#already making flight plans just in case..

[adreamshouldneverdie]

So I‘m trying this for the first time. It said copy link on instagram (this link: I https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvMxpB5Ix6J/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== ) and I just inserted it here and now it says „login. Instagram“. I‘m curious if it stays that way…anyways what I was trying to show you is a clip with Hadley and other performers of the treason musical score. Apparently it has already been purchased 1Mio times. If this doesn‘t work just check out the official site of treason the musical on instagram. They posted this reel and the announcement of the first three cast members for this autumns tour. Does anybody know if Hadley might be taking on the role of Robert Catesby?

[spencerrreiddd]

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 1

Summary: You and Spencer have worked in the BAU together for years, since the beginning but now, he's your boss and something quite big is happening in your life & soon to be Spencer's life after needing each others help to unwind.

Pairing: UnitChief!Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Angst, Cheating??

A/N: LOW & BEHOLD- here lays my first beauty. - my apologies is this is complete shit, I have not written in a while & I may have to get my special touch back. - anyways, i hope you guys like it ! 🔪🤍

three, two, one-

pregnant.

You were pregnant. You were pregnant with your bosses baby.

Spencer has not always been your boss, you actually started working for the BAU a month before he had even started working there.

He took over Emily's position once she moved up to FBI Director a few months back, at that congratulations party is when something sparked between you and Spencer- just, neither of you acted on it

You remember exactly how and when it happened too, it was the party after his promotion to Unit Chief. Goddamn promotion parties. You didn’t think you drank that much, until you woke up naked beside your new boss.

The temptation to pack a bag and hop on a flight across the world sounded so appetizing right now in your mind, too bad that it isn't realistic & you were going to have to face the facts and that was including, him.

There was never any “no speaking of this” - only us meeting up at my apartment, his apartment, our hotel rooms when we were on a case and needed to ‘unwind’ - the last time you and Spence had even slept together was 2-3 weeks ago anyway, of course when y'all needed to unwind after a case. Who could've guessed that one?

You were snatched from your thoughts when you heard your phone ringing from your bedroom- running for it, you were hoping that it wasn't Spencer.

‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’ 'thank the heavens' you silently think to yourself

“What’s up, Penny”

“Spencer is busy, he put me on duty to call you to find out if you plan to show your face at work today, ya know- since it is a work day and no show, no calls are frowned upon here" Your neck snaps to look at your alarm clock.

"Also, he wants to see you in his office once you get here"

7:32 A.M - have I seriously been staring at a positive pregnancy test for an entire hour?

“Fuck. See you soon. I'm leaving right now"

The short drive to work felt longer than it should have, probably because you took back roads to avoid having to see him again so soon. If you were already running late, what is a few extra minutes?

So many thoughts flying through your mind. How are you going to tell him? Oh hey, by the way, ya knocked me up so what’s the plan bud?!

“I'm doomed" You mutter to yourself getting out of your vehicle to go face reality, to go face the man of your now growing child. This has to be a nightmare.

Getting off of the elevator, the first person you saw was Alvez- boy, you were thankful that it wasn't Spencer, even though you'd be seeing him in just a few minutes.

"Looks like you saw a ghost"

"Yeah, Luke, something like that"

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not right now, I just want to forget about it- I need to see Pen" yeah, Y/N, like you'll actually be able to forget about it.

You make a beeline directly for Penelope's office, you have to tell someone about this before you actually lose your mind.

"Pen, I have news and it has to stay between you and I only"

"Your secret is safe with me, my love"

"I'm pregnant.. with Spencer's baby" you hesitated even saying the last part but wow, that felt good to get off of your chest, too bad it won't feel this easy with Spencer. Just thinking of having to tell him has you feeling like someone is choking you out.

"Oh."

"Oh? Pen, I am in a state of panic, a state of shock and you say 'Oh'- I don't know what to even begin to do here or how to even tell Reid that I am carrying his.. spawn"

"Spencer has a girlfriend or did, as far as I kn- okay, when did you find out” She cuts herself after seeing the look of horror on your face after hearing the beginning of her sentence, understandably so!

You were NOT the type of person to sleep with a taken man.

You were confident that you were about to face plant the ground right here and now in Penelope’s office. Did Spencer have a girlfriend or not? And were you about to go physically fight him for doing this to her, if so? You would be considering yourself jobless at that point.

“I found out this morning, literal minutes before you called me to get my ass here” you were in a pure state of panic and you had many good reasons as to why.

“How long has he had a girlfriend, Pen?” you continued- you were sure your skin was blistering with how hot it was at this point. Was it hot out of anger or the panic attack that was charging at you? Who knows anymore because you didn’t care enough in this single second to sit and determine that.

"I don't know, he just mentioned a date a few weeks ago then didn't mention anything again but I know he's still in communication with her and by the contact name in his phone, I don't think they are just friends" Penelope lets you in on all of this, nervously- like she isn't supposed to be saying anything at all.

"Thanks, Pen" You murmur to her her as you leave, you have to leave her office, the longer you are in there, the more it feels like the walls are literally closing in on you.

Walking into the hallway, you don't know which direction to go- You should probably go see Spencer and give him some bullshit excuse as to why you were late.

It was barely 8 A.M, maybe it was past 8 A.M now- your mind is going too fast to try and keep up with time. Regardless, it's too early in the morning to drop a pregnancy announcement on someone.

Finally, you muster up the courage to walk into the bullpen to go on the hunt for Spencer, as much as your mind and body are telling you to just bolt to your car and never look back.

"Tara, do you know where Spencer is?" You ask quietly, so that you don't disturb the others around you

"No, I saw him walk out of his office a few minutes ago but I haven't seen him go back in. If you find him before me, let me know because I need to go over some things with him"

"I'll go knock and see if he's back, thanks Tara"

You can visibly see his blinds are closed but majority of the time they are closed anyways, so that doesn't even matter to you. Walking up the flight of stairs to get to his office is exhausting, it feels like your legs weigh 1000 pounds each.

Standing in front of his office, you hear talking inside- You can very clearly hear a females voice inside talking to him but you honestly couldn't tell if she was over the phone or actually in his office by how muffled it is, it's safe to assume that it is a phone call.

"No going back now since you're already here" You mumble to yourself

Knock, knock, knock

"Come in" You hear a muffled Spencer behind the door

As your opening the door, you quickly hear him state to the woman on the phone 'I have to go, I'll see you tonight' - God, as if you haven't already wanted to run away all morning, it keeps getting worse.

"Pen said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, please sit" He says, gesturing to the chair

"Are you okay, Y/N? - You were late this morning, we've worked together for many years now and you've never once ran late, it's not like you not to communicate" You can see on his face that he cares, he didn't bring you in here to give you a lecture over something small, especially since this is your first time ever running late.

"Y-yes, I just woke up late and then getting to my car, I realized I had a flat, so I had to ask my neighbor to use his pump to fill it" You lied straight through your pearly white teeth and you were confident that he knew it to, just by the look he was giving you

He stares at you for a moment, trying to read you for anything. You were thankful for the fact that sometimes you were an impossible person to read

"Please, just communicate next time- It's not a big deal you were late, we just didn't know what was going on until I had Garcia get a hold of you"

"I will, you have my word- Am I good to go now?" You ask while standing up, yes, the talk went better than expected but you still wanted out of this office as fast as possible.

"Yes, thank you for coming to talk to me. Oh, also before I forget to mention it, at some point today whenever we both have free time, I would like to have a conversation. If it's just at the end of the day that's fine. It just needs to happen"

All you can bring yourself to do is nod your head and walk out of the room, based on the ass end of the phone call you walked in on- You have a pretty good hunch what he will be saying to you, especially after what Garcia also let you in on

It makes your heart ache- knowing that he could have a girlfriend, knowing this thing that the two of you had will be coming to an end, by no means were you and Spencer in a committed relationship but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you hadn't gained feelings for him and actually wanted more than just a 'fuck buddy' outcome

"So, is he up in the office? I really need to see him" Tara asks while already walking up there and away from you before you can even give her an answer.

You know for a fact that you are not going to be able to focus on work at all today even if you try your hardest, your anxiety is skyrocketing through the roof waiting for this conversation with Spencer and still, wondering when and how you are going to spill the beans about carrying his growing child.

"Alright, what is your issue? Are you pregnant?" Alvez is like a brother to you, nothing has been off limits in the talking department but this just sent you for a whole loop with how bluntly he asked.

You were confident that if it were possible, your eyes would've popped right out of their sockets and into your lap.

"Alvez, I am not discussing this with you right now" you whisper yelled to him, you didn't mean to come off like a bitch at all but god only knows who could've heard him.

"Well, Y/N, If I am being entirely honest. Penelope lets some things slip from time to time" He states like it's the most obvious thing ever.

All you can seem to do is look at him like a dear in the headlights, you feel your skin getting hot and prickly, it feels like there are someones hands around your throat squeezing harder and harder by the second.

"I have to go, I need to go home, I need air" It all comes out in a panic, you get up from your desk and bolt out of the bullpen and down the stairs, you don't even care to take the elevator. You cannot be stuck in a tight spot right now, a tight spot like an elevator.

"Please, just communicate" - "I will, you have my word" the conversation in Spencer's office goes through your mind and you know that you have to communicate with him that you just left work for the day and you don't plan to come back today, atleast- you couldn't and thankfully, it was Friday.

to: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'I have to excuse myself for the day, I'm sorry that I am having to send you a text message about this rather than coming to your office- this is me communicating with you. I will return back to my work duties on Monday, unless of course, a case pops up over the weekend then I will be here'

'also, I know we need to have a conversation, I also have something I need to tell you- let me know when you would like this conversation to take place' -

After sending your texts to Spencer, you set your phone on DND because at this point, you don't want to deal with anything or anyone else today, emergency or not.

Driving home was an entire blur, I mean you made it home alive, so that's what matters, I guess.

Walking inside, you plop onto the couch and turn on your favorite comfort show.. Modern Family.

A few hours later, you wake up in the exact place you laid down at- you thought your couch was so comfy until now when your entire body is in pain.. well, maybe it was your horrible sleeping position.

5:13 P.M -

"sweet baby jesus on a motorbike" You mutter to yourself after looking at the clock

"what are you doing to me?" You ask while poking your non-existent baby bump, granted it was a great sleep so you weren't trying to complain- you had heard from JJ in the past that early pregnancy is exhausting and you will sleep.. ALOT.

**BACK AT THE BAU**

"I just practically asked her if it was true but maybe in a more blunt way, it wasn't meant to come out so.. blunt" Alvez explains to Penelope who apparently watched you sprint out of work.

"I specifically told you not to say anything to her about it, I didn't even mean to let it slip to you of all people, Luke. I don't even think that they were in a relationship which makes this so much more difficult for her, as I could imagine" Pen snaps back at Luke.

"It's not going past me, I'm not opening my mouth to anyone about it" Luke says while walking to the Elevator with Pen, finally the work day was over

"Yeah, you let it slip to someone or who knows, I accidentally do again and Spencer is going to find out which right now, that doesn't need to happen" Pen states while being wildly unaware of who just came up behind them

"What doesn't Spencer need to find out right now and why can't he find out right now?" He asks from directly behind Alvez and Garcia, looking between the two of them for a answer.

Luke and Penelope both seem to jump straight out of their skin, not expecting to be crept up on- in reality, it was not Spencer's plan to creep up on them, he just happened to be leaving at the exact time as them and they didn't hear him coming up in the middle of their 'supposed to be' private conversation that was happening out in the open.

"I- uh it's nothing, well, sir, it's nothing in regards to me, i'm fine- it's not my place to tell you, it wasn't my place to tell, Luke- it just slipped and I am blabbering and I just realized that I need to get home" Before Spencer or Luke could say anything to her or anything more to Spencer, she's in the elevator with the doors closing.

'Nice Penelope, real nice' Luke thinks to himself, feeling a bit annoyed and slightly scared

Turning to look behind him, he sees Spencer's eyes boring right into him like he's staring right into Luke's soul, just waiting and searching for answers.

"Is there anything that you know, Alvez?" Spencer finally breaks the silence, otherwise who knows how long the two of them would've stayed standing there in the awkward paralyzing silence.

"I just know Y/N had to leave early today because, well I don't know why but I just know she left- you're her boss too, she should've communicated with you, right?"

"Right, Luke and she did, I have been trying to text and call her since I received her messages and nothing is going through" Reid is quick to bite back, getting quite annoyed himself being left in the dark and now that he is adding the pieces together, he's assuming these secretive things that "he isn't allowed to know about currently" are about you.

"I don't have any other information, what I told you is all I know- but I do need to get home to Roxy" Luke matter-of-factly states even though Luke knows that Luke is lying, well- not about Roxy but about the first part.

"Mhm, alright. Have a good night, Luke" Spencer gave up on trying to get any information out of the turnips that don't bleed but he is confident when he says this is about you and he will get to the bottom of it.

Back at your apartment, you've finally relaxed after a nice hot shower and ordering from your favorite chinese food joint and yes, still watching your comfort show but this time from the comfort of your own bed.

You still haven't even taken your phone off of DND mode, in your mind all you thought was 'if it is important enough, you know where I live and if you don't, contact Penelope Garcia' and the most important part, you were at peace.

You weren't worried about this pregnancy, you had accepted your fate, you weren't worried about Spencer or his new situ-relationship, you weren't even worried about what had happened with Alvez or Garcia. Peace.

"jesus Spencer, what the fuck" You yell out after walking out of the room and coming face to face with him, to say that you were startled was to say the absolute least

"Well, you would've known I was coming if someone didn't have their phone on airplane mode" He bit back with a darkness in his eyes and maybe a bit of worrisome, you couldn't tell everything with how dark it was.

"I know that I gave people a key to my house for emergencies but our conversation or how I was protecting my peace on a Friday night is not an emergency and frankly, if anyone was that worried, you would've sent someone sooner" You were once again fed up and wanted to continue to be alone with your favorite person, Phil Dunphy.

"I was going to drop our conversation until this weekend or even Monday, when we see each other in person again but funny enough, I was walking out to leave for the day when I walked into Luke's and Penelope's conversation and it was about you and something that I shouldn't be finding out about right now- would you happen to know anything about that?" Spencer replied, getting more and more fed up by the second.

If Spencer didn't know any better, he would say that you looked like you just saw a ghost- he was dead on the money about the conversation and some secret rooting back to you- now to just get it out of you.

Calming down after seeing the state you were rushing into, he comes to you with a softer approach - "Y/N, I want to help you. We've known each other for years, since I started working for the BAU, please let me know. Let me know what is going on. I'm not going anywhere"

You felt like you were about to up-chuck your chinese food all over this poor man, you know you need to tell him.

'Y/N you will never know the outcome of this unless you open your mouth and spill those words to him, be brave, be bold' You think silently to yourself.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant - You are the last person I slept with. I am pregnant with your baby"

if this is horrible, sue me - i haven't written in forever and honestly, this is a little bit longer than i thought it would be - whoops!

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED

& yeah, yeah- i left this on a cliffhanger, if you beautiful humans actually like this, i had planned to make this a 2 parter story or who knows, if i make the next part longer then it could be 3 or more parts.

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour (2)

You’re encouraged by Chaeyoung, your roommate, to use Jungkook thirst for you to your advantage.

Word Count: 2.314

Warning: smut, dirty talking, thirsty jk as always, also simp jk, facesitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, semi-rough sex, jimin and mc are friendemies,

“Bitch.” Jimin murmurs beneath his breath as he passes you and all you can do is roll your eyes.

“So sassy.” you quip, a smirk forming onto your lips.

“Don’t listen to him.” Jungkook pipes in, holding two cases of water bottles in his arms. You furrow a brow, eyes admiring (in secret) how the veins on his arms pulse. “He’s just mad he had to help bring the groceries in.”

Jimin drops a few bags against your kitchen table and rolls his eyes. “I was promised breakfast. Instead I’m walking up three flights of stairs to put food in your kitchen.”

Jungkook scoffs, placing your water gently by the other two packs already on the ground inside the kitchen. Chaeyoung is excited, already putting away the groceries Jungkook - generously - provided. The cabinets were already full enough and she hadn’t even made it to the fridge or freezer. She could kiss Jungkook for the month supply of food - but you were already repaying him.

“Sucks to suck.” you shrug your shoulders when Jimin passed you again with even more bags. 

“You would know a lot about sucking.” Jimin retorts. 

“You want to fuck me so bad, Jimin.” you laugh and the comment catches Jimin completely off guard. He flushes, but you don’t want to tease the man any more.“You’re just upset, Jungkook  kicked you off of his account.” you cross your arms, and this struck a nerve in Jimin.

It was a month ago when Jimin had texted you - getting your number from Chaeyoung - just to tell you that you were everything but a civilized human being. Why? Because you had complained to Jungkook that whenever you were watching something, Jimin also was. And that meant - to satiate you - Jungkook had removed Jimin’s devices from his account and changed the passwords.

“I was binge watching The Real Housewives!” Jimin snaps. “But I suppose pussy is worth our friendship.” the man crosses his arms, eyes glancing at Jungkook. 

“You’ll get your breakfast.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. He rummages through his sweats and grabs his wallet. He hands Jimin a black card. 

“It’s the least you could do.” Jimin glances your way and rolls his own eyes. He leaves without a second word and all you could do is giggle.

“Do you have anything planned today? Classes?”

You shake your head. You were completely free today and have done so to repay Jungkook for his generous donation.

Jungkook nods. His eyes glance to Chaeyoung who is still happily organizing the insane amount of groceries. She’s humming to herself with a grin on her lips. 

“When is she leaving?” Jungkook murmurs, a red tint on his cheeks. He doesn’t want to come across as desperate - but that’s exactly what he was. He had replied far too fast to your tweet (and of course he would, he had your notifications on, afterall) and raced to the Supermarket first thing in the morning. 

You stroll towards Jungkook. You wrap your arms around his waist and knit your brows. “I can’t kick Chae out. She lives here, too.”

Jungkook nods, defeated. “We can watch a movie-”

“No.” Chaeyoung calls from the kitchen opening. “I’ll put my airpods in and put the rest of the groceries away. Don’t let me stop you from fucking his brains out.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, flushing even a deeper shade of red. Chaeyoung speaks as if Jungkook isn’t there, her eyes solely on you. “Make sure you go multiple rounds. He bought everything name-brand!”

Jungkook tilts his head. 

“Let’s go!” you sing-song, grasping his hand to race towards your room. You open the door and close it behind you and Jungkook. 

“You guys must’ve been starving.” Jungkook jokes, his hands immediately on you. 

“A little.” you murmur, capturing your lips with his own. Kissing could be considered intimate, but at this stage, you were fucking Jungkook for about anything and for nothing. Sometimes you two weren’t even doing that - you watched movies together, studied whenever needed and just enjoyed each other's company. 

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Jungkook presses open mouth kisses upon the skin of your neck. He’s already dipping his hands beneath your pajama shorts to feel your ass.

“Just got on birth control.” you respond when he pulls your shorts off of you completely. You fall onto your bed. “Decided to use it to my advantage.”

Jungkook groans, hovering above you. That means that this didn’t have to be a one time thing - he could cum in you as much as you’d let him. “You don’t need to do anything for me, you know?” Jungkook lifts your shirt from your head, discarding it to the side. Your breasts fall freely and he’s already pressing kisses upon them. He does the same to his shirt soon after. “I don’t mind buying you things.”

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. You never want to admit that his words get to you. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good heart (and dick) for making you feel things you weren’t suppose to feel outside of sex .

“You must waste so much money on all these girls.” you attempt to sound unbothered by his words. His tongue is already swirling your nipple with his thumb pinching the other. “Fucking s-simp.” he’s grinding against your heat, the friction perfect.

“You know you’re the only one that has access to me.” Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth. He proceeds to lick, eyes flickering to you. You press yourself tighter against his clothed cock, grinding against it. 

“I don’t.” You do - but it does something to you to hear him say it. Maybe it was an ego thing - a pride. It makes your head big just knowing that Jungkook would do anything you asked and expected next to nothing in return.

“You do, Y/N. You know you’re my girl.” Even if the agreement was to keep things completely sexual, to everyone but the two of you, this was a relationship. You hung out outside of sex far too often for this to be a regular friend with benefit type of situation - but it was like the blind leading the blind. “You wanna sit on my face?”

You nod your head hastily. In seconds, Jungkook was beneath you, tugging your underwear off so you could sit on him like he asked. The first time he requested it, you felt indifferent. You never sat directly on anyone before and you were afraid to suffocate him. However, Jungkook insisted and since then, sitting on his face has been your (and his) favorite position to try.

Jungkook isn’t the one to waste time. He’s suckling onto your clit with ease, hands gripping your thighs in place. He loves it more when you grind against his tongue - he enjoys watching you tremble with pleasure. He has the perfect view of not only your leaking pussy, but your breast and your beautiful face. It was the perfect position for him.

You were a truthful person - you’d give Jungkook his flowers. The man is insanely attractive and whenever you sat on his face, you could never last too long. Jungkook always insisted on watching you - he stated he loved the way you always crumbled for him. How you’d moan while grinding against his tongue.

It’s what Jungkook’s doing now. He locks his eyes with yours. He clenches your thighs as an unspoken response. 

“S-Stop looking at me.” you whine. You lift your hips, but Jungkook doesn’t allow it. He pulls you back down against his tongue.

“You’re always so stubborn.” Jungkook muffles between your legs. He’s flicking his tongue between your folds. “I know you’re about to cum, baby. Stop being so embarrassed.”

You mentally groan because of course there it was. That word. Jungkook knew how to fluster you - if he meant to do it or not. 

“Fine.” you grumble.

Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Now ride my face.” he says. He closes his eyes to not further fluster you, even if he did want to watch you cum right in front of him. 

You do as you’re told, grinding your hips against his tongue. Jungkook holds you in place, silently encouraging you to continue. You can feel the familiar bubble deep in your stomach and your hips pick up the pace. You release a deep moan, eyes fluttering close.

Jungkook takes a peek at you, feeling his cock twitch. So beautiful you were. He could watch you like this for as long as you’d let him.

Jungkook knows you’re going to cum once your moans become high pitched and your hips jerk. He doesn’t take his eyes off of your face as you come undone, his cock basically begging for a release.

You feel tired when you move yourself from Jungkook’s lips. You fall against your bed with a sigh.

Licking his lips, Jungkook hovers above you. “Tired?”

You nod your head. “A little.” you always were after cumming on his tongue. It was inevitable. 

Jungkook nods. “You hungry? I can…make us something?”

You groan once more. There he was again being nice and doing things to your heart that he wasn’t supposed to do.

“You can after you cum inside of me.”

It’s hard to ignore the bulge in Jungkook’s sweats.

“You sure. It’s okay-”

You slap Jungkook’s chest, interrupting his speech. “Shut the fuck up, Jungkook.” you hiss. “You’re too nice.”

Jungkook snickers. “You want me to be an insensitive asshole?” Yes you did. It made things easier. You told yourself (and Chaeyoung) that you wouldn’t fall for this nice boy act and become far too gone. He made it hard. Offering to make you cum was different than cooking for you.

“You do.” Jungkook hums. “Is that some type of kink?”

“Fuck you.” you hiss. “Maybe I just want you to be a little rough sometimes.”

Jungkook smirks, understanding your tone. You were closing yourself off because you were flustered - and the only way for you to calm yourself was to insult him.

“If that’s what you wanted, it’s all you had to say, baby.” Jungkook pushes his sweats down and kicks it off. His bulge is entirely too huge inside his underwear. “I’d do whatever you ask me to do.”

Shit. There he was again. Jungkook knew what he was doing.

“Turn around.” Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Since you want to be treated like a whore, I'll do just that.”

You may have turned entirely too quickly, but you couldn’t help it. 

Jungkook positions himself at your entrance. “Let me know if I’m too rough, okay?”

“Stop being a pussy.”

Jungkook only chuckles. 

Jungkook then enters you, you’re so wet that you take him far too easily. He begins his pace brutally, pushing your face down into your pillows. He keeps one hand tangled into your hair while the other grips your hips.

This was new. No, Jungkook wasn’t technically vanilla. He could be rough when needed - but this? This was a new side of Jungkook that has you clenching around him. With each thrust, he hits a nerve, sending you more and more over the edge. 

“No back talk?” Jungkook huffs, cracking his hips to fuck into you deeper. 

You want to tell Jungkook to go fuck himself, but then he pulls your hair back in a way that has you whimpering for more. 

“You always insist on being a bitch.” Jungkook releases your hair to wrap his arms around you. You feel his lips upon your neck, his hips never halting their abusive thrusts.

“But even if you are a bitch, you know I love it.”

“S-Shut up.” you whimper.

Jungkook doesn’t. Instead, he flips you onto your back so he can watch you while he fucks you. 

“No.” Jungkook spits, continuing the same brutal pace. He has your knees touching your shoulders, the new position allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before. “You don’t like it when I'm nice to you. You want me to treat you like some whore.”

Your eyes are rolling now. There’s no way Jungkook could be fucking you entirely this good that you’re unable to form words.

“But you aren’t some whore to me, Y/N. You know you’re still my girl.” Jungkook places a kiss upon your cheek. “So I’ll treat you like a bitch in heat now, then I’ll cook for us, yeah?”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He leans back and places his thumb upon your clit. He begins to rub, determined to make you cum again.

You’re stuttering, jerking away from Jungkook, the overstimulation completely unbearable. 

“Stop running, isn’t this what you wanted?”

So pretty, Jungkook thinks. You could be a bitch sometimes, but it’s what he likes about you. He enjoys the playful bickering he entertains and your feisty attitude. He enjoys it even more when he does entertain you in these little games you play just for you to lose at your own game - much like how you were now.

Jungkook’s thrusts are sloppy once you cum, a twitching mess beneath him. Your eyes are rolling and you’re no longer trying to hide your moans.

Jungkook presses his lips against yours, grunting into it while he gives one last thrust. His cum shoots inside of you, coating your warm walls.

It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to lay beside you. He feels just as tired as you must’ve felt earlier, panting low to himself.

“You still hungry?”

Your eyelids are fluttering closed, suddenly heavy. “Sleepy.” you murmur, laying your head against Jungkook's chest. 

Jungkook wraps an arm around you. “You’re also so cuddly after a good fucking.” he teases. 

“Fuck you.”

“I will after our nap.” Jungkook laughs. “We have all day for me to turn you into my little twinkie-”

Your body heats up and you slap Jungkook’s chest, but once again, all he does is laugh.

Series Masterlist

[reiding-writing]

Omg imagine Reid being incredibly touch starved and literally having this very primal craving for affection to the point it's all he can think about but he cannot for the life of him get over his fear of germs and it's just all this angst and ahh

deprivation [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer needs support. He needs it. But he for the life of him just cannot reach out for it himself. And after one particular case, you make an effort to try and quell is emotional rampage.

WARNINGS: germophobia, self deprecation, touch deprivation, emotional breakdown

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.8k

masterlist!!

a/n: great minds must think alike because i was actually already working on this when the request came in😭

i made this less angsty than originally planned, but i hope it suffices nonetheless the less, thanks for the request! <33

Spencer Reid was exhausted in every sense of the word.

His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was so burnt out he didn’t even have any thing to say when JJ had incorrectly mentioned a ‘fact’ about a certain sub-species of butterfly that was supposedly native to Oregon.

His exhaustion only proved to get worse as the jet took off for Virginia, but the unfortunate rampaging of his own mind proved any chance of him sleeping on the flight home impossible.

“Hey… Are you okay?” Your voice seems to echo across the silence of the cabin despite you practically whispering to avoid waking your teammates, and Spencer’s eyes flicker up towards you, clearly not having expected you to be awake.

You stand up from your seat, walking down the aisle to take a seat on the sofa next to Spencer, his head resting in his hands as his eyes followed you. “You’ve been really quiet since the case ended,”

“I’m fine…” He said the words, but it wasn’t reflective of his tone of voice. There was something there. Something more, something beneath the words.

A sadness.

An uncertainty.

And if you listened to his voice, not just to his words, you’d hear a hint of pain, a deep seeded sense of misery that he was concealing beneath the usual layers of stoicism.

“Spencer you’re talking to a professional profiler, which I don’t even need to be to know that you’re not okay.” You can’t help the soft sigh that escapes your mouth, turning to sit sideways to face him properly.

"I'm fine," He said the words again, and this time they held a touch of force. But the words did not match his tone, still pained, wounded, and silently pleading with him to just be honest with you.

And as the words came out of his mouth, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if hoping that what he was feeling would be gone by the time he opened them again.

But when they fluttered open through his eyelashes he was still on the sofa of the jet and you were still sitting there and he still felt miserable.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then I won’t pressure you,” You dejectedly resign yourself at Spencer’s insistence, leaning your left side against the back of the sofa. “But just know i’m here for you if you ever want to get something off your chest okay?”

"It's just...It's just-" He paused, biting his lip as if unsure about what he was about to say. He knew it may be dangerous to let himself slip. So he considered his words carefully before he spoke again. "...it's just been hard...I’m so stressed and...I'm...feeling vulnerable. And I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

“Everyone’s gonna feel like that at some point Spence, especially in our line of work,” You tilt your head slightly at him, a soft expression painting your features that matches your tone.

"I know..." He said, " But...I don't like feeling like...like i can't cope. Like I'm scared. That's not who I am. I'm supposed to be the rational one. The smart one." Spencer dragged his palms up his face and back over his hair, leaning back against the sofa with his head leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t like being scared,”

And there, again, in that simple sentence was another hint of the hurt that his apprehension hadn’t managed to fully hide. “I’m meant to be better than that.”

“Spencer just because you are a functioning genius does not mean that you’re not allowed to be scared, that’s a part of what makes you human,” Your face furrows as you become increasingly concerned for Spencer and his mindset.

"I-...I know..." He said the words, but the underlying message was clear. He might know that he was supposed to have emotions and he might know that expressing them is healthy, but there was a part of him that was screaming at him to suppress them.

To bury his feelings and pretend to be the robot that his childhood (or lack thereof) had forced him to be.

He wasn't trying to be resistant, he was just...afraid.

“When was the last time you cried Spencer?” The question blurted it’s way out of your mouth as your concern for Spencer only continued to grow.

"Why would you ask me that?" His tone of voice was almost affronted by the question as if he were a little wounded that you had brought up something so sensitive.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and you swear that you could see his eyes glass over even in the dim lighting of the cabin. “Because i want to know exactly how much pent up emotion you’re dealing with right now,”

You make a conscious effort to relax your features as you look at him, sighing softly. “Please answer the question…”

Spencer took a second as he deliberated whether or not to answer your question, staring blankly across the cabin so he wouldn’t have to look at you.

"958 days ago."

He said the words coldly, but you could hear the emotion in the way he spoke them. This is the moment when he finally cracked. When he finally realised that hiding the way he felt wasn't a sustainable solution.

And its was also the point when he started to break down. The tears finally started to flow, and he couldn't stop them as much as he tried.

“Spence…” You reach out a hand towards him, but you barely get it up out of your lap before he firmly stops you.

"Don't..."

The words come out of him sharply, but there's something in his tone that saying the opposite. There’s a note of desperation in them. A plea. A cry for help. Because he wants you to touch him, he needs you to. But he's resistant to the idea, he keeps resisting it. “80% of communicable diseases are passed by physical contact. I don’t want to get sick.”

You curl up your hand into a ball as you let it fall back into your lap, pursing your lips as Spencer uses his statistical knowledge to stop you from touching him.

You knew he had an aversion to touch. That he was hyper aware of practically any illness that could possibly be transferred through human contact. You knew that he kept himself at a physical distance from everyone for a reason.

But you also knew that despite all of that he needed physical comfort. Words just weren’t going to cut it.

“It’s okay to need to be comforted…”

"I can get through this myself." He cuts you off harshly, and if you didn’t know that he was obviously mentally struggling his tone would’ve cut you deep.

He's in pain.

He's miserable.

And he's been alone for too long.

He needs emotional intimacy. He needs the affection and comfort of his friends.

He just can't bring himself to actually say that.

“Spencer, let me comfort you. please.” You bite the inside of your cheek as your eyes follow a tear that falls down his face, leaving a water streak in its wake.

“It’s not healthy for you to ball yourself up like this,” You plead desperately with him to let down his emotional barriers and just let you help him.

"There's nothing wrong with me." His words are still cold, but he's wavering now. His shoulders are lowering, his hands loosening from fists to lying flat on either side of him.

He wants you to touch him. He wants the affection that he's been deprived of for so long. But there's still that part in him that's resisting. The voice in his head telling him he can't.

“There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you for you to need comfort Spencer,” You attempt again to hesitantly reach out a hand towards you, but your advances are again immediately shot down.

"Please.. Don't touch me." His words come out weakly. He's desperately resisting, but the tears are still flowing down his cheeks and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down.

“…Are you sure?” You hand retreats back to your side the second he denies you, but you both know he’s not entirely convinced of his own boundaries.

"I'm sure."

He's lying.

The tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and even one quick look at his eyes could tell you that he was desperate to be touched.

He was craving human interaction. But the words were still coming out of his mouth. He wasn't ready yet, not quite yet.

Your hand falls to the gap between the two of you on the sofa, a few inches left between his hand and yours as you suppress a sigh at the clear desperation coating his face despite his denial of your touch.

But you don’t want to overstep the boundary, even if he’s not 100% sure of it himself.

He stares back at you, still resisting the urge to reach out for your hand, even though he's not sure why. He knows that he would feel better if he could grab you and put his head on your shoulder, letting the weight of all of his problems wash away.

But there was still the little voice in his head shouting "Don't. Don't touch them. Don't." And he was struggling. Fighting with every inch of his being for self-control.

As the two of you fall into a slightly tense silence, you make a small movement to breaking Spencer’s self made barrier as you edge your pinky finger towards his own, just barely brushing his skin as you keep your eyes plastered on the opposite wall.

His eyes follow your fingers as they inch their way closer and closer to his. And when - at long last - you make contact, Spencer freezes. Time seems to just stand still as his eyes are transfixed on the single point of contact between your fingers and his.

He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He just watches.

Over 200 breeds of bacteria are passed through people’s hands for every second they’re in contact.

But he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Because this is the connection he seeks. This is the release he needs. And finally, finally he gets it.

You continue to gently bridge the gap as your pinky finger links itself with Spencer’s, squeezing it with a gentle pressure as you try desperately to stop your eyes from averting back to him.

The second your finger links with his, a dam of emotions breaks. The tears flow faster and he lets out a whimper in the back of his throat.

As soon as you touch him, he leans into the feeling and turns his hand over, pressing his palm and his other fingers against your own, wanting more, needing more of this sensation that he's been starved of for so long.

You respond enthusiastically at his acceptance of the contact, interlacing your fingers together and giving his hand a soft squeeze as you finally bring your gaze back towards his face.

“You’re going to be alright Spencer…”

The moment your hand falls into his is a moment of sweet release. The flood gates have opened, the dam has broken, and there are no barriers between him and the overwhelming emotions he's been forced to bottle up.

And as the dam breaks so too does that small, insistent voice telling him to reject contact. That small voice that tells him he can't have physical affection.

Because that small voice is wrong.

And when you squeeze his hand he brings no hesitation into melting into you completely and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You immediately shift to accommodate Spencer’s weight against your body, breaking the contact of your hands to pull him into a firm but comforting embrace, rubbing soft lines up and down his back as the other held his head against your shoulder.

With tears still flowing down his cheeks and his head buried in your neck, he lets out a soft, contented whimper.

His body relaxes in your embrace, and just lies there in your arms.

He's safe. He's finally safe, and it feels good. He no longer needs to hold himself together. And for the first time in years, he feels loved.

“I’ve got you…” You whisper the affirmation softly into Spencer’s hair as you rest your nose against the crown of his head.

He lets out more soft whimpers, his body relaxing as he leans into the comfort of your embrace, finally allowing himself to just let go.

He takes in big breaths, drinking in your scent as he tries to slow his breathing. He's still crying, but the tears aren't so severe anymore. He's finally started to calm down.

You lean backwards against the seat to support both of your weights comfortably as you focus on soothing Spencer through his emotions, running your fingers gently through his hair and massaging softly at his scalp.

The soft strokes against his head bring a wave of shivers, but they aren't like the shivers that he had felt when he'd been shaking so much.

These are better, these are warm and comforting, and it was like the tension was leaving his body from his head all the way down to his toes.

It feels good, it feels right.

Your touch was healing, and his whole body is relaxing in the gentle massage of your fingers.

“when was the last time you got a full night’s rest Spence..?” The question is soft against his ear as you continue to gently scratch and massage Spencer’s scalp, pulling him slightly towards you with your other arm to secure him safely in your lap.

“I… A while ago…” His words were hushed and sleepy, the exhaustion evident in the slight rasp that was present in his voice. He's been so caught up in the case and the work that he hasn't given a moment's thought to taking care of himself.

He's running on caffeine and willpower. He’s exhausted.

“You should get some sleep…” You carefully adjust the way yo two are sat until you are lying flat on your back with Spencer splayed out on top of you, burying himself in your presence at every point possible.

“I will…”

He's lying.

And based on the fact that his eyes are still squeezed tight against you and the way he's practically buried his body into yours it's clear that even he knows that he's lying.

There's no way that he can sleep right now. Not when he's finally feeling safe. When he's finally found comfort. He plans to bask in it for as long as possible.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up Spencer,” You know that he knows that you know he’s lying. “Get some rest,”

"But-"

He wants to hold this moment, to cling to this moment, trying to delay the passing of time just a little longer.

"I-“

He falters, realising that he's fighting against losing an argument that has already ended. He forces himself to breathe in and out in a slow and deliberate way as he resigns himself to the inevitability of falling asleep.

“…promise?”

He sounds less like a genius and more like a scared child when he says those words. A child who wants to be reassured. Who wants to be told that everything will be okay. That he'll be taken care of when he wakes up from his slumber.

“I promise.”

[pathologicalreid]

could you do a third part to buried alive where the reader finally gets a bit better and goes out into the field for the first time and then the team goes and gets drinks after bc they are so proud of her :) -🌱

back again | S.R.

part one | part two

in which you go back into the field (and kick ass)

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category? angst and then fluff

content warnings: established relationship. PTSD undertones. guns and physical fighting. reader is paired with morgan and kicks ass. usual cm case stuff. going to a bar and alcohol consumption. use of 'ass'. reader is referred to as a girl.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey anon i love you!!! i never expected people to like this story so much, but im so grateful i hope you enjoy!! thanks for reading <3 don't forget to like and reblog <3333333333

It felt good. Standing outside of a suspect's house with Morgan felt normal to you, having your firearm holstered, felt right.

He was trying to get ahold of the team, but the two of you were far from the town and, apparently, cell service. “The call keeps dropping, but they know where we are. They should be on their way,” he told you, getting out of the car. “If you’re uncomfortable going in, you don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the SUV. “I’ve got your back,” you responded self-assuredly. It was your first case back in the field, and besides, you weren’t about to let Derek walk into the lion's den alone.

Despite your attempt at confidence, you hadn’t planned on going to a suspect's house. The two of you had been on your way back from talking to a victim’s family, meaning you didn’t have vests. “I know you do,” Morgan confirmed, removing his sunglasses and snapping the temples down. “Go around back, I’ll take the front,” he said.

Nodding, you unholstered your weapon and kept it pointed toward the ground, you took a deep breath before wrapping around the white farmhouse.

Paranoid thoughts pelted your brain. Did you remember to shut off your phone’s ringer? What if the suspect had a gun? What if the information you were given was wrong and you didn’t have probable cause?

You shook your head, peeking in through the open blinds, you saw the kitchen. The town you were in was on the smaller side, and the only thing that surrounded you was farmland. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and wished you had been given more time to prepare, having comms right now would be remarkably helpful.

Approaching the back door, you leaned against the siding before reaching over and turning the doorknob. It was already unlocked, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing. You swung the door open and stepped inside the house, pointing your Glock around the kitchen, you saw Morgan entering the living room in your peripheral vision. “Clear!” You called out, and shortly after, Morgan called the same.

Once you had cleared the main floor, Morgan moved upstairs and you moved downstairs, pulling your flashlight from your belt, you pointed it down the steps.

“Jackson Fike this is the FBI,” you called, making yourself known. You reached the bottom of the stairs, just to see another door, wide open. “Damn it,” you cursed, “Morgan, he’s running!” You shouted, hoping your voice would be able to carry up two flights of stairs.

You pocketed your flashlight and took off running out the door. Distantly, you saw a man fitting the suspect's description sprinting towards the woods. Without a second thought, you followed, expecting Derek to be not far behind you.

Thankfully, it was still light outside, the scent of the damp earth filled your senses, but it didn’t overwhelm you. You wouldn’t let it.

You skidded to a halt in the forest, keeping your back to a tree so you could be attacked from behind, “Jackson Fike, you can’t keep running like this. You know as well as I do that the road ends here.” You spoke loudly, hoping he heard you from wherever he had disappeared into the woods.

His choices here boiled down to giving himself up or being on the run for the rest of his life. Based on the profile the team had put together, he would never be able to leave this town. Not by choice, at least.

The snap of a twig gave his location away, you twisted your body in the direction of the noise. Your ears perked up like a bloodhound. “Jackson, if you come with me and tell me where the girls are, maybe I could see about keeping you close to home. Close to your house, that’s what’s important, right?” You tried to negotiate with him. You didn’t know if he was armed, but you did know that suicide by cop wasn’t in his profile. It was also less paperwork if you cuffed him without a fight.

“You can’t make me that promise, agent,” he responded. His voice was gravelly despite only being in his late thirties. “Why would I negotiate with a fed when I could just kill one instead?” He asked.

His question sent a chill down your spine all the way down to where your handcuffs rested on your back. “You’re right,” you ceded, “You’d be worshipped in prison for killing a fed, but why take that chance?”

In a flash, the UnSub smacked your wrist, causing a misfire into the trees, and making your weapon hit the ground.

That was fine, your marksmanship was good enough to pass your qualifications, but hand-to-hand was where you really excelled. He charged at you, but you jumped out of the way.

Closer to the farmhouse you heard voices, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. Instead, you used your one boxing lesson with JJ and kicked. The inside of your foot provided enough surface to daze your opponent, he stumbled around, and you made sure to keep both of your feet firmly planted to the ground.

He swung back, but you ducked just in time to feel the breeze of his swing against your face. In response, you swung back, hitting him across the face.

Jackson retaliated, using both hands to push you into a tree, crushing your shoulder but not doing anything to stop you from throwing another hit, striking him on the head, and causing him to fall to the ground. He groaned as you crouched down and pulled your cuffs out, fastening them around his wrists.

As you read him his rights, the local police and the rest of your team approached you. Emily looked at you warily, Spencer was searching for injuries, but Morgan was grinning. He was like a giddy little kid who had heard the ice cream truck turn on his street.

Handing off the UnSub to a local, you eyed Morgan suspiciously, “What are you smiling at?” You asked, rotating your shoulder in a failed attempt to make it feel better.

“You took that guy down,” Derek said, gesturing to where the police officer was now taking the UnSub.

Confused, you shrugged, “Yeah, and?”

He laughed again, “Oh, you are so back, pretty girl.”

A flight later, you were hunched over takedown paperwork, something you certainly hadn’t missed during your time away from the field. At the desk adjacent to yours, Spencer was flipping through a book, waiting for you so you could go home.

After initialing each page and signing the last one, you placed the papers into the confidential file. Going up the stairs to Hotch’s office, you knocked on the door, “Come in.”

You stepped into the office and reached over to hand him the file, “My takedown paperwork for Jackson Fike.”

He nodded, the stern look on his face fading as he looked at you, “You did impressive work today, Y/L/N. By taking the initiative to arrest Fike, you saved the three girls he had captive.”

Shrugging, you fiddled with his nameplate, “I just did what felt right.”

“Other agents would’ve shot him, and it would’ve been justified, but you didn’t,” Hotch said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s good to see you out in the field again,” he told you in that fatherly, parental tone of his.

You looked out the window of his office, “It’s good to be back out, sir.” Watching as the rest of the team gathered back into the bullpen, “I thought everyone had already left?”

Hotch set your file down and stood from his desk, “I believe they were all waiting for you in Garcia’s office.”

Confused, you walked outside of the office and down the steps, “Hey?” You said cautiously, looking around at everyone, “What’s going on?” You looked at Spencer, but he just shrugged like he didn’t know any more than you did.

“We,” Derek said, “are going to O’Keefe’s,” he said, grinning as you reached over your desk to grab your bag and your coat.

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of your coat, you looked at the team curiously, “I’m getting the sense that I don’t have much of a choice in this outing.”

Grinning, Penelope excitedly walked towards you, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the bullpen, “you don’t!”

You laughed, looking back at Spencer, who was just smiling at you. It wasn’t in your nature to turn down what Emily called ‘team bonding’, so the lot of you went to the familiar bar, a place you hadn’t been in nearly four months.

At the same table as always, standing room only with the eight of you, Rossi paid for all of your preferred drinks. Something you had learned to not protest over the years, as long as he was there, he’d never let you pay for your drinks.

Casually, Spencer had his arm around your waist, the two of you were more affectionate outside of the office. “How’s your shoulder?” He asked, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin. Naturally, Spencer didn’t say anything in front of the team when you mentioned being shoved into a tree, but behind closed doors, he had asked to take a look at it.

You hummed in response, leaning into his touch, “Better, just bruised a bit.”

He dropped his hand back down to your waist, “good,” he whispered, ducking his head, and pressing a kiss to your cheek, causing you to smile.

Grabbing your attention, Derek cleared his throat and raised his glass in your general direction. “Tonight is about you, pretty girl,” he said, causing everyone else to turn to you. Your cheeks burned, “not only did you kick some UnSub ass, but you threw yourself back into the field after months on the sidelines.”

At your side, Spencer squeezed your hip, you were grinning like a fool.

“It has been an honor to be able to watch you reclaim yourself. I, for one, am proud of that accomplishment,” Morgan continued. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Thank you. All of you, really.” You reached forward where everyone was clinking their glasses before taking a sip. Setting your glass down, you turned and looked at Spencer, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

He dropped a kiss to your lips, earning a whoop from Garcia. When he pulled away, he smiled at you softly, “I love you too.”

[chlmtsdoll]

hear me out….artashi x reader based on any song from short n sweet 🤭

YESSS OMG I was already planning a fic on this 🤭 you get it !

HOLD ME AND EXPLORE ME

18 + | smut ! threesome, p in v (unprotected sex), age gap sugar!baby reader, older Art & Tashi, petite!reader (sorry tall ppl, what did you expect?) kinda kinky (praise, bondage-ish) inspo from Juno bc yes ! I am short n sweet and yes ! I am so fucking horny 🩵

With the loads of studying and catching up on your sleep you had on your schedule being at the forefront of your week — you really should have been back home tucked away in your apartment, trying not to lose yourself to the anxiety of internships you had lined up by the clock.

No hanging out with friends, parties, or boys wasting your sweet time was enough to throw you of your high achieving attitude. With your kind nature and smaller figure, you were always shoved off as an easy pass kind of girl. But that couldn’t of been farther from the truth — you just had high standards for yourself. With a devotion to your status and a deep love for your own life and future, not one of your girlfriends would of believed that instead of disregarding another study session or wine meet up, you’d been on a plane heading across the country to visit Art and Tashi.

The only ones that could put a dent in your structured little bubble. The only two who could make a girl like you go crawling on her knees at the sound of a text sent.

The wealthy couple had you wrapped around their finger at the word and it had been the one guilty pleasure you weren’t afraid to admit — you got shit done. No matter what. So when it had been the husband and wife paying for your tuition and for you to look impeccable on any resume, meeting or simply just walking into a store to buy a new dress — of course you’d been there whenever they needed.

They’d dropped however much in an instant to have you flying out to see them right then, and you couldn’t say you weren’t deserving of a little fun after you wiped the floor with every girl in your fashion marketing courses.

You had curlers in the night before just to have your locks all full and bouncy for the couple when your arrival came. Well rested and ready for the little spark of enjoyment you had paused your lifestyle back at home for, just anything for the man and woman who treated you like their own always. You really did miss the smell of Tashi’s butter like skin, and the sight of Arts sculptured body on you like paradise. You were pushing your thighs together just at the mere thought of it in your seat — not even giving way to the public around you as your eyes were closed in bliss and you hummed to the music streaming throughout your ears.

Can’t help myself, hormones are high, give me more than just some butterflies

You were landing in New Rochelle when you could finally get a signal for your cell at last, and when the ding of your phone went off you nearly knocked all of your essentials from your lap to pick up your phone in a scurry to which you were revealed a message from Tashi.

Tashi

Hey baby, you should be landing soon.

Sending Art to pick you up from the airport.

Your little rose tinted cheeks we’re heating up just at the sight of the text as you bit your finger like a love-sick school girl and you replied to Tashi with a single ‘💗’. It was then that you were first to be off the flight after gathering your things — headphones still in tacked in your ears. It was funny to see college girls your age running to grab their luggage to haul a taxi when you knew you could take your sweet time embarking the baggage claim since you knew Art would have just gotten vip parking to come meet you with your bags. When you reached the lane you’d been given, you were waiting for your suit case to show when there was no way it could of gone unnoticed. Ever. You could of bet money that you’d been the only person there with shimmery pink luggage that had your name scribbled in sweet cursive letters on the name tag and a couple pearl key chains with your initials big enough for the whole airport to be unintentionally introduced.

When your bags did finally show up, you were reaching to grab hold of them before a pair of strong, yet pretty hands came clutching them for you instead..

“You aren’t a little afraid someone will try and mug you with those in?” Art chuckled as he peered at you with his expression prettier than ever before setting down your bags with a grin on his face, just showing his gorgeous teeth a tad and you had pulled out your ear bud as your face immediately lit up — with a small squeal you stood to your toes to wrap your arms around the tall man’s neck and he hugged you with a full laughter as your legs semi-danged from the ground. And although most of the crowd of people walking around the airport could of mistaken the two of you for being the ‘dad picks his daughter up from college’ kind of meeting, you had learned things like that wouldn’t get to your head since this was something you choose anyways.

“You found me so quick!” Your excitement bubbled from within as the blonde wrap himself into you and he pulled away, eager to look into your eyes that were astonishingly out of this world to him — he just wanted to see you. Take you in, all with a tenderness to his touch as he held your face in his hands along with a simper.

“Yeah. Wasn’t too bad though I’ll admit.. it isn’t very hard to miss you, baby girl.” Arts eyes flicked over to your luggage that was just shimmering and screamed over the top but sweet twenty something year old girl.

You giggled , “I like to travel in style.” Art took your hand up to his lips as he kissed the palm of it in adoration of your bubbly attitude and helped you walk your bags to the Mercedes parked outside just nearby. You immediately attached yourself to Arts arm and your wide eyes started up at him with complete butterflies to the feeling of him finally being right beside you again — and Art has to keep his composure not to blush to hard at the sight of your pretty face and adorable figure fawning at him right then.

♡

When you eventually made it to the Donaldson estate, you briefly freshened up in the guest bathroom, the air of the space filled up with your cinnamon and sweet sugary scents and you’d been sure you were as smooth as a baby from head to toe by the time the steam lifted from the mirror.

Not too long after your shower, there was a soft knock on the door before it opened gently with the single sight of Tashi in all her grace as she entered the room with a small cheeky smile complimenting her instinctively glowing face when she saw you. Turning from the mirror to face her, your teeth sunk into your teeth almost immediately as she hadn’t just brought herself, but attire in her hands as well.

“Sweet girl, I want you to try this on for us… it’s new. Got it just for you.” The woman came up to you and pecked your cheek before propping what turned out to be lingerie in your hands. The baby blue hue was rich, and the softest cotton like taken straight from a cloud. Ruffles edging the hem of the bra part of it and around the panties. Your lips parted as you let out a small “oh..” and your face had become warm with a kind of lust for your own fit in the piece. Tashi watched you, her honey like eyes examined the way you examined it and the corners of her mouth were partially upturned in a fine smirk before she left you to it.

And when the soft garter belt had been what you slipped up your thigh lastly before you were fit in the bits that made you feel not only sexy, but feverishly sweet as well.

You’d exited from the room to find Art and Tashi waiting in the bedroom — eyes had been automatically fixed on your perfect shape in the periwinkle shade. Their dry mouths couldn’t had caught the words quick enough before you were shyly shifting your weight on your feet, you showcased yourself for the couple with a cloying little smile on your lips just by their reactions.

“So ? What do we think ?” Your hands placed gently on your hips only moved so you could turn for the two and Tashi’s eyes ran up and down your body in a buttery sense as she chuckled to herself in profile, she adjusted how she’d been sitting on the bed so she was now on her knees - of course - not wanting to give away her obvious simmering ache for you too quickly.

Art was another story. With the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips tenderly, he couldn’t take his soft blues off of you “fuck, baby,” the blonde muttered out and you only grinned wider as you inches closer to where the man sat on the bed.

Legs being spread just enough for you to take a nice little place between them. Only five foot, you stood gracefully ahead of the man with a soft giggle leaving your lips. He followed your face even as your hands rose to brace his shoulders and his eyes locked up on you — like he’d been ready to get the perfect little lace set off of you with his teeth.

“That certainly means you like it.” You spoke like the most harmonious honey. And Arts hands had already been gliding up your flush thighs to place his groping hands on your hips. “You wanna touch me, huh ?” You knew you were playing with fire. Making your push to Art with Tashi right there and not even on to to what was going to happen next just yet. But you just couldn’t help yourself — you’d been so titillated to feel them on you. And by the looks of it, to get Arts pants off as fast as possible now. And just when he had been looking at you like this. The blonde pressed his lips to the middle of your abdomen and you sunk your teeth into your lip in giddiness already as you smiled.

“Everything about you is godlike- - mmm, we missed you so much baby.” Art’s voice had been muffled into your skin. He kissed you up and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass. Your fingertips grazed over his broad arms that were rough at the first touch but got softer as you trailed farther down.

“Not so fast..” Tashi’s voice was silken as she placed her own hand on your hip from your side. Her lean, tall body hovering over you swiftly and she held up another gesture. This time, handcuffs.

Pink and traced with fur. Your eyes go wide for a moment as they stare back at you practically — and then your eyes are on the woman again with risqué written across her face liked she’d been waiting for the right moment to spring in on you so smoothly. She pulled you off of Art with a grin. When she walked you to the side of the bed, “Ooh!” You exclaimed as you fell chest first to the mattress and Tashi was pulling your gentle writs behind your back. The naughtiest smile on your face immediately as she toyed with you, unable to remove your curls falling into your face now.

“God, she looks so pretty like that” Art groaned as he faced the scene of you and Tashi.

“Were gonna take care of her sweet cunt, isn’t that right?” the woman narrowed at her husband with airiness to her words as she flipped you on your back. And just at those words you had already felt yourself soaking your panties — and with the light blue color — it was noticeable to the eyes almost instantly, Tashi let out a chuckle. “Princess we haven’t even touched you yet.. you just want it so bad, hm? Little minx.”

Art got closer to the two of you, and his presence only made you more worked up with the way Tashi took your ankles by force, apart as your legs were on display for her view. Your already soft whines echoed throughout the room just to be touched. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“She’s been workin’ so hard back at home, little thing is touch starved, Tashi.”

“I’m just giving you a little show.” You batted your lashes innocently at the blonde and he could feel his cock grow hard right then. You were pleased by the way just your voice alone could get him yearning to fuck your brains out so quickly. It was just easy to get Art between your legs — with how painfully cute you had been to him, and Tashi’s word it was like child’s play.

“Your both gonna be me a little show.” Tashi commanded after your remark towards Art, and she took her place on the bed like it was nothing — in her satin slip with a sly smile on her face, she ran her fingertips over your dainty bottoms as she coo’d to the way you squirmed at your touch. “Art’s gonna eat this pretty pussy, he’ll surely make the ache go away.” Tashi shook out her tossed curls and caressed your face calmly as Art had already lowered himself to your hips and you whimpered softly with want at the way the blonde maneuvered your legs so they’d been over his shoulder. Your dear pink polished toes hanging off his back with ease, you watched his eyes pierce your own. He graced his lips over your soaked clothed cunt. Taking in your sent just before even removing the piece of clothing to devour you.

“Fuck, fuck, please..” You whine out, he looked too gorgeous between your legs. Perfect nose brushing over your clit briefly before he hooked a finger over your panties, pulling them to the side and when his tongue came to contact with your folds — you trembled with it.

Moans escaped your lips and your restrained hands had become an enemy as you couldn’t even touch the man below you. He licked and fucked into your core with quick but careful movements, making paintings with his tongue as you writhed on your back and his own groans vibrated throughout your body. Art squeezed from your ass up to your thighs, soft as vanilla frosting, to keep you still.

Tashi had been elegantly laid back against the pillows. She observed, her own hand trailing to meet her own cunt just at the way your angelic moans and whimpers made her feel. Like she was giving her husband the truest and sweetest treat right then. Nothing could touch the feeling of watching his jaw, sharp and pretty as a knife, dive right into your tight little hole. Dragging his mouth up and down as she ate you with hunger and your screams were like a melody.

“I wanna cum!” You squealed as your toes curled and Art watched you, deeply feeding off of the way your reactions lead the flicker of his tongue to your sweet folds.

“Be good and hold it, and you’ll get fucked in whatever position you want..” Tashi echoed back to you as she watched you fight off your orgasm. Art let his fingers trail your pulsing pussy for a moment. Like straight candy to him, he licked his slick covered lips.

“You’re always good, baby doll, aren’t you? You sure taste like it.” Art chuckled lowly as he caressed your shaking figure and leaned up from his knees, eyes not missing you for a second, even as he undid his belt buckle right there in front of you. It made butterflies spread throughout your body with his careful fawning eyes taking you up in all the ways he could have you. “I wanna feel you around me, like Tashi said… your pick.”

You would of reached out and grabbed him by the hips then, watching him remove his boxers painfully slow and the way his cock sprang out was painful as you just wanted dick in you so bad. It just has been too long.

Whining at the handcuffs keeping you from him, you turn your head to glance at his wife who’s been all too amused by your writhing. “I wanna touch him, please.”

The woman crawled over to your small figure and inclined so she was face to face with you, leaving a savory kiss on your lips, you moaned into it. And before you knew it your wrists had been free from the restraints. A smile spread across your mouth as you reached up brace her incandescent seem, deepening the kiss you both sat up as saliva has been shared between you, Tashi pulled away unannounced and eyed her husband with a grin.

“He’s all yours.”

You giggled openly before you took it upon yourself, to lay on to your side with your now free restraint — eyes meeting the other tennis player as his glorious chest had been exposed and smirk came back playfully as he climbed in bed next to you. Art’s hands go straight to your sides, he not only held you close, but explored every part of your skin with some close kisses to your neck and you breathed out in a soft moan. That made your hands reach straight for his short locks, you closed you eyes in pleasure just before whispering, “Take me just like this. I need you, Art..” your long sigh that turned into moans afterwards was all he needed before his hips were aligning with your ass as he kept your back flush to his chest, lips directly embarked your shoulder to pepper his kisses of adoration.

Arts hand went to lift up your thigh, and you sucked in your breath as you felt the tip of his cock rub against your slippery entrance. “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard, pretty girl. I know it.” Art huffed out as a murmur into your skin and it made you titter gently at the tickle of his face that had now grown a stubble just in his short off season. And as he took his time to feel the out the luxury of your cunt already drooling over his pre-gushing slit, Tashi crawled to be aside where you both lay, propping herself up on her palm to watch your eyebrows knit and lips go curved with how her husband teased you needy little body.

“Be gracious baby, Art missed his little play thing so much while you were away. Take all of him, okay?” Her voice was laced with sex as she caressed your cheek and observed her husband stretching your cunt wide with the push of his dick into you slow but effectively making your jaw fall agape and you let out a crisps cry-like moan as Art held your hips in place.

“Ooh- - fuck.. yeah,” you cursed as you reached to grip the pillows surrounding you quick. Art watched the way you slid right down his member and thrusting up into you from the side was so easy at this angel, he groaned with the way your pussy clenched him and his nails dig into the skin of your curves. You’d been a stuttering and moaning mess as he started to fuck into you at a faster pace. So soft from the inside, not only was he going dizzy by the way you looked —pure in the ruffle of your lingerie all while whimpering on his dick for more.

“Fuck, you let us do the dirtiest things to you, princess. So much of a naughty, dirty girl- - you can’t help wanting to act like a little whore. Shit.” the blonde grunted as he rutted into you. Surely your ass would be red by the time he was done with you — and by the noises coming between the two of you vile and pornographic, Tashi reached to stroke and fondle with your breast in contrast, as she got off just on watching you get fucked like a pathetic slut by her husband. Taking it so saccharine like she asked.

You feel your cunt throbbing the more Art pounded into you. Your mouth was unable to stay shut to keep in your loud moans, you reached for the blonde as your nails ran down the skin of his shoulder blade and you locked eyes with the beautiful man who even was towering your petite figure from this angle, “yes- - yes, mmh ! Fucking cum inside me. Give it to me, baby…” your voice breathy and high pitched. It made the man absolutely loose it.

You felt his dick twitch inside your cunt as he held your ribcage to fuck up into you before coating your walls at once. He pumped his load into your pussy. Marking his territory inside you with a deep groan, you released your head into him as you cried out till ropes of his cum filled you to the brim. “Good girl, baby.” Tashi ran a hand down your puffy hole as she rubbed at your clit before Art could even pull out of you. Fast and without mercy she worked on you straight into cumming on her husbands cock with a long whimper as you shook uncontrollably.

“Mmm, fuck !” You screamed out as fireworks escalated throughout. Your heat along with the rest of your body an absolute mess — and your dainty lingerie had been covered in the little masterpiece you and Art made. When Tashi pulled him out of you — the two of you moan in unison as more cum just gushed from your entrance.

“Fuck, I’m falling in love with your tight little body. You’re just perfect, angel.” Art panted out as she kissed you all over again and once you finally caught your breath a little bit of tender laughter was released from you. And Tashi as rare as it was, couldn’t help but smile at the way you brought her husband and her own frolicsomeness to light with how much they missed and needed your youthfulness. Not only your touch, they could have it forever. You for life even. “We fucking adore you.”

[trulyumai]

soon to be heir

—pairing: emperor Geta / empress! reader

synopsis: word of your pregnancy spread fast. Geta had to act even quicker to ensure your safety.

warnings: talk of violence, short tempers, grabbing. geta tries to be soft.

a/n: this was very heavily requested, enjoy everyone!

The news spread like wildfire.

‘Empress with a soon to be heir!’ For the gods, your own servants whispered about it.

It was true, of course. How could it not be, for Geta would make sure to fill you almost every night. Inching his fingers to touch below and shove the remainder of his seed into your wet mound.

He had planned for this. Dreamed of it.

Of you swole with his child; all his own doing. You didn’t, or hadn’t, planned on becoming a mother this early into his reign. But life was funny that way. Life and a certain ginger haired emperor.

You sat now, swelled next to the man during dinner time. It was unfortunate on the servants really, to abide by all your silly cravings. grapes here, jackfruits there and oh! Don’t forget about the sweet bread. Did I mention the berry spread?

“Wife,” Geta’s voice drew you from your thoughts. A hand, warm and callous placed itself upon your tummy. “Would you be receiving anything else?” He was ever so doting on you now. His eyes even held a bit of love to them from time to time.

“Ahm,” thinking you tried to place the current craving at command. But with a newfound shyness and tinge of embarrassment, you decided against it. “It’s— it’s nothing, dear husband.”

Almost immediately, Geta sensed the lie. And oh, how he hated those.

For gods sake, half of the palace lay in waste for the rumor of there being a rat, so for the audacity you displayed? It was dangerous.

He squinted and with the same arm, draped it across your shoulders, pinning your shorter body to his. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, little wife, would you?” A fire sprung up inside your body. Automatically, fight or flight seemed to be kicking in.

“It’s just a small thing. Not even worth mentioning really,” spit had gathered in your mouth incessantly out of fear. Gulping it down, the emperor leaned in further, until his nose brushed against yours.

If it were any other man, you would have called him pretty.

If it were any other man, you would have danced kisses upon his cheeks, his eyelids.

But it was Geta.

So you just watched, holding back a whimper as he applied more pressure with his hand upon your back.

Wordlessly, you knew what he wanted. He had become so infatuated with your wanton needs lately.

Oh, a bath? He’ll start it.

Those rare flowers by the bay? He’ll send word for them.

What’s that, that man is staring little too long? Beheading it is!

The last one was on his account, Geta had the man seized while you woddled back to the chambers, unaware of the whole predicament until your faithful servants informed you.

Geta had lobbed his head off right in the middle of the throne room. Screaming on about loyalty, fealty. What was his.

Geta’s fingers slowly perched there way below your chin, mulling you out of the violent place you put yourself in.

“Well?” The man wasn’t known for his patience, and you were surprised he lasted this long already.

“It’s… honey bread.” The emperor had to stifle his laughter. To hear and worry over such a dumbfounded thing.

“Honey bread.” He repeated, already raising his palm to signal for the chef.

“It shall be done, my wife.”

“It’s not necessary—

“It shall be done.” That was the end of it, you supposed.

Slowly, cautiously you sat up, legs already shaking with the added pressure.

Geta’s hands lay tensed and ready, just in case he needed to grab or hold you.

Unfortunately for him, you noticed this. Wanting to grant the man his sought out intention of protection, you reached out and cradled his hand in your own.

“Walk me back to our room?” And with a look as pathetic as that, how could the man say no.

He stood with you, and automatically, the servants in the room bowed their heads.

Fearful to take a glimpse of you and it be mistaken for something else.

Fearful to lay eyes upon the gruesome emperor with the short temper.

Now, with his big palm splayed out on your lower back, you began your stroll. Leaning into his soft robes your eyes shut. Geta had no problem taking the lead, holding onto your body with desperation and dare he say, infatuation.

[sunrisesfromthewest]

Playing Hard To Get Pt 3

Summary: After that night at the precinct the sexual tension between you and Armando increased ten times more causing him to come up with a clever way to keep you from running away.

Warnings: Smut +18 | Rated R Language and Actions| Handcuffs | Office Sex | Gagged | Fingering | Use of Restrains | Clit and tit loving | Fucked Against table and Wall | Hair Pulling | Barely Proofread

Previous Part: Pt2

Time seems to fly by after that night at the precinct and since then your focus has been on all the new cases.

Hense why you haven't noticed Armandos predatory eyes watching your every move throughout the week.

At the moment your attention was focus on finding a very important file but with a frustrated sigh you push away from your desk and turn your attention to the ceiling.

“Still ain’t have no luck finding that Leoni file.”

Swiveling your chair towards the hearty voice, you see Marcus gazing at your computer screen with mild interest.

"Yeah, that file is about as old as you and Mike." you say giving him a teasing smile. Marcus stares down at you for a moment before releasing a very sarcastic laugh.

"I see your ass got jokes."

Shaking your head in amusement at his annoyed expression, you turn your attention to Mikes baritone voice and approaching figure.

"What you two bobble heads over here talking about?"

"Something that your elderly light skin ass could help me with." you sassed, moving forward to double check your information on your note pad.

"Y'all young folks disrespectful as hell."

Hearing the light snickering from the squad had you biting at your bottom lip to contain your laughter.

Pausing to take a sip of his big gulp Mike sends Marcus a look before smacking his lips loudly with a mischievous grin.

"And that's too bad cuz I was just about tell you where that file was at."

Groaning you glance up at the older man, already knowing he wasn't going to give the information to you without trying to cut a deal.

"What do you want?" you ask, while gazing at him with hesitant eyes.

"Lunch is on you."

Frowning your eyes shift back to his and your blank computer screen before releasing an agitated sigh.

"Fine but y'all not finna be blowing up my phone tryna add extra food."

Watching the two men give each other a devious smirk, they walk away from your desk.

"Hey! Where's the file!"

"In the old records room!" Mike answered, entering the break room with Marcus hot on his tail.

Standing up from your desk, you shifted your red dress back down your browns thighs and make your way to the records room.

"Go ahead and write down what y'all want, I'll grab lunch after I get this file." you announced, sending Armando a pointed look since he always tries to give you his order last minute.

"Prefiero comerte el coño en lugar , princesa. (I'd rather eat your pussy instead princess)"

Seeing the shocked look on Kellys face had you raising your brows, but you don't stop to question his comment.

Smirking Armando briefly shifts his attention to Kelly who looks at him with a wrinkled nose before moving his brown eyes back to your retreating curvy form.

Walking down the small flight of stairs, you spot the room a couple of steps ahead of you.

"They really need to transfer this stuff to the online records." you muttered, sticking your pad in your bra and twisting the handle of the door.

Standing there a few seconds in disbelief you twist the knob again only to grumble when the door doesn't even budge.

Glaring at the keyhole, you look around to see if anyone was watching before leaning forward while slipping a bobby pin from your dress pocket.

To immersed with trying to pick the lock, you failed to notice a familiar Latino man walking your way.

"I swear if they planned this to get more foo-"

Pausing at the sound of a low whistle, you flip your hair back to see Armando leaning against the opposite wall with a dimpled smile.

"A stripper and a little criminal.... what else you been hiding from me detective?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out." you replied, turning back to the lock and smiling after hearing a small click.

Turning to him you open the door and send him a smug look before entering the room. Pushing off the wall amused, Armando entered the room behind you, "I'll keep that in mind."

Not replying you pull the small pad from your bra and flip through it to double check the id number for the case file.

Heels clicking against the floor your eyes move around the room in search of the correct file cabinet.

"Is there something you need to get out of here too?" you questioned, missing the sound of the door closing with a click.

Finding the cabinet, you open it and began to search through the packed drawer.

"The last time we were together.... alone, I remember you left those behind princess." he commented, spotting the way your hand stops at the sight of your thong stuck between the files.

Alarmed you peer at him with wide eyes as he draws closer to you with a dark expression.

"Now ever since you left me high and dry, I've been using these as a way to get off."

Shocked you just stand their sucking in air like a dying fish, mind trying to come up with a coherent sentence.

"Hmm.......Cats got your tongue, mami?" he stated, snatching up the material from the abandoned file cabinet.

Snapping out of your stupor you maintain eye contact while backing away from his approaching form.

"Glad to see that you enjoyed yourself." you joked but stop when you run into a hard surface.

Laughing at your comment, Armando reaches you with a wolfish grin while watching you slide onto the 'desk' to create distance between him and you.

"All you been doing is running that smart mouth of yours and running away," pausing he drags a hand down the small opening of your dress top," And if I'm being honest mami...I'm done chasing you."

Shivering from his light touch, you give him a grin of your own, "Then why do you keep doing it?"

The next words that come out his mouth completely throws you off.

"How's your wrist?" he asked, shifting his gaze down to your manicured hands.

Blinking up at him with a quizzical expression, and a quick glance down at your healed wrist.

You look back up at his now lustful eyes, confused, "It's fine but why do you as-"

Before you could finish you feel cold metal hugging your skin and the ghostly touch of Armandos stealthily hands. As quick as you could react you began to frantically tug at the metal restrains and take in that what you thought was a 'desk' is actually an old slick interrogation table.

"Armando the fuck you got going on!" you fumed, pulling at the restraints more.

Moving closer he spreads your legs causing you to freeze as the cool air hits your damp covered center.

"Armand-do what are you doing!"

"Claiming what's mine and teaching you a lesson." Armando whispered, running his hands over your center. Jumping at his touch you try to move back but he just pulls you closer by the chain of the cuffs.

"The more you run the longer I'm keeping you in these cuffs." he growls, voice becoming low and accented. Gasping loudly at the feeling of him pressing down firmer against your clit, you breathe out a response and trap his hand between your thighs.

"We can't......someone migh-"

Once again you were cut off but this time, he stuffed your mouth with your thong.

"Problem solved. Now open your legs."

Shocked that he just gagged you with the soft material you don't catch his words but the feeling of him quickly sliding your panties down with his free hand does.

"You practically dripping baby, and we haven't even got to the fun part." he mutters sliding the material past your heels and into your mouth to ensure you want make a sound.

Mouth completely stuffed, you stare at him aroused and with dilating pupils as you start to drool from the way your mouth is stretched open.

"You're so pretty when you allow me to give you what you need, Y/N."

Dark eyes running down your face he moves a hand forward to wipe at your mouth before trailing the same hand towards your throbbing center.

Feeling the pressure on your clit had you closing your eyes from the sensation, making him stare at you with a smug expression.

"All this time you been fighting against what your body wants," pressing down harder he moves his thumb in a circular motion, "I know you been craving my touch princess."

Hips shifting forward your eyes remained closed as you released moans muffled into the now damn material.

"Tossing that thong at me and then running away was the third straw." Leaning forward, he began to trail hot kisses down your exposed neck while speaking to you.

Shivering from his words, you feel yourself become even wetter as he continues his motions on your clit while slipping a few fingers inside you.

"Now look at you.... pleasuring yourself with my hand."

Throwing your head back, your body shivers as he pumps his fingers faster inside of you which makes you tug at the restrains with pleasure.

"You're taking this so good Y/N.....I thought you would at least put up a fight." Armando taunts, placing a hand on your lower back so that you wouldn't run from his fast pace.

Groaning you slightly open your eyes to peer at him but moan more when you see his lustful gaze watching your every expression.

Clenching around his fingers, you blink drowsily up at him as you feel a familiar pit form in your stomach. Wiping away the drool from your mouth he gives you a fake pout, "I know baby.... your close."

Hiking your shaking legs around his waist to anchor yourself, you pull him towards you with pleading eyes.

Moistening his lips with a swipe of his tongue, he slows down his movements and leans down to your ear.

"Is it too much, baby......you want me to stop." he whispers, slipping his hand out and watching you attempt to protest as he stops you from reaching your high.

Whining at the withdrawal of his hands, you glance away as frustrated tears run down your face.

“You been playing with me for months…. did you really think I was going to let you get off that easy.” Placing his wet fingers into his mouth, Armando grabs your chin and maintains his gaze with you while releasing a satisfied hum.

“I didn’t know you could be so…..sweet.”

Rubbing your thighs together, go to speak but remember that you’re gagged. Seeing this he shifts his attention to your mouth, “Got something to say, mami.”

Nodding your head, you tilt your head up so he could remove the material out your mouth.

“You look so pretty tho.” He commented, running his thumb over your wet bottom lip. Giving him your best ‘Hurry the fuck up’ look, you roll your eyes as he slowly pulls the material from your mouth.

Pushing the last of the thong out with your tongue, you take in a few deep breaths before you speak.

“If you’re not going to let me cum,then what’s the point of me being here?” you gasped out and attempted to wipe away the drool from your lower face.

“We’ll that depends on how you answer this question.” he replied eyes scanning your flushed body with desire and need.

Although you were intrigued you were feeling some type of way about being teased of an orgasm and handcuffed.

"Since I didn't get to cum, I think it's fair that I don't answer your questions." you snarked, shifting back on the table at the constant pulsing feeling between your crossed legs.

Crossing his arms he trails his eyes back up to yours and pick up on the shift of your attitude towards him," This how you want to play."

Not answering you flip your slightly disheveled hair over your shoulder and turn your attention to the silver cuffs dangling from your wrist. Unfolding his arms, he grabs your waist and flips you over to press your front against the cold hard surface.

"Arman-!"

"Tss. Tss. Don't try to talk now princess, I gave you a chance." he interrupted, scrunching your dress over your ass he gives it a hard smack while kicking your heeled feet apart.

Whining loudly from the smack, you try to move away but he just press his warm large hand down on your lower back and grinds his hard on against your dripping cunt.

Moaning your body moves with his naturally; logic and common sense going right out the door as your mind becomes clouded fully with want.

Noticing this Armando tilts his head back to get a good look at your wet cunt grinding against his covered member with eagerness.

"There you go baby, just like that." he groans, left hand moving to caress and spank your ass as you quicken your pace.

Panting loudly your drag your restrained hands onto the edge of the table in search of some type of leverage as the pleasure becomes intense.

Moving his grip back to your thick waist he pulls your bottom half slightly away from the table causing your heeled feet to dangle a few inches off the ground.

"I'm close Mando-please!" you rasped out as the rough material of his jeans and the sudden touch of his index finger pinching your clit sends flutters to your stomach.

Pulling your hair back he stares down at your half-lidded eyes with a coy smile, "Please what mami."

Running his hands between your wet folds he grinds against you harder at the sight of your slightly parted lips and begging tone.

"Please let me cum! I need it-I need you!"

Biting his lips he pressed his front against your back and tugs your hair to the side to suck at your neck while picking up the speed of his hand.

"You need me Y/N-Where do you need me baby." he breathed, tilting your blissed out face to look at him as he anxiously waits for your answer.

" Arman-I need yo!" cutting yourself off you moan out his name loud as your orgasm sneaks up on you and spreads throughout your body.

Whispering small words of encouragement in your ear he keeps his hands between your thighs while trailing kisses down your back.

Letting out small whimpers your body starts to come down from it's high but the moment you feel hot breath hit your pussy you freeze.

"You don't mind if I get a taste..."

Before you could protest his hot mouth glides across your soaked lips causing you to shudder and regrip your hands on the table as he drags his tongue against you.

Mouth dropping open you released a breathless moan as your senses becomes overwhelmed.

Pulling away from you with a pop Armando runs his rough hands along the backside of your thighs before standing back up to his full height with urgency.

"You got one more in you sweetheart." he asked, accent slipping as he unbuckles the front of his pants with the speed of a man on a mission.

Cuffs scrapping against the table as you push yourself up to stand on shaky legs you turn to face him with an unfocused gaze.

"You still want me." you heaved, leaning against the table for support while watching him stalk towards you with a broad grin.

"I been wanting you baby from the moment I saw you."

Wrapping his hands around your thighs he hoists you up and carries you to the open space by the bared window.

Laughing you place your cuffed wrist behind his head while dragging your nails down the nape of his neck. Leaning his firm body against your soft one he shifts your legs higher on his waist so that he can pull himself out.

"You ready baby."

Shivering at the sight of his long girthy dick, you lick your lips anxiously while nodding your head eagerly.

Smirking he rubs the tip between your fold in a teasing motion as he blinks up at you with desire, "You sure cuz once I have you Y/N... your mine."

"Then let this be my answer." you purred, pressing your lips against his moist ones in a sloppy kiss while racking your manicure nails through his short thick hair.

Groaning into the kiss Armando pulls you closer as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes just the tip in.

Breaking away from the kiss, you tilt your head back as he begins to thrust into you while letting out a low groan.

"Gosh Armando." you moaned out as the feeling of him stretching you open sends a delicious tingle up your spine.

Clenching his jaw, he releases a small breath while maintaining a tight grip on your hips,"Fuck Y/N... not gonna last long with the way your pussy keeps gripping me."

Locking your legs around his waist tighter you shiver and grip his shoulders hard as he finds a fast hard rhythm. Grabbing your chin, he brings your full lips back to his in a searing kiss while groaning at the loud squelching noise coming from between your legs.

Breaking the kiss with a small wet pop, Armando starts to nip and suck on your bouncing breast with intense desire.

Whining loudly, you shift in his arms as you feel another orgasm creep up, but that seems to only encourage Armando to pound into you harder.

Unlatching his lips from your breast he mutters I knows into your neck as he starts to chase yours and his orgasm. Letting out a mixture of breathless moans and groans at the sensation of his nails digging into your ass as he begins to split you open.

And just like that, your peak sneaks up on you again which triggers Armando already frantic pound to go into overdrive.

Whining out your name, he cums deep inside of you while keeping a possessive grip on your fucked out form against his as y'all come down from an intense orgasm.

Warmth admitting from each other's skin seems to bring comfort and slightly relief while your bodies finally start to cool down from y'all's risqué activities.

"I guess I'll go out with you." you joked in a light tone.

Shaking his head, he looks up at you with that cute, dimpled grin, "The dick that good huh?"

"Don't act like you weren't swimming in this tsunami." you stated, smacking his chest playful as he carries you back over to the table while letting out a deep chuckle.

Whining as he slips out of you, you watched from the table as he opens one of the cabinet drawers and pull out a small bag of supplies.

With a gaping jaw you watch him set the bag beside you and pull out a few things to clean each other up with including the keys to the cuffs.

"Ohhh you sly dog......you set this whole thing up!"

"This was the only way I could get your stubborn ass to finally admit your feelings……and to traumatize Kelly.”

Pausing you turn to him confused,“What’d you say to Kelly?”

Meanwhile...............

The whole squad was to busy eating and working to notice the absence of two members who has been gone for a few hours…..everyone but Kelly.

Dorn watches Kelly picks at her food with disgust before sliding her plate away while releasing a frustrated groan.

“You good baby?”

With furrowed brows she shakes her head while massaging her temples with a sigh.

Catching the rest of the members attention they listen to Dorn ask her what’s wrong but the reply they received would’ve made anyone passing by think they were in the wrong department…..or police station.

“The thought of Armando eating Y/n out want leave my head!”

Authors Note🎙️:

Sorry it took so long I’ve literally been busy getting ready for the semester and guess what today my first day back so it’ll be awhile until I post.

😜But I had to make sure I leave y’all good and satisfied until I get back into a balanced schedule.(I think I out did myself 🤞)

Also,I do have that Mike Lowrey x reader typed up but once I get free time again I’ll post it.

Hope You guys Enjoyed and Stay Blessed💓💓

Taglist: @poppetbaby02 @livirosa@dyttomori @cibresworld @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theclownmimi @blackgirlmagicforever @3amvaiya @thesizzler @bitchyglittersuit @leahnicole1219 @babywinter @housewifewithnohusband22 @undevidedattentionsblog @delusionalbutterfly @ky44 @thatwassofetch @pandorafrost @yeahnohoneybye @disc0fairy

[aperrywilliams]

Douchebag Falls Short in This Case (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find it Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer and Reader can’t have their scheduled lunch, but they keep talking by phone and texts. After Spencer returns from a case, they can see each other again. If Spencer hadn’t been mesmerized with Reader, now he is, and maybe is more than that.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Some strong words. Description of Road Rage Disorder. Talking about bad experiences at high school (nothing explicit). Emily is the best older sister to Spencer.

A/N: The prospect of them having a date was too tempting not to do it. This one is part 3 of “If Anything I Find It Educative” (Part 2 of “It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t”). Let me know your thoughts!!! I’m here to read you guys.

-----

Spencer's POV

-----

Me: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. S.R.

Heimlich Master: Yeah. Lunch sounds great. Let's talk about the details later. Good night :)

My face hurts from the big smile I sport right now. Smile that doesn't fade once I get to my apartment.

How did I manage to text her right away? I would never know, but I thank that moment of confidence.

Now I can't wait to see her again on Saturday.

---

I should have known making plans wouldn't work for me. It's Friday afternoon, and I'm on the jet about to take off for a case in Los Angeles.

There goes my lunch with (Y/N).

I grab my phone to type a text to let her know.

Between last night and today, we have been texting back and forth about what time on Saturday works for us and whether I had a place in mind. I did, but I told her it was a surprise.

Now I must cancel, and I can't stress enough my disappointment.

Me: Hey. I'm so sorry, but I'm leaving for a case in L.A. Can we reschedule our lunch? Please don't hate me.

Heimlich Master: Oh, it's okay. Don't worry; of course, we can reschedule.

Heimlich Master: Let me know when you come back. And don't be silly; I don't hate you.

Heimlich Master: Can I ask you for something, though?

Me: Sure. Anything.

Heimlich Master: Can you prevent Morgan from kick-down doors this time? The bureau budget would appreciate it.

I can't contain the snort that leaves my lips, gaining Emily's attention. Bad luck of mine; she is in a seat just in front of me.

Me: I'll do my best. Promise.

Heimlich Master: Thank you. Have a safe flight :)

Me: Thanks :)

Look at me! Even using emojis.

Penelope would be proud of me.

I set my phone on the table to exchange it for the book I chose for this flight. Emily's voice stops me before I can do that.

"So, are you going to tell me why you are so smiling?"

And here we go.

"Me?" I lift my eyes to Emily, who has a smirk on her face. I hate that she already knows what's happening, not even knowing what's happening.

"Sure, genius. I don't see anyone else here so amused and focused on his texts. Not to mention the grin that could illuminate the whole D.C."

"No, I'm not!" I defend—a poor attempt to keep the transparency of my face at bay. Emily scoffs, and that's all it takes to know she doesn't believe me.

"I understand you don't like to talk about your personal life. I get it. And I won't bug you as Morgan would, yet knowing it is related to your love life. But don't try to fool me. It's insulting," she says, the last part faking hurt. That makes me chuckle.

"That being said, I just want you to know I'm here if you need to talk. It's not always good to keep things to yourself."

Not waiting for my response, she picks up the folder with the current case details to read.

I have known Emily for a few years now, and even if we didn't start on the right foot - entirely my fault - she's proven very supportive. Gosh, once she endured a whole beating from an unsub only to keep me safe.

Beyond that, she knows how to talk to me without treating me like a kid. Sometimes, I can't say the same about the rest. Of course, I don't blame them; they've always seen me as the team's baby, but I appreciate Emily doesn't.

"That's the thing. This," I point my gaze where my phone is. "I don't know what it is," I sigh. Emily's eyes are back to me. She sees how confused I am.

"What do you think it is then?"

I don't want to betray (Y/N) 's trust by spilling details about her life, so the specifics of our talks are out of the table.

"I can't deny there is a connection between us. We only met twice—both by chance. But they led us to talk for hours. And I ask myself, am I reading this wrong, and she only sees me like a, I don't know, potential friend?"

"Why would she? She told you she was only looking for a friend?" Emily asks, her hands resting lightly over the folder on her lap.

"No, she didn't. It's a deduction of mine, though. I mean, she recently ended a relationship —a very serious one."

Just remembering the reason that led to that breakup makes me sick.

"Okay. That could be a thing, but not necessarily. Maybe things ended precisely because she wanted something different. That's not bad," Emily hypothesizes. I shake my head.

"I'm not so sure. Let's say she wouldn't have ended the relationship until something big happened. Big enough for her to realize the guy was a total -"I trail off. What would be the right word?

"A douchebag?" Emily offers.

"I think douchebag falls short in this case," I point out. Emily's eyes widen.

"That bad, uh?" I nod.

"She is vulnerable right now, and I don't want to take advantage of that. But at the same time, I want a chance with her. Am I a bad person?"

"What? No! Spencer, don't say that," Emily rushes to stop my spiral. "Far from that. You are considerate enough to see she's in a complicated situation. Most of the men don't even care about that. Cut her some slack, though. She is a grown-up woman, and if she wants to get to know you, why not let her? If she hasn't already, I bet she will see the great man you are. And not only as a friend."

My eyebrows furrow.

"Do you think so?"

"Sure. And for how you describe her, I don't think she is the type to play with people's feelings. Although, I strongly recommend being honest with her. That will prevent false expectations."

I take in Emily's words, and they make perfect sense.

"Thank you, Emily. I didn't think about it like that," I

muse. "Can you do me a favor, though?"

She nods, anticipating what I'm going to say.

"I know. Not a word to anyone. Got it," Emily confirms with a reassuring smile.

---

The heat in Los Angeles for the last three days has been overpowering. Just as catching this unsub has become extremely frustrating.

I'm in the meeting room they lent us to work in, reviewing the details of the case over and over again. The rest of the team is outside the precinct following our latest leads.

My head started to hurt, and I had to close my eyes for a moment.

As I focus on breathing, my phone pings. I open my eyes and see a text from (Y/N).

Heimlich Master: How are you? I read that L.A. has a heat wave; I hope it's not hitting you too hard.

I can't help the smile that pushes the corners of my lips upward.

Me: I'd like to say it's not affecting me, but I don't want to lie. I will survive, though. Please tell me how nice the weather is in D.C., and I'll aim to finish this case as soon as possible.

Heimlich Master: I thought our lunch was enough incentive for you to do that. Now I feel bad.

Oh, fuck. What did I do? Of course, it's an incentive for me. It is THE incentive, actually. I have been thinking about that since Friday when I came here. Now she's assuming I don't care.

How can you be such an idiot, Spencer?

I must fix this immediately, so I hit the call button—a confused (Y/N) answers on the other end.

"Spencer?"

"Hey. I - uh. I decided to call because I needed to explain myself. Please, don't feel bad. Of course, I want our lunch to happen. I wasn't saying it like if I don't. I mean, the heat is fucking insane here, but it's not-"

"Spencer, hey, don't-" she tries to make me stop. Still, I am so determined to say everything necessary to explain myself that I continue my rant.

"What I'm trying to say is-"

"Spencer, wait!" (Y/N)’s firmer voice halts me in my failed attempt at an apology. It's sufficient enough for me to shut up.

"Sorry. What were you about to say?"

"I'm sorry for stopping you, but it sounded like you would run out of air and pass out. Now I feel awful because the last thing I wrote was only to mess with you. I didn't want you to feel like I was accusing you of something, much less that you owed me an apology."

"Oh," I mumble, now making sense of the whole exchange. My cheeks heat up realizing I went from 0 to 100 in seconds. (Y/N)'s voice sounds anxious now.

"Please, forgive me if I worried you that way. That's why I hate texts; I can't control my teasing tone as I do when I talk to someone."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I don't want (Y/N) to think she did anything wrong, though.

"No, don't say that. I'm not good at - literally - reading social cues. I should have noticed. I just need some practice," I chuckle. I can hear a chuckle on the other end, too.

"Well, since we already cleared up our first miscommunication problem. How are you?"

That sentence shouldn't make my heart skip a beat, but it does.

Get your shit together, Spencer.

"With the heat and the lack of progress in the case, it is a bit frustrating. But we'll make it. How about you?"

"Good, actually. Not the load of paperwork I had last week, and my boss just asked me to prepare a lecture for the trainees in forensic accounting."

"Wow, that's amazing!" I chirp, excited.

"I'm a bit nervous, though. But I'll live," (Y/N) sighs.

"You'll do it great. I didn't know you were into teaching," I muse, remembering our prior conversations.

"I didn't, either. But I've had some previous experiences, and they have been okay. So, the case? That bad, uh?"

That brings me back to L.A. and the case. I was very comfy with my mind in (Y/N).

"He's taunting us. I mean, the police force. But we have a strong profile. One more piece, and we have him," I assure, trying to be convincing enough.

"You guys know what you're doing. You'll catch him, Spencer." (Y/N) sounds like she has no doubt. It fills my heart with warmth because although she doesn't have to put that amount of trust in me, she does it anyway.

"Reid?" I turn to see Morgan and J.J. walking into the room. She hears it, too.

"They need you. You have to return to work," (Y/N) concludes. I let out a sigh.

"Yeah. I have to go," I mumble apologeticly.

"Of course, you're working. It’s okay," she affirms with understanding.

"I'll let you know when I'm done here. Take care, okay?" I whisper into the receiver.

"I will. You too, be safe. Bye."

I can see Morgan's smirk and JJ’s curious look when I hang up.

I know they're dying to ask me questions, but now is not the time, and I don't want to either. So before any words come from their mouths, I hasten to speak.

"Did you find anything? I was examining what we have so far, and I think we are missing something. Look at this," I tell them, pointing to the scattered photos on the table. They look at each other and hesitate to interrupt me or play along. Thank goodness they opt for the latter.

---

Me: Did you know L.A. has an abandoned underground tunnel network? If they are put together, it will stretch out 17 kilometers. They exist due to the Prohibition. When alcohol was banned in L.A. in early 1920, 35,000 gallons of wine were poured into its sewers. But, far from eradicating booze, prohibition pushed its use underground, literally.

Heimlich Master: Wow. I didn't know that. But I'm afraid to ask why are you telling me this. Are you trapped in one of those tunnels, and this is a call for help? [see attached photo]

Me: Ha Ha Ha. Let's say I've been studying those tunnels all day. Good thing we have Morgan and Prentiss to do the dirty job, though.

It's my fifth night in Los Angeles, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. The only things that have kept me at least in a decent mood are the texts and short calls I have shared with (Y/N). I've never been very fond of using technology, including my cell phone, but thanks to (Y/N), I haven't even questioned it.

We've been sharing fun facts and memes. If you had asked me a week ago what a meme was, I wouldn't have known what to answer. The word was familiar to me thanks to Garcia, who often mentions them, but now I can say that I know more about them than I would have expected to. (Y/N) is a regular, and I can understand more of her sense of humor because of that. She especially loves the ones with a philosopher dinosaur and those where a woman yells at a cat.

Heimlich Master: How is the case going?

I'm about to reply when hard knocks shake my hotel room door. I hear Morgan's voice on the other side. "Reid! There is a break in the case! Move your ass right now!" Before leaving the room, I texted (Y/N).

Me: Hoping to wrap it up tonight.

Two hours later, we have the unsub in custody, not before running into a frantic chase for L.A. streets. Now, completely wasted, we are packing our things to return home. Usually, when we wrap cases at this hour, we stay until the next morning and then take off. But everyone is so drained that Hotch called to the tarmac saying we’re flying back tonight.

Being already on the jet, I feel like writing to (Y/N), but it doesn't seem appropriate, considering it's 2 in the morning. I refrain and try to catch some sleep, knowing exactly what I want to do first when we touch down in Virginia.

---

It’s the first time I've put foot on the third floor of the Quantico Headquarters. It doesn’t look too different from the others I do know. A bunch of people walking in and out, agents perched at their desks, deep in folders or computers. Phones are ringing, and the sound of copy machines is unmistakable.

But none of that matters right now. I have a mission to accomplish.

After navigating between several desks, I find the one I’m looking for.

“Good morning, agent (Y/L/N).”

At the sound of my voice, (Y/N)’s head whips up.

“Hey! When did you come back?” she asks, seeming confused. The last time we spoke was last night before the unsub takedown, so for her, I still could be in LA.

I check my watch. “One hour and fifteen minutes ago.”

“I hope you slept on the jet.”

“I did. A bit.”

I won’t tell her how I barely closed my eyes, excited about returning to Virginia.

“So, to what do I owe the honor of having you here, Dr. Reid?”

“A crucial matter that can’t wait.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-hu. I have an announcement and a question for you.”

“Oh yeah? Okay, shoot.”

“Morgan didn't kick down any doors during this case.”

(Y/N) snort a laugh. What a beautiful view it is to see her laugh.

“It's what I needed to start my day with the right foot.”

“You're welcome.”

“Okay, that was the announcement. And the question?”

“Yeah, about that. What do you say if we switch our failed lunch last Saturday for having dinner tonight?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Tonight? Are you sure? You just came back.”

She’s inspecting my face, looking for certainty. I nod solemnly.

“Yeah, tonight. Unless you already have plans. If that’s the case, it’s okay. We can do something another day.”

After pondering my offer for a second, a smile creeps in (Y/N)’s face.

“You’re a lucky guy. Did you know that?”

Is it too much to say I’m feeling a lucky guy since I met her?

“I’m realizing now. Pick you up at seven, then. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you my full address.”

After saying our goodbyes, I take the elevator back to BAU. As the doors open at the sixth, I go face-to-face with Garcia.

“Oh, there you are! Everyone was looking for you to start the debriefing. Where were you anyways?” Penelope says, worried about my whereabouts.

Shit. I forgot Hotch wanted to do that quickly so we could finally get over this case.

“Uh. I had to use the bathroom.” I try to sound normal to avoid making a big deal.

“On another floor?” She asks, visibly confused.

Sometimes, my IQ gets lost in my odd way of doing synapses.

What the fuck I was thinking when I said that?

“Did you know the men’s bathroom paper toilet in the seventh is better quality than here?”

Oh, Spencer Reid, please stop.

“Really? I always knew they had more privileges than us. But the paper toilet? It’s infuriating,” Garcia huffs. And I know doing this is not very kind of me, but I promise to explain to her. Not now, though.

“Uh. I’m going to the conference room now. The others are waiting,” I announce, and Garcia nods, ushering me there.

“Yes. Go, go!”

Aside from the looks of 'Where the hell were you?' no one commented on me being late. Once we debrief, Hotch officially closes the case, instructing us to finish the paperwork and head home at lunchtime, which is perfect for my plans. It gives me enough time to prepare for dinner with (Y/N).

I know I look like a teenager, but I don't care.

Around three in the afternoon, I am already in my apartment and have made a restaurant reservation.

I decided to take a quick nap, although I didn't know how much sleep I would get given my nerves. It's not that being with (Y/N) makes me anxious per se; It's the anticipation of being with her.

Maybe I'm expecting too much from this date.

Shit. 'This date' Is this actually a date?

I feel like it is, but for (Y/N), will it be the same?

I invited her to dinner but never told her it was a date. Derek would tell me it is, but I don't want to assume.

Now is when Emily's words ring in my ears: 'Be honest with her to avoid false expectations.'

With her words in mind and the tiredness from the last days catching up with me, slumber finds me after a while.

---

It’s seven pm sharp, and I’m knocking on (Y/N)’s door. I can hear some rustling from inside before the doors open, revealing her frame greeting me with a smile.

“Hey! Just in time!”

“H- hi,” I say, almost breathless after taking in her appearance.

It's true that the first time I saw (Y/N), she was dressed to the nines. It's also true that when I saw her on the terrace that night, I couldn't help but think how beautiful and captivating she was.

The next time was at Quantico. She wore a classic and elegant office outfit, with black formal trousers, a white silk blouse, and a fitted maroon jacket. The image of all the confidence and resolve I bet she has at the job.

But now? My jaw shamelessly drops.

She's wearing a sleek, form-fitting black dress that accentuates her curves and black heels that elongate her legs. A beautiful cardigan wraps elegantly in her upper half. Her hair is styled in loose waves cascading over her shoulders, and she's accessorized with long silver earrings and the same necklace with the compass I saw on her the first time. She looks sophisticated, alluring, and just perfect.

“Let me get my purse, and we can go, okay?” (Y/N) says, jutting her thumb to the inside.

“Su- yeah, sure.”

Great. I’m a stuttering mess.

The drive to the restaurant is filled with light conversation. I talked about the last heatwave in Los Angeles, and she annoyed me by telling me about the rain in Virginia last week.

Now I ask (Y/N) if she has a car. It happens that she owns a car but doesn't like to drive.

“I just discovered years ago I don't like it. But I kept the car only for emergencies, which is stupid if I think of it,” she prefaces.

“Why?” I ask, stealing a glance at her.

“Because now all emergencies I can think of entail myself incapable of driving.”

Her laugh fills the car now, and I can’t help but join her.

“Okay, okay. But really, why you don’t like it?” I ask when our laughing fades. (Y/N) clears her throat.

“Uh - are you familiar with the term road rage?”

I nod, not peeling my gaze from the streets ahead.

“Yes, I do. Colloquially known as ‘angry driver disorder,’ it is aggressive or angry behavior exhibited by motorists. These behaviors include rude and verbal insults, yelling, physical threats, or dangerous driving methods targeted at other drivers, pedestrians, or cyclists to intimidate or release frustration.”

A sigh escapes (Y/N)’s lips. “Yeah. That.”

Using the chance a red light gives me, I look at her with an eyebrow furrowed.

“So, do you have RRD?”

She averts my gaze, focusing on the windshield instead.

“I thought I had it. At first, I didn’t give it any importance. I said it was just me trying to adjust to the jungle. Who hasn’t yelled as driving? But there were times when I freaked out of myself and feared doing something more than screeching or honking like crazy. So, I stopped driving for a while. I did my research and learned techniques to get it under control. But since then, I never enjoyed it again.”

A nervous giggle escapes from (Y/N)’s lips.

“Jesus, you are going to think I’m a society threat.”

I shake my head without a second thought.

“Of course, you are not. Furthermore, I find it admirable that you realized it was unhealthy and took action before living a worse experience.”

I see a blush creeping (Y/N)’s cheeks from the corner of my eye.

Not five minutes later, we are at the restaurant parking lot.

Descending from the vehicle, I hurry to (Y/N)’s door and open it for her. Once she is out of the car, I offer my arm so she can lace hers with it.

The hostess greets us at the entrance, and once he checks our reservation, he leads us to our table.

It's the first time I’m here. I chose it because Rossi once said it was perfect for a date.

Again. A date. Something I still don't know if apply here.

A waitress approaches us as soon as we sit, handing us two menus.

“Miss, sir. I’m Emma, and I’ll be at your service this evening. Can I offer something to drink?”

After Emma leaves us with our orders, (Y/N) turns to me.

“Spencer, this place is amazing.”

And she is right. The soft lighting from the small lamps creates a warm atmosphere. The decor includes cozy tables spaced apart for privacy, with comfortable seating and plush cushions. Soft and muted deep reds and browns fill the interior, with classy artwork on the walls. It's really nice.

But above all, the company makes it even better.

Our conversation flows as easily as in the car. It's so comfortable as we have known each other for a long time. And we just met less than two weeks ago.

“Okay, let me get this straight. So you are from Vegas and couldn't bear the L.A. heatwave?”

“I have lived in DC for almost eight years, so I adapted better to this climate.” I shrug and (Y/N) hums.

“You don't get to go there that much? I mean, do you have family there?”

“Just my mom. And no, I don’t see her very often,” I confess—a tint of guilt in my voice.

I see (Y/N)’s face, and I know she wants to ask, but she is respectful enough not to. Not everyone is.

“I’m an only child. And my dad left us when after my tenth birthday. With no siblings, it is only my mom and me. But even if I don't see her often, I write her letter daily.”

I look at her again, expecting the same face everyone gives me when I talk about my family, the one that screams pity. But no, if (Y/N)’s face screams anything, it’s understanding.

“Old school, uh? I’m sure your mom loves your letters,” she says, sipping her glass of wine. I nod,

telling (Y/N) more about my letters to my mom and how detailed she likes me to write them.

“And I think it helped us not to break the bond.” I shrug, taking a bit from the fork. “What about you? Did you say you are not from DC?”

“No. I’m not. I’m from Minneapolis. My parents settled there at a very young age. They were born in the South. I have two siblings: an older sister and a younger brother. My parents are still in Minneapolis, and my brother is, but he lives with his boyfriend now. My sister left for Chicago when she married her fiancee years ago.”

“Do you see them often?”

(Y/N) shakes her head.

“Not quite. Just in holidays or major events. But we call each other often. I always know what happens there, and they know what happens to me here.”

(Y/N) tells me she is not that close with her sister, though. Since she started dating his current husband, they distanced. And that only worsened when (Y/N) moved to DC.

“I’m sorry. That must have hurt.” I don’t know what having a sibling is, but I see in her eyes that she is not okay with how things turned between them.

“Yeah. But neither of us has done something about it. And here is where I need to clarify that stubbornness runs in my family,” she chuckles.

I pull a face, faking surprise. “Yeah, that’s so you can realize who you're dealing with,” she says, pointing her fork at me.

Our conversation bounces from topic to topic until we land on the school phase.

I tell her about what it's like to be a child prodigy in a public school in Las Vegas. The bad things and the not-so-bad ones, because believe it or not, I can see something positive from that time at this point in my life.

“Clearly, I didn't have it as difficult as you, but I am sure we all felt out of place at some point during that time,” she muses, cutting a piece of her dessert with the spoon.

“Did you?”

She lets out a chuckle. “Let's say I haven't been very ‘typical’ in my life, especially in high school. I mean, if following a stereotype was required, mine was quite different from the other girls my age.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “How is so?”

“Well, while my friends dreamed about having a Mr. Darcy-Elizabeth kind of love, I found Heathcliff and Kathy's relationship more appealing,” she stops from her explanation with a snort escaping her lips. “Ha! I should have known it would be a problem later.”

Why do I think other people would know what she is talking about while I don't?

Of course, she sees the confusion written all over my face.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” I pull a face, shaking my head.

“At risk of being disrespectful, uh, no. I don't.”

“Don’t worry. You don't have to, I guess. But if you read Wuthering Heights someday, you will know.”

I will—first thing in the morning.

“But the main idea is that I never expected life would be something close to a fairy tale, you know? I just didn't believe it, and my friends hated that of me.”

Jerks.

It's fair to say that we are so caught up in chatting that we don’t realize we are the only ones left in the restaurant. We do when Emma approaches to ask if we need anything.

After paying the check, we left the restaurant and headed to my car. The ride is mainly silent this time. I don’t want this night to end, and I think (Y/N) doesn't either because of how she bites her lower lip with her eyes trained on the road ahead.

We begin a light conversation for a few minutes after arriving at her building. With the car in parking, I reach her side of the vehicle to open the door for her. I offer her my hand, and she takes it, giving me a warm smile.

“I'll walk you to the door.” She nods softly, “Okay.”

The three floors to her apartment are pure agony in my head. I want to be honest with her, but I also don't want to scare her into thinking I'm a creep or whatever. If she notices my internal dilemma, she doesn't mention it. We reach her door, and (Y/N) takes her keys from her purse. I don't trust my hands and keep them in my pockets as she opens the door. She turns to face me now.

“Thank you, Spencer. I had a great time tonight.”

I see it in her eyes. She is genuine. And my heart skips a bit.

“Me too. Thanks for accepting my invitation.”

My hands feel clammy, so I take them out of my pocket and dry them discreetly on my clothes.

“Of course.”

We remain silent without taking our eyes off each other. Emily's words reverberate, and I know what I must do.

Okay. Here we go.

“Can I - can I ask you something?”

I wish I could speak without stumbling over my words.

“Sure.”

“Would you say that tonight, that is, our dinner - would you say it was a date? I mean, would you classify this as a date?”

(Y/N)’s eyes are trained on me as if trying to follow my train of thought.

“A date? Why wouldn’t I?”

She is still careful but curious about where I’m going with all of this.

“It's just that I never said it was a date when I talked about dinner.”

“So, you didn’t want it as a date?” (Y/N) asks for clarification, and I feel like the stupidest human being on earth.

“No! I did. I do. It's just - I thought you maybe thought of it like something different?”

She narrows her eyes at me. This is not working. I take a deep breath before starting over.

“The thing is, I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong. From the times we have seen each other and what we have talked about in these two weeks, I feel that there is something that feels so good between us, and I wonder if maybe you don't feel it or if you see it as something similar to a friendship. I know things in that part of your life have been messy lately, and I would understand if you wouldn't want anything to do with me, but I can't stop thinking-“

My rant is halted when I notice (Y/N)’s palm caressing my cheek. There is a glimmer in her eyes that makes my heart stop.

“Spencer. You are not reading this wrong. I feel the same way you described it as ‘right,’ even if I’m unsure what it is exactly.”

I let out a dramatic sigh I didn't know I was holding. That makes (Y/N) giggle. I join her with a chuckle myself.

As the giggle subsides, I hold her hand and place it over my chest near my heart. My other hand softly tilts her chin so I can look into her eyes.

“You are amazing; did you know that?” I whisper, and her breath hitched. I flick my gaze between her eyes and her lips. She does the same. And that's what I needed to get the courage and lean in. Slowly, the distance between us gets short, and I swear my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I can feel her breath fanning my face as her eyes flutter close.

And then, our lips met for the first time.

It's slow, and I can taste the sweetness of her lips.

I've never felt something like this kissing someone before, but now that I know what it's like, I never want to stop feeling it.

Her hands go up my shoulders, seeking a grip on the hair at the back of my neck. My hands fly to her hips to pull her closer to me as our kiss deepens. I sweep my tongue over her lower lip, and she parts them to grant me access. One of my hands leaves her hip to cup her face to get a better angle for continuing our kiss. Her arms tighten around my neck, pulling me impossibly closer.

I don’t want it to end, but the need for air is too much. After breaking the kiss, we are both panting with our faces flushed and lips swollen.

“Wow.”

“Jesus.”

We breathe out at the same time, followed by a fit of giggles.

Her laugh is definitely my new favorite sound on Earth.

I cup her cheeks and lean again to steal a quick kiss from her lips, and when I’m about to part again, she tightens her grip on my suit jacket lapels and brings me to her lips again.

After two or three more kisses, we lose the hold of our hands off each other, with a wide grin spread on our faces.

“I think we already give my neighbors enough of a show for tonight,” (Y/N) points out, biting her lower lip and peeking at both sides of the hall behind me.

“Yeah,” I mumble as I stroke her cheek, gaze focused on her eyes. “I should get going.” (Y/N) nods. “Text me when you are home?”

“I will.”

After another quick kiss, I muster the will to say goodbye. Wishing me goodnight, (Y/N) enters the apartment and closes the door. I linger there for a few seconds, excited like a child after the best day of his life.

I feel like it is.

Right now? I'm beyond grateful to Hotch for making me attend that stupid gala.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[girlgenius1111]

i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

alexia and r post alexia's surgery :)

no warnings!

-----

If your flight from England hadn't been delayed, you wouldn't have missed it. Alexia wouldn't have had to go back for a surgery she was terrified for without you next to her. The universe didn't seem to be on either of your guys' side recently. You wouldn't have gone home for Christmas, content to stay in town with Alexia and be with her before the surgery, but she had insisted. Your girlfriend was never more stubborn when it came to your wellbeing, and she seemed to think you needed to go home for the holidays, so you did.

Alexia's mom had called when you landed, telling you that only that the surgery had gone well, and that Alexia was home resting now. So, instead of heading right to the hospital like you planned, you changed course for your girlfriend's apartment.

It was quiet when you walked in, not that you expected anything different.

"Hola, y/n," Eli said, pulling you into a hug. You were going to ask for more details about the surgery, but Eli was already heading towards the door.

"She's very grouchy, she's been asking for you. Good luck in there," she informed you, before heading out of the apartment.

If Alexia had scared her mom off, you weren't exceptionally excited to see what awaited you in the bedroom. Alexia had been in a seemingly permanent bad mood for weeks, since she'd injured her knee in the first place. It was hell for her, you knew, not being able to play, so while you weren't thrilled with her behavior, you understood it. You headed to the bedroom door, preparing yourself for Grumpy Alexia, before gently opening it and stepping in.

You found Alexia as you expected, reclined on the bed, knee propped up on a throw pillow, staring out the window. Her expression was the same as it had been for weeks; jaw tight, brows furrowed, eyes devoid of their usual spark. What you didn't expect, however, was for her to turn to you the minute you walked into the room, eyes immediately pooling with tears, lip jutting out slightly at the sight of you.

"Ale," you said, walking closer to the bed where she lay. You wrapped your arms around her upper body, feeling her tremble against you. She held tight, hiding her face in your shirt, and you let her. Her hair was in a bun behind her head, and you pulled the hair tie out carefully, beginning to run your fingers through the smooth blonde strands. You hadn't seen her cry in weeks; she'd been the picture of strength since her injury, not allowing anyone, even you, to see how she was really feeling about the whole thing.

The state she was in worried you. Eli had said the surgery went well, but Alexia was acting like it hadn't.

"What did the doctor say?" you asked quietly, guiding her face away from your shirt. You probably could have waited a little longer for her to calm down before asking, but you weren't sure you could handle not knowing for another minute.

"It is fine. He cleaned the area, and there is nothing wrong. I should be back in a month and a half." Alexia said, although her expression didn't really match the news- this was best case scenario.

"That's incredible," you told her, cupping her flushed cheek with your hand. She nodded, but tears still fell. "Why are you crying, love?"

"I missed you," she replied, avoiding your eyes. She was normally not that vulnerable with you, and you were beginning to think whatever the doctor had put her on was making her more emotional than usual.

"I missed you too, so much," you assure her. "This is good, Ale, you're gonna be back. Soon." She pulls back from you, wiping at her face harshly.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I was just really scared, and now I am relieved, and I am not really sure why I am crying. I just missed you." Alexia looked genuinely confused at her emotional state, and you bit back a laugh.

"That's okay, baby. But I'm here now, yeah? And everything is okay."

"Si, todo esta bien," she replies, almost as if trying to convince herself.

"Do you need anything? Food, water, ice?"

"No. Come lay with me?" She requests, reaching out to tug you closer to the bed by your shirt.

"Of course. Let me change first, I'm all airport-y." Alexia pouts slightly at that, but releases you. You love clingy Alexia; she almost never let herself be like this, only when she was sick, or hurt.

You change, heading back over to the bed, sliding in next to your girlfriend. You're extra careful, not wanting to jostle her knee at all, leaving some distance in between the two of you. Alexia bypasses that completely, shifting over until she's laying half on top of you, head turned to rest her cheek against your chest. You allow her to get comfortable on top of you before you wrap your arms around her. Her hands come to rest over yours, and she sighs contentedly.

You flick the TV on, not really caring what was on, much preferring to watch Alexia drift off. Just when you think she has, though, you hear her soft voice.

"I thought I might be done." You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Alexia was a dramatic person, clearly. No one had ever even considered the idea that she wouldn't be back, except her. Her fears were real, though, and she didn't need to hear that they were irrational.

"I knew you wouldn't be," you tell her.

"How?"

You think for a minute, deciding whether or not Alexia would make fun of you for being gushy. You were pretty sure she would, but she'd appreciate your words regardless.

"I just did. The way I know I love you, the way I know you're the person for me. You just know sometimes. I knew you'd come back, because you're strong, and you don't give up. You fight hard for the things you want. I had every confidence you'd be back on the field with me before long."

Alexia was quiet. You looked down, seeing her biting her lip, thinking hard. You move a hand to run gently over her lip, encouraging her to release it from her teeth, which she does.

"I used to have that confidence in myself. I do not think I do anymore."

You knew this. You'd watched her confidence diminish recently, in the wake of her re-injury. She was more scared than you'd ever seen her.

"I'll have it for you, until you feel it for yourself again. Deal?" Alexia smiles for the first time, looking up at you through her long lashes.

"Deal."

-----

Alexia wasn't out of commission for very long; it was a simple surgery, and she was back on her feet within the week. This had proved to be too long for her, though, because she was practically bouncing off the wall by the time she was given the all clear by the doctor.

She had big plans to cook you dinner, and take care of you for the evening. Between practices and taking care of her, you'd hardly had time to think in the past week, something she was looking to remedy. She'd been sure to thank you, for everything you'd been doing, pairing her words with sweet kisses, letting you know that she really did appreciate all that you'd done for her. It seemed obvious to you that you'd take care of her, and you didn't expect anything in return. You knew Alexia would do the same for you.

Alexia's first day really back to normal was a day you had a double practice. You were exhausted, having been kept up half the night by Alexia's restless tossing and turning, something you didn't dare bring up to her, knowing the guilt would be horrible for her. You returned home, looking forward to collapsing into the couch and not moving until bed, to something you weren't expecting.

Upon walking through the door, the smell of something burning filled your nose. You could hear Alexia cursing to herself, followed by the shattering of some glass, and then some more cursing. You flung your shows off, running into the kitchen.

"Ale?"

She was stood in the middle of the kitchen, a jar of pasta sauce broken on the ground in front of her, a decent amount of smoke coming of the stove. She looks up at you as you walk in, almost helplessly, face flushed with anger.

"Ale, baby," you coo, moving forward to her. She throws an arm out, motioning for you to stop.

"No, amor, there is glass, let me clean it up," she says, clearly upset. She moves slowly over to the paper towels, but you walk around the glass, setting a hand on her arm.

"Go sit down, Ale, I'll clean it up," you tell her, because it looked like she had been on her feet too much, if the way she was resting almost all of her weight on her good leg was any indication.

"No," she tried, but you stopped her.

"I'm not asking, Alexia, go put your knee up," you say, turning your back to her turning the stove off, and removing the smoking pan from it. You heard Alexia leave the room, slowly, and you got to work cleaning everything up. Once the glass and sauce had been taken care of, and you'd opened the windows to air out the room, you followed Alexia out to the living room, looking at your phone.

"What do you want to eat? We can order something," you suggest, thinking Alexia would prefer to not discuss the disaster than had just occurred in the kitchen. Alexia was a good cook, so something must have gone really wrong. Alexia didn't respond, though, and you looked up finally, finding her sitting on the couch, staring at her lap. Her blonde hair fell into her face, blocking you from seeing it.

"Ale?" you ask again, moving forward to take a seat next to her propped up leg. She still doesn't look up at you.

"I am so sorry," she says miserably, voice cracking, and telling you that she was crying.

"Don't worry about it, I've committed worse crimes in the kitchen," you tell her, thinking she was just embarrassed. The blonde woman shook her head though, finally looking up at you. Her lip quivered, and she looked so upset, you couldn't help but reach out and take one of her hands in yours. She flinched, and you looked down, seeing a burn on her palm.

"Shit, Alexia, hold on," you said, moving to go get a cool cloth to put on it. She grabs your shirt though, looking up at you almost pleadingly, and you sit back down. You'd never seen Alexia look at you like that before, like she couldn't bare to be away from you, even for a second.

"What's going on, my love?" you ask.

"I messed dinner up," she says shakily. That may be the understatement of the year, but it doesn't seem like she's in the mood to joke about it yet.

"It's fine, baby, we can just order something, or I'll cook," you tell her. You're still not really sure what the big deal is, and your eyes widen when she responds loudly.

"NO! No. I do not want you to cook," she says. "I wanted to cook for you."

"I appreciate that baby, but really, it's okay,"

"No, it is not okay. You've been so perfect all week, all month, and I try to do one thing for you, and I fuck it up," she sounds so upset at herself, you find yourself frowning at her tone.

"Ale, don't be ridiculous. I've barely done anything." This is definitely not true, but really, it felt like nothing. You'd go to the ends of the earth for the girl next to you, so a few extra chores, taking care of her, seemed easy.

"No, eso no es verdad," she cries, before she inexplicably dissolves into sobs.

"Alexia," you sigh, moving to sit next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"I am so much work, and I made a mess, and you had to clean it up," she rants, voice muffled from where her face is buried in your shirt.

"Stop that. You aren't a lot of work. I don't mind doing any of the things i've been doing. I'm happy to do them, because it's you. I don't care about cleaning up your mess, I only care that you heal properly," you insist." Alexia doesn't respond, only pushing her face further into your chest.

"Alexia, were you cooking dinner because you felt bad that you've needed me this past week?" you ask tentatively. You get a nod in response. Guiding out from your shirt, you hold her face in between your hands, forcing her to make eye contact with you.

"Love, you don't need to feel bad for needing my help. Ever. I love you, and I'm going to take care of you when you need me, always. You aren't a burden. You don't need to make it up to me. You just need to be you, and I'll be happy."

She looks so unsure, so not like herself. She was ordinarily the picture of intimidation, of confidence. Now, though, she looks up at you with tear filled eyes, listening to your every word like she's not sure she can trust you to tell her the truth.

"Estas segura?" she eventually asks quietly.

"I'm sure, Ale." She gives you a weak smile in response, resting her head back against your chest. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing tight until she laughs lightly against you.

"Sushi?" you ask, and Alexia nods enthusiastically. "Okay, but first, you're letting me treat that burn. How did you even do that?"

"I grabbed something from the oven without oven mitts," she mumbles, and you fight back a laugh. You aren't successful, and her head snaps up to glare at you. "I move slow since the surgery. Everything started burning, and I had no time," she rambles, and you cut her off with a long kiss to her lips.

"I'd eat whatever you burned in that pan if it meant you wouldn't feel like you need to compensate me for taking care of you." Alexia blushes. There is silence for a minute.

"You could not tell what it was?" she asks timidly.

"...Chicken?"

"Garlic and onions," she replies dejectedly.

This time you don't try to fight off your laugh, but Alexia laughs with you, and the sound of it relaxes your whole body, doing more for you than a candlelit dinner ever could.

-----

[callsign-rogueone]

change of plans

Liam Mairi x reader words: 1.6k 🏷: no book spoilers. she/her reader who Imogen calls a "girl" once. technical part three to the spider and one too many, but can be read as a standalone. these two are getting closer to getting together... I'm on hour 22 of this headache, and it made me think... ✨ riders getting migraines from using their signets too much ✨ and our sweet boy just needs to be taken care and cuddled of for once.

“Good morning, soft one.”

You groan, turning over and burying your face in your pillow. “Too early. Come back in an hour.”

She makes a sound like a laugh. “I thought you wouldn’t want to miss breakfast.”

You blink through the sleepiness, realizing how hungry you are. Did you eat dinner last night? How did you get back from the tavern? Maybe that whole thing was just one of those weird dreams you have when you’re a little too tired — you’re still recovering from that terrible virus that had swept through the quadrant earlier this month. But you must have been completely exhausted if you fell asleep still in your daytime clothes. You’re incredibly picky about that — you don’t even like to sit on your bed in anything you’ve worn outside your room.

And why does it smell like… man in here? Oh, gods…

“Yes, this is your own bed,” she says before you can ask. “And no, you didn’t sleep with anyone. Deigh’s boy walked you back here and made sure you were safe. We are in his debt.”

Deigh’s boy… oh, gods, she means Liam.

You still can’t believe that you fell asleep in your flight jacket. How drunk were you? You yawn into a too-long sleeve, pulling it back and inspecting it. Well, that’s definitely the source of the cologne smell. Oh, shit. Is this Liam‘s jacket?

“Indeed it is. I suggest you freshen up before returning it to him.”

You flop down against the pillow again, groaning. 

“I’ve had enough riders to know that you need hot food after a night like that. And coffee. Up you get.”

She’s right. You scrape yourself out of bed, going through the motions of a shower and heading down to the cafeteria for breakfast, Liam’s jacket draped over your arm in case you run into him there. Hot food does indeed make you feel better, but you don’t see him there, nor any of his usual companions.

You’ll try the gym, maybe. A guy as muscled as him has to be spending his weekend mornings training, too. 

You spot Imogen first, taking a breath before you approach her — she’s intimidating as hell. The twin daggers in her hands don’t help.

“Hi. Uh, is Liam around?”

You regret the question instantly as she looks you up and down shamelessly, unamused. You shouldn’t have assumed she’d know where he was — yeah, they’re friends, but not all Tyrrish move in packs. They aren’t really allowed to, outside of the common areas, anyway. 

You’ve always thought that was a bullshit rule. 

She finishes inspecting you, turning her head and yelling for him. “Liam! There’s a pretty girl here to see you!”

You burn with embarrassment, thankful that the gym isn’t too crowded. At least it’s a reassurance that you’ve cleaned up well enough if she called you pretty. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever heard her say. 

Liam appears in a split second, out of breath and a little sweaty as he smiles at you. “Hey! I’m glad you’re okay.”

Imogen leaves before you can thank her, clearly not deeming this conversation worth her time. 

“I wanted to return this,” you begin carefully, “and to thank you for getting me back to my room in one piece, and to apologize for whatever dumb stuff I probably said last night when I was super out of it. I swear that’s never happened before, and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Nothing too dumb,” he says, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells you otherwise. “And it’s not a problem at all. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You said that already, Deigh reminds him dryly. 

There’s an awkward pause. You rock back and forth on your heels, Liam rubbing the back of his neck — both wondering who should speak next, and what to say. 

He tries something first. “Do you want to study with me for the physics test tomorrow night?”

You weren’t expecting that. 

“Sure,” you squeak. “Meet you after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” he manages, looking like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes.

As if you’d ever decline an invitation to do anything with Liam Mairi. 

You offer him another smile. “Thank you again, really. I’ll get out of your hair now — your friend is waiting,” you excuse, nodding toward Garrick, who stands twenty feet away, looking impatient. He gives you a slick grin from his corner of the room, raising his eyebrows once. 

Maybe his reputation for being a shameless flirt is true.

Liam manages a goodbye, and waits until you’re out of sight to take a whiff of the jacket — it smells like your perfume.

“You’re down so fucking bad, dude,” Garrick laughs, clapping a hand onto the younger boy’s shoulder. “She’s cute, though. Let me know if it doesn’t work out.”

Liam turns to glare at him. 

“I’m kidding,” he says with a grin. “Not about her being cute — she’s a total catch — but I wouldn’t do that to you. Bro code and shit, y’know.”

Liam still looks unamused.

“You should see the look on your face. You wanna hit me soooo bad. Are we gonna fight, or are you saving your energy for later?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

The jacket is dropped rather unceremoniously as Liam lunges forward, intent on tackling Garrick to the ground — easier said than done. 

“Attaboy,” Garrick laughs, pushing back. “Knew that would get you to stop mooning over her and get back to work.”

Liam blinks, realizing that his friend was just messing with him. His moment of hesitation earns him a swift blow to the stomach, winding him. He doubles over, wheezing. “Fuck, Gare! What was that for?”

Xaden laughs from the sidelines. “It was a clean hit. Be glad he chose not to go for the head — don’t want to bust up that cute little nose before your date.”

Liam groans. “Not you, too.”

“Li’s going on a date? Our baby is all grown up,” Bodhi coos, reaching up to pinch his cheek, but his hand is quickly swatted away. 

“Guys, seriously. We’re just studying.”

“That’s what they all say,” Garrick teases. “But physics can turn into anatomy very quickly if you do it right.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Imogen asks. 

“Sounds like someone’s jealous that I have more game than they do.”

The two of them continue their bickering, showing no signs of stopping any time soon, but Bodhi tries to make peace anyway.

“Hey,” Xaden says, touching his brother’s shoulder gently. “She seems nice. I’m happy for you.”

“She’s great. She… she sees past this, y’know,” he says quietly, looking down at his arm. “Most people don’t.”

“Yeah.” Another small silence. “Wanna fight?”

—————————————————————

You know something is wrong as soon as Liam walks in your door — his usual relaxed and cheery demeanor is gone. His bookbag is dragging him down like an anchor, his shoulders slumped. His eyes squeeze shut for a second as he adjusts to the bright mage light of your room, brighter than the dark hallways. 

He visibly relaxes when you wave a hand to dim it; further evidence of your suspicion. 

“Migraine?” you ask softly.

“Migraine,” he confirms, sounding utterly exhausted and a little embarrassed. “I always get them after Carr’s class. Hurts my eyes to use it too much.”

Poor thing.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles. “Know we were supposed to study tonight, but I feel like shit and I probably wouldn’t be good company. Can’t even think right now.”

“You are always excellent company,” you say gently. “But if you just want to lay down for a while, that’s fine. I feel pretty good about the test, anyway.”

He gives you a few slow blinks in response, like he’s wondering if you mean for him to leave and go lay down in his own room, or…

“C’mere,” you offer, patting your leg and scooting down a little to get more comfortable.

He kicks off his boots, shrugs off his jacket, and climbs up with you without hesitation, resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his arms around your hips with a cute, sleepy sigh, tucking in his legs so that they don’t hang off the bed. 

You bring a hand up to stroke his hair, combing your fingers through the soft blonde strands. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Feels nice.”

“Did you take medicine? Drink some water?”

He makes a lazy sound of affirmation, muffled by your shirt.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes. I don’t speak mumble,” you tease quietly.

He nods his head yes against your stomach, cuddling into you further with a soft hum.

“Alright, sweet boy. Get some sleep if you can, hm?”

Your hand stills, and he whines softly, complaining that you’d stopped. You shake your head in amusement, starting up again. “Sorry, baby.”

Baby indeed — it must hurt pretty badly for the Liam you know, who’s big and tall and tough, ranked first overall in Emeterrio’s challenges, to be this soft and small, letting someone take care of him. Letting you take care of him.

You feel a little swell of pride that he’s okay being vulnerable with you — you suppose it’s warranted after he’d walked your very inebriated self back home from the tavern two days ago. You can trade embarrassments.

Still, you wish he didn’t have to be in pain to come to you like this, to curl up with you like a fully-grown hound who thinks he’s still a lapdog. It’s adorable.

You stay like this until the sun goes down, petting the soft blonde strands and lightly massaging the base of his neck to relieve the tension, even after he’s sound asleep. When your hand slips from his hair again, it’s because you’ve fallen asleep yourself, comforted by the weight of his body against yours and the slow, deep rhythm of his breathing.

[goldsbitch]

That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

//

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

//

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Darion brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euro for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

__________________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

[rizsu]

intended error ! gojo satoru.

sum. co-workers! — following the higher-ups order of a double mission, you make gojo book a room for two at a hotel. gojo sees this as the perfect opportunity.

don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.

gojo's on the verge of cackling. in order to save himself from a harsh smack on the head, he covers his mouth with his palm. his eyes shift over to you — you're just absolutely hilarious. nothing is funny, yet everything is funny.

the urge to laugh doesn't cease either. his stomach tightens each second he forces himself to not open his mouth.

"this is—" he stops, letting a laugh escape before disguising it as a cough. "AHEM! this is a small ass room."

"don't. i'm going back to the receptionist," you pick up your previously-dropped-in-shock purse to ready yourself for negotiating and complaining.

after being shoved on a twelve-hour flight with gojo, you're not gonna fit yourself on a queen-sized bed with him. maybe you shouldn't have taken on this double mission with him.

"wait," he turns on his heels, grabbing the hem of your shirt. "we can work this out."

you sighed, lifting your purse to your shoulder so you can fold your arms to express disappointment.

"how can we, gojo? that bed can barely fit you — far less for the bathroom."

"i'll take the floor. see? no problem."

"don't be an ass," irritated with his problem solving skills, you revert back to the original plan of meeting the receptionist. only this time gojo won't be able to stop your actions.

he chooses to back away from you. it's totally not because you shot him an ominous glare. he can only hope for the best with the receptionist.

ten-minutes later, you re-enter the room only to be welcomed with an already asleep gojo. there's a high possibility that it's the motherly part of you that's acting right now, but you can't just leave him sprawled out. half his body is on the bed, the other is dangling off the edge. he looks like an abandoned ragdoll.

"psst, gojo," you whispered, gently patting his head.

he doesn't budge.

"hey, gojo," you tried again.

he doesn't move a muscle.

"free all-you-can-eat dinner in thirty-minutes for all new guests."

his eyes automatically open. the pure excitement on his* face ignites a small flame of guilt. you lied, unfortunately, but it was for his own good.

it doesn't take him any longer to realize you told nothing but a sweet lie. this fact is known by his exaggerated groan and turn of his body. now he's face-flat on the pillows.

"is lying all you know?" his muffled voice speaks, though the annoyance isn't missed.

you hum, giving him two pats on the back before gathering your luggage. the noise of your bags aren't unnoticed. the familiar sounds immediately gather his attention to you.

"where are you going?" he asks, running a hand through his bangs.

"i got another room. it's the last one on your left down the hall," you educated him, jiggling your room keys in his direction.

gojo doesn't like this. not at all. this is on the same level of accusing him of murder! the sight of your keys holding another room number introduces pure irritation within his bones. rolling off the bed, gojo takes giant steps to you. once close enough, he snatches the keys when you weren't focused on it.

"where's my pho— HEY!" you gasped at the thief, immediately reaching your hand to take back what's rightfully yours.

"finders keepers, losers weepers," he recites an old saying, raising his arm higher to tease you.

the fight for the keys go on for seven-minutes. it consisted of you jumping like never before and gojo having the time of his life. unlike him, you aren't exactly built for jumping continuously. it was only a matter of time before exhaustion creeps in.

"you tired?" he tilts his head, keeping his eyes on you in case you fall forward. with the way you're hunched over, it's probably best that he moves you to the bed himself.

"c'mere and sit," he orders, positioning one hand on your back as the other holds your shoulder. the keys are still safely secured, though.

gojo's eyes scan your body. just like your case prior, he feels a little guilty for making you jump around. this may explain the sudden switch in his personality at the moment, but those keys will not be given.

"okay, i'm fine now," you inhaled a deep breath, vocally exhaling as you slap your palms together. "my keys, sir."

"what keys?"

"my keys. the one i got like twenty-minutes ago."

"i think i kinda lost it..?"

all hell breaks loose. it didn't take you a second before your voice raised ten octaves higher. gojo mentally prepares himself for the scolding of a life time. even the higher-ups don't scold him the way you do.

"my KEYS, GOJO. I HAVE TO RETURN IT SOON," you begin, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of loosing the keys.

gojo shrugs, "just stay here, then. we can find it later."

"there is no later," you facepalm, desperately trying to settle down.

"there is now! it's late, we need to shower," he claps, standing up and then pulling you up to him.

the look of defeat fuels him. it's satisfying how easy you give up sometimes. a part of him wants to tell you that the keys are in his pocket — too bad that's for "later." right now he can go back to the original plan of sharing a room and one bed with you that was truly not his doing.

[godsfavdarling]

I don’t know how to do this

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x bau!gn!reader words: 2,7k summary: Diana has passed away, and Spencer is struggling to find a way to move forward. warnings: angst/hurt, death of a parent, grieving, mention of a case, drinking a/n: this was written for 2024 Criminal Minds Pre-Whumptober organized by @tobias-hankel! Main Whump-ed Character: Spencer Reid Bad Thing: Minor Character Death Bad Person: No One One Line Prompt: "She was the only family I had left... I don't know how to do this."

The cold night air mixed with AC hit you as you stepped out of the elevator, heading towards the hotel's bar. You had checked on Spencer's room earlier and knocked a few times, but there was no response. Either he wasn’t there or he didn’t want to answer. 

Given the month he had, you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be alone.

Diana had passed away quietly in her sleep from a stroke, exactly 25 days ago. Spencer had received the call early that Saturday morning and immediately caught a flight to Las Vegas. 

At the same time, the team was called in on a high-profile kidnapping - the daughter of a senator had gone missing in New York. 

You all hesitated, torn between going to support Spencer or going after the missing girl. 

Your first instinct was to be there for him, but with a child’s life on the line, the team knew you were needed in the field. With heavy hearts, you left Spencer to deal with his mother’s passing alone. He assured you all he understood and that he’d be fine. 

But deep down, you knew he wasn’t.

You felt horrible. As much as you tried to focus on the case, the thought of Spencer dealing with everything alone gnawed at you. 

It crushed your soul knowing he had no one by his side. You tried calling him a few times a day, but he never picked up. 

All you received were brief text messages saying he couldn’t talk right now. While sitting in the senator’s living room discussing strategy, you had to physically stop yourself from getting up, walking out the door, and catching the taxi to the airport. 

Every instinct screamed at you to be with him, but duty held you back.

A few days later, the senator’s daughter was saved, and Spencer returned to the office as if nothing had happened - or at least, he tried to. 

When he walked in, your hearts sank. No one knew what to say. He gave an awkward smile and casually asked about the case, but the tension in the room was palpable. 

Seeing the uncertainty in your faces, Spencer quickly added that he was okay, asking you not to tiptoe around him. He kept repeating it, insisting he was fine, but the hollow look in his eyes told a different story.

Hotch took Spencer into his office, and you knew exactly why. He wanted Spencer to take some time off, to grieve. 

You had already planned to check on him the next day - bring dinner, maybe even cook something, and just let him talk it all out. 

But when you arrived at the office the following morning, Spencer was already at his desk, quietly working on paperwork. You glanced at Morgan in confusion, and he just shrugged, defeated, before returning to his own desk.

Maybe this was Spencer’s way of coping - throwing himself back into routine, not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts. It made sense, you reasoned. 

You tried a few times to get him alone, to check in on him, but he always quickly changed the subject, steering conversations away from himself.

You asked Hotch to make him take some time off, and he obviously tried, but Spencer was more than stubborn. Hotch seemed to agree with your assessment - maybe isolation was the last thing Spencer needed right now. 

Maybe staying busy was how he was coping.

Besides, the team was short-staffed. You needed all hands on deck, and Spencer was an invaluable asset. So, you stopped pushing.

Spencer was smarter than all of you - he knew what he was doing.

At first, he seemed to be succeeding in pretending he was okay. He threw himself into work, keeping up appearances. 

But after a few days, the cracks began to show. His hands trembled slightly when he reached for files, the dark circles under his eyes deepened, and there was a sharp tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

You wanted to keep asking if he was alright, but after he snapped at you one day, you stopped. 

You didn’t know how to help him anymore. And to make things worse, the cases piled up - one brutal crime after another. 

It felt like you barely touched ground in D.C. before you were back on a plane, headed to some new tragedy.

 At some point, you couldn’t even remember the last time you did groceries or cleaned your place.

The team had no choice but to keep moving forward, and the new version of Spencer - present, but hollow - became the norm.

You were in Nebraska, trying to stop a killer who had already claimed the lives of three teenage girls. Two more were still missing, and the clock was ticking. 

Every minute felt like a failure. 

The unsub had left no trace, no evidence to follow, and the pressure to find the girls alive was mounting. It was wearing everyone down, but Spencer most of all.

He had been unnervingly quiet, keeping to himself and diving deep into the case. His usual calm demeanor had cracked.

 You saw the signs - his hands trembling slightly as he flipped through files, the way he’d rub his temples like he was warding off a headache. 

His grief, compounded by the endless string of brutal cases, was starting to suffocate him.

And then it happened.

The team was gathered at the precinct, going over the latest developments when a local officer made a passing remark about the profile. “I’m not sure this is helping us. We’ve been following this lead for days, and we’re no closer to finding them.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

His voice was sharp, cutting through the room. “You think the profile isn’t helping because you don’t understand it.” His tone was low but laced with anger. “If you had done your job properly, maybe we wouldn’t be dealing with two more missing girls right now.”

The officer looked taken aback. “Look, I’m just trying to—”

“No, you’re not!” Spencer's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. “You’re standing here questioning everything we’ve done while we’re running out of time. These girls are dying because no one here knows how to handle a case like this!”

The room fell into stunned silence. Spencer’s hands were trembling, his face flushed, his entire body coiled like a spring about to snap. The officer, wide-eyed, took a step back.

That’s when Hotch intervened.

“Reid,” Hotch’s voice was firm but calm. “That’s enough.”

Spencer turned toward Hotch, eyes still burning with barely contained anger. “We’re wasting time, Hotch. If we don’t move now-”

“You need to step away,” Hotch said, cutting him off with a steely gaze. “Right now, you’re doing more harm than good.”

Spencer looked like he was going to argue, but Hotch didn’t give him the chance. “Go back to the hotel. Get some rest.”

“I don’t need rest,” Spencer shot back, his voice tight with frustration. “I need to find these girls.”

“You’re exhausted, and you’re not thinking clearly,” Hotch continued, his voice hardening. “If you stay here like this, you’ll only make things worse. Go. Now.”

Spencer stood there for a moment, fists clenched, his chest rising and falling as he tried to hold himself together. 

But Hotch’s gaze didn’t waver, and after a long, tense silence, Spencer relented. Without another word, he stormed out of the precinct, the door slamming shut behind him.

The room stayed silent for a few seconds, everyone watching the door as if expecting Spencer to come back. But he didn’t. 

Hotch let out a slow breath, his jaw tight. “He needs to rest,” he muttered, more to himself than to the team, before turning back to the case. “Let’s get back to work.”

A few hours later, Hotch told the rest of you to head back to the hotel and get some sleep. You all needed it - there was nothing more you could do while exhausted.

That’s how you found yourself at the hotel bar after trying to check on Spencer. 

You needed a drink. You needed a moment to breathe.

As you walked into the bar, you saw him.

Spencer was sitting at the counter, staring down at a half-empty glass of whiskey. The sight made you pause. Spencer never drank.

You hesitated, watching him for a moment, unsure of whether to approach or let him have the solitude he seemed to crave. 

But seeing him like this - broken, still drowning in his grief and frustration of the case - it was impossible to just leave him there.

Taking a deep breath, you approached and slid into the seat next to him. He didn’t look up.

After a moment, you broke the silence. “Hey.”

Spencer blinked slowly, his eyes bloodshot, as if it took him a moment to register your presence. 

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the few drops of amber liquid left in his glass. His fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles going white.

“Sorry about today,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “This case is just... and the others this month were so...”

“I know,” you said softly, your heart breaking for him. 

Spencer was always so articulate, so precise with his words. Seeing him struggle to express himself felt unsettling. His usual clarity aand wits seemed to have vanished.

His eyes stayed fixed on the glass  “How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Oh… I’m fine,” you replied. “We’ll figure it out. And Hotch already promised us a week off once this is over.”

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice tight with a hint of nervousness.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to offer a comforting smile. “We all need it.”

He said nothing.

“Spencer,” you began softly, trying to gauge his reaction. “I know you’ve been thrown into work, and I understand why. But I also know you didn’t really have time to grieve for your mom. It’s been a lot, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You watched him closely, trying to read his expression. “We’ve been so focused on the cases and keeping things moving, but your well-being matters too. You don’t have to go through this alone. It’s okay to take a step back and let yourself feel what you’re feeling.”

You paused, giving him space to respond, hoping that your words would reach him.

He was too focused on work, too busy trying to stay afloat in a sea of pain and responsibility. It was eating away at him, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You knew he was trying to push his grief aside, burying it under layers of work and duty. It was his way of coping, but you weren’t sure anymore if it was working. 

Spencer remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the glass. The room started to feel heavy and the silence grew more uncomfortable by the second.

You knew you had to do something to break through the barrier he’d built. 

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice gentle and inviting.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “how about we go for a walk? You know… we could clear our heads a bit and breathe some fresh air”

He didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment, he looked up at you with his eyes beautiful chocolate brown as always but tired and wary. 

You could see he was wrestling with the idea, but you hoped that the offer of a simple walk might give him the space he needed to open up. 

“Just a walk,” you continued, offering a small, encouraging smile. “No pressure. Just some fresh air. I need it.”

After a brief pause, Spencer nodded slowly. He stood up, still looking uncertain.

You walked together in silence, the crisp night air a welcome contrast to the hot and tiring day. 

The nearby park was quiet, illuminated by scattered streetlights that cast a gentle glow on the two of you and the empty path ahead. The rhythmic crunch of leaves under your feet was the only sound, offering at least just a moment of stillness in all the chaos.

After a while, you found a secluded bench nestled under a canopy of trees. You gestured for Spencer to sit, and he did, though he looked uneasy.

You took a seat beside him, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort.

You couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was going through. His family situation had never been easy, and now, left completely alone - it broke your heart.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said, his tone breaking with vulnerability. “She was the only family I had left… I don’t know how to do this.”

You turned to him, seeing the pain etched deeply into his features. 

His eyes were distant, filled with sorrow. His quiet admission was a stark contrast to the usual composure you were used to, and it hit you - the force of his raw grief and you felt an intense, helpless wish to erase it. You wished you could make it all go away. You wished you could take some of it from his heart to yours. 

Maybe together you could carry it all.

You imagined a world where grief could be split, a world where his pain could be lessened by your willingness to shoulder part of it. Would he let you carry some of it? 

“I keep thinking that if I stay busy if I just keep working, I won’t have to face it. But it doesn’t work like that. It just keeps coming back.” He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “She was everything to me. I don’t know how to move on… how to live… without her.”

Spencer’s gaze remained fixed on the ground, his fingers gripping the edge of the bench as if it were the only thing keeping him from breaking down.

“I’ve been trying to hold it together, but it’s so hard,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“I’ve been taking care of her since I was a kid and... Over the years, I watched her mind slip away, losing bits and pieces of herself. It was like watching someone you love disappear in slow motion. And then, she started forgetting me too. I was the only one left to care for her, and it felt like I was losing her over and over again.And no matter how hard i tried, no matter what I did I couldn’t help it”

He continued, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And now… she’s gone for good, it’s like I’m left with this… huge void. I miss her so much, and I know how messed up it is but a part of me feels… relieved that she’s not suffering anymore. But it’s all so tangled up in my head. I don’t know if I should be sad that she’s gone or if I should feel guilty for feeling relieved that she’s finally at peace. I’m confused and lost and I don’t know what I feel and what I should feel.”

He looked at you, eyes pleading for understanding. “I thought I could handle it, that if I just kept going, I’d find a way through. I’d figure it out like always. I always know what to do but this… I don’t know.”

You let everything he said sink in and gently placed your hand over his, checking to make sure he was comfortable with the touch. 

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now. It’s a lot. And it’s okay not to have all the answers immediately. Grieving is always messy and complicated, and it takes time. You don’t have to go through this alone, and there’s no need to rush. We’re here for you, and I’m here for you no matter what.”

His eyes glistened as he looked at you, the weight of his grief momentarily softened by your words. 

Without another word, you opened your arms, inviting him into a hug. He hesitated for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

As you held him close, you whispered, “You don’t have to carry this alone. I’m right here with you, and you can always talk to me okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered into your hair, his voice trembling slightly.

[ellephlox]

Muted Dawn

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Summary: You get mugged in the middle of the night, but Matt isn't there to save you.

Warnings: mugging, canon-typical violence, swearing, injuries, physical/verbal assault

In mid-summer, the midnight air of New York had a surreal balminess to it. You wore a tank top and a thin red jacket on top, your suitcase rolling loudly behind you as you hurried down the sidewalk. Every crack, every pebble, every sewer grate — they were all thunderclaps compared to the otherwise quiet evening. The luggage was too heavy to carry, though, so it would have to roll behind you.

It was a long day. You'd flown out to visit family, and your return flight was supposed to be midday. It had been cancelled, though, leaving you to scramble for a layover that could get you to New York by morning. It was a complete shit show, and you'd had to sprint to your gates at the airport with this stupid shitty suitcase that you were half-tempted to just dump in the garbage.

Matt still thought you'd arrived in the evening. He texted you earlier that he had a case to work on with Foggy, and that he'd be up in the office plowing through work, probably until early morning.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you'd actually touched down in New York at eleven p.m. because that would be a surefire way to pull Matt out of work to meet you at the airport. Dragging him from his responsibilities — which were already too numerous — was the last thing you wanted.

So, solo travel in the middle of the night was your only option. You took the airport train to the nearest station, and from there took a train, and from there took another train that deposited you at 50th Street. Matt's apartment was only a ten minute walk, tops, from the station. Just a short walk. Too short to justify calling an Uber, mostly because you didn't exactly have a lot of money left in your wallet and your next paycheck wasn't for another few days.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump—

"Shit," you said aloud, staring between your luggage wheels and the sidewalk, which had switched from mildly smooth to practically cobbled. That didn't bode well for your plan to walk quietly back to the apartment. You snapped the handle down and tried to carry the suitcase again, but managed only to go a few steps before your arm felt as though it were going to break off. "Come on."

"Need some help?" The voice that came from the shadows was most definitely not Matt's, and goosebumps ran down your arms immediately. You didn't bother answering; it was always best to ignore anyone who tried talking to you on the streets of Hell's Kitchen. To regain some speed you pulled your handle back out — no sense in trying to be quiet now — and continued on your way, the thumps more rapid this time as you picked up the pace.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

"I asked you a question, darling." To your horror, mingled with the sound of your suitcase wheels smashing along the sidewalk were now footsteps, and a figure appeared in the corner of your eye.

"You gonna answer? Not very nice of you." He jogged in front of you, blocking your way effectively, and now you could properly see him. He was pale — practically pasty in the moonlight — and wore a sweatshirt so stained it might as well have been a used napkin at a greasy fast food joint. He had a beard, untamed and straggly, and despite the wild look to him that suggested he was hungry, he was big. Most definitely someone you didn't want to try taking on in a fight.

"Get the hell out of my way," you snapped at him.

"I want to see what's in that suitcase. It's making a hell of a racket."

"Sorry to disappoint." You tried to weave your way around him, but he stepped in front of you again.

Damn it. You suddenly regretted not texting Matt about your late arrival. If you had, you wouldn't be alone on the street right now — Matt would have been beside you — and this wouldn't be happening. Fear, potent and throbbing, swirled in your stomach like a dense fog. You felt like a wild animal, ensnared in a trap with nowhere to go. You glanced behind you; the street was just as empty and silent, with the few streetlights flickering menacingly as though about to burn out.

"Look, bitch, you want to do this the easy or the hard way?"

"I said, let me get by. I don't want any trouble."

"Trouble?" he said, then laughed, scanning you from head to toe. "You look like little Red Riding Hood. What're you going to do?"

"I can scream. People will come and you'll be in deep shit."

"You're a fucking idiot if you think that. These back streets of Hell's Kitchen are the furthest you can get from help, darling."

"Unless the devil hears me," you breathed out, depending on the hope that this man had heard of Matt's other persona. "Then I have a good feeling your legs will get broken. You heard of him?"

Except the devil wasn't out tonight. He was instead filing paperwork, far away on the other end of the Kitchen, and probably wearing a suit. Unless the man in front of you fell for the bluff... you were thoroughly screwed.

But the man pulled out a gun, which you had not been expecting. "Devil ain't out here. No one's seen him in a few days. Hard way it is, then. You scream, darling, and I'll shoot you between the eyes."

You froze. Never had you felt so helpless in your life. Your heart was banging against your chest like a frantic bird, trying to escape, and yet your limbs wouldn't move, for fear of that black weapon pointing directly at your head. "Please," you said finally, the word coming out in a rasp. "I just want to go home."

"And you can, once you gimme what I want." The man pointed the gun at the suitcase. "Open it up."

You trembled slightly. Should you try fighting him? Sure, Matt had taught you some basic self-defense, but this man had a gun. What could you do against that? Maybe you could try grabbing the gun, or kicking it from his hands, but... that was ridiculous. You had hardly any training. Most likely you'd end up falling on your ass, and then the guy would put a bullet in you.

No, your best chance was to comply. Slowly you bent down and fumbled with the clasp of the suitcase, your hands shaking so hard that it wouldn't open up.

"I said open it!" the man demanded, jabbing the gun against your temple. It was cold and hard, and against your volition you yelped, squeezing your eyes shut. When the bullet didn't come, you slowly opened your eyes, and resumed your struggle with the clasp, finally popping it open. Shame grazed your face as you opened the luggage to unfolded laundry and toiletries haphazardly thrown in; not that this man cared, but somehow you felt as though your last shred of dignity was chewed up and spat on.

Maybe Matt would finish his paperwork early and put on the suit. Maybe he could hear you, right now, and he was on his way, leaping across rooftops. But no one was coming, and you stepped back, allowing the man to root through your belongings. He stooped over the suitcase, his gun now dangling at your side. You eyed him. Though you weren't exactly fast, especially compared to Matt, maybe you could make a break for it, and at least get away. Your suitcase was a lost cause at this point, but frankly, you didn't care.

Do it. Now. While he's distracted. Before you could lose your nerve, you took off, terror burning in your veins and making you pump your arms as hard as you could. You were only a few blocks from home, not far at all —

But footsteps rang behind you, heavy and faster than you. You chanced a look over your shoulder, and hardly had time to react before the man behind you overtook you entirely, tackling you to the sidewalk. Pavement slashed and gnawed against your skin, burning white hot — your cheek, your knees, the palms of your hands.

"Never run away from me like that before I'm done," the man said, in an almost childish way, as though a toy had been taken from him. He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you roughly to your feet. "I'm not finished with you yet."

By this point, tears were flowing down your cheeks, and all sense of shame was gone. Nothing mattered now except surviving, leaving this man and getting into the safety of home. Desperately you thought of the couch, and the shower, and bed, places that had seemed so close just ten minutes ago and now felt impossibly far away. "Please," you begged him. "Please. Take whatever you want, I just want to leave. Please."

He wrenched your arm in response, twisting it back much farther than it wanted to go. You shrieked, thinking that your arm must be broken, but then he let go and slapped your face, right across the cheek that still burned from the fall.

"Quiet!" he said roughly. "Let me finish." He kept his grip on your arm as he bent down to return to the suitcase, and you were yanked off your feet, falling to the ground like some absurd doll in the hands of an aggressive six-year-old. You didn't watch closely what the man took, because your vision was too blurred, but a dazed glance downwards told you that your laptop, earbuds, and jewelry were gone.

"Where's your wallet?" he asked, turning back to you. You didn't question him at all and reached into your pocket, your fingertips searching obediently for the wallet. Where are you, Matt? The man wasn't patient, though, and plunged his hand into your pocket to take over. You stayed stock still, the feeling of his hand against your thigh more disturbing than you could have predicted, as he extracted the wallet, then your phone, and pushed you away.

"Now here's what's going to happen," he said, pulling the gun out again. "I'm gonna let you live, because bodies are hard to take care of. But if you try squealing, if you go running off to a cop — if you tell anyone at all, I swear I'm going to find you and kill you." He took out your license and read it aloud — your name, your height, your weight, your address. "See, darling, I know everything about you. And if I get a whiff that you've tried telling someone about this little exchange we had tonight, I'll come to your address, and I'll slit your throat. Got it, darling?"

You nodded violently.

"Now get out of here," he said, and shoved you one last time. You didn't hesitate, and ran.

He could have taken more. Your clothing, your bracelet from Matt that you wore, your body, your life. All those you still had. The things he'd taken were meaningless, just trinkets. Things you could buy again.

But this reasoning didn't comfort you at all, and the moment you were in the safety of the apartment, with the door locked, you broke down altogether. You could hardly breathe, and every two seconds you ran to the window to check the street, certain that you'd see that stained sweatshirt ambling along the sidewalk, or hear a sudden knock at the door. Your phone was gone, so there was no way to call 911 if you needed to. And Matt wouldn't be able to reach you, either. You wished, like never before, that you could have his hearing. The ability to know when Matt was on his way back, and to hear him coming down the sidewalk, would be infinitely comforting; even more so would be the assurance that you'd hear that man who mugged you if he decided to come to the apartment.

But all you could hear was the whir of the refrigerator and your own shallow breaths.

It was therefore a heart-wrenching shock when you heard the deadbolt unlock, maybe an hour later. Maybe two hours later, or three. You weren't sure; time was a vortex, or even a black hole, with an event horizon so monstrous that everything was sucked into it.

Matt's home. As if you were dropped into an icy bath, you suddenly leapt to your feet. You hadn't showered. Your clothing was torn at the knees, and that man's scent was probably all over you, not to mention blood was smeared across your face and hands from the scrapes. Not good. Not good at all.

You ran into the bathroom just as the front door sprung open, and you only caught the smallest glimpse of the storm cloud of emotion already on Matt's face before you slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it.

Why, exactly, you were hiding from him, when there was no doubt he could smell the man and blood either way, wasn't clear to you. Maybe it was the shame of him seeing you like this. He was so capable, so responsible, and to sense you on the floor like a puddle... it made you feel even worse than you already felt. Yes, you'd wanted Matt to save you, but it was too late now, wasn't it? Now you were just going to be another thing he had to take care of.

So, a shower it was.

Matt's fist pounded on the door. "Y/N? What happened?"

"I'm showering."

"It's two in the morning. I can smell your blood and your heart is flying. What happened?"

This time, it wasn't Matt asking, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. You could hear it in the low growl of his voice, the restlessness that simultaneously wanted to defend you as well as throw a punch at something.

"I'm okay, Matt. I'm okay. I just need a minute to clean up," you told him, starting the water. "Please."

"Y/N, if you don't unlock this door, I'm going to knock it off its hinges."

The thought made new tears spring to your eyes all over again. Your money — all gone. You'd have to cancel your credit cards now. And while you'd spent most of your money while visiting family, you'd had at least two twenties in your wallet — forty dollars, now gone, and forty dollars less to fix a broken door with.

Matt must have sensed the tears, because his next words were much gentler. "Whatever happened, you can tell me. I can—"

He fell silent. You peeled off your jacket, examining the scrapes on your hands briefly. Those would sting in the water, undoubtedly. Taking care of them was an imperative. Matt had a case to work on, and a city to save. The thought of him being preoccupied with your damn hands was enough to make you want to throw your fist into the wall with anger. Anger with yourself. How could you have let yourself get mugged? If you'd just called a fucking Uber from the station, then this would never have happened.

Matt said something on the other side of the door, too softly for you to hear.

"Didn't catch that," you said, as casually as possible. Priority number one was making sure Matt didn't know the extent to which you were freaked out.

"I said, who did this?"

"I don't know," you said evenly. It was harder than you thought it would be to keep your voice steady, when every instinct in you wanted to say it with a sob, and to curl back up on the floor. Standing was too hard, listening to Matt was too hard, simply breathing was too hard — every time you closed your eyes, the feeling of the gun against your temple returned to you.

There was a sudden click, and the door swung open. Matt had unlocked it, somehow, and you didn't have the energy to question how he'd done it.

His presence was like a live electric wire as he stepped into the room. You could feel the tension rising within him, threatening to spill over if you didn't give a name or a hint of what happened. You crossed your arms, wishing you'd left your jacket on, even though it didn't make a difference for what Matt could sense about you. The scrape on your face seared angrily and the fleeting thought passed through you that Matt could probably feel the heat of it just as clearly as you.

"I said I was fine," you said finally, keeping your voice controlled. "I told you I needed a minute."

"That doesn't matter when you're hurt. I need to know how hurt. Let me just feel—"

"Matt, please." You were shaking now, and torn between collapsing into his arms and never letting him know the extent to which you were absolutely petrified. Matt froze.

"Do you need me to leave?" he asked softly.

"I... no. I don't know what I need. I need..." A thrill of horror raced through you at the realization that you hadn't checked the window in awhile. What if the man was coming up the street now, on his way to break in and finish the deed with a bullet in your head? A bullet in Matt's head? You brushed by him and hurried to the window, squinting out at the dark.

Matt followed, and this time he didn't wait before coming up right behind you and cupping your cheek with his hand. It was gentle, but not a romantic act — you could feel the way his fingertips grazed over the scrape, accounting for the grit and sweat and blood that adorned it. Unable to bring yourself to move, you stood like a deer in the headlights as his hands then moved to your temples.

"No concussion," he said, but his jaw remained just as tight as he lowered his fingers to your own hands, breezing over them gingerly.

"These scrapes need to be cleaned." His face tensed as his hand hovered near your thigh. "Did he—?"

"No. No, I was just..." Mugged. It was too embarrassing to admit, and the word lodged in your throat. "Just some things were taken. Phone. Wallet. Suitcase."

"Jesus, at seven in the evening? Did anyone see? I want a name. A description. Anything. I'll find him and—"

"It wasn't seven in the evening." You dipped your head, tears welling again. "My plane was delayed."

You feared that he was going to be pissed, but instead he simply looked bemused. "Why didn't you say anything? I would've met you at the airport."

"Because you had work," you said, more stiffly. "And I know that me getting robbed looks bad, but I don't want to be your burden. Foggy needed your help tonight, not me."

"Not you? That's bullshit, Y/N," Matt said, and the electricity that had been buzzing in his movements finally exploded. "The reason I put on the damn suit anyway is because I care about people, including you. And you — you're above the rest, because I love you. Don't you see that? I need this, I need to find whoever did this, because if I don't, then I've failed you. I've failed myself, I've failed the city, I've failed my faith."

"Matt, it's not that serious. I overreacted, that's all."

"Like hell you overreacted. How do you think I felt when I left work and heard your heartbeat from two blocks away, racing like you were staring death in the face? When I got into the apartment and could smell your blood? When I came in here and could taste your fear?"

"I didn't ask you to sense those things," you snapped, and the moment the words were out of your mouth, you regretted them. It wasn't as though you could have simply elected to not see Matt that time he'd arrived at the apartment, torn up and bloody, or simply turned your head when you'd heard him yelling in the hospital as Claire stitched up his guts. In fact, it was impossible to not pay attention even more at times like that. Your mouth was dry as you shook your head. "I'm sorry, Matt. I don't mean that."

Still, he didn't get mad at you. "I know."

And it was that, his patience despite the energy palpitating in his fists that made you sink onto the couch, placing your face in your hands. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I... I can tell you what happened. It's just that admitting it makes it so much more real. It's humiliating."

Matt sat next to you, just shy of touching you. Waiting for your permission, likely. "Who was it?"

"Bearded man. Stained sweatshirt, really large — probably six foot four."

"Where?"

"Three blocks directly west of us."

"How did you get the scrapes?"

You closed your eyes. "I tried to get away. He tackled me. There was a gun, too. He kept it pointed at my head, and — Oh, God. He said if I told anyone, that he'd come here. He's got our address because of my license. He said he'd come here with the gun and—"

"Pointed at your head?" Matt's voice dropped to a dangerous low again, reminiscent of the devil. "You could've been killed." He got to his feet, stalking to the cabinet and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Matt," you said weakly, unsure of how to make the request for him to stay. He wanted to leave. He needed to let out the energy and protect, as was his standard, but you needed him to protect from here. The thought of being alone in the apartment was unbearable; you wanted him by your side, keeping you safe with his presence, not the mask.

"I wasn't there for you." Matt's fists were clenching and unclenching rhythmically as he stood in front of the suit, shirtless. Contemplating, or strategizing? You weren't sure. "I — if he had shot you — I can't—"

"Matt," you said again, louder this time. "I need—"

You were about to say "you" but the energy broiling in Matt's stance made you fall short. He needed to do this. You could be alone for a bit longer, you told yourself. "I need the bandages," you finished. "They're... not in the bathroom."

"They're under the kitchen sink," Matt said, and suddenly he turned around, his expression softer. "Let me help."

Inwardly sighing, you sat on the armchair, hugging your knees, while Matt cleaned your scrapes with a steady hand. He didn't say a word as he worked, his eyes darting about uncharacteristically. You still couldn't get a read on exactly what he was thinking. There was no chance he'd be angry at you, but that didn't preclude him from being disappointed.

How many other people would have been able to hold their own against that man? Everyone else in Matt's circle would have been capable. Frank, Jessica, Danny, Luke — they wouldn't have been even fazed at all. Elektra would have had a field day with him. Even Karen and Foggy had proved themselves quick to react in dangerous situations, and you couldn't help but think anyone in that situation other than you would have walked away unscathed. Your cheeks burned at the thought, as much as you willed them not to.

"What is it?" Matt said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Of course he'd notice the shift in your temperature.

"Maybe I deserved it," you said, a bit bitterly. "I shouldn't have been walking out there. Like you said, I could've called you. And I didn't. I could've learned more self-defense over the past few years, and I haven't. It's my own stupidity that's got me where I am."

Matt stilled. "You're blaming yourself?"

"I'm blaming my lack of foresight."

He resumed dabbing at your hands, and was silent for so long that you thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally, he said, "With that line of reasoning, then it's my fault Elena Cardenas was killed. I should have done more."

"That's not the same, and you know it."

He ignored you. "It's also my fault that Foggy got shot, that time we were in Reyes's office. If I had been listening more closely to what was going on down the street, then I would have heard the threat coming sooner."

"Matt, come on. You know what I meant."

"And it's my fault that Fisk got out of prison. If I had the wherewithal to kill him the first day I met him, he would never have—"

"Stop it!"

"Do you get it?" he whispered. "It's not your fault. We could preoccupy ourselves all day with the ifs that might have changed what happened. But you can't beat yourself up over the ifs that you couldn't have predicted. The bad people in this world don't get to benefit from your own self-degradation. Never take the fall for something they've done."

You let out a short laugh through the tears that caught in your eyes. "You give great advice, Matt, but you're terrible at following it yourself."

"Touché. Take off your pants for me?"

You smiled. "You really know how to sweet-talk a girl."

Matt brushed his thumbs over the corners of your eyes, exactly where they were still damp. "Well, maybe once your knees are cleaned up, I'll show you how it's really done."

You pulled off your pants and tossed them onto the couch. "You're not... heading out onto the street?"

"I'd rather be here."

You hardly dared to believe it. "You sure?"

"Positive." He didn't hesitate as he bent down onto the floor, methodically poring over the scrapes with the washcloth. "You're my priority."

A warm glow flushed through your cheeks, this time out of relief, and the smile that tugged at Matt's lips told you that he sensed it. You let him finish bandaging up your knees before you grabbed his arm and pulled him next to you on the armchair. There wasn't much space, but you lifted your knees so that he was partially underneath you, squeezed next to one another so tightly that you could feel his heartbeat.

"Hey," you said, after a moment. "How'd you unlock the bathroom door without a key so quickly?"

"It's an easy trick. Stick showed me years ago."

"Can you show me?"

"A good magician keeps his secrets," Matt said. At your frown, he laughed. "I'll show you tomorrow."

"I love you," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I love you more than you'll ever know," he answered. You fell asleep to his hand running through your hair, the billboard outside rotating between hues of violet and cobalt, and the faint thrum of the muted air conditioner in the apartment above.

When you woke, you were in bed. It was still early; the dawn outside was muted. Matt must have carried you into the bedroom, because you had no memory of moving in there yourself. For a moment you feared he had taken to the streets, but feeling the warmth on your left, he was still there, and had been for some time. You shifted, trying to get nearer to his warmth. He said nothing but tugged you in even closer, his arms and legs thrown over you protectively.

What if you had been shot and killed? The thought was eerie. This bed would be empty. Matt would surely be out for the man's blood. And all this... you wouldn't ever get to experience it again. It was far too easy to take each day for granted. Far, far too easy.

One day at a time, then, you decided, and closed your eyes again as Matt's hand crept over your own.

[icallhimjoey]

Lost & Found

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader     Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.     CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!     Author’s note: I asked for requests and then used 0 of them – sorry – this is one of those things that started in a whatsapp chat and started living its own life fairly quickly. Wasn't meant to become a five-parter but, big sigh, here we are... I hope you enjoy this first part!    Wordcount: 3.4K  

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Of course. Of fucking course.  

Something always had to go fucking wrong, didn’t it? Couldn’t just be smooth fucking sailing for once, could it?    

Jesus fucking Christ.  

Joe massaged his temples as he let his breath escape through flared nostrils.   

Typical.  

He’s just flung his suitcase onto the bed, ready to charge what needed charging and to change what needed changing. The heavy bounce of it should’ve told him something was off.  

That wasn’t his. 

It wasn't his suitcase that he'd just flung onto his hotel bed.   

It looked enough like it, but his three-digit code didn't unlock it, and upon closer inspection, this one had a lot of marks on it that suggested it had been used a lot more and for a lot longer.    

Not his suitcase.  

Same brand. Same colour. Same model. Not his.  

He'd taken the wrong suitcase. Like the day hadn't been long enough already.  

The warm breeze had felt glorious when he'd stepped off the plane, the temperature balmy enough to really make him feel the difference when walked down the stairs onto the tarmac. The sun had been out, and he'd felt how it immediately relaxed his shoulders. It was exactly what he needed, why he even booked the trip in the first place, he thought, slipping his sunglasses down from the top of his head onto his nose.  

Sun. Warmth from up above that clung in the air that surrounded him.  

Was nice.

Lovely.

He'd gotten what he'd thought was his suitcase from the conveyer belt no problem, finding it quickly. Then it only took a minute to wait for a taxi that took him to his hotel. He'd booked a room in the kind of place you didn't need to leave at all if you didn't really want to – nice hotel restaurant downstairs, nice hotel rooftop bar upstairs, big pool surrounded by sun loungers outside and a view of the beach just behind it. Not quite a resort, but, kind of a resort, if you asked his mum. 

It was exactly what he'd needed. A few days away from the hustle and bustle of daily-life-sludge Joe felt he'd had a hard time wading through. Just a quick break to get his sun-starved skin some much needed vitamin D. Make the freckles that hid underneath his skin show up. It was the time of year when temperatures dropped fairly quickly once the sun went down, but the days were gorgeous still. The type of hot where you could sit in direct sunlight in the middle of the day without feeling like you were melting but still get tanned all over.  

Joe should've felt lucky, because that was what he'd been announcing to the world a lot lately. "I feel very lucky," over and over until it caught up with him.  

"Quick few days away will sort you out," his mum had told him over the phone, and mother's always knew best, didn't they?

So he'd just gone and booked it. Went, fuck it, this looks nice, I want to go there.

And now he was here.

He had five full days all to himself, travel days not included, in which he’d get to truly switch off a second. Enough time to listen to his favourite podcast for however long he wanted without being interrupted halfway through an episode. Enough time to finally get past page five of this book he’d started reading three times already. Enough time to work through his inbox at a leisurely pace. Have whichever drink whenever.   

Joe was meant to feel all lucky.   

It was just that... he'd just flung a suitcase onto his hotel bed that wasn't his, and... now what? The good bits felt all fucked up, the positive twisted, leaving him with just the negative frustrating shit. 

Trip fucking ruined already, and he'd not even been there two hours. 

All he had on him were his passport, his phone, a pair of wireless headphones that were running low on battery and his bank cards. He'd foregone bringing a backpack as carry-on, checking in his suitcase, and feeling very free as he'd walked through the TSA screening with barely anything on him.   

Now he regretted every single decision he'd made that lead up to this moment.   

Unbeknownst to him, you were just two floors up, in the same hotel, in a room that looked identical, also stood by your hotel bed. Difference was, you'd just opened what you thought was your suitcase, only to be met by a bunch of stuff that wasn't yours.   

You didn't own anything pinstriped. Or, um, Dior.  

You checked the code that you hadn't changed to open it – that wasn't what you'd set it as.   

That wasn't your suitcase.   

“Um, what the fuck?”  

Whoever the suitcase belonged to had shut it but then hadn't run a thumb over the numbered wheels to make sure anyone without the right combination couldn't open it – an idiot, you thought.   

And idiot with... very expensive clothes. Men's clothes.   

For a moment far too long, you just looked at what was in front of you and processed what this meant.

You didn’t have your things.

Your stuff.

No dress to slip into. No bikini to wear underneath.

Shit.

You'd have to phone the airline, let them know you'd taken the wrong suitcase. Yours had probably been brought over to lost and found, the owner of this one probably hoping his would be there too. Except it wasn't. It was a 40-minute taxi ride removed from lost and found, up on the 11th floor of a nice beach hotel. With you.  

Shit.   

You looked down at your own top, the stains from the bottle of coke that had sprayed everywhere upon the first cap-twist still evident.   

Fuck.  

This first evening you'd booked a table downstairs for dinner, and then were planning on having drinks upstairs to really make sure you'd knock yourself out cold until at least 10.30am the next morning.   

You threw an arm up and smelled an armpit.  

Rank.

Yea, no way you were going to do those things in the outfit you currently had on.   

"Hi, I have a question regarding baggage claim? Is there a service agent I can talk to? It appears I have taken the wrong suitcase by accident."  

Joe sighed as he got put on hold for a minute, only to be told later to please return the suitcase to baggage claim. He hoped they'd be able to give him any other information that didn't involve him traveling back there. Also, maybe a little info on whether or not his suitcase had been left behind and was now in lost and found, or if someone else had taken it.   

"Please find the baggage claim customer service desk, and we'll be able to help you locate your luggage from there."   

All right. Fine.   

Was he going to do that tonight? After just getting to the hotel, now hungry and tired and in need of some good food and a good night's sleep?  

No.  

Probably not the nicest thing, since, you know, someone else was likely also trying to track down what he was storing in his hotel room right now, but Joe had a dinner reservation for one he wanted to get to. Had scanned the menu online beforehand and was craving the steak tartare now. It just sucked he was going to have that in the same outfit he'd worn traveling there, as well as the rest of the night and the next morning.   

Deep breaths, Joe. Big gulps of air. Take a step back. Zoom out a little.

In the grand scheme of things... this was just annoying. Not the end of the world.

He'd fetch a spare charger for his phone from the front desk, have his meal, have a nice drink, and do his very best not to think about all the things that frustrated him for the rest of the night.  

But, that was easier said that done.  

Especially when, halfway through dinner, a pretty girl walked in wearing what looked suspiciously similar to one of his shirts.

Nah.   

Couldn't be.  

He was probably just seeing things. Was just looking because she was pretty. Was too tired. Had one drink too many.

Was grumpy about the fact that the only charger the hotel had for him didn't fit the outlets here, and they didn't have a plug adapter for him to make it work.   

Was more grumpy about the fact that you'd sat down in his direct line of sight. You know, since he couldn't just burrow himself into his phone for fear of the battery dying on him.   

Was most grumpy that the shirt looked better on you than it did on him.  

For fuck's sake.  

And he wasn't even sure if he even packed that shirt at all! 

For his own sanity, he convinced himself he didn’t pack it.  

Lots of people had shirts like it. Faded orangey colour. Striped. The one he owned probably wasn't quite as pink as this one. Or maybe it was... but, even so, it could be the exact same one, still didn’t need to be his. 

It was a little more difficult however, when upstairs at the bar, after the first sip of his gin martini, he saw you walk out in a jacket that he knew for a fact he’d packed.  

That was his jacket.

Stop it, Joe thought. You've gone mad.

Just a coincidence.

Big coincidence, though... wasn't it?

“you’ve overworked me, i should get another week” he texted his agent, blaming the fact that he was seeing things on that, and received a “lol no” in return.  

Joe was still annoyed the next morning when he climbed into a taxi, phone about to die any second now.

Had you been out the door about twenty seconds earlier, you'd have run into him.

Somehow, traffic turned the twenty seconds into over ten minutes. Joe was already standing by the baggage claim service desk, your suitcase on the floor next to him, patiently waiting as the lady behind the computer typed away with eyes stuck to a computer screen Joe couldn't see. 

You walked up, eyes on your phone, occasionally looking up for signs that pointed you in the right direction. You didn't even notice Joe, or your suitcase on the floor next to him. 

"At airport now, fingers crossed" you texted a friend, and got a quick, "it's there, it's GOT TO BE there" from her in response. It wasn't until the guy in front of you turned around, gave you a polite smile, and then did a double take for you to see it. 

Your suitcase.

"My suitcase!" 

"My jacket."

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

You were standing in front of the guy whose suitcase you'd gone through the night before. Whose suitcase you did your best to pack so it didn't look like you'd gone through every single thing that was in there. Whose pinstriped jacket you'd thrown on because it was the morning still, a little chilly for... just his T-shirt that you wore underneath. 

You immediately forgot how to function as a normal humanbeing. 

Error 404: cognitive function not found.

"Um, I–I..." you faltered, blood heating your cheeks, and you saw how the brow of stranger in front of you slowly furrowed as his eyes scanned down your body. 

Fuck. 

Now, you see, in your defence... you were left to your own devices, just, all alone in a hotel room, unsupervised, with a suitcase that was full of special, unknown things. Lots of treasures and, expensive designer clothing... how was anyone to expect you to be sensible and not snoop? 

Of course you were going to be snooping.

You snooped.

Were a tried-and-true snooper.

It was just that... you hadn't just snooped, had you? 

Hadn't just let your eyes roam. 

You'd gotten your hands in there almost instantly. 

You'd called a friend, and explained your situation, and had then switched the regular call to Facetime to go through the whole thing together. Toiletry bag and all. Every single item had passed your grip, and you'd tried on more items than you dared admitting to anyone – the boyfriend-fit of every single item had made you consider maybe just... keeping a shirt.

"Fuck me, that looks good on you. Keep it." your friend only egged you on.

"I can't keep it," you said, checking yourself in the mirror before asking your friend to google for prices, wanting to know how much this had cost the owner of the suitcase.

When she told you, you took a moment to let that sink in before you said, "Yea, maybe I should keep it."

That jacket, or perhaps the one pair of jeans. Claim you'd just found the suitcase like that. He'd left it unlocked, anyway.

"Look at this, this... this is clearly someone on a business trip, there's suits, but then, look, he's got two-in-one shampoo and conditioner in his toiletry bag," you held up the bottle close enough to your perched up phone to show it properly. 

"Who takes shampoo on a business trip? Surely you just use whatever they have at the hotel?" your friend made a good point. 

"Especially two-in-fucking-one," you tossed the bottle onto your bed, next to all the other shit you were fishing out. Razor, nail clippers, a moisturizer of which you didn't even recognise the brand - very fancy.

"Men are insane,"

"Even the rich ones, apparently," 

"Especially the rich ones."

It'd been a good half hour of giggles before you'd decided you were just going to wear one of his shirts to dinner. Why not? You could fold it up nicer than the way you'd found it in there. You'd be fine.

He just... he wasn't meant to actually see you in his clothes. You were wearing literal proof of what you were desperately wanting to hide.

How were you going to talk yourself out of this? 

Were you just going to be honest? 

Look at him.

Of course you weren't going to be honest. This man would've made you nervous even if you hadn't shown up in his literal clothes, revealing you'd not just opened the suitcase to see it wasn't yours - you'd gone through it and were now wearing what was his.  

"Oh, excellent!" the lady behind the desk stood up and peered over the desk at the floor, at the two similar suitcases. "This will be a lot easier now," she stepped around with a little scanning device, scanned both labels that you, thank God, both hadn't touched. Imagine if you'd have ripped that off. You'd no idea what that would've meant, but surely it would have made the whole situation a lot more complicated. 

You were contemplating pretending to be crazy. Or stupid. Just really, really, really stupid. 

Shut the fuck up why did he not stop staring at you? Could he look away for just a second, maybe? 

"I didn't mean to– I only opened it this morning, I didn't have anything to we–" you rambled, stumbled through little white lies and stopped when you saw the faintest little hint of amusement on Joe's face.

"Are you going to sue me?" you winced.

"No," his smile grew, but he held out a hand. For the jacket, you presumed. 

"There, all settled." the baggage claim service agent smiled. "This one is yours, and this one is yours." 

"Thank you," Joe smiled at her – she'd done her job. You saw it was just him being polite before his attention turned back to you.

"Um, I won't sue you. But I would like my clothes back..." his hand was still there and you realised that you fully understood the body language, but hadn't actually moved to take it off yet. 

"Yes, of course! Sorry, I was– the plan was that I'd fetch my own suitcase from lost and found and then would change into my own stuff, and–" you squeezed your eyes shut, letting the jacket slide from your shoulders, knowing that you sounded absolutely insane. "You weren't meant to find out." you huffed a laugh, hoping that finding humour in the situation would make him copy it.

"Not exactly a water proof plan," Joe gave you a nod and looked at you a little apprehensively, head tilted down, as you handed over the jacket that he folded over his forearm.

"Well, had you not been here yet, I would've gotten off scot-free," you joked lightly, confidence creeping in a little as you raised your eyebrows at him just before kneeling down next to your suitcase and tipping it onto its side to open it.

"Ah," Joe nodded, all understanding, but his face quickly twisted in exaggerated confusion. "So... that wasn't you in my shirt last night?" 

Your neck cracked with how fast it snapped to look back up at him. Deer in headlights, eyes wide in shock, blush deepening. Had you ever felt sweat prickling in your pits before? 

"I–"

"And red jacket?"

Fucking fuck shit. You were such a fucking idiot.

"Red?" you focussed entirely on the wrong thing, but, what else was there to do in a panic? "No, t'was more of a brownish sort of–"

"Burgundy." Joe cut you off.

You looked at each other for a long moment where it took you a smidge too long to close the mouth you'd left hanging open.

My God.

You'd really worked yourself into a corner here, hadn't you?

"Is that... is that my T-shirt?" 

It got worse fast, though.

You looked down to see for yourself, eyes still huge, and for what? To check if you were still wearing the black T-shirt? You knew you were wearing his T-shirt. It was why you'd opened your suitcase in the first place, to fetch something of your own to change into. To take into a toilet stall so you could give him back what belonged to him, and if you were quick, give it back without pit stains. 

When you looked back up, you felt how the blush was now making your neck and chest break out in hives. There really wasn't a way out of this. Caught red-handed, you had no other choice but to surrender and admit to every single wrong choice you'd made. Not willing to speak the actual confession into existence, you let your arms move on their own accord and just... moved to take the T-shirt off. One of your arms disappeared into the T-shirt, out of the sleeve, and you were about to pull the whole thing over your head when you were stopped.

"No– no, stop, don't–" he laughed. Planted a hand on your shoulder – the one of which the arm was stuck inside the T-shirt now.  

You stopped, listening to his instructions from your kneeled position on the floor. 

Joe wasn't going to let you undress into just your bra in the middle of an airport. This was a weird beginning to his trip but, was it really that bad? He'd gotten his suitcase back. That was what he'd wished for ever since finding out he'd taken the wrong one, and now, it had been returned to him.

He'd gotten what he'd wished for.

So what if a pretty girl borrowed some of his clothes for a second? It probably only meant that some of it smelled nicer now. She looked like she felt bad enough about it, too.

No big deal.

"Are we staying at the same hotel?"

"I... I think so?" you sat unmoved.

"If you could leave that at the front desk, I'll just... it's fine, I'll pick it up there," the frown that graced this man's features earlier seemingly had been sarcastic. Or, he'd just turned friendly. Either way, everything about his face told you not to worry about it.

Well, tough. Fuck him. You were worrying. This was so awkward. 

You very slowly moved your arm back into the sleeve of the T-shirt and then moved to close your suitcase. 

"Okay," your voice had never sounded thicker with hesitation.

"Okay?" Joe laughed.

"Yea," you sighed. "Yea, all right. I'm sorry." you winced as you clicked your suitcase shut and got back up onto your feet.

"It's fine." Joe waved a hand, dismissing the whole thing. You thought that was just to make you feel more comfortable, because you were very clearly going through it. For good reason. Had you been in his shoes, you would've told yourself off for the shit you'd pulled.

"Looks better on you, anyway," 

And like you weren't red in the face enough already, the snort laugh that escaped you turned you purple whilst simultaneously breaking any and all tension.

---

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