was supposed to be a way of letting JJ and Will have some fun for once. It turned out to be much more confusing. He was sweet, gentle, and spoke in a soft tone that drove you oddly insane. When he started doing card tricks, you thought your heart would explode.

That's why right now you're sitting in the car completely silent. You've never been one to shut up so it's no surprise that he knows something is off. It's not your fault that you're suddenly lost in an alternate reality in which you're in a large house with a small baby. Maybe two. It's not like you wanted to get started right away. Nonetheless, something about the idea was appealing.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks softly, eyes narrowed.

Technically, yes, you're fine. Too many thoughts but fine.

"Yeah, of course," you hum. "You were really good with Henry today."

A bright smile breaks out on his lips as he lets out a breath that's just barely a laugh. "You think?" his brows furrow, glancing over at you almost nervously.

You nod, shoulders loosening. "I do." While fiddling with your necklace, you add, possibly with too much meaning, "you'll be a really good dad."

His face turns red and he focuses on the road. Before long, the thoughts swarming in that head of his refuse to stay inside and he speaks gently, "is that what you're thinking about?"

A topic you've talked about—your tendency to daydream. It's not a thing you've kept hidden. In fact, it's your favourite pastime. However, it's a little awkward to tell your boyfriend that you're imagining him getting you pregnant.

But you were never a good liar.

"Yeah," you admit, fingers still at the pendant on your chest, eyes watching the passing scenery and streetlights.

"And?"

To that, you're not sure there's any response that doesn't seem insane.

"And what?" you ask cautiously.

After a quick glance in your direction as if he's testing the waters, he clarifies, "are you opposed?"

"To what?"

"Kids."

Oh. Well, no, not in the least. The idea of raising a family with Spencer is thrilling and you believe it's something you do want. You've always liked kids and kids have always liked you but the thought of seriously settling down has never truly crossed your mind. Until now, you suppose.

You shake your head, eyes lingering on his jawline. "No. You know that," you mutter softly.

"I do... but we've never talked about it. Just because you like children doesn't mean you necessarily want them," Spencer says like it's the most simple thing.

"True." The singular word is almost impossible to hear. You add gently, "but, I do."

He nods, turning his head to look at you in a way slightly different than all the other times. You can't quite place it, though. What you do know is that it definitely caused some major butterflies in your stomach. Then again, that happens a lot. But when his right hand moves from the steering wheel to your thigh, you're sure that look meant something. Something good, you think.

You're even more sure when, the moment you get to his apartment, he kisses you deep, lips parting to make way for his tongue. It's not rough at all. Loving, mostly. Like he's ensuring that you know you're cared for. You smile wide, unable to stop the giggle from leaving. Pulling back with an equally lovesick smile, he laughs, "what?"

Hardly a second later, you place another peck to his still grinning lips before answering with a bright, "what's going on?"

His eyebrows raise. "Nothing... I don't know what you mean," he says in easily a whole octave higher than usual. Your eyes narrow as you search his eyes.

You beg dramatically, "tell me."

He sighs then runs his fingers through his hair, unsure if he wants to bring it up. "About what you said... in the car... you meant it?"

"What I said...? About kids?"

Spencer nods. "Yes."

"I meant it, yes." It's spoken hesitantly. You're not positive where this conversation is heading.

"I just... like the thought," he shrugs, leaving you to walk towards the bedroom.

Really confused and a little intrigued, you follow, watching him start to unbutton his cardigan. "The thought?" you hum, crossing your arms in an attempt at nonchalance.

"Of you... pregnant," he mumbles like he doesn't want you to hear, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground before picking it up to put it in his laundry bin.

He didn't need to say it like that. He could've said the thought of starting a family, of having a child. You're not a profiler but the way he decided to word the sentence makes you think something bigger has been revealed. Freudian slip or intentional, he's not telling you everything that's on his mind.

"Pregnant. Really?" You picture it and, perhaps it's because you'll be the one carrying it, but all you seem to be able to picture is chubby ankles, morning sickness, and mood swings.

Simply, Spencer nods, eyes finally meeting yours. You smile up at him sweetly as his hands come to cup your face. "There's just—I don't know... something appealing about it. About being the one to..."

Now, you get it.

"Oh. Like—oh! So, that's what...?" you babble purely out of shock.

Who knew Spencer Reid had the fantasy of impregnating you floating around in his brain?

His hands drop to your shoulders, squeezing gently. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—just forget—"

To his surprise, you cut off the soon-to-be-ramble with your lips on his. It takes a second for him to understand what's happening but he does, mouth moving against yours eagerly, his hands sliding up to your face. While smiling, you drag your hand down his neck and to his tie, tugging it loose. Once he clues in to where you want this to go, his fingers slip under your shirt, gripping your waist firmly. The tie comes off, dropping to the floor and, soon enough, your shirt's gone, too.

He takes a few steps to the bed before lowering you onto it carefully. As if handling glass, he glides his hand down your stomach, to the button of your jeans.

"Can these come off?" he pants against your lips.

Nodding desperately, you whisper, "yeah."

With a nod back, Spencer unbuttons the jeans and pulls them down your legs. His palms slide up your thighs as he presses another kiss to your mouth. "Go lay down?" he suggests softly.

You comply immediately, moving up on the bed and laying your head on the pillows to watch him undo his shirt one button at a time. Next, his belt comes off. And then his pants. When he's left in only boxers, he positions himself above you before kissing down your neck. Your back arches and he uses the opportunity to move his fingers to the clasp of your bra.

You aren't at all unfamiliar with his skill but, every time, it continues to catch you off guard how, in a few minutes, you're at his mercy, willing to do anything he asks of you. Then again, when are you not?

He tosses the bra aside to join the rest of the discarded clothes on his bedroom floor. His attention is, of course, then drawn to your chest, one of his hands grabbing at you while the other suddenly starts small circles over your underwear.

"Spencer, I don't need that," you mutter breathily. You don't really want his hand at the moment.

His head lifts from your neck, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Spencer asks quietly, "are you sure?"

There isn't much you're capable of doing at the moment so you nod. He takes the answer and hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your panties. His eyes fall directly to the newly revealed area the same way they always do, adoration spilling out of him at the sight of the collecting wetness. A small smile on your face, your hands drift down to take off his boxers.

With the last barriers removed, your lips connect again and his hand moves to line himself up with you. The kiss breaks when he looks down to watch himself push into you, a whimper leaving you and a shaky breath leaving him. He quickly bottoms out and you whine.

Softly, he murmurs, "you okay?"

"Yeah, just," you laugh, "...full."

Spencer breathily chuckles with you, nodding like he's trying to get himself together. "Right."

After a deep breath, his hips start slowly, letting both of you adjust to the feeling of each other again. No matter how many times you do this, you still always need a minute to get used to him. Your breaths come out in gentle pants and occasional whimpers until he speeds up and you can't contain yourself. Desperate moans of pleasure spill from your lips as he moves.

"Doing so good—feels so good," he mumbles, eyes now screwed shut.

"Really, really good," you nod eagerly, voice soft. Your hands paw at his back in search of anything to hold on to.

The sensation is almost too much you think you might burst. Although, when he starts to whimper, that's when you really lose it. The way he sounds and the way his face scrunches up, it's intoxicating. You need more of it.

You cry with want, "harder... please."

Like always, he attempts to give you everything you need and desire. He nods, hips quickening and lewd sounds coming from your bodies. A small gasp leaves you. Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to hit your deepest point. It's a feeling you'll never quite get used to. The moment he reaches that spot, it's never long after that it's over.

Letting out a gasp, you clench around him, causing his movements to falter and become more frantic. A breath quickly leaves him before he's asking, "inside, right?"

You whine, "mhm," dangerously close to slipping off that ledge. Your mind brings you to images of you pregnant, his baby growing inside you. This time not so scary. You imagine this moment in a very different time, when his release will signal a new start and not just an end.

His mouth finds your shoulder, pressing careful kisses to the skin. The hand not holding his body weight finds the sensitive point between your legs, eliciting a loud moan from you. Desperately, you cling to him, arms wrapping around him for any more contact. That familiar feeling builds deep in your gut and you whine, finding your eyes rolling back.

It happens quickly, the finish line getting closer and closer until it's gone and you're in another universe of pleasure. Your hips try to escape but Spencer doesn't let that happen. His hand moves from your center to your hip, holding you down with little force. The fog clears just in time to watch him reach that very same ecstasy. Lips parted against your shoulder, he whimpers, movements becoming even sloppier until they slow.

The odd warmth spills from you. His breaths come heavy as he relaxes against you and pats your head—an interesting choice of affection after sex but somehow suitable. When he pulls out, you sigh shakily, watching him go to the bathroom. Before long, he's back with a damp cloth. He opens your legs again, running the fabric over you with a tenderness you couldn't possibly describe.

He joins you after discarding the cloth. An elbow holds him up so he can look at you, looking so perfect, lips swelled and hair splayed delicately over the plush pillows. He's staring. Mind wandering, he pictures a world in which you're rounder and perhaps with a ring on your finger. You're deep into pregnancy, probably grumpy with him but he doesn't care because you're his. Only his, forever.

Again, not today, not now, but someday. When the funds are appropriate and you know it's the right choice. Not that he ever doubted.

Just above a whisper, he says, "so... that doesn't mean I want—"

"I know. I'm glad," you grin, still quite dazed but completely content.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead and he sighs. "I love you."

"I love you," you mutter back.

As previously stated, Spencer Reid is a man that's good with kids. You presume he's even better with you, though.

[cookiesandcreamsupremacy]

thank you so much tumblr dot com for recommending this to me, i will now lay back into my tear-stained bed 🥰🥰

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

CONTINUATION because i have a lot of things to say. op, i demand tissues because my eyes hurt after i finish this fic AND OMG YOU'VE DONE IT 👏👏 THIS WILL GO TO MY ANGST YUU COLLECTION.

IMAGINE IDIA'S OVERBLOT!! because oh god here we go again, but suddenly grim's taken?? and stuff happens at styx when they arrived and yuu realized that she only have herself this time, the trio aren't here, she's alone.

AND IMAGINE MALLEUS OVERBLOT!! AND YUU SAYING: you were my last straw malleus, out of all people in diasomnia — why does it have to be you!? (and yuu goes apeshit 🥰🥰)

(i apologize to everyone who saw my messed up tagging 😔 i hope tumblr won't do it again)

After All Is Said And Done

Masterlist After the events of the winter holidays and Jamil’s manipulation, you and your friends are left to pick up the pieces.

Warning: I write the reader as female. Also the reader celebrates Christmas.

Includes: Angst, Female Prefect!Reader, Book 4 Spoilers, references to PTSD and depression, Jamil x Reader if you squint, platonic Ace x Reader x Deuce but can be read as pre-romantic

Honestly, after writing this, I’m thinking about writing a version with Riddle, Azul, Vil and Malleus…

Keep reading

[inkieun]

Pretty Mouth — Geum Seong Je x F!Reader

You get shoved into the bathroom by Seongje, the door slamming shut behind you—and before you can even catch your breath, the lock clicks into place. He stands there, blocking the only way out, eyes dark and unreadable. “You’re not leaving,” he says, voice low and dangerous, “not until we fix that mouth of yours.”

cw: dark!seongje, noncon, forced oral, hair pulling, blackmail, degradation. #MDNI!!

“Unbelievable. I get stuck volunteering because you idiots decided to pick a fight with Hyo-man? Seriously! what the hell were you thinking?” I muttered, collapsing next to Sieun and stealing a sip from his water. “Not our fault Hyo-min was practically begging to get his ass kicked,” Hyun-tak said around a mouthful of food. I rolled my eyes. “Right. Because violence is obviously the mature, rational response.”

“So,” I said, giving Sieun back his water, “what’s everyone’s thrilling weekend plans? Other than, you know, being stuck here volunteering because someone decided to throw hands in front of the our school.”

Sieun barely glanced up from his exam book. “Studying.”

Jun-tae nodded. “Me too. I’ve got cram school.."

“Wow,” I said dryly. “Living the dream.”

Hyun-tak leaned back, grinning. “Baku and I have basketball practice. Coach said if we skip, we’re out of the next game.”

“Yeah, and if you fight in your uniform again, you’ll be out of school,” I shot back. “Principal was two seconds from calling your parents.”

Baku rolled his eyes. “He always says that. We’ll just write an apology letter and scrub a few floors.”

“I can't believe I’m stuck here supervising you clowns,” I muttered. “Great. Just what I needed after the week I had.”

Hyun-tak tossed a chip in his mouth and shrugged. “Could be worse. You could be spending your Saturday crying over your test scores.”

“I’ll take tears over push-ups, thanks,” Jun-tae said, not looking up.

Baku cracked a smile. “Technically, your arms do get stronger during mock season. From flipping pages.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up and fixing my uniform. “Bathroom. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Hyun-tak called after me, already reaching for the last piece of pizza.

“Where’s the bathroom again?” I muttered, glancing down the hallway. “Oh—here it is.”

I reached for the handle, but before I could push the door open, I felt a hand on my back. Firm. Then— A shove.

I stumbled forward, catching myself on the sink. The door slammed shut behind me.

My heart jumped. “What the hell—” I spun around. And froze.

“Seongje? What the fuck?!” I snapped, my voice bouncing off the bathroom tiles. “What are you doing here?”

He stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but there was something off in his eyes.

“Relax,” he said, fixing his glasses. “I just wanted to talk.”

“By shoving me into a bathroom like some creep?”

“Well,” Seongje said, voice quiet but steady, “if this was the only way I could talk to you… then here we are.”

I stood frozen near the sink, the chill of the tile seeping through my shoes. He hadn’t moved from the door. Blocking it.

My throat felt dry. “Well, what the fuck do you what?”

“Why are you hanging out with Baku and his little squad?” he asked, ignoring the question. His gaze darkened.

“You should stay away from them. For your own good.”

Something in his tone like a threat.

My pulse picked up. I tried to keep my voice even. “Seongje, please leave me alone.”

His lips twitched. “I’m just trying to warn you.”

“Okay.” I asked, forcing a weak laugh.

His jaw clenched. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just looked at me. And in that silence, something cold crept up my spine.

I took a cautious step toward the exit, heart pounding, but Seongje’s body blocked the way.

“Seongje,” I said slowly, “move.”

He didn’t.

“Seongje,” I said, more firmly this time. “Move.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

I stepped forward, trying to brush past him, but the second I did His hands shot out and grabbed my upper arms.

“Seongje!”

I barely got the word out before he shoved me back.

My body hit the cold metal of the stall door with a thud, sharp and sudden.

Pain bloomed along my shoulder blade, breath knocked from my lungs as he forced the door open, pushed me inside, and slammed it shut behind us.

Click.

The lock slid into place.

My heart dropped.

His fingers locked around my jaw tight, tilting my face up to him. The pressure hurt just enough to make my breath hitch.

“God, I can’t wait to ruin this mouth of yours,” Seongje growled, his words hot against my lips.

He shoved my jaw away like I was nothing but a toy he intended to break in. And as my head snapped slightly to the side, a tremor rolled through me, fear.

I heard the metallic clink before I saw it. His belt coming undone, slow and deliberate.

Then he unzipped.

His cock was already thick in his hand, flushed and hard, veins standing out as he stroked himself like he was savoring the wait.

“Open,” he said, voice low and wicked.

I shook my head in refusal, but he grabbed my hair and pulled so hard, I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat.

And then he was in my mouth.

He filled my mouth—thick, hot, overwhelming. Salt, skin, and unfiltered male heat hit my throat so hard I gagged, eyes watering.

“That’s it,” Seongje hissed. “You sound better like this.”

He didn’t thrust not yet but I could feel him pulsing as he fed more of himself into me, slow but deliberate, watching the way my lips stretched around him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost sweet mocking and fond all at once. “All that fire… all that attitude… and now you’re drooling on my cock like you were made for it.”

My eyes watered, I tried pulling away. He pulled back slightly, thumb brushing my bottom lip, slick with spit. “God, I love watching you try to take it. Messy little thing.” I whimpered.

“Oh, you like that?” he breathed. “You like being used like this? Thought you were going to be a fight. Thought I’d have to break you first.”

His fingers tightened in my hair.

“But look at you now. You’re fucking melting for it.” His grip in my hair turned brutal.

“Fuck—don’t move,” Seongje snarled through gritted teeth, dragging my head back just enough to make my neck strain, to remind me I wasn’t in control.

Then he pulled out, fast, with a gasp that was more growl than breath.

And in the next second something hot and filthy, his cum splattered across my face.

I gasped.

He held my hair tight, forcing me to look up at him.

“Open wider,” he said darkly, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t fucking wipe it off.”

Fear rooted me to the spot so I did as I was told.

My lips parted, my breathing shallow, the weight of what I’d just done crushing and fulling me with shame.

Then I saw the glint of his phone.

Click.

My body went cold.

“Seongje, what the fuck are you doing—delete that right now! You can’t—”

“Shut up.” His tone was flat. Razor-sharp. “You think you get to fuck around with that little pretty-boy, Baku, and not pay for it?”

He angled the screen toward me to see my own image staring back. Mascara smudged. Mouth open.

“You belong to me now,” he said. Calm. Cruel. “And if I see you near him again—hell, if I even hear his name in your breath,this photo goes to every inbox at your school.”

I stared at him, heart hammering, mouth still open. Cum still drying on my face

“You’re sick,” I whispered.

He crouched in front of me, lips brushing my ear.

“Yes” he murmured, dragging his fingers slowly down my throat. “For you.” He stood, zipping up with a smile on his face.

“Clean yourself up,” he said without looking back. “And remember if I see you hanging around Baku again the whole fucking world is gonna see what a filthy little whore you really are.”

“And if that isn’t enough to keep you obedient,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something silkier—sicker, “maybe next time… I’ll bring Baekjin.”

My breath caught.

“See how well that filthy mouth of yours does with two of us.” He let the threat hang in the air like smoke, then left without waiting for a response.

fin

© 2025 mymelllllinda

[majinbangus]

happy birthday little simon

"You're inviting me to the lad's birthday?"

At this point in time, he kind of expects to get a knock on his door more times in a week than he ever did during the entire duration he's lived in this flat. Most weekdays- when you leave for work and drop off your lad at school- the boy likes to make a quick stop to say good morning. It's become somewhat of a routine. Sometimes it's a sleepy greeting, but little Simon is a cheerful child who has taken an odd liking to him, and vice versa.

"If you can make it."

Then there's you. The sunny child's mother. An easy presence to be in. Refreshing like the ocean breeze during a calm day. Something addictive he can't get enough of.

"When is it?"

This is new. You switched up the routine by coming a second time at midday after he returned from the gym, freshly showered. You faired better when he opened the door compared to that one time. Granted, he was fully dressed, but it was a little disappointing; however, you did have a reason for visiting.

He could tell by the tension surrounding your eyes. Focused like you were on a mission. He supposes you technically are on one. Inviting Simon to your boy's birthday.

"Saturday."

He furrows his brows. "This Saturday?"

"Yes."

"That's tomorrow."

"I know it's a bit last minute, but..." You sigh, running a frustrated hand over your face, frowning at the ground. "No one RSVP'd."

"No one?" Simon nearly growls, offended on the lad's behalf. "What about his friends? The little fuckers don't want to come?

You purse your lips, crossing your arms. "We sent out invites to all his classmates, but ever since we moved, Simon's been having trouble making friends."

"He has trouble?"

"It's not his fault!" You snap before grimacing, lowering your voice, "Sorry, it's just... Simon tries to make friends, but kids are mean, you know? They're young, but they already have their established friend groups and exclude him because he's new."

New. Different. Any reason along those lines. It doesn't matter to kids. Or it does, and that's why they're unjustly cruel to their peers. He understands. Simon grew up with many of his schoolmates avoiding him for being 'weird', not knowing his home life. Tommy had 'friends' but they weren't exactly a good crowd.

"So you want me to come?" Simon asks, and he's met with a tired expression he's never seen on you before—not even when you were sick and weak and needed to be looked after. You look as if you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, about to collapse.

"He tries not to let it get him down, but if no one shows up..." You bite your lip, a flash of pain in your eyes at the thought of your son hurting. "Please? He likes you, and even if you're the only one who shows up, it'll mean a lot to him."

Simon looks at you. Really looks at you and takes in the desperation in your eyes. You look as if you'd do anything to convince him to come. Even fight him. Tie him up. Anything to drag him to your son's party. You'd probably do it, mother bear that you are.

But you don't need to do that. You won't ever have to fight another battle. Not if he can help it. Simon will fight your battles for you from now on.

"I'll come."

You have his devotion. You and your boy.

"Really?" You brighten up, the hopeless look in your eyes washing away.

He nods. "I'll bring a mate with some brats around your lad's age. They're friendly. They'll like him."

"Will they? Are you sure your friend will be okay with it?"

"They will, and the bastard owes me one, anyway."

No, he doesn't, but Johnny will pull through. Him and his seemingly endless amount of nieces and nephews, although he'll only need to bring a few.

A wide smile breaks out on your face, bright like the sun, and oh- that's where your boy got his grin. Without warning, you leap into his arms, forceful enough to make him grunt. You hug him, burying your face into his shoulder with Simon's hands hovering at your waist, fingers twitching.

It's rare to catch him off guard. So many new sensations fill his senses. Your warmth, surrounding him like a blanket; your scent, sweet and calming with a freshness to it that makes him want to bury his face into your neck and inhale. Or maybe he would bite into your soft skin to see if you taste as pleasant as you smell. If he wasn't so controlled, he probably would sate his curiosity right now.

You stiffen, your body tensing as if you're aware of what you've done, and move to back away, but Simon stops you, resting his hands on your hips. You gently melt your body against his again.

"Thank you, Simon," You softly murmur into his shoulder. It's a quiet sound, but he hears it and lets his arms wrap you in a full hug. You melt against his body, sighing. He doesn't think he's ever felt so warm before. "And just so you know... it means a lot to me, too, that you're coming."

-

Simon: > Johnny

Johnny: > Yeah, lt?

Simon: > You busy tomorrow?

Johnny: > Yes? > I have a date with that bonnie piano teacher I told you about > ... why

Simon: > Cancel it > Have something I need you to do

Johnny: > Work related?

Simon: > No

Johnny: > Then why can't you do it?

Simon: > I'm already on it > Cancel your date

Johnny: > Then why do you need me? > I'm not gonna cancel my date you dobber

-

"Cannae believe ye made us come all the way to fuckin' Manchester. Do y'know how many fuckin' hours ye made us drive, Ghost? The wee ones didnae like gettin' up so arse fuckin' early, either-"

"Shut up, Johnny. You owed me one."

"I didnae?!"

A giggle from Soap's bonnie piano teacher. "You're accent thickens when you're upset, John."

"Today was supposed to be our date!"

"It's not so bad. I still get to spend time with you."

"... Guess not, but I'll take you out proper tomorrow, promise."

"See, Johnny? Everyone wins."

"Awa’ an bile yer heid, Ghost."

-

Despite all his complaining, Johnny is a good guest and keeps the children entertained, playing the part of the fun uncle by letting the kids wrestle or play tag with him, not minding the grass stains as they roughhouse in the park. Currently, he's playing an informal football game with them—six vs. one. He's mostly blocking the ball from entering the goal, but it's still fun for all of them.

Little Simon is extra happy with his new friends. He's been smiling nonstop since they all introduced themselves, grin extra proud when he revealed his name.

("Like Uncle Simon's?"

"Yeah, he says it's a fine name!")

You also haven't stopped smiling ever since they arrived. Not quite as big as your boy's grin, but it still hasn't left. You and Soap's date get along swimmingly, too. He can already tell you'll be good friends with the teacher.

"Not gonna join them?"

Simon looks to see you standing next to him under the tree, watching the children as Soap 'misses' a shot from one of his nephews.

"Where's your friend?" He asks instead.

"Went looking for a bathroom." You gesture vaguely in the direction Soap's date disappeared off to. "So, not gonna play?"

He shakes his head. "Johnny's got it."

"Oh?" The suspiciously innocuous tone makes his eyes narrow. "Is it because he's the better footballer between you two?"

Simon slowly turns towards you, glaring with no real heat, but it still doesn't stop your panicked giggle when he takes a half step in your direction, making you back up against the tree. He gets closer and leans into your space, nearly brushing his front against yours. You audibly gulp, and Simon places a palm on the tree, hand right next to your head. He gets close to your face, watching your eyes widen then dart down to look at somewhere on the bottom half of his face before meeting his eyes again. You bite your lip.

"Repeat that for me, sweetheart." Simon growls softly, and you give a sharp, little inhale.

"U-um. I'd rather... not." Your voice comes out breathy, and you place a hand on his chest as if to stabilize yourself.

"I wasn't asking." He doesn't give you a chance to breathe, leaning in closer, and your fingers dig a little into his pec, making his muscles flex under your touch. "I'll say again: repeat that for me."

With nowhere to run, pinned to a tree, you tremble against his body, breathing heavily and barely able to meet his eyes, licking your lips. It takes you a moment to build up the nerve to speak with Simon surrounding your senses.

"I um... I um-"

"Simon, Uncle Johnny said to come play with us!"

Instantly, he backs away from you and turns around to see your boy running over. Behind him, he hears you exhale a quiet, little, "Fuck..."

Fuck, indeed.

He turns his attention to the lad once he comes to a stop in front of him. "Is that what he said?"

"Uh-huh! He said we're giving him trouble, and it'll make it more fair so he's not the only one guarding."

Simon looks over to where Johnny stands with the football held casually to the side between his arm and waist. The man smirks knowingly, glancing between you and Simon before giving a cheeky wave. He glares back. "I'll show him trouble."

"What did you say, Simon?"

He looks back at your boy. "Nothing. I'll come play."

The lad's eyes brighten with a celebratory cheer, grabbing his wrist and leading the way to the field. Simon looks back to see you better composed, if a little disheveled, but smiling nonetheless at the two like they're the only ones who matter.

-

After cake and presents, the children return to playing football with the new football that Soap gave as a present for little Simon, along with your boy wearing a jersey from the Scot's favorite team. A petty move from Soap, in Simon's opinion, but he'll let him have this one. He'll get your boy cheering for Man United soon enough.

The adults hang back in their own pairs. Soap and his date finally getting a moment to themselves, nibbling on cake and talking about whatever it is they talk about at the picnic table, and you and Simon are back under the tree, keeping a respectable distance between each other.

"Kid seems happy," Simon idly notes, watching your boy laugh and play with the younger MacTavish's. "You did good."

"Me?" You glance at him. "You were the one to bring a tiny tribe to Simon's birthday. Look at him. That smile is because of you."

"That smile is because you're a good mum," Simon states in a way that leaves no room for questions. "You were the one who made today happen. You gave your lad the birthday he deserved. He'll remember this."

Like how Simon remembers his mum doing her best to give him and Tommy the birthdays they deserved, no matter how small the celebration was.

You're looking at him as if you can't quite believe he's real, a cute, astonished look adorning your face. He's tempted to make a comment about it until you give a quiet, amazed laugh, reaching for his hand to give it a grateful squeeze. You don't pull away, and he doesn't let go.

"Even so, Simon had a great seventh birthday, and a lot of it is because of you. You did more than you had to- more than his father ever did! Bastard didn't even send a happy birthday text, son of a bitch." You exhale a heavy, calming breath. "But never mind that... What I'm trying to say is thank you. You didn't have to do what you did, and ever since we met, you've been really good to him."

You shoot him a teasing look. "What's your secret? Have a hidden family out there or something?"

A darker part of Simon is tempted to laugh. You're kind of right, in a messed up way, but he doesn't hold it against you. He hums, contemplating. "I had a nephew."

"Had?" The information takes another second to process. "Oh! I mean..."

"Don't have to say anything." Simon stares out to where the kids are playing. He imagines another boy running among them. Both younger and older than the children out in the field. Taken too young with no opportunity to grow. To live. He squeezes your hand. "He reminds me of him. Joseph. Would have been a couple years older than your lad by now, but I think they would have gotten along."

"Think so?" You send him a soft smile, stepping closer to hug his arm. "Tell me more about him?"

Simon looks at you, the warmth of your body pressed against him, and it suddenly feels like there's no one else in the world. There's just you and him under this tree, with your boy's laughter ringing like bells in the air, and that's when it hits.

Settle down... He's finally starting to get it, Tommy.

-

soap's piano teacher is something i want to write out, but idk if i'll get to it

[hello-eden]

Being Crazy never stopped me from being right

Jasmine no Harley damn it it's Harley did not expect this turn of events.

Harley's life has been complicated. Getting past life memories while you're actively going crazy isn't exactly the best experience. She honestly thought she just made them up if not for the tiny little gremlin in front of her actively confirming her suspicions.

 “Baby Polaris” Harley teased

“Tt I am not a baby” Robin Mumbled.

“So I wasn't going crazy” 

Harley wasn't expecting her last life little brother to be the stabby robin but honestly after everything that happened before, She's going to let it slide. She can't really say anything or discipline him due to the whole criminal background thing.

“You are absolutely crazy but not from this”

 Rude

“The whole reincarnation thing is your fault isn't it” Harley said as she raised a eyebrow at robin

“You'd blame your darling baby brother” robin blinked up innocently at her

“No I'm blaming my Menace of a little brother” 

Harley has no idea why he thought that would work he still has blood on his sword

“Okay, so technically it's Tucker's fault” Robin whined

 “And there it is” Harley sighs

[reidmarieprentiss]

Not Her

Summary: Reader can't figure out why Spencer doesn't like her, Spencer doesn't know how to tell her it's not her fault.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: camping, being stuck, wilderness, swimming in underwear, teasing, talks of bullying, insecurities, mild aggression from a male (not spencer), small injury

Word count: 16.6k

a/n: i want to go camping with spencer sooo bad he would be so nerdy and useful

main masterlist

From the moment you joined the BAU, it was obvious that you were entering a tightly knit group. The closeness between the team members was clear, and while you didn’t expect to be everyone’s best friend right off the bat, you were determined to fit in. You took time to get to know everyone, learning their quirks, their likes, and dislikes, hoping to carve out your place within the team.

With Derek, you found an easy-going rapport. His playful nature and quick wit made it easy to banter back and forth. JJ was kind and welcoming, often making a point to include you in conversations or to check in on how you were adjusting. Penelope was a whirlwind of energy, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself swept up in her vibrant world of tech and color. Rossi felt like a wise uncle who loved everyone on the team as his own. Alex was someone who acted as an older sister to you and whom you looked up to very much, and Hotch, though stern, had a way of making you feel like you were a valuable part of the team.

But Spencer Reid… he was different.

From the start, there was a disconnect. It wasn’t as if he was openly hostile or dismissive—he was far too professional for that. But there was something in the way he avoided your gaze during meetings, or how he seemed to drift to the opposite side of the room whenever you entered. You had caught him, more than once, excusing himself from a conversation as you approached, as if the mere prospect of talking to you was something he couldn’t bear.

At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that he was just shy or perhaps overwhelmed by the demands of the job. After all, you knew that Spencer wasn’t the most socially adept person in the world. But as time went on, the distance between you and him became more apparent, and it started to gnaw at you.

You didn’t need everyone to like you. You had learned long ago that such a goal was impossible, especially in a high-stakes environment like the BAU. But the way Spencer acted around you—like he could barely stand to be in the same room—was something you couldn’t ignore. You were both professionals, and you could work together when necessary, but it was clear that there was a barrier between you, one that wasn’t present with the rest of the team.

You found yourself replaying your interactions with him over and over in your mind, trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. Was it something you had said? Something you had done? Had you offended him without realizing it? Every smile you offered that went unreturned, every attempt at conversation that fizzled out into uncomfortable silence, only deepened the mystery.

—

The whole team could see the ridge between you and Spencer, but no one was any more privy to its cause than you were. Naturally, they had asked, each of them trying to get to the bottom of the tension, but Spencer always brushed it off, insisting he had nothing against you. And technically, he wasn’t lying—it wasn’t you he had a problem with.

The team had noticed the rift between you and Spencer early on. It was impossible to ignore, especially in a group as close-knit as the BAU. And so, they took it upon themselves to try and bridge the gap, often resorting to what they jokingly referred to as “parent trapping” the two of you.

Whenever the team needed to double up on rooms during cases, you and Spencer were always the ones paired together. If there were assignments to be handled in pairs, it was somehow always the two of you that got teamed up. On the jet or at the round table, there would only be one spot left for each of you, forcing you to sit side by side. And then there were the bar nights—group outings where, mysteriously, everyone else would bail out at the last minute, leaving just you and Spencer nursing your drinks awkwardly.

But despite their best efforts, nothing seemed to work. Spencer wasn’t warming up to you, no matter how many times you ended up in forced proximity. The wall between you remained as solid as ever, and eventually, you stopped trying to break through it. You resigned yourself to the fact that whatever issue he had with you, it wasn’t something you could change. 

However, Rossi—always the wise, seasoned veteran—was not ready to give up just yet. He had one last trick up his sleeve, one final attempt to get you and Spencer to break through the barrier between you. 

A team bonding camping excursion.

It was the perfect setup. Out in the wilderness, away from the usual comforts and distractions of your everyday lives, you would all be forced to rely on each other. And maybe, just maybe, the isolation would do what all the previous attempts had failed to achieve. 

But here’s the final kicker—when the day of the camping trip arrived, everyone else conveniently piled into cars together, leaving you and Spencer to drive alone in your car. You noticed the sly looks exchanged between your teammates as they handed out the keys, but before you could protest, Spencer was already sliding into the passenger seat of your vehicle.

Just as you were about to follow the convoy of cars out of the parking lot, Rossi strolled over to your window, an easygoing smile on his face. He handed you a printed sheet of directions, different from the ones the others had received. 

"Just in case you get separated," he said with a wink, his tone far too innocent. 

You couldn't shake the feeling that Rossi had planned this down to the last detail. Of course, you and Spencer wouldn’t just be separated from the group—you’d be on an entirely different route, one that would give you no choice but to spend even more time together, alone and without the safety net of your other teammates.

As you pulled out of the lot, Spencer sat quietly beside you, his eyes trained on the passing scenery. The silence in the car was heavy, almost suffocating, but there was nothing you could do now. You were in this together, whether either of you liked it or not. 

And as the miles stretched out ahead of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what Rossi had in mind, and if this final trick up his sleeve would finally be the one to force Spencer to open up—or if it would just deepen the divide between you.

—

The campsite was a solid three hours away, and while the drive was scenic enough, it didn't change the fact that you had a small bladder and a penchant for drinking a lot of water and coffee. It was inevitable that you'd need to make a pit stop before reaching your destination. 

As you glanced at the time on the dashboard and then at the half-empty travel mug in the cupholder, you sighed internally. You’d need to pull over soon. The thought of having to break the silence yet again didn’t exactly thrill you, but the discomfort was starting to outweigh your hesitation.

“Reid,” you said, breaking the quiet that had settled over the car. “I’m going to stop and use the restroom. Want me to grab you anything?”

Spencer, who had been quietly absorbed in the book he was reading, glanced up briefly, his expression neutral. “No, thank you,” he replied politely before returning his attention to the pages in front of him.

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and pulled off at the next rest stop. As you parked and unbuckled your seatbelt, you tried not to dwell on the strained exchange. It wasn’t much different from the countless other interactions you’d had with Spencer—brief, polite, and devoid of any real connection. 

—

You’d been driving for what felt like ages, the occasional road sign the only indication that you were getting closer to your destination. You were determined to reach the campsite without any further detours, but the unfamiliar roads and winding paths made it easy to second-guess yourself.

“Reid,” you said, breaking the silence again that had settled back over the car like a heavy blanket. “I think we’re getting close. Can you give me directions, please?”

Spencer looked up from his book, blinking a few times as he refocused on the world outside. “Yeah,” he replied simply, his voice still carrying that same detached tone.

He reached for the directions Rossi had given you earlier, unfolding the paper and scanning the instructions. His finger traced the lines of text as he read through the details, his brow furrowing slightly as he calculated the next turn.

“Take the next left,” he instructed, his eyes flicking up to the road ahead. “And then, after about two miles, there should be a right turn onto a dirt road. That should lead us directly to the campsite.”

“Got it,” you said, following his directions carefully, hoping that this final stretch would be as straightforward as he made it sound.

As you turned onto the narrow, winding road Spencer had pointed out, the trees began to close in around you, their dense foliage casting dappled shadows on the path. The silence returned, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. You glanced over at Spencer, who was once again absorbed in his book, his focus seemingly unshakeable.

You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. Did he realize how obvious the team’s attempts at pushing you two together were? Or was he simply indifferent to it all, content to keep you at arm’s length? 

—

“Okay…” you mumbled under your breath as you pulled into what looked like a campsite. The trees parted just enough to reveal a small clearing, but the emptiness of it made you hesitate. The gravel crunched under the tires as you rolled to a stop, and you squinted through the windshield, scanning the area. “This should be the place… Do you see anyone else?”

Spencer lifted his gaze from his book, his eyes narrowing as he looked around the deserted clearing. “Uh, no. No, I do not.”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You leaned forward, double-checking the area, but it was clear—you and Spencer were the only ones there. “Did I take a wrong turn?”

“Not according to the directions,” Spencer replied, his voice calm but not particularly reassuring.

You let out a slow breath, trying to push down the rising anxiety. “Maybe we beat them here?”

“That’s unlikely,” Spencer said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Due to the number of times you pulled over for the restroom.”

You couldn’t help the slight flush that crept up your neck at his blunt observation. “Right,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to figure out what to do next. “So… what do we do now? Should we wait for them to show up?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes flicking back to the directions. “It’s possible they took a different route. But considering how empty this place is, I’d say we’re either very early, or we’re not at the right site.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, feeling the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. “Great. Just great. I’ll give Rossi a call,” you muttered, more to yourself than to Spencer, as you reached for your phone. The screen lit up, but when you glanced at the signal bar, your stomach dropped—no signal. “Uh, do you happen to have a signal on your cellphone?”

Spencer pulled his phone from his pocket and checked, his brow furrowing as he studied the screen. After a moment, he sighed, the sound tinged with resignation. “Nope.”

“Fantastic,” you said, the sarcasm barely masking your frustration. “Should we wait for a bit and see if anyone else shows up?”

Spencer considered the suggestion, his gaze drifting back to the empty clearing. “That seems like the best choice right now,” he agreed, his voice steady but lacking any real optimism.

With nothing else to do, you both settled into the uncomfortable silence, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last as you both kept your eyes on the road, hoping to see the rest of the team’s cars pull in. But the road remained empty, and the only company you had was the uneasy tension that had settled between you.

If this was Rossi’s idea of getting you and Spencer to bond, it was off to a rocky start.

—

The campsite in front of you looked serene and peaceful, bathed in the soft light filtering through the towering trees. The fire pit in the center was surrounded by a few scattered logs, perfect for sitting around and enjoying the warmth of a campfire. Despite its picturesque setting, the site was eerily empty, with no sign of the team anywhere.

Eventually, you heard the sound of Spencer unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. The soft click of the door opening made you glance over. “What are you doing?” you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Getting out,” Spencer replied simply as he stepped onto the gravel. “I want to stretch my legs.”

You nodded, realizing that was a good idea. “Yeah, good idea,” you agreed, your tone a bit lighter now. The tension of being cooped up in the car with nothing but silence between you two was beginning to wear on you. 

You both got out of the car, the fresh air a welcome change after the long drive. As you stood there, taking in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more relaxed. The forest around you was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the faint crackle of the fire pit from when it was last used.

Spencer moved toward the center of the campsite, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around. “It’s a nice spot,” he commented, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

You walked a little closer to him, scanning the area for any signs of the team. “Yeah,” you agreed, though the emptiness still gnawed at you. “But it’s weird that no one else is here yet.”

Spencer nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “Maybe they’re just running late. Or they took a different route like I said before.”

You glanced back at the car, then around the site again. It was hard to shake the feeling that something was off, but there wasn’t much you could do about it now. “Well, at least it’s peaceful,” you said, trying to focus on the positive.

Spencer gave a small nod, seemingly content to stand there in the stillness of the forest. Despite the lingering uncertainty, there was something calming about the solitude, and for a moment, the silence between you felt less strained and more comfortable.

—

As the sun dipped lower behind the trees, casting long shadows across the campsite, you felt a growing sense of unease. The emptiness of the site was now coupled with the approaching darkness, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. You finally voiced your concern, unable to keep it to yourself any longer. “Spencer, they’re obviously not coming. Should we drive around? Look for a fire? Or just head home?”

Spencer, who had been pacing slightly near the car, stopped and looked at you, his expression conflicted. “I don’t—I don’t know what we should do,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly, a rare display of uncertainty from him.

You bit your lip, weighing the options. None of them seemed particularly appealing, especially as the light continued to fade. “Okay… do you just want to set up here for the night and figure it out in the morning?”

“Umm… yeah,” he agreed after a moment, though his tone was far from confident. “Do you mind if I sleep in the car?”

That caught you off guard. “Sure…” you replied slowly, trying to mask your surprise. Spencer had always been an enigma, but this felt particularly strange. It wasn’t like him to be so unsettled.

Alas, you pushed the oddness aside and decided to focus on the practical. You set about pitching your tent, the familiar motions calming your nerves slightly. Once it was up, you ducked inside to change into your pajamas, eager to get a fire going and start making some food. The pangs of hunger were beginning to make themselves known, and you knew you needed to eat something soon.

When you emerged from the tent, you glanced over at Spencer, who was standing by the car, arms crossed, looking even more out of place than usual. “Spencer, you can use my tent to change if you want,” you offered, trying to bridge the gap between you.

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he replied quickly, almost too quickly. His refusal struck you as odd, adding to the growing list of things that didn’t seem right about this situation.

“Would you mind getting the cooler from the boot then?” you asked, hoping to keep things moving forward, even if everything else felt off.

Spencer nodded and moved to the back of the car, retrieving the cooler with a quiet efficiency. But as you started preparing the food, you couldn’t help but notice how closely he was watching you. His gaze was intense, almost as if he was studying you—or perhaps watching out for something.

It was unsettling, to say the least. You tried to brush it off, focusing on the task at hand, but it was difficult to ignore the prickling sensation of being observed so intently. “Everything okay?” you asked casually as you stirred the food, hoping to ease some of the tension.

Spencer blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever thoughts had been occupying his mind. “Yeah,” he said, though his tone wasn’t entirely convincing. 

You paused for a moment, considering his words. While it wasn’t unusual for Spencer to be cautious, the way he was acting now felt different—like he was on edge, anticipating something. “Let’s eat and get some rest. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

He nodded, but the unease didn’t leave his eyes. As you finished cooking and began to serve up the food, you couldn’t help but wonder what had Spencer so spooked—and whether you should be more concerned than you already were.

—

That night, Spencer stuck to his word and slept in the car with the doors locked. You couldn’t help but feel a little puzzled by his behavior—he seemed so on edge, far more than you’d ever seen him, and it left you wondering why he had agreed to come camping in the first place. The idea of him spending the night in a locked car instead of enjoying the fresh air and the open sky was odd, to say the least. 

But despite the lingering unease, you slept surprisingly well. Camping had always been something you loved—the scent of the pine trees, the sounds of the forest, the cool breeze that swept through the tent—all of it made you feel at peace. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, and you drifted off easily, wrapped in your sleeping bag.

When you woke the next morning, the sun was already casting a warm glow over the campsite. You stretched, feeling refreshed, and emerged from your tent to find Spencer already awake. He was crouched by a small fire, a pot of instant coffee brewing over the flames. The sight of him tending to the fire, his movements precise and deliberate, was a little surprising. It was clear that he hadn’t slept much—if at all.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you walked over to him.

“Morning,” Spencer replied, his voice calm but still carrying that edge of tension.

You sat down on one of the logs near the fire, enjoying the warmth it provided as you shook off the last remnants of sleep. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, trying to gauge his mood.

“Fine,” he answered shortly, though you weren’t convinced. “You?”

“Really good,” you said with a small smile. “I love the fresh air. There’s just something about being out here that makes everything feel better.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the pot of coffee as he stirred it. “Yeah, fresh air is good,” he said absently, though his tone lacked the enthusiasm you had.

You watched him for a moment, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the way he seemed to be holding himself together with sheer willpower. Something was definitely off, but you weren’t sure how to address it without making him uncomfortable. “Spencer,” you began cautiously, “is everything okay? You seem… different.”

He paused, the spoon in his hand stilling as he considered your question. After a long moment, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I just… I don’t like the idea of being out here without the rest of the team. It doesn’t feel right.”

His admission caught you off guard. You knew Spencer was meticulous, always needing to have control over the details, but you hadn’t realized just how much this situation was affecting him. “I get that,” you said softly, trying to offer some reassurance. “But we’re safe here, and we’ll figure things out. Maybe we’ll hear from them once we’re back in range.”

Spencer gave a small nod, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You decided to let the conversation drop, not wanting to push him further. Instead, you focused on the comforting smell of coffee and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden light over the campsite. For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

But as you glanced around the site, something caught your eye—a piece of paper tacked to a tree, fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Hey, did you see that?” you asked, pointing towards it.

Before Spencer could answer, you were already on your feet, walking towards the tree. The paper was pinned to the bark with a small tack, and as you pulled it down, you quickly scanned the handwritten note. Your eyes widened as you read the familiar handwriting, the message becoming clear.

Hey guys!

I know you’ll be mad about this, but please see it from our point of view. We sent you two to a separate site, please talk through your issues, we are a team and we need to be able to trust each other. Obviously, we can’t force you to stay, but if you do come home early, you will each have to take two paid days off. No work. 

Please, work it out.

You stared at the note in disbelief for a moment, the words sinking in. This whole thing—Rossi’s directions, the empty campsite, the strange sense of being set up—it had all been orchestrated by the team. They had sent you and Spencer to a completely different site, forcing you into isolation together with the clear intention that you’d hash out whatever had been causing the rift between you.

You turned back to Spencer, holding the note up so he could see it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, frustration and disbelief coloring your voice.

Spencer stood up and walked over, taking the paper from your hand. His eyes quickly scanned the note, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he realized what had happened. “They… they set us up,” he said quietly, his voice laced with irritation and something else—maybe betrayal.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you replied, crossing your arms as you processed the situation. “They’re basically holding us hostage until we ‘work it out.’”

Spencer shook his head, clearly struggling with the realization. “They can’t just force us to talk. We’re not children.”

“Apparently, they think we need to be treated like we are,” you replied, the frustration in your voice mirroring his. 

He remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the note as if it might offer some sort of solution. The fire crackled behind you, the only sound breaking the heavy tension that had settled between the two of you. The note in his hand felt like a ticking time bomb, and you both knew there was no avoiding the conversation any longer.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This wasn’t how you had envisioned things going, but there was no turning back now. “Spencer… should we just talk about it?” you asked, your voice softer, almost pleading.

“About what?” he replied, still not meeting your eyes, his tone flat and defensive.

“Come on… please,” you urged, trying to keep your frustration at bay. You needed to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. “Did I do something to you?”

“No,” he answered quickly, his voice sharp with finality.

“But you don’t like me,” you pressed, feeling the frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t just his short answers that were getting to you; it was the wall he was so clearly putting up, the refusal to even entertain the possibility of a conversation. You were tired of dancing around the issue, of feeling like you were constantly walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s not—” Spencer started, but then he cut himself off, clenching his jaw. His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flash in them—something like pain, or maybe guilt. But just as quickly, he looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The firmness in his voice left little room for argument, but you weren’t ready to give up. Not after everything. “Spencer, please,” you said, trying to reach him on a level beyond the walls he’d built around himself. “I’m not trying to push you, but this… whatever this is between us… it’s affecting the team. It’s affecting us. We can’t just keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed, and you could see the internal struggle he was facing, the way his mind was working through a hundred different thoughts at once. He seemed to be weighing his options, considering whether or not to open up. But in the end, all he did was shake his head again, his expression closing off. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I just… I can’t.”

You felt a pang of disappointment, not just for yourself, but for him too. Whatever was going on inside his head, it was clearly something he wasn’t ready—or willing—to share. And that left you at an impasse, standing on opposite sides of a divide neither of you knew how to cross.

“Okay, well,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you turned away from him, “I’m just going to go for a walk then.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. “No, Y/N, that could be dangerous,” he said, his tone more urgent than you expected. There was a genuine concern in his voice, a sharp contrast to the distance he’d been maintaining.

“I don’t care,” you replied, your words coming out sharper than you intended. You needed to clear your head, to get some space, even if it meant wandering off into the woods. The tension between you and Spencer had reached a breaking point, and staying here, in this stifling atmosphere, felt unbearable.

You turned and started walking away, not really caring which direction you were heading. The forest loomed around you, the trees casting long shadows in the morning light, but you welcomed the solitude. You needed time to think, to process everything that had just happened.

Behind you, you heard Spencer call your name again, but you didn’t stop. The sound of his voice faded as you walked deeper into the trees, the cool air brushing against your skin as you moved further away from the campsite. You didn’t know where you were going or how far you would walk, but right now, that didn’t matter. All you wanted was some distance—from the campsite, from Spencer, from the emotions that had been building up inside you.

You heard the leaves crunch beneath your boots as you continued walking, the forest growing quieter with each step. The anger and frustration that had driven you out here began to ebb, replaced by a heavy feeling of sadness. You didn’t know why Spencer was so intent on keeping you at arm’s length, but whatever it was, it hurt. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the rhythm of your footsteps and the cool, fresh air filling your lungs. The walk might not solve anything, but it was a start. At least out here, you could breathe.

—

When you finally returned to the campsite, the tension in your chest had eased, though the lingering frustration and sadness hadn’t entirely left. As you approached, you noticed Spencer sitting by the fire, a new book in his hands. His fingers flicked through the pages at lightning speed, a blur of motion as he absorbed the text with the kind of intensity that only Spencer Reid could muster.

He didn’t look up right away, but you noticed his ears perk up at the sound of your footsteps crunching over the forest floor. It was a subtle movement, but it was clear he was aware of your presence, even if he wasn’t immediately acknowledging it. 

You stood there for a moment, watching him as he continued to read, his focus unwavering despite your return. The sight of him, so deeply engrossed in his book, made you wonder if he’d spent the entire time trying to escape into its pages, to block out the unresolved tension between you both. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you began, your voice steady as you walked closer to where he sat. “Here it is. I’ll drive us back tonight. I’ll tell Hotch that I made us leave and I’ll take the two days of paid leave. It’s fine. You don’t have to talk to me, and I’ll take the blame.”

Spencer finally looked up from his book, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your words. There was surprise and confusion in his expression, as if he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. For a moment, he just stared at you, the book forgotten in his hands.

“You… you’d do that?” he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain. He had expected you to be angry, maybe even confrontational after the way things had gone earlier, but instead, here you were, offering to take the blame, to make it easier for him.

It was clear that Spencer couldn’t believe how nice you were being, especially after everything. He had spent so long keeping you at a distance, fearing that you might turn out to be like your sister, but your words and actions were proving just how wrong he might have been.

“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug, trying to downplay the gesture even though it meant a lot to you. “I mean, we’re obviously not getting anywhere with this. If leaving early is what’s best, then that’s what we’ll do. And I don’t mind taking the hit for it. I’m not going to force you to talk if you don’t want to.”

Spencer swallowed, still struggling to find the right words. He wasn’t used to this kind of kindness, especially not from someone he had kept at arm’s length for so long. It was disarming, to say the least.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with genuine surprise. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a soft, understanding smile. “But I’m offering to because I know this whole situation isn’t easy for either of us. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

For a long moment, Spencer just looked at you, trying to reconcile the person standing in front of him with the fears and assumptions he had held onto for so long. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice sincere. “I… I really appreciate it. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to leave just yet. We could just… see how things go.”

You nodded, sensing the tentative olive branch he was offering. “Okay,” you said gently, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something better between the two of you.

Spencer nodded, a small, almost hesitant smile forming on his lips. It was a start—a small one, but a start nonetheless.

“Could I maybe ask you a question?” you ventured, your voice tentative, hoping to bridge the gap between you both just a little more.

“Sure,” Spencer said, closing his book slightly but still keeping his thumb between the pages, as if not entirely ready to let go of his comfort zone.

“Did I… do something?” you asked, the question hanging in the air between you. You had to know, even if it was uncomfortable.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he shook his head. “No,” he replied, his tone gentle, yet firm. “You didn’t do anything.”

There was a brief pause, the silence between you more comfortable now than it had been earlier. You gave a small nod, accepting his answer even if it didn’t give you all the clarity you had hoped for. “Okay, I’ll leave you with your book,” you said, starting to step back, figuring he might want some space.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t pick up where he left off in his book. Instead, he looked up at you, his expression more open than it had been since you’d met. “You don’t have to… we can talk a bit,” he offered, and though his voice was cautious, there was a genuine willingness in it.

You smiled slightly, appreciating the gesture. “Alright,” you agreed, trying to think of something simple to start with. “Um, where did you grow up?”

“Las Vegas,” Spencer answered, the familiar name rolling off his tongue with a mix of nostalgia and a hint of something else—perhaps a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted to share yet.

“Seriously?” you asked, your eyes widening with surprise.

“Yeah… is that weird?” Spencer replied, his expression uncertain, as if he was bracing for your reaction.

“No, no, that’s where I grew up too,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. The coincidence was almost too much to wrap your head around.

“Oh…” Spencer’s voice trailed off, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He seemed hesitant, like there was something more he wasn’t saying.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, sensing there was more to the story. “Okay, you know something. Did you see my file or something?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting away for a moment before he answered. “Or something…”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, half-joking, but still curious. “Oh, come on, Spencer. What’s up? What school did you go to?”

“Las Vegas High,” he admitted, finally meeting your gaze again.

Your eyes lit up with recognition. “Me too! Wait… but you’re only two years younger than me. Would I have known you?”

Spencer’s expression shifted slightly, and you could see a mix of emotions flicker across his face—hesitation, discomfort, maybe even a touch of embarrassment. “No… uh, I was a freshman at 8 years old.”

“Woah! That’s insane!” you exclaimed, genuinely amazed. “That must have been so difficult for you.”

“It was,” Spencer admitted quietly, his voice carrying the weight of old memories.

You felt a pang of empathy for him, imagining how tough it must have been to navigate high school as a child. The challenges he faced were beyond anything you could have imagined at that age. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I wish we had been in school at the same time, we could have been friends,” you said, offering him a warm smile.

Spencer’s discomfort was palpable, and you could sense it immediately, like a shift in the air between you. He shifted in his seat, his gaze dropping back to the ground as if he was retreating into himself again. “What did we bring for dinner tonight?” he asked, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to steer the conversation away from where it had been heading.

The sudden change in topic stung, a pang of rejection hitting you square in the chest. You had thought, just for a moment, that you were making progress, that maybe you were getting through to him. But you knew Spencer well enough by now to realize that he wasn’t ready to go there, not yet. And pushing him wouldn’t help.

So, for his sake, you forced yourself to move on. “Uh, hotdogs, I think,” you said, trying to match his casual tone, even though the disappointment lingered in the back of your mind.

You busied yourself with preparing the food, focusing on the simple task of gathering the ingredients and setting them up by the fire. The familiar motions helped ground you, giving you something to concentrate on besides the unease that had crept back into your interactions.

Spencer remained quiet, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you worked. There was a tension in his posture, a subtle but unmistakable sign that he was still grappling with whatever had made him uncomfortable in the first place. 

“Hotdogs it is, then,” you said, forcing a small smile as you handed him a stick to skewer the hotdogs. You hoped that by focusing on something as simple as cooking dinner, you could ease some of the tension between you, even if the conversation from earlier still hung heavy in the air.

Spencer took the stick from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. “Thanks,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before he looked away again. 

As the two of you cooked over the fire, the crackling flames and the scent of roasting hotdogs filled the air, creating a more comfortable silence. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start, and for now, that was enough.

—

The conversation over dinner had been light and mostly focused on work—discussing cases, swapping stories about the more mundane aspects of life at the BAU. It was easy, familiar territory, a safe haven for both of you to retreat to after the earlier tension. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the campsite, a quiet settled between you.

After finishing your meal, you excused yourself to change into your pajamas, the cool night air making you eager to get comfortable. When you returned to the fire, Spencer was still sitting by the flames, the orange light flickering over his face as he stared into the fire, lost in thought.

You approached him, sitting back down across from him. The night was still, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves. For a moment, you hesitated, not wanting to break the fragile peace, but curiosity got the better of you.

“Hey, Reid,” you called softly, trying to ease into the question that had been on your mind since the night before.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, not looking up from the fire but clearly acknowledging you.

You bit your lip, then decided to just go for it. “Why did you sleep in the car?”

The question hung in the air between you, and you saw Spencer’s entire body stiffen. He froze, his eyes widening slightly, the tension in his shoulders returning in an instant. You could tell he didn’t want to answer, and for a second, you regretted asking. But you had to know.

“Just safer, I guess,” he finally mumbled, his voice tight and unconvincing. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, avoiding your gaze entirely.

You could sense there was more to it, something he wasn’t telling you, but you decided not to push. Spencer was clearly uncomfortable, and whatever the real reason was, he wasn’t ready to share it. So you nodded, accepting his explanation even if it didn’t feel entirely truthful.

“Okay,” you said softly, letting the matter drop. You didn’t want to make him feel any more uneasy than he already did.

—

Halfway through the night, you jolted awake, your heart pounding in your chest. There was an eerie, unsettling sound coming from outside your tent—a low, persistent noise that sent chills down your spine. You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself it was just the wind or some animal moving through the underbrush, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm down. The noise wasn’t stopping, and the longer it went on, the more your imagination ran wild.

Unable to shake the growing fear, you carefully and quietly unzipped your sleeping bag and slipped out of the tent. The cold night air hit you immediately, but the fear kept you moving. You crept toward the car, every step making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. When you reached the car, you knocked lightly on the window, hoping not to startle Spencer too much.

“Spencer!” you whisper-yelled, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. You could see him stir where he had flattened the back seats into a makeshift bed, his body shifting as he came to.

“Reid!” you whispered again, a little more urgently this time.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. He sat up quickly, clearly surprised to see you standing there in the middle of the night. He leaned forward and unlocked the door, cracking it open just enough to speak to you. “What??” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep and a touch of irritation.

“Can I come in, please?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with fear.

Spencer blinked, clearly not expecting that. “No??” he replied, still half-asleep and unsure of what you were asking.

“Spencer, there’s a really scary noise out here,” you pleaded, your fear becoming more evident as you looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. “Please, please let me in.”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing. He was still wary, worried that this might be some sort of prank or something worse. But as he looked at you, really looked at you, he saw the genuine fear in your expression. You weren’t trying to mess with him—you were genuinely scared. He’d never seen you like this before.

“Okay, fine,” he finally relented, scooting over to make room for you in the cramped space.

You didn’t waste any time, quickly crawling into the car and pulling the door closed behind you. As soon as you were inside, Spencer locked the doors again, the click of the locks echoing in the silence.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the car suddenly feeling much smaller with both of you inside. The strange noise outside continued, but now that you were with Spencer, the fear didn’t seem as overwhelming. You still couldn’t pinpoint what the noise was, but you felt safer with him there, even if he was still a bit unsure about the whole situation.

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the irritation gone.

You nodded, still trying to calm your racing heart. “Yeah… I just couldn’t stay in the tent with that noise. It was freaking me out.”

He nodded in understanding, though his eyes flicked toward the windows, clearly trying to listen for the noise himself. “It’s probably just an animal,” he said, trying to reassure both you and himself.

“Maybe,” you whispered, though you weren’t entirely convinced. But for now, you were just grateful to be out of the tent and with someone who made you feel a little less alone.

—

Eventually, despite the lingering fear and the cramped quarters, exhaustion took over, and you both drifted off to sleep in the back of the car. The strange noise outside had faded into the background, and the warmth of the enclosed space made it easier to relax. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, however, Spencer stirred from his sleep, his body shifting slightly as he became aware of something unexpected. Blinking his eyes open, he realized with a start that your limbs were wrapped around him, your body pressed close as you clung to him in your sleep. Your arm was draped over his chest, your leg tangled with his, and your head was nestled against his shoulder. It was as if you had sought out the warmth and security he provided, even unconsciously.

Spencer froze, his mind racing as he tried to process the situation. He wasn’t used to this—intimacy, even in such an innocent form, was foreign territory for him. His heart started to race, not out of fear but out of sheer confusion. What was he supposed to do? Should he wake you? Should he try to untangle himself without disturbing you? 

But as he lay there, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing against him, he couldn’t bring himself to move. There was something oddly comforting about the way you had sought him out, something that made him feel… needed. It was a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to, and it left him at a loss for what to do next.

He glanced down at you, seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you slept. The fear and tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a calmness that was almost contagious. Spencer’s mind continued to whirl, but he didn’t want to disturb you—not when you seemed so at ease.

So, he stayed still, letting you cling to him, trying to reconcile the strange mix of emotions coursing through him. The awkwardness was still there, but it was tempered by a quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, things between you two were starting to change. And for the first time in a long while, that didn’t seem so terrifying after all.

—

When the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting warm golden rays across the campsite, Spencer was already outside, crouched by the fire as he prepared coffee. The familiar scent of brewing coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the fresh scent of the forest, creating a peaceful start to the day. You emerged from the car, feeling a little stiff from the cramped sleep, but more than that, you were feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

You approached Spencer, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hey… thanks again for letting me bunk with you,” you said, your voice laced with genuine gratitude.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, his tone flat, distant, as he focused on the coffee. He didn’t look up, his gaze firmly fixed on the task at hand.

The coldness in his voice felt like a sharp contrast to the fleeting moment of connection you thought you’d shared the night before. You sighed, the disappointment settling heavily in your chest. Somehow, it seemed like you’d messed up again, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection all over again.

“Did that… make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry,” you ventured, hoping to clear the air, even if it meant confronting whatever it was that had made him withdraw.

“It’s fine,” Spencer replied, his voice clipped, as if he was trying to end the conversation before it could really start. He still didn’t meet your eyes, his attention entirely on the coffee pot.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the familiar ache of misunderstanding between you two. It was clear that whatever had happened during the night had unsettled him, but he wasn’t willing to talk about it. The walls were back up, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to break through.

But instead of pressing further, you decided to let it go, at least for now. Pushing Spencer never worked, and you knew that trying to force a conversation would only make things worse. So you offered him a small, resigned smile, even if he wasn’t looking to see it.

“Okay,” you said softly, accepting his response even though it left you feeling hollow.

You sat down by the fire, quietly waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The silence between you felt heavy, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had taken a step backward after all the progress you thought you’d made. 

“Um, we can head out whenever you’re ready. We only had to stay until today,” you mumbled, your voice subdued as you stood up and started to take down your tent. You avoided looking directly at Spencer, the awkwardness of the morning still hanging in the air.

“Oh, okay,” Spencer replied, his tone neutral, though you could sense a hint of hesitation in his response.

As you began to disassemble the tent, Spencer watched you for a moment, the silence between you lingering. Despite everything, he found himself reluctant to leave. The tension and awkwardness aside, there had been moments—small, fleeting moments—where he had actually enjoyed your company. The quiet of the campsite, the simplicity of the night, even the unexpected comfort he’d found in your presence last night… it was all something he hadn’t anticipated.

He felt a strange pull, a desire to stay just a little longer, even if he couldn’t quite articulate why. But he was Spencer Reid, and expressing those kinds of feelings wasn’t something that came easily to him. Instead, he stood there, conflicted, as he watched you go about packing up.

“Actually… we don’t have to rush,” Spencer finally said, his voice softer now. “If you want, we could stay for a little while longer. There’s no hurry.”

You paused in your task, surprised by his words. You turned to look at him, searching his face for any sign of what had changed his mind. “Are you sure?” you asked cautiously, not wanting to impose if he really wanted to leave.

Spencer nodded, his expression more open than it had been all morning. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s… nice out here. Peaceful.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time that morning, you felt a bit of the tension ease. Maybe you hadn’t messed up as badly as you thought. “Okay,” you agreed, setting the tent pole back down. “We can stay a little longer.”

Spencer gave a small, almost imperceptible smile in return, and as the two of you stood there in the morning light, it felt like there was a chance to start over—to take the time neither of you had been willing to take before. 

—

After a simple breakfast, you looked over at Spencer, feeling a bit more at ease with the morning stretching out before you. “When I went for a walk, I saw a body of water,” you suggested, trying to keep the conversation light and inviting. “Do you want to go check it out?”

Spencer looked up from his coffee, a little surprised by the suggestion. “Oh, sure,” he agreed, his tone more relaxed than it had been earlier.

The two of you set off through the trees, following the path you had taken before. It didn’t take long to find the body of water again, the sunlight reflecting off its surface in shimmering patterns. The sight was even more beautiful now, with the morning light casting a gentle glow over the water.

“It’s gorgeous,” Spencer said softly, his voice filled with genuine appreciation as he took in the scene.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your eyes sweeping over the peaceful setting. The water was so clear, so inviting, that you couldn’t resist the urge to get in. “I’m going to get in,” you announced, already starting to kick off your shoes.

“What?” Spencer’s voice cracked, his surprise evident as he watched you strip down to your undergarments without hesitation. His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as you waded into the cold, refreshing water, a small shiver running through you as the temperature hit your skin.

The water was invigorating, waking you up in a way that the morning coffee never could. You splashed around a bit, reveling in the feeling of the water against your skin. Turning back to Spencer, who was still standing at the edge, looking unsure of what to do, you grinned. “Do you know how to swim, genius?”

“Yes,” he replied, blushing even deeper as he averted his eyes slightly, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of decorum despite the situation.

“Do you want to join me?” you asked, your voice light and teasing as you floated on your back, letting the water carry you.

Spencer hesitated, clearly torn between his natural inclination to stay dry and the surprising appeal of joining you in the water. After a moment, he looked back at you, the uncertainty in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—curiosity, maybe even a touch of daring.

“Alright,” he finally said, as if making a decision that surprised even himself. With a deep breath, he began to unbutton his shirt, methodically removing his clothes until he was down to a tshirt and briefs. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if he was still a bit unsure about this whole idea.

When he finally stepped into the water, a shiver ran through him as the cold enveloped his body. “It’s… colder than I expected,” he admitted, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, watching as he waded in deeper, adjusting to the temperature. “You’ll get used to it,” you assured him, still floating easily on the surface.

Spencer nodded, his movements tentative at first, but as he swam out to where you were, he began to relax. There was a certain lightness to the moment, a freedom that neither of you had felt in a long time. The water, the sun, the simple act of swimming—it was a welcome escape from the tension that had defined your interactions until now.

The two of you spent what felt like hours playing and splashing in the water, the cool waves washing away the tension that had been hanging between you. It was a rare, carefree moment where you both felt free and childlike, laughing without a care in the world. There were no pressures, no responsibilities—just the simple joy of being in the moment.

But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, signaling that it was time to come out, you noticed a shift in Spencer. He seemed hesitant, his earlier playfulness replaced with a familiar tension. He lingered in the water, avoiding your gaze, and you could sense his discomfort.

“Um, Y/N… can you turn around when I get out?” Spencer asked, his voice quiet, almost nervous.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course,” you replied, caught a little off guard by his request but willing to do whatever made him comfortable.

“And, um… maybe walk a bit away?” he added, his tone even more tentative.

“Uh huh, sure. Whatever you want,” you said gently, giving him a reassuring smile before turning away and moving up the bank. You grabbed your clothes and began walking a bit further from the water, giving him the privacy he clearly needed.

Spencer waited until you were a safe distance away and preoccupied with getting dressed before he quickly and quietly scrambled out of the water, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could. The vulnerability of being in nothing but water-tight briefs had brought back all his fears, the insecurities that had haunted him for years.

As you both started the walk back to the campsite, you couldn’t help but address the tension that still lingered. “Did you think I would make fun of you?” you asked, your voice soft, but tinged with concern.

Spencer shook his head slightly, though he didn’t look at you. “Oh, no, I don’t know,” he mumbled, clearly uncomfortable.

Your heart ached at his response. “I wouldn’t, for the record,” you said earnestly, hoping to reassure him.

There was a brief silence, heavy with unspoken emotions, before you felt compelled to share something of your own. “I grew up with a really mean sister,” you began, your voice carrying the weight of old wounds. “She would make fun of everyone for anything and everything, including me. It was a torturous way to grow up. I would never want to make anyone feel the way that she made me feel.”

Spencer suddenly stopped walking, his entire body tensing as if he’d hit an invisible wall. You turned to him, alarmed by the sudden change.

“Spencer? Are you okay?” you asked, worry lacing your voice.

He took a deep breath, his voice strained as he spoke. “It’s not you, it’s never been you,” he said, his words confusing you even more. “It was your sister.”

“What?” you whispered, the revelation hitting you like a cold gust of wind.

“Your sister was in my grade in high school,” Spencer explained, his voice trembling with the emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“Oh…” was all you could manage, the pieces slowly clicking into place.

“She wasn’t nice,” Spencer continued, his voice thick with the memories. His eyes welled up with tears, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “She bullied me pretty relentlessly. Tied me up naked to a flagpole and took pictures.”

“Spencer… oh my God,” you breathed, horror and guilt crashing over you. You thought your heart had broken earlier, but now it felt shattered, the pieces scattered by the weight of his confession. “I don’t even know what to say. I am so, so sorry. No one ever deserves that. I can’t believe you went through that.”

Spencer nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he stood there, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before. The pain he had carried for so long, the fear that had driven a wedge between you, was now out in the open. 

“Can I—can I hug you?” you offered, your voice gentle, filled with the empathy and care that had been building in your heart since Spencer’s revelation.

Spencer hesitated for only a moment before nodding, allowing you to pull him into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the tension in his body gradually melt away as he leaned into the comfort you were offering.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured softly against his shoulder. “I’m going to assume that you were afraid of me being like my sister, and that’s why you didn’t talk to me.”

Spencer nodded again, his silent confirmation making your heart ache even more for him. You could only imagine the fear and pain he must have felt, avoiding you because of a past that had nothing to do with who you truly were.

“I just want you to know, Spencer,” you continued, your voice steady but filled with emotion, “I would never do anything to hurt you in any way. I am nothing like her. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the opposite of her. My family disowned her a long time ago.”

Spencer pulled back slightly then, just enough to look at you, his eyes still wet with tears. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, a deep, raw emotion that spoke volumes. “I believe you,” he whispered, his voice breaking but filled with sincerity.

Your own eyes stung with unshed tears, the weight of his belief in you meaning more than you could express. “I’m so sorry to have made you feel uncomfortable this whole time,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I completely understand why you didn’t want to get too close to me.”

Spencer shook his head slightly, about to apologize, but you stopped him before he could. “No, never apologize for protecting yourself,” you insisted, your tone firm but kind. “We’ve solved it now, and that’s what matters. I hope we can be friends?”

There was a moment of silence as Spencer processed your words, and then, slowly, a small but genuine smile formed on his lips. “Of course,” he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief and hope wash over you. The wall between you and Spencer had finally come down, and in its place was the beginning of a real connection—one built on understanding, empathy, and the promise of a friendship that could grow from here.

“Thank you,” Spencer added quietly, his voice full of gratitude. And for the first time, you both felt like you were truly starting fresh, free from the shadows of the past.

—

You and Spencer made it back to Quantico with a sense of quiet relief, knowing that the rift between you had finally been addressed. When you reported back to the team, you both kept the details vague, simply letting them know that you had worked things out. Spencer was immensely grateful for your discretion, and you could see it in the small, appreciative smiles he sent your way. During the ride back, the two of you had chatted the entire time, the conversation flowing easily as if the weight of the past had finally been lifted.

The next day at work, you felt a new sense of ease around Spencer. The tension was gone, replaced by the beginnings of what felt like a genuine friendship. As you approached his desk, you felt a little flutter of nerves, but it was a good kind—like you were about to take a step forward into something new.

“Hey, Spencer…” you called softly as you reached his desk.

He looked up from his work, a smile spreading across his face when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted warmly.

“Would you maybe want to come over this weekend? We could watch a movie or something?” you asked, hoping to continue building on the connection you’d started.

“Sure,” he grinned, clearly pleased by the invitation. “That sounds great.”

You returned his smile, feeling a little spark of excitement as you walked away. It felt good to know that things between you and Spencer were on a new path, one that was built on mutual understanding and trust.

Unbeknownst to you, Derek Morgan had been casually eavesdropping from a distance. As soon as you were out of earshot, he sneaked up on Spencer, a mischievous grin on his face. “You got yourself a date, Reid?” Derek teased, leaning on the desk with a playful glint in his eye.

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, his cheeks flushing slightly. “What? No, we’re just hanging out,” he insisted, his voice flustered but firm.

“Mhm,” Derek hummed, not buying it for a second, his teasing grin only widening. “Sure, man, just hanging out.”

Spencer shot him a look, trying to maintain his composure, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. Despite Derek’s teasing, there was a sense of warmth and excitement bubbling up inside Spencer—because for the first time, “just hanging out” with someone felt like it could lead to something more, even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet.

Derek chuckled and gave Spencer a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Spencer to ponder the possibilities that lay ahead, a small smile still lingering on his face.

—

Friday evening arrived faster than you and Spencer had expected. Both of you were feeling excitement and nervousness, eager for the evening ahead but also unsure of how it would unfold. You had spent the day tidying up and preparing your living room, making sure everything was just right for your night of movie watching and hanging out. You wanted Spencer to feel comfortable, and you hoped the cozy atmosphere you’d created would help set the tone for a relaxing evening.

When Spencer arrived at your place, he was immediately taken aback by the scene before him. Your living room was bathed in the soft glow of string lights, their warm hue giving the room a welcoming, almost magical quality. The sunset outside the window painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, adding to the serene ambiance. The couch was piled with soft blankets, and a few pillows were scattered around, inviting him to sit and get comfortable. On the coffee table, you had set out some snacks, drinks, and everything you might need for a night of watching movies.

As he stepped inside, Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He had been half-expecting some sort of trick or prank, but instead, you had gone out of your way to make the evening as enjoyable as possible. It was clear that you genuinely wanted to spend time with him, and the effort you’d put into setting everything up didn’t go unnoticed.

“Wow,” Spencer said softly, his eyes taking in the cozy, well-thought-out setup. “This looks amazing.”

You smiled, pleased that he seemed to like it. “Thanks, I wanted to make sure we could just relax and have a good time,” you replied, motioning for him to come in and make himself comfortable. “No tricks, I promise.”

Spencer chuckled, the tension he’d been feeling all day melting away as he settled onto the couch. “I believe you,” he said, feeling more at ease than he had expected. 

As you both sat down, the air was filled with a comfortable anticipation, the kind that comes with knowing you’re about to spend time with someone you genuinely enjoy being around. It was the start of what promised to be a wonderful evening, free from the worries of the past and full of the potential for a growing friendship.

After the first movie ended, the credits rolling across the screen, you and Spencer found yourselves lingering on the couch, the atmosphere between you light and airy, buoyed by the humor of the comedy you’d just watched. The laughter had done its job, breaking down any lingering tension, and now conversation flowed easily between you.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” you asked, turning to Spencer with a smile. You’d both been chuckling throughout, but you were curious to hear his thoughts now that it was over.

“It was great,” Spencer replied, a genuine grin on his face. “I don’t usually watch a lot of comedies, but that one was really funny. The timing, the dialogue… it was all really well done.” He seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, his guard down as he leaned back into the couch.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you said, pleased that he had enjoyed it. “Sometimes you just need something light to unwind, you know?”

Spencer nodded in agreement. “Definitely. It’s nice to just… laugh, without thinking too much.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I guess I don’t do that enough.”

You smiled softly at his admission, feeling a warmth in your chest at the idea that tonight was giving him something he didn’t often allow himself. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. We can do this more often if you want. Just hang out and relax.”

Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes softening. “I’d like that,” he said sincerely. “It’s nice to have someone to do this with.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, the kind that felt natural and unforced. You reached for the remote, ready to start another movie, but found yourself pausing, wanting to keep the conversation going a little longer.

“So, what’s one movie you think I should watch?” you asked, curious to hear his recommendation. “Something you really love.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with excitement, the prospect of sharing one of his favorite films with you clearly appealing to him. “Oh, there are so many,” he said, his enthusiasm contagious. “But if I had to pick one… Have you ever seen *The Great Dictator* by Charlie Chaplin?”

You shook your head, intrigued by his choice. “No, I haven’t. Is it good?”

“It’s incredible,” Spencer said, his voice full of admiration. “It’s one of Chaplin’s best works—a satire that’s both funny and deeply poignant. It’s also one of the first films where he speaks, and the final speech… it’s just powerful.”

“Wow, sounds like a must-watch,” you said, genuinely interested. “We should definitely put that on our list for next time.”

“Absolutely,” Spencer agreed, smiling. “I think you’d really appreciate it.”

As the night wound down, the conversation between you and Spencer became more intimate, the two of you curled up on the couch, facing each other. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, the barriers that had once stood between you now gone. The flickering glow of the TV cast soft shadows around the room, but your focus was entirely on each other, the outside world forgotten for the moment.

“So, Reid… are you seeing anyone?” you asked, your tone light but curious.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Hah, no, I’m not,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Are you?”

“I was,” you admitted, feeling a small flush rise to your cheeks. “But they were kind of flaky, not ready to commit.”

“That makes sense,” Spencer said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you date a lot?”

You blushed a little deeper, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Not a lot,” you confessed. “I prefer to wait for a genuine connection.”

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, his voice soft, as if he were relieved to find that you shared the same sentiment.

“Have you dated recently?” you asked, your curiosity piqued. Spencer had always seemed so private, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone special in his life.

“Not really,” he said, a small, almost sad smile crossing his face. “I… am kind of wary of dating.”

“Can I ask why? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said gently, not wanting to push him but also wanting to understand more about him.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to share. “Um… well, in school, girls would ask me on dates, and when I showed up, they’d make fun of me and take pictures,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet, the pain from those memories still lingering.

“Like my sister?” you asked softly, already suspecting the answer.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his eyes flickering with the old hurt. “That’s how she… yeah.”

“Oh, Spencer…” you breathed, your heart breaking for him all over again. You reached out instinctively, wanting to offer comfort, but you held back, respecting his space.

“Let’s not talk about it,” he said, his voice firmer this time, as if he needed to move past the subject for his own peace of mind.

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

There was a brief silence, one that felt heavy with unspoken words, but before you could change the topic, Spencer spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You’re prettier than her, you know.”

“What’s that?” you asked, not sure you had heard him correctly.

“Your sister,” Spencer clarified, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. “You’re prettier. And nicer, but that’s a given.”

You felt your cheeks flush deeply, not just from his words, but from the way he said them—with such earnestness, as if he’d been holding onto that thought for a while. The compliment caught you off guard, and you weren’t quite sure how to respond.

“Thank you,” you finally managed, your voice soft, touched by his words more than you could express. “That really means a lot. She… did not think so.”

Spencer’s expression softened even further, a mix of empathy and determination in his eyes. “I hope you know that you are,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, a warm smile spreading across your face. “You’re really pretty too.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, his cheeks tinging pink at the unexpected compliment. “Really?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and curiosity.

“Mhm,” you nodded, your smile widening. “I’ve always thought so.”

The sincerity in your voice seemed to catch Spencer off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t often that he received compliments like this—especially not from someone he was beginning to care about as much as he cared about you. He felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of validation that he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper, but the smile that touched his lips was genuine and full of a newfound confidence. There was something deeply reassuring about your words, something that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before.

As the evening continued, the bond between you only deepened, both of you more relaxed and open with each other than you had been before. The compliments exchanged were just the beginning—a sign that what was growing between you was more than just a simple friendship. It was a connection built on mutual respect, admiration, and a shared understanding of each other’s pasts and insecurities.

—

“How was your date, pretty boy?” Derek teased, his voice carrying across the bullpen as he leaned against Spencer's desk with a wide grin.

“It wasn’t a date,” Spencer mumbled, his eyes firmly fixed on the stack of papers in front of him. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he desperately wished Derek would drop the subject.

“Reid had a date?” Rossi’s voice chimed in as he walked by, a look of amused surprise on his face.

“Yep! Friday night,” Derek laughed, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

“Would you guys keep it down? I did not have a date,” Spencer hissed, his voice low and urgent as he glanced nervously toward the entrance. The last thing he wanted was for you to walk in and overhear them. The thought of you getting the wrong idea—or worse, feeling awkward about the night—made his stomach twist.

“Aw, come on, Reid,” Derek continued, not ready to let it go just yet. “You’re telling me you spent a whole evening at Y/N’s place, all cozy on the couch, and that wasn’t a date?”

Spencer sighed, his frustration mounting as he tried to formulate a response that would shut down the teasing. “We were just hanging out,” he insisted, though he couldn’t deny the warmth that crept into his voice at the memory of the evening. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

Derek exchanged a knowing look with Rossi, both of them clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide—for now, at least. “Alright, alright,” Derek said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “If you say so, pretty boy.”

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a reassuring pat on the back. “Whatever it was, it’s good to see you two getting along,” he said, his tone more serious now.

Spencer nodded, grateful for the subtle shift in the conversation. “Thanks, Rossi,” he replied quietly, hoping the conversation was finally over.

Just as the tension began to ease, you walked through the door, a bright smile on your face as you entered the bullpen. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly looked down at his work, praying that the others wouldn’t say anything more.

“Morning, everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the earlier exchange.

“Morning, Y/N,” Derek and Rossi replied in unison, their voices notably more innocent than they had been moments before.

Spencer dared a quick glance up at you, relieved to see that you hadn’t picked up on the previous teasing. “Morning,” he mumbled, trying to focus on the files in front of him.

You gave him a warm smile, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Whatever Derek and Rossi thought, you knew the truth—and that was all that mattered.

—

“Hey, Y/N,” Alex greeted you with a warm smile as she approached your desk.

“Hey, Alex,” you replied, returning the smile. “How was your weekend?”

“It was relaxing, thanks for asking,” Alex said, her tone light and casual. “How about you? What’s up?”

Before you could answer, Alex’s eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief as she continued, “I heard you had a date this weekend.”

You blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off by the comment. “Uh, nope. Just hung out with Reid and went to the farmers market,” you clarified, wondering where she had gotten the idea that it was anything more.

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the teasing. “It wasn’t a date with Reid?”

“No? Did he say it was?” you asked, genuinely curious now. Had Spencer mentioned something to someone that made them think it was a date?

Realizing she might have stirred something up unintentionally, Alex quickly backtracked. “I think I might have misspoke, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any confusion,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Bye, Alex,” you replied, still a bit puzzled by the exchange. As she walked away, you couldn’t help but replay the conversation in your head, wondering how such a simple evening of hanging out with Spencer had turned into a rumor about a date.

Shaking your head, you decided not to dwell on it too much. You knew the truth of the situation, and that was enough. Still, the idea of others seeing you and Spencer as something more than friends lingered in your mind, leaving you with curiosity and uncertainty as you returned to your work.

—

“Reid! You had a date with Y/N and didn’t think to tell me?? I thought we were close!” Penelope’s voice whined from across the breakroom, her tone a mix of hurt and playful exaggeration.

Spencer nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in surprise as he turned to face her. “I did not have a date with Y/N!” he insisted, exasperation clear in his voice. “Did Derek tell you that? I swear, the gossip in this office travels at the speed of light.”

Penelope shook her head, her brightly colored glasses slipping slightly down her nose. “Oh, no, I heard it from JJ.”

“JJ?” Spencer repeated, even more bewildered. “I never told JJ anything about a date because there wasn’t a date!”

Penelope tilted her head, a curious look on her face. “Maybe Y/N did…”

Spencer sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed the situation. “No, Y/N wouldn’t have said it was a date because it wasn’t,” he reiterated, feeling like the whole thing was spiraling out of control.

Penelope’s expression softened as she realized how flustered Spencer was. “Okay, okay, calm down, boy genius,” she said gently, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s just a bit of harmless teasing. But, honestly, with how everyone’s talking, it does kind of sound like a date, you know?”

Spencer groaned inwardly, knowing that trying to convince everyone otherwise was starting to feel like a losing battle. “It was just a casual hangout,” he emphasized, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded at this point.

Penelope studied him for a moment, her gaze more thoughtful now. “Okay, I believe you,” she finally said with a small smile. “But just so you know, if it ever turns into more than just a hangout… you can always come to me for advice.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he offered her a shy smile in return. “Thanks, Penelope. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, Penelope gave him a quick hug before heading out of the breakroom, leaving Spencer standing there, still a little dazed by how quickly the rumor mill had turned a simple evening into a full-blown office saga. But as he finished his coffee, he couldn’t help but wonder—if so many people were seeing it as more than just a hangout, was there something there he hadn’t fully acknowledged yet?

—

You were focused on making copies in the copier room when you heard the door creak open behind you. Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Spencer standing there. 

“Hey,” you greeted him with a warm smile, happy to see him.

“Hi…” he replied, but his tone was hesitant, his usual shyness creeping back in.

Your smile faltered slightly. “Oh no, I thought we were past the cold shoulder,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease whatever tension he might be feeling.

Spencer’s expression softened, and he quickly shook his head. “Sorry, we are,” he assured you, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

Before you could say anything else, the door swung open again, and JJ walked in, a playful grin on her face. “Hey, love birds,” she teased, clearly unaware of the moment she was interrupting.

Startled, you jumped, your hand slipping and slamming down on the copier lid. “Ow!” you yelped, pain shooting through your fingers as you quickly pulled your hand back.

JJ’s face immediately filled with concern as she rushed over. “Oh shoot, Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with guilt.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, his worry evident in his eyes. “Y/N! Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached for your injured hand.

You winced, flexing your fingers slightly to test them. “No, I crushed my hand really hard,” you admitted, the throbbing pain making it difficult to think about anything else.

“Let’s go get you some ice,” Spencer said quickly, his hand gently guiding you toward the door.

JJ nodded, clearly feeling bad about what had happened. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity as she followed you both out of the room.

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, though the pain in your hand made it hard to keep the smile on your face. “It was just an accident.”

Spencer didn’t waste any time as he led you down the hall, his worry for you clear in his every movement. Once you reached the breakroom, he quickly grabbed a small bag of ice from the freezer, wrapping it in a towel before gently pressing it against your injured hand.

“Here,” he said softly, his voice full of concern as he held the ice in place. “This should help.”

You nodded gratefully, touched by how attentive he was being. “Thanks, Spencer,” you murmured, the pain starting to dull under the cool pressure of the ice.

In that moment, as Spencer held the ice gently against your hand, you looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile. The concern in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch—it was all so sweet, so genuine. For a second, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of shared warmth. Anyone looking at you both in that moment would have seen it—the soft, unspoken affection that had been quietly growing between you.

Just then, the door to the breakroom swung open, and Aaron Hotchner walked in, his gaze immediately landing on the two of you. He stopped short, raising an eyebrow as he took in the scene. “Whoa, am I interrupting something?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his usually serious tone.

You and Spencer both snapped out of your little world, glancing at each other with wide eyes before quickly looking away, your faces flushing with embarrassment.

“No, uh, Y/N just hurt her hand,” Spencer stammered, his voice a little higher than usual as he struggled to explain. “I was just helping her with some ice.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a small smile, clearly not entirely convinced by the rushed explanation. “I see,” he said, his tone even but with that subtle hint of amusement. “Well, it’s good to see you’re taking care of each other.”

You nodded, still blushing, but managed to muster a smile. “Thanks, Hotch. It’s nothing serious, just a little bump.”

“Glad to hear it,” Aaron replied, giving you both a knowing look before heading to the coffee machine. He didn’t say anything more, but the slight smirk on his face as he poured his coffee said plenty.

As he left the room, the silence between you and Spencer felt charged, the air thick with the unspoken feelings that neither of you were quite ready to fully acknowledge. But despite the awkwardness, there was also a warmth—an understanding that something was shifting between you, something neither of you could deny.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You should keep the ice on for a while,” he said, still holding the towel-wrapped bag against your hand.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice just as quiet, but your heart was still racing from the earlier moment. “Thanks, Spencer. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before flicking away again. “Anytime,” he murmured, and despite the awkwardness, there was a small, genuine smile on his lips that made your heart flutter just a little more.

—

By the end of the week, the teasing from the team had mostly died down. The playful comments and knowing looks had given way to the usual routines of work, and everyone seemed to move on from the idea that you and Spencer were more than just friends. But despite the outward calm, Spencer couldn’t shake the thoughts that lingered in his mind.

All week, he found himself replaying the moments you had shared—the movie night, the quiet conversations, the way you had looked at him when he held the ice against your hand. It wasn’t just the teasing that had gotten under his skin; it was the way it made him question things he hadn’t fully considered before.

Spencer wasn’t someone who easily delved into matters of the heart. His mind was so often occupied with facts, statistics, and the complexities of human behavior that his own emotions sometimes felt like an unsolvable puzzle. But now, those emotions were harder to ignore. He kept thinking about the way your smile made his heart beat a little faster, or how he found comfort in your presence in a way that was different from anyone else.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what it all meant. Was it just friendship, or was there something more? And if there was more, what did that mean for both of you? Spencer wasn’t sure he had the answers, but he knew he couldn’t just brush it off as easily as he once might have.

As the week came to a close, he found himself wanting to talk to you more, to spend time with you, to explore whatever this was between you both. The thought of asking you out—actually asking you out—crossed his mind more than once, but every time he considered it, a wave of nerves would hit him, and he’d retreat back into his thoughts.

By Friday afternoon, he was still thinking about it as he sat at his desk, his work in front of him but his mind far from focused on the task at hand. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but there was also a flicker of excitement there, a small hope that maybe, just maybe, this could turn into something real.

—

As the workday came to an end, people began to gather around the elevators, eager to start their weekends. Spencer had been keeping an eye out for you, hoping to catch you before you left. He wanted to ask if you’d like to hang out again this weekend, the thought of spending more time with you making him feel both nervous and excited.

But just as he was about to approach you, another agent, Brant Ledgers, beat him to it. Spencer slowed his pace, watching the exchange from a distance, his heart sinking as Brant tried to turn on the charm.

“Hey, Agent,” Brant said, his voice smooth, leaning in a little too close for comfort.

“Um, hello,” you replied, taken aback by his sudden approach.

“You look beautiful today, and I couldn’t help but notice you smell divine. Did you intentionally pick my favorite scent?” Brant continued, his tone dripping with arrogance.

“What?” you asked, clearly uncomfortable with the way he was speaking to you.

Before the situation could escalate, the elevator arrived, and Spencer, feeling a pang of anxiety at the possibility of hearing you agree to another man’s advances, quickly stepped inside, not wanting to witness it.

But just as the doors were closing, he overheard Brant’s next move. “What do you say, baby? You and me, this weekend?” Brant asked, his tone filled with unwelcome confidence.

“Oh, um, no thank you. I appreciate the offer,” you replied, trying to be polite despite your discomfort.

“Why not?” Brant pressed, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“I don’t have to give you a reason,” you said firmly, attempting to walk away.

But as you turned to leave, Brant grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Uh, yeah, you do,” he said, his grip tight and his tone menacing.

Just then, Derek Morgan, who had been nearby, stepped out of the bullpen and saw what was happening. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Derek’s voice boomed, his protective instincts kicking in immediately.

“We’re having a conversation, butt out,” Brant snapped, clearly irritated by Derek’s interference.

“Y/N, you good?” Derek asked, ignoring Brant entirely as he focused on you.

You shook your head, the fear and discomfort evident in your eyes.

“Let her go, Ledgers,” Derek commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Brant hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to back down, but the look in Derek’s eyes told him this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. With a huff, Brant released your arm, glaring at Derek as he stepped back.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Brant muttered under his breath as he turned and walked away, but Derek paid him no mind.

As soon as Brant was gone, Derek turned to you, concern etched on his face. “You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though your hand instinctively rubbed the spot on your arm where Brant had grabbed you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.”

“Anytime,” Derek said, his tone softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You need anything, you let me know, alright?”

“Will do,” you replied, giving him a grateful smile.

Derek walked with you toward the elevator, determined to make sure you got to your car safely. The incident with Ledgers had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, but having Derek by your side brought a sense of security.

When you reached the garage, you spotted Spencer standing near Derek’s car, clearly waiting for his ride home. His eyes lit up with concern the moment he saw you, and as Derek explained the situation, his expression shifted from concern to anger.

“Hey, Reid, I’m going to walk Y/N to her car, then I’ll be back, okay?” Derek said, his tone firm as he made sure Spencer understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh, sure, what’s going on?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ledgers tried to grab at her. I want to make sure she gets out of here safe and sound,” Derek explained, his voice laced with protective determination.

“What?” Spencer’s voice boomed, the anger evident as he looked around, clearly ready to confront Ledgers himself. “Where is he?”

You quickly placed a hand on Spencer’s arm, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay, Spencer. Derek stepped in before he got too far.”

Spencer’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the concern in his eyes clear. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now, but still full of worry.

“Yeah,” you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to determine if you were really alright. “Do you want me to come over tonight? Keep you company?” he offered, his voice sincere and filled with a desire to help.

Your heart warmed at his offer, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Thank you, Spencer, that sounds really nice. Do you just want to ride with me?” you asked, knowing it would be easier for both of you to go together.

“Yeah, I do,” Spencer replied without hesitation, clearly wanting to be there for you in any way he could.

Derek, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smirk, couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Have fun on your second date, lovebirds,” he quipped, the smirk growing wider as he saw the blush rise on both your cheeks.

Spencer gave Derek a half-hearted glare, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. “It’s not a date,” he mumbled, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Derek just chuckled, patting Spencer on the back. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. Just take care of her.”

With that, Spencer stayed close by your side, the silent protector you hadn’t known you needed until now. As you both got into your car, the earlier tension faded away, replaced by the comforting knowledge that, no matter what, you had each other’s backs.

—

As you and Spencer sat across from each other at your dining table, enjoying the simple comfort of dinner together, Spencer’s thoughts kept circling back to what had happened earlier. The guilt gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something—anything—to protect you from Ledgers. He had been so close, yet he had let the situation unfold without intervening.

Finally, he couldn’t keep it in any longer. Setting his fork down, he looked at you with a seriousness that made you pause. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help,” he said, his voice laced with regret.

You looked up from your plate, surprised by the sudden apology. “What? Oh, Spencer, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

He shook his head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “I should have waited for you,” he insisted, his guilt deepening. The thought of you being in a situation like that without him there to support you weighed heavily on his mind.

“You’re not required to wait for me,” you replied softly, trying to ease his worries. “It’s okay, really.”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes dropping to his plate as he wrestled with what he wanted to say next. He knew he had to be honest, even if it made him vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, he decided to take the plunge. “No, I know. I just…” He paused, gathering his courage before continuing. “I heard him asking you out, and I guess I didn’t want to stick around to hear you say yes.”

Your breath caught slightly at his admission, the pieces falling into place. It wasn’t just guilt driving Spencer’s apology—it was something deeper, something more personal. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was trying to gauge your reaction.

“Spencer,” you began gently, reaching across the table to take his hand, “I would never have said yes to him. I’m not interested in Brant, and I’m certainly not interested in anyone who would treat me like that.”

He looked up at you then, the worry in his eyes softening as your words sank in. “I know, I just… I didn’t want to hear it, you know?” he admitted, his voice quiet but honest.

You squeezed his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. “I understand,” you said softly. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself.”

Spencer felt a pang of frustration as he realized his initial explanation hadn’t fully conveyed what he meant. He took a deep breath, deciding it was time to be as clear as possible, even if it made him nervous. “I know that, Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but filled with a new kind of vulnerability. “You’re more than capable of handling yourself—that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” you replied, your curiosity piqued. “What did you mean?”

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, but then the words came out in a rush, fueled by the need to be honest with you. “I don’t want you to go out with someone else.”

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. “Someone else?”

“I want you to go out with me,” Spencer said, the vulnerability in his eyes now unmistakable. He had put everything out on the table, his feelings laid bare for you to see.

The realization hit you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Oh,” you managed, your voice soft as you absorbed what he was saying.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see the anxiety flickering in Spencer’s eyes as he waited for your response. His whole posture was tense, as if he was bracing himself for whatever came next.

“Do you… want that too?” Spencer asked, his voice quieter now, but filled with hope.

You bit your lip, feeling a smile spread across your face as your heart swelled with warmth. “I do,” you replied, the sincerity in your voice clear. The smile on your face widened as you saw the relief and joy that washed over Spencer’s features.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the atmosphere between you thick with unspoken feelings and the excitement of what was to come. Then, Spencer’s lips curled into a shy, genuine smile that mirrored your own.

“So, when should we have our third date?” Spencer asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed, delighted by this lighter, more confident side of him. “Hmm. Tomorrow?” you suggested, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him.

“Sounds perfect,” Spencer agreed, his smile widening.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your tone turning more serious as you looked into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle but filled with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you before our third date?” you asked, your heart pounding as the words left your lips.

Spencer’s smile turned even softer, his eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he replied, his voice a tender mix of humor and sincerity.

With that, you leaned in, closing the small distance between you. Spencer met you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut as your lips touched in a soft, sweet kiss. It was gentle at first, both of you savoring the moment, the culmination of everything that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled back, your faces still close, you both wore matching smiles, the connection between you now unmistakable and full of promise.

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @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 

[astonmartinii]

forever and a day | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem long distance reader

nothing can separate them, except maybe 9,000 miles and a couple of oceans.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 893,209 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: finally back in the homeland and reunited with my girl

view all comments

user1: oscary/n nation we are so back

user2: australia always does us so well

yourusername: can you convince mclaren that they should keep paying for our dates

oscarpiastri: i think we were technically working

yourusername: were we? it never feels like work being with you

oscarpiastri: you didn't notice all of the people around us and filming us?

yourusername: i only have eyes for you osc, we know this

oscarpiastri: hehehhehehehee

yourusername: also i have to completely commit you to memory before you fuck off for another couple of months

oscarpiastri: you could always just come with me

yourusername: let me get my degree first, one of us has to be educated osc

oscarpiastri: i have my a-levels? lando doesn't even have gcses

landonorris: why am i catching a stray?

yourusername: because my boyf is smart

landonorris: i've got street smarts 😩

oscarpiastri: you've been catfished like five times already and nearly had your bank details stole?

landonorris: well ... i like to see the best in people?

user3: thank you mclaren for giving us the oscar and y/n content

user4: and the proof that love still exists

user5: terminally lonely girls block mclaren, oscar and y/n.- it's for your mental health

user6: or if you have commitment issues this is some good exposure therapy

logansargeant: oh who did you force to be your photographer this time?

yourusername: you never learnt reading comprehension in school?

logansargeant: i can read i just choose not to read the soppy shit you and oscar say to each other

oscarpiastri: leave us alone

yourusername: you have a problem with us no matter what 🤨

logansargeant: do NOT make me the bad guy for complaining about hearing your guys' sexy time

oscarpiastri: we spend A LOT of time away from each other

yourusername: and by the sounds of it, you could learn a lot

logansargeant: you know what WHATEVER

user7: they terrorise logan so much from opposite sides of the world, pray for him when she can travel with oscar

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 83,409 others

yourusername: i love any piece of you osc but the separation anxiety is kicking my ass

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user9: oscar gave y/n a plush of himself

user10: no cause he's literally such a black cat

yourusername: he blushes just like that as well

user11: oh really?

user12: want to share with the class

yourusername: that's for my eyes only

oscarpiastri: i'm glad he got to you safely

yourusername: i just about tackled the postman 😔

oscarpiastri: poor graham, we should get him a better christmas gift this year

yourusername: yeah sorry graham but you sprayed the kitty with your cologne and i can't be held responsible for my feral behaviour

user13: they get their postman christmas gifts?

user14: they have the same postman?

user15: yes, y/n lives with his family

user16: really?

yourusername: they can't get rid of me

oscarpiastri: they also love her as much as i do (literally, i have to fight my sisters to spend time with y/n)

landonorris: so this is why we were waiting so long for you at the airport

oscarpiastri: well, yes. it's very important i get y/n a souvenir

landonorris: i could've slept for like an hour longer?

yourusername: just because you don't understand true romance lando 🤨

landonorris: i know romance!

yourusername: maccies in a hotel room is not romance

landonorris: you guys are just freaks about each other that's not my fault

user17: y/n hanging out with oscar's sisters is so precious

user18: if they aren't married soon i will no longer believe in love

user19: they're 23?

user20: tbf i forget that because they've been together since they were like 15

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 351,904 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

logansargeant: oscar forced me to post this so y/n could 'remember how hot he is while he's away at war'

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user21: oh wow... thank you logan!

user22: this is not exactly what i was expecting when i opened instagram but alas i'm not complaining

yourusername: WOOF WOOF WOOF

oscarpiastri: 🤭🤭🤭

logansargeant: someone please remind me why i'm friends with you two

yourusername: because we're your only friends?

yourusername: wait sorry that was mean

yourusername: i just get protective

logansargeant: you're telling me 🤨

oscarpiastri: i'm swooning 🥰🩷

logansargeant: i give up

alexalbon: why am i a part of this oscar thirst trap? why are you posting a thirst trap of oscar?

yourusername: HE'S A GOOD FRIEND

alexalbon: i didn't consent to be part of your weird long distance lust

yourusername: oh girl ain't no one looking at you when oscar is there

alexalbon: you know what you're mean :( i want you to stay in australia

yourusername: i promise i'm a lot nicer when i'm with osc, the distance makes me cranky

alexalbon: i see, remind me to never take oscar out in a race

logansargeant: i think that's wise - i heard her yelling down the phone about carlos

yourusername: i had to block him to stop myself

user23: i am honestly so confused

user24: i think we just let them do it, we'll never understand

landonorris: do NOT ask me to do this @oscarpiastri

yourusername: booooooo you're such a debbie downer

oscarpiastri: he's just s fuckboy he doesn't understand

landonorris: i don't think i'll ever understand you two

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 119,056 others

yourusername: one degree hotter xx

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user26: fucking finally now we can get y/n in the paddock every weekend

liked by oscarpiastri

user27: mclaren social media team seen celebrating just as much

oscarpiastri: and i didn't think it was possible for you to get any hotter

yourusername: maybe a piastri jersey?

oscarpiastri: and a ring?

yourusername: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername: you know i'll never say no to that

yourusername: do nOT propose through an instagram comment oscar - nicole

oscarpiastri: noted 😔

yourusername: but name the time and the place and i'll be there baby

user28: so we could defo get a y/noscar proposal this season

user29: i would be so insufferable it's unbelievable

user30: the way i just know it was killing oscar not being able to go

user31: did you guys see the kicked dog eyes in the paddock yesterday 😭😭😭

oscarpiastri: they had to force me on the plane

landonorris: no they legit were about to call mick or pato

user32: did y/n convince you to not run away to australia?

oscarpiastri: maybe ....

charles_leclerc: ummmmm who is this oscar? why hasn't your father been introduced?

yourusername: HI

oscarpiastri: y/n is the love of my life and you SHOULD be able to meet her next race weekend

yourusername: so have i also got another father-in-law?

charles_leclerc: you seem to terrorise the other drivers a lot so - yeah!

yourusername: at your service (unless it's you hitting oscar, then there's no MERCY)

charles_leclerc: okay you are kinda scary wtf

oscarpiastri

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,203,677 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: unbelievably proud of you and everything you've done darling. i'm so sorry i couldn't be there to celebrate with you, but i'll make it up to you before you know it xx

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user33: oh to be loved like this

user34: they make me feel lonely like the world apart i can only imagine how insane it'll be when they're back together 24/7

yourusername: i love you so so so much osc. you've done more than you could know by supporting me through my education. we have the rest of our lives to be together, so don't beat yourself about it now

oscarpiastri: but i'm so proud of you and just wanted to be there to celebrate you :(

yourusername: osc i can feel you pouting through the screen baby

landonorris: he really is and it's kinda annoyingly cute

yourusername: of course it's cute it's oscar 🙄

landonorris: right so i'll take back my congratulations then

yourusername: FINE BY ME

user35: obsessed with how y/n and lando already have this weird sibling bond

user36: it's the weird relationship that you kind of love between your gf and friend

user37: it's all cute until they actually fight

yourusername: if he makes any wrong step against oscar i'll crush that loser

landonorris: ahhaaha funny joke

yourusername: you're a 5'5 twig, i could snap you in half

user38: i need them to recreate the last photo when oscar wins his first race

user39: i think pinterest would explode

yourusername: no but no joke, i love you so much osc and i can't wait to start the new chapter of our life

oscarpiastri: i love you too xx

oscarpiastri: sorry to my sisters but they're losing their live in stylist because you're never ever leaving me ever again

oscarpiastri: that makes me sound like a possessive asshole but i just have attachment issues

yourusername: no these years since you started in f3 have been actual hell without you and i never want to leave your side again

yourusername: i just love watching you do what you love

oscarpiastri: i'll always love you more

user40: who's chopping onions wtf

user41: i'm invoicing them for my therapy

mclarenf1

liked by fredvesti, arthurleclerc and 1,256,046 others

tagged: yourusername

mclarenf1: don't tell oscar but we've got a surprise guest for him 🤫

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user45: take me out back and shoot me please and thank you

user46: so real of you

landonorris: is this why his phone is currently hidden in my drivers room?

mclarenf1: maybe ...

landonorris: if he fights me for it that's on you guys

mclarenf1: wait admin has just realised you definitely shouldn't be on your phone

landonorris: LOL

user47: mclaren you better not fuck this race for oscar because i need my big rom com ending kiss in parc ferme

user48: omg romance writers do i have a plot for you

user49: the way this would seem so unrealistic if i read it in a book but these fools really have been together for like eight years and are unbelievably in love

yourusername: heheheheh thanks for flying me out on such late notice xx

mclarenf1: no worries queen

yourusername: you guys better be on top form, you can't hide from me in the garage

mclarenf1: hahahaha 😅😅😅

user50: is y/n the reincarnation of nicole scherzinger? like a wag that goes fucking mental

user51: and wears team merch with pride

yourusername: nicole is a queen (thank you for one direction queen) but you guys do not want me on the microphone

user52: you and oscar karaoke? please?

yourusername: we once did breaking free together but you'll have to bother logan for that video

user53: OSCAR PLEASE WIN AND DO DRUNK KARAOKE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,556,308 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: i told you she was my lucky charm. overjoyed to get my first win, it's a dream come true and to have the love of my life with me makes it even sweeter. y/n, i'll love you forever and a day x

view all comments

user54: CONGRATS OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡

user55: i'm having such a proud mum moment

user56: tears in my eyes

user57: not as much as y/n that girl was going THROUGH IT

user58: we need her mascara, cause that shit didn't budge

yourusername: I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU OSCAR

yourusername: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

yourusername: AND THANK YOU FOR WAITING FOR ME TO BE AT A RACE TO WIN

oscarpiastri: i guess i just knew in my bones you were here and simply had to win

oscarpiastri: i just wanted to see you so bad that i drove the fastest to the finish line

yourusername: well tell them to hurry up and debrief so we can celebrate 👀

oscarpiastri: ON MY WAY

user59: maybe we will get that karaoke?

logansargeant: congrats bro! @landonorris i hope you brought some ear plugs, if not you might want to start drinking now

landonorris: SOMEONE GET ME A DRINK STAT

yourusername: i'll personally buy you a drink because i'm going to rock his world tonight

oscarpiastri: 😎😎😎

landonorris: and here i thought you were my little innocent teammate

yourusername: there's nothing little about him

landonorris: EWWWW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE

yourusername: all celebrations aside, i'm so proud and i'll love you forever and always x

oscarpiastri: it's always been you and it will always be you

yourusername: i love you

oscarpiastri: i love you too

fin.

note: WOOOOOOOOOO OSCAR!!! (i'm ignoring everything else to do with the race, oscar is my king)

[theminecraftbee]

"Cub, now that we both find ourselves trapped in the hinterlands, I find I have a question for you," Scar asks. He's sharpening arrow tips against a grindstone. Technically, this does nothing useful (except for the fact that every time he does it, Cub gets twitchier and twitchier and gets closer and closer to another fletching table rant). It's not about effectiveness, though; it's about the fact that Scar is pretty sure Joe is somewhere out in the bush and he wants to threaten the man obliquely.

"Shoot," Cub says. "Actually, wait, do not shoot."

"Aww," Scar says.

"I'm not giving you permission to kill me," Cub says. "You can go kill Joe a few more times."

"Yeah, but that's... well, not boring, it's actually really fun, but still!"

"Tough luck then, man," Cub says.

Scar huffs. "Look, it's just... I liked shooting people a whole bunch, Cub. Chasing them down, everyone being scared of me, I could do whatever I wanted! It was like, super fun, right," Scar starts.

"You know, this shows the inherent problem with the state creating an enforcement class!" Joe shouts somewhere from the trees, giving away his position. "There's a tendency for that class to be just kind of terrible! Scar, that's terrible!"

"Yeah, but like, murder isn't real," Scar says.

"It's true, murder isn't real," Cub says.

"I feel like I should have a rebuke for that but I don't!" Joe says, and then there's a rustling noise like he's changing hiding places now to continue spying on them. Scar shakes his head fondly. What a tricky little puppet. It's too bad they're both in exile now; the inherent threat of exile is part of what made hunting people down fun!

"An-y-way," Scar says. "Anyway! It's just that now that I'm here, I'm kind of wondering, like, what was the goal? I mean, I would have hunted people down to kill them regardless of goal, right. But if everyone is in exile, they can't really... give their permits back? Or get back into compliance with their permits? Since they're, uh, in exile, and don't have access to them?"

"Yeah," Cub says, nodding.

"So, uh, is the goal just to exile everyone?"

Cub shrugs. "Gonna be honest Scar, did not think that far ahead. Did not think that far ahead."

"Oh, okay. Fair enough! I guess we're all just stuck here now, so that's neat." Scar says cheerfully, loading his arrows back into his inventory.

"That's not neat! I just wanted to play Permitmaster! I was willing to put up with your authoritarian incompetence and cruelty, but only if I got to play Permitmaster! And then I got murdered about it!" Joe shouts from a secondary hiding place.

"That sounds rough, buddy," Cub says.

"It's your fault!" Joe says.

"Oooh, you want to know what else can be our fault?" Scar says, ignoring the problem altogether.

"Noooooo," Joe says, voice pitching several octaves higher, and then Scar lunges in the direction of his voice. "Noooo! I haven't even been doing anything again! I'm like, already punished! Scar!"

Scar laughs. "Yeah, but we just talked about how this doesn't matter and isn't actually about punishment! So I want to kill you now!"

"I still don't understand how anyone thought you were ever the good guy," Joe wails.

"Yeah, that's on them," Cub says idly, and then Scar lunges, bow in hand, to chase the panicking puppet across exile. If this had all been pointless to begin with, that's perfect; it means he has the perfect excuse to keep on doing the part that's fun! It's not like he ever cared about the permits in the first place, and he'd just been given permission.

"You know, why did we do exile?" mumbles Cub behind him as he leaves. That, to Scar, sounds like a someone else problem now, so he leaves that behind.

[clare-875]

Falling (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Zoro x Female Reader Summary: You tend to be clumsy, and because of your boyfriend's past, you give him a mini heart attack every time you fall. Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Injuries, Worried Zoro, SPOILERS for Zoro's past?? [One Piece Masterlist] _____

Zoro knows you're strong.

He's seen you defeat opponents three times your size, seen you throw yourself in danger for the safety of your crew, had seen you win gruesome battles, and what's more, when you spar with him, he actually breaks a sweat. The two of you often train together, and Zoro bears witness to how you mould your strength, bettering yourself for the next battle and the next.

He knows.

But god dammit, why did you have to be so clumsy?

Zoro knows that, technically, it is no one's fault: the way you trip over your own two feet, the scattered bruises you bear, the odd yelp after the hundredth time dropping glassware in the kitchen. But he can't help but fall victim to the spike of his heart, the sweat that seems to rise instinctually, and his limbs that carry him quickly to the wake of your curses or the crash of your miseries.

And, most of the time, the new injury you hold is small and insignificant; rarely would you require medical attention afterwards. But Zoro finds himself still hating it. Hating the fact that he has no one to fight or to blame, has no one to curse or berate, no one to protect you from. Because your injuries are the cause of your own, and it wasn't like you particularly loved the misfortune of wounds from everyday activities either.

You had to admit, though, and to Zoro's muted gladness, that the number of injuries you bore had significantly decreased after meeting the stoic swordsman. Even before the two of you started dating, Zoro had noticed your affinity to the most unseeming dangers and had unknowingly taken it upon himself to prevent purple and blue from tainting your skin.

His curses as hands guide you away from walls and obstructing objects you somehow do not notice.

The twitching of his brows as he quickly catches you before you fall face-first to the ground, panic clouded beneath his irritation.

Every movement, every moment you take a step towards another hazard, carefully judged by his sharp eyes and willing instincts.

You were grateful beyond measure that your now-boyfriend, though oftentimes bearing an annoyed facade, cared and was patient enough to save you from the minor disasters you thought were an everyday norm. His efforts had increased tenfold, especially when the two of you became official, as he had an excuse to linger by your side as often as he pleased.

Though embarrassed sometimes that such a capable fighter as yourself found defeat in the lack of coordination of your own limbs, you could not deny that Zoro's protectiveness was an attractive and oftentimes welcome response. However, you did not realise the brunt of his actual panic, his actual aversion to the sight of you injured, until the time you accidently fell down a flight of stairs on the Sunny.

.....

You had been standing at the front of the ship, your Captain on the figurehead as you both tried to spot the pod of dolphins that had been swimming in front of you. Your boyfriend was half-sleeping against the mast of the ship, though his senses still lingered on the voices of you and Luffy, laughing and talking and challenging yourselves to see how many of the sea creatures graced the forefront of the Sunny.

"There's nine!"

"What are you talking about? I counted at least twelve!"

Your voices were caught by the gentle breeze and the timid sun as it fell slowly to the horizon. Everything was peaceful, everything was calm, and Zoro was on the brink of actually sleeping, knowing all was well and that you were safe. Your conversation with your captain had dwindled into more casual talk of adventures and plans of endeavours on future islands.

Your bright discussion lasted many sparing moments but, of course, was interrupted by the familiar grumble and groan of your Captain as he fell on the sunny's figurehead exaggeratively.

"[y/n]~ I'm hungryyy."

You roll your eyes at his whining words after only a moment's silence in conversation.

Luffy never seems to find satisfaction with the amount of food he eats.

"What do you want me to do about it? Sanji's got the whole kitchen on lockdown after the incident you pulled this morning."

You faintly remember your Captain and the crew's cook, causing a ruckus in the kitchen that no doubt stemmed from Luffy's devouration of food.

"He'll listen to you pleaaaseee"

You continue looking to the horizon, unfazed.

"No."

"Pleaseee"

"No"

"Pleaseeee"

"No."

"Pleaaaaseeee-"

You grit your teeth in irritation, sighing heavily as you push yourself off the railing of the ship. Luffy, however, meets your frown with a grin in anticipated satisfaction.

You always did give in too easily.

"Fine, something small, though. It's almost time for dinner."

Luffy lets out a laugh and nods enthusiastically, upright once again on the figurehead. You step away from the blatant joy on his face, making your way to the stairs that lead to the green of the deck below.

Sometimes, you don't know if Luffy is the Captain of this ship or a child the crew look after.

You move, still lost in your thoughts and quite, honestly, simply not thinking. Because, well, you feel a normal human would not have to think too hard about going down a flight of stairs to get food. But you forget that you are not the average person.

In fact, you probably should've grabbed the railing and counted down the steps back to solid ground because one minute your foot was on wooden steps, and the next you were walking on air.

You let out a yelp of surprise as you slip on the rigidity of the stairs that were supposedly beneath you, and you feel your world turning in your head. The spike of your heart comes with a fraction of a second of weightlessness and a single thought in your head.

Shit, not again.

You stumble, and you fall, limbs hurdling and gracing the rigid edges of the stairs. In a flurry of movements, you are suddenly on the grass of the deck, but in a way that would surely leave remnants of your clumsiness. You groan as you finally come to a halt, back against the ground as you look to the sky, exasperated. You can hear the light laughter of your Captain.

"You alright [y/n]?"

But you do not reply, hearing the amusement in Luffy's tone. You did not blame him, however, as the crew had become accustomed to the way things, such as walking, were not so much a given but a privilege to you. You roll your eyes, still on your back as you lie in defeat for a moment. Sure, you were not too badly hurt - you were a member of the straw hat crew after all - but you'd be damned to try moving again for a few seconds.

To your boyfriend, however, your sudden shout, fall and lack of response had sent him into a spiral.

Zoro was shot awake the instant he heard the yelp you let out as you lost your balance and succumbed to your fall on the stairs. But he was too late to move, and in all honestly, though half-awake, he felt something die within him when he saw your limbs tumble and hit the edges of the wooden planks.

"[y-]"

His voice is caught in his throat, as his heart rate spikes abnormally high. Higher than the instances when he saw you fall before. His mind unwillingly travels far into his past, to the dojo where he found the dream he still clings onto today, to his childhood friend and rival, Kuina.

She had been strong, too.

Hell, she had bested him in all battles he called for.

He thought that she would be a constant in his life, a source of rivalry and challenge and growth. She had seemed invincible in his young age. But then, the news had travelled.

The news of her death.

And the cause of it, was the very stairs he watches you fall on now. The unnerving atmosphere, her haunting funeral, and the will he holds onto through battles alongside her swords.

But you.

You were strong, capable, grown...

You were the love of his life...

You were falling...

He can't save you.

Your limbs stumbled to a halt as you hit the soft grass, a stark contrast to the stairs that would be the root of bruises on your body later. And you were okay.

But your boyfriend didn't know that.

Zoro's heart rate continues to rise, and he thinks that he is on the brink of hyperventilating. One sharp breath in, and his limbs are pulled into forced movement as he travels to you, cursing himself for looking blankly at the scene so uselessly. He stumbles forward, and he hears his Captain, words filled with teasing amusement.

"You alright, [y/n]?"

But you don't move, you are facing the sky, face shadowed by the falling sun, and he doesn't know if you are conscious or okay. You stay silent, not replying to the words of Luffy, and Zoro hates how long it has taken him to travel mere meters to your side. But when he enters your vision, you are met with a sight you have never seen before.

Zoro... scared.

"[y/n]!!"

The green-haired swordsman looks down at you frantically, hands giving way to light tremors you feel quickly cradling skin and causing you to look up in concern. Zoro sees your eyes, awake, and lets dull relief relieve his heart, but he is not yet satisfied.

"Zoro, I'm okay, I just-"

"What were you thinking, woman?"

There is a pause as you register his rushed words and the way his eyes seem to travel to every crevice of your face and body, searching for an indication that you were not okay. He measures your gaze, and he pulls you closer, willing you to anchor his nerves.

"Zoro-"

"You could've been seriously injured-"

"Zoro-"

He meets your gaze once more, but hesitantly, eyes wavering at your worry, only now realising the vice grip he has around you. His breaths are uneven, and even his Captain grows silent and confused at the sight of his second-in-command in rare loss of composure.

You start to sit up from within his embrace. You reach out and cradle his face in one hand, watching as more relief starts to fill his system and replace the panicked look on his face, replace his uneven breaths with more steady ones. Just what had gotten into him?

"You could've died."

His voice is low, and it causes a jolt of your heart. This was your always stoic, serious, calm swordsman... He now looks haunted, and his gaze is only half with you, as though reliving a moment only he could see.

"Zoro," you murmer, there remains a crease in your brow as you are still confused but also concerned about his unusual behaviour and haste. You gently run your thumb on the skin of his cheek, hoping to soothe him the way he so often does whenever you are lost to the confines of your mind.

"I'm okay, stairs aren't going to kill-"

"You don't know that."

His words are sharper this time, and your eyes widen, slightly startled. You watch guilt envade your boyfriend's eyes, then his grip lightning further on your skin, as sharpness fades in a heavy sigh. His gaze is more sullen now, though his nerves are calmed, and he allows you to sit up fully.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

Your words are soft and anchoring, and Zoro stands reluctantly, gently guiding you to your feet as though one wrong movement would tear him away from the reality of you, alive and well before him.

"Don't apologise just- tch, let's go see Chopper."

Your boyfriend refuses to meet your gaze then, but you nod silently. Luffy decides to look away from the sight of Zoro, his arms wrapped securely around you, in a mix of not understanding but knowing there must be some sort of invisible battle Zoro faces. You, on the other hand, allow his limbs to wrap securely around your shoulders, holding more of your weight than necessary, but you remain in silence, allowing him to look after you.

In the infirmary, Zoro remains uncharacteristically worried and rigid. Before entering, his only words to you were those that indicated he wanted to be with you as Chopper checked up on you. Only when the small doctor gives you the all-clear does Zoro let the tension fall from him fully. You thank Chopper, and the two of you make your way out of the infirmary, quiet though the air is still murkey with apprehension.

"Zoro, what's wrong?"

In the hallway, you stop him abruptly with the pull of his arm, still unsure as to why a stumble on stairs - unlucky but not necessarily unforeseen - has him in a state you have rarely seen. Your boyfriend turns to you hesitantly, eyes far away.

"I just know what a fall is capable of."

His low voice catches an edge of emotion. His hand lingers absentmindedly on a sword by his side. The white one he always holds close to him. You remember him saying faintly about how it was given to him long before you met him. Zoro was a private man, and even you had barely formed the cracks on the enclosures of his past, but you saw clearly now that there must've been a connection.

His incessant protection over every minor fall.

The way he would always treat your injuries so carefully afterwards or make sure Chopper saw to it that you were okay.

Every careful caress and action is rooted to a past you do not know, but you also now find understanding.

Zoro moves close to you so you can feel the heat radiating off his body and so that he can feel the warmth your skin emits. He seems to search your eyes and analyse their lustre and spark. A single caress as he moves away lingering hair, and his lips were suddenly on yours.

You are taken aback, not used him so spontaneously kissing you in an open space, but you return the favour quickly, pressing against him and feeling the way he cradles you so delicately, so carefully. There is a moment of him and a moment of bliss. When you pull away, there is a warmth to his eyes and a softness enveloped just for you.

A vulnerable love that lingers.

You, the root of his worry.

You might not know the depths of his past, but you sure as hell take a lot more care walking down a flight of stairs after that.

[machinemonstrosity]

hjust a qusetion but , would you consider writing for the minions of mafioso's...... im really fond of them freaks << 3 3 33 .

WARNINGS - NONE , silly headcanons for mafioso's henchmen , technically not an x reader but i don't know how else to tag it

a/n - i didn't know what to write since there's nothing about these guys other than one render......i'll write more next time, i promise! working through mobile sucks so i apologize if the image sizes and qualities are bad.

Mafioso's henchmen act like goofy cartoon villain sidekicks. While they can be serious and will get the job done, most of the time people are wondering how they even got into the mafia in the first place. They're a capable group of minions — just not the best in terms of scare factor.

To conceal their actual names, they nicknamed themselves with numbers. They also thought it sounded cooler.

ONE (1)

Out of everyone who tried to puff out their chest to claim the title, 1 received it due to being the oldest and most skilled of the group.

He's the most reasonable and level-headed of the henchmen, although that doesn't mean much. They all tend to bounce the same brain cell around like a game of hot potato.

The most stubborn when it comes to the gang's shenanigans and plans. Yet every time, without fail, he'll still cave and tag along. “Can't let the rest of ‘em get in trouble without me.” As he says.

He doesn't really express as much emotion as the others, but he will crack a noticeable smile or chuckle on occasion. Catching 1 letting out a full-on laugh is rare, normally only being something that happens with the rest of the minions. You're doing something right if he laughs around you.

TWO (2)

King of being competitive. Will absolutely take every small achievement or victory of his as a challenge to do better, especially if it's other people's. It happens to be playfully mutual among the others.

2 beats everyone at knife fights. Including 1.

He has a tendency to be the instigator of chaos. When they're inevitably caught causing a ruckus, all fingers are instantly pointing to him. Everyone still gets punished for it despite the snitching.

The tallest of the group. The running joke is that the tophat is the only reason for his placement on the height chart.

THREE (3)

The loudest of the group and the first to humor a terrible idea. That crowbar is always itching to be used.

3 is very short-tempered. He was unofficially banned from handling interrogations as the result of a group vote. The incident still isn't discussed to this day and is somehow still hidden from Mafioso.

Normally the last to show up for duty. This guy is an absolute night owl and stays up until the early hours of the morning. 

Magically, laundry duty always falls onto 3. Very cruel magic that has the other henchmen giggling and smiling like kids in a candy store. Laundry day rotations are basically nonexistent now.

FOUR (4)

Being the youngest of the group, 4 is a certified rookie. It gets him picked on sometimes, but it's all in good fun.

Surprisingly, he's only the second shortest of the group.

One of the most unconvincing gang members the world has ever seen. 4 is friendly to a fault, having gotten into multiple sticky situations in his naivety. His inexperience is sympathized with, but the boys are trying their hardest to toughen him up a bit.

No matter how many times the henchmen get asked about why they joined the mafia, 4 is the only one who never gives an answer.

Around you, the boys would be total sweethearts! They have one rule: if the big boss is alright with you, it's a pass in their book, too. Whether they were ordered to or not, they'll insist on keeping a careful eye on you and ensuring you're safe and sound. Escorts and free lunch are your new normal.

It may be a bit overbearing at times, but their hearts are in the right places.

Just know it won't be them answering the call if you get hurt. At that point, they're only the messengers.

[achillesisnotcomingdown]

How I think the Achaean kings would drive, based purely on their vibes

Agammenon : he drives a BMW. (If you're not familiar with BMW drivers (lucky you) then let's just say he thinks owning the biggest car = owning the road.)

Achilles : speed limit and traffic lights are merely suggestions. He drove against traffic for most of the ride. He took at least 5 closed roads. He outran 2 different police cars. You feared for your life the whole time but you arrived early so its a win???

Odysseus : "don't worry ik a shortcut" but it takes you 3h to do 60km. It's not his fault, he's not actually a bad driver, he just has the worst luck ever. The road he planned to take is closed for some reason so he has to go by the countryside and then his phone dies and he gets stopped by police 3 times for random controls and then he-

Patroclus : very sporty and fast driving style. Kind of like Achilles, but less intense. He's pretty chill until someone pisses him off (you should fear his road rage)

Menelaus : actually the most normal driver out here. He likes to listen to music when he drives. I don't have much to say he's just some guy (good for him!)

Diomedes : so scary. You are terrified on the passenger side seat you can't even be mad at him bc technically he did nothing illegal (somehow.)

Nestor : a radio. No matter where he goes he will pass by a location and go "oh did you know that I used to come here for..." And then he's going for hours. Also I feel like he insults a lot other drivers.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

My girlfriend requested this

Hazbin men trying the period simulator. Somewhat of a follow up to my period post so this is based on the reader having severe period pain due to PCOS/ENDO

Lucifer

The man is sweating before you even attach the simulator. He knows he fucked up. He only agreed to this because he loves you a lot.

He handles the first 3 levels ok. You tell him very few women experience that little pain and that usually 4-6 is the average.

Those levels make him tense. He's uncomfortable, but still pretty able to work and do normal things. 5 has him pausing to do deep breaths every now and then. (If this is the canon timeline where he birthed Charlie he compares it to bad kicks).

6-8 he's pretty much doubled over. If you tell him that's the level you experience, he will cry. Literally begs forgiveness since again, period and labor pain is technically his fault. He is so sorry. If he didn't have issues with his Dad before he does now because this is fucked up. God's fucked up for doing this.

He doesn't make it to 10, he's crying by level 9. This is labor levels of pain. He gets why all you do is sleep. Treats your period like a sacred ritual after that. Preps for weeks. He goes full Bible, sheltering you for the duration of it so you can have peace and quiet. Please never hook him up to this again.

If you wear it at anything from an 8-10 and tell him "It's close, but I've hurt worse" he's gonna sob and then try and fight his Old Man again. He'll settle for offering to have your bits removed for you.

Vox

Once again this man hates admitting he was wrong. And yeah he knows your periods are really bad, especially now he's witnessed it. But it's still a huge knowledge gap for him and he doesn’t really take the time to think about it.

He handles 1-5 well. He's mildly uncomfortable by 5, but thinks that if this is the average experience, then it's not such a big deal. Tell him the statistics on how many people with periods actually experience 6-8 because that's actually the majority, and he's just confused. How is the average pain level not the most common?

6-8 has him gritting his teeth and glitching, but he refuses to stop and keeps trying to work. Is starting to wonder how you went so long working with this level of pain without him noticing.

He makes it to 10, but by then, he's unable to move, clutching his abdomen and sparking and glitching. Tells you it feels like his entire insides are being squeezed. The fact that he can feel it in his groin. He's kind of afraid of period sex with you after that because of how much he felt it. And you said it's caused cramps from your ribs to your knees. He's like... genuinely scared of your period and pain tolerance.

He's going to snuggle the fuck out of you afterwards and apologize for not appreciating how much you still do for him when you're not feeling good. How he didn't see how hurt you were. He does a lot of research after that and not only does he spoil you by buying whatever you need for your periods and giving you time off, he looks into treatment options. Even if that means chopping the useless fucking things out. Sinners can't have kids anyway so who needs ovaries and a uterus?

He's more convinced you should just be rid of the damn things when you wear it and 8-10 is "Yeah, this is close, but it doesn't really cover how much of my body hurts".

Valentino

Is only doing this because he was dared to by Velvette. Or if this an au where he's trying to be a less toxic person. But really I think it's also to prove that you're all being dramatic. It's a perfectly normal body function and his employees are just trying to get out of work.

He gets all the way to 6 before he starts to realize he may have fucked up. Especially when it's explained that this is what most people experience.

By 10 he's gritting his teeth, chain smoking, clawing at things. He refuses to give in, but he can count on one hand the number of things in his entire life and death as a pimp and a whore that he's experienced that come close to this level of pain.

No one told him his dick was gonna hurt. Sitting hurts. Breathing hurts. He doesn't even try to eat. He won't ever admit to being wrong, but he does behave more leniently with his actors when they're on their periods.

If you put it on (and lets say he actually cares about you) and setting 8-10 is "Yeah, this an average day for my cramps. My bad days are like..5 or 6 levels worse" it's gonna rearrange his brain a little. He might be a little afraid of you and some of the other actors with periods because your pain tolerances are so high. It threatens his ability to control you and them. But on the other hand, that's kinda hot???

Alastor

Has never once doubted that people who experience periods undergo serious struggle and has nothing but respect for women (and trans people he just associates it with women more because of the time period and his mama) who work through it.

He is actually the one who heard about the simulator through Rosie and asks you to show him your experience. Just to better understand you. He knows you're the type to try and function through the pain (probably because society ingrained into you that your pain doesn't matter).

Initially, he wants to skip the lower levels and just have you set it to your pain level. You tell him that's a bad idea, and to be honest, you're not sure if this thing goes that high. He asks you to check and you set it to the highest setting and say, "It's pretty close. It's been worse, but this is a rough idea," he's a little frustrated but still tries it.

You agree to set it to 4 and tell him 4-6 is what most people report feeling. He acknowledges it, registers it as unpleasant, but otherwise is fully capable.

7-9 has his ears flat, his smile is more a snarl. This is uncomfortable. Not what he considers painful but certainly irritating. It makes sitting, stretching, and eating feel much more difficult.

10. There's static visble around him. His teeth grind. Actually painful. Not the worst pain he's experienced, but he hates it. He hates the way he feels it in his back and hips as he walks. He hates the way taking deep breaths (which for someone as dramatic as he is and with the transatlantic accent, breathing technique and posture is important) stings. He hates the way it causes his stomach to cramp and churn. He hates the ache in his thighs and groin that make sitting feel stiff and ackward. He can only picture how blood loss would make this worse. Tired, losing nutrients, the headaches, the increased moodiness. It's no wonder you sleep, so much, but he wonders how the Hell you sleep like this? He's snappy and short tempered because of the pain (and again he gets why you would be if you weren't sleeping so much).

How does this affect how he treats you?

Not much. He still expects you to know your body and your limits. He would never dare to presume otherwise. He still helps prepare whatever you need for your time of the month and still meal plans for you, though he perhaps finds ways to ensure you get all the iron and vitamins you need without cooking steak and other big, heavy meals, since he now understands how bad your stomach hurts.

The only really noticeable change is how much more protective of you he is. Your time of the month hits, and Alastor hates being more than a few moments from you. He growls, pins his ears, and his antlers grow when people get too close to you. He's more prone to letting you snuggle with him when you want, trying to comfort you.

Angel Dust

Another who volunteered. His girl besties insist he doesn't have to do this, he's got the pass. He still wants to do it though, for solidarity.

He also starts on 4 and handles it well. He handles all of the levels pretty well, even 10. By 7 it's obvious he's sore, maybe a bit more withdrawn, exhausted, trying not to move too much or eat too much. Just trying to find a comfortable way to exist. The sad problem is, Angel already has to do this after rough nights at Val's.

He's used to sitting being uncomfortable and aches in his groin and thighs, cramps in his stomach from muscles clenching constantly. 10 is the only level where he's visibly ill, hunched over, lower arms curled around his midsection protectively.

He and the girlies all curl up together and nap and chat and snack on easy to digest junk food and granola bars. He's the first one to say "I bet it's even worse for you gals, but I tried".

He gets it. He's one of the girls. Honestly, kind of becomes a favorite when the ladies have period problems. (If you're dating any of the others and Angel is openly your favorite after this it is gonna cause a lot of dramatic pouting, posturing, and tantrum throwing.)

Husk

I'm going full balls to the wall on Veteran Husk. This man has seen some shit and dealt with his fair share of pain. Like Angel he takes it the best, with very little outward reaction. He's used to stiffness and nausea. The pain in his crotch is a little off putting, but it could be worse.

He's more cautious how he moves, rests more, occasionally a cramp causes his ears to pin back or a small hiss. Overall he takes it like a champ.

Offers you endless amounts of supportive words for dealing with this as well as you do, for days on end. Also is deeply sorry you even have to put up with this shit. Offers all sorts of tips on how to do stretches that help with easing cramps and stiffness without pulling something. Tips of foods/protein drinks to keep on hand to make sure you're maximizing how much nutrition you get. Man's a whole ass survival guide.

He only offers advice if you ask, though. He's not mansplaining how to handle your own body. He genuinely wants to help you, and that's the best way he knows how.

When you're on your period and just want something soft and warm he doesn't even bitch about it, he just settles on top of you and purrs, offers a massage, maybe offers a sly grin and a "no man left behind" joke as he helps you through these dark times.

BONUS:

ADAM

Would only do this if you challenged him, he has to prove his masculinity. He is definitely nervous as fuck though because he's seen yours. You and Lute already forced him to sit through a whole PowerPoint on women's anatomy and shit. He remembers how shitty he was to Eve, even if hers were in comparison, not that bad, just scary and new.

You forcing him to learn about and acknowledge female health is making him scared of pussy. This isn't gonna help.

3 and 4 make him whiney. He's uncomfortable. His groin feels weird. This sucks. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ISN'T EVEN THE AVERAGE?!"

By 5-7 he's actually on his knees, curled over his stomach. He tells you getting stabbed hurt less. This is making him re-evaluate his entire view on women (again he knows about trans people, but because of personal history equates periods to women. Wouldn't hate if a trans person had a period, it would just take his brain a second to process). He whines that you and Lute shouldn't be more badass than him.

"I thought men were supposed to be tougher and stronger. This pain tolerance horseshit is a lie. You guys suck."

He insists on going to 10 because quitting is for losers. He may actually throw up at 10 though. Every time the stupid simulators sends out a pulse and his stomach clenches, he groans. He's in the featal position, there are tears. One hand clenches his stomach the other is cupped around his groin. He's apologizing so much and he doesn't even remember what he's apologizing for. At one point its just "I'm sorry...oh fuck this...sorry about...ugh just...just men?! I guess. Fucking shit ass. Men suck. Women are...fucking great. Aces. You do this shit every month? For like 5 days....what the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck."

You feel a little bad, but Lute is definitely filming this. Afterwards, he tells you you're a badass and any person shit talking people for bitching about period pain (Not that a lot of Winners do, but ya know, obviously they let some questionable people into Heaven if Adam and Lute got by) he's gonna beat the shit out of them. Like "Do you even fucking know, bitch? They're literally so much fucking better than you. Absolute queens. You try doing literally anything when it feels like your dick is falling off and your insides are trying to claw outside your body!"