xmcrbvs-blog

[reidmarieprentiss]

i love you

Summary: Spencer falls in love with a famous singer, Spencer also has a hard time controlling his jealousy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x pop star! fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: insecurity, cheating accusations, arguing, lack of trust, regrets, being famous, paparazzi, bestie Billie Eilish

Word count: 13k

a/n: helloooo hehe sorry about the angst again butttt i have ideas for a happier story line if y'all want a part 2 !!!!

update! part two is here!!!

main masterlist

February, 2006

In the heart of New York City, where towering skyscrapers meet the pulse of creativity, you find yourself stepping into the sleek, modern office of a prestigious publishing house. Today’s interview isn’t just any ordinary sit-down; it’s being conducted by the chief editor themselves—a rare honor reserved for only the most influential figures. As one of the world’s most celebrated pop stars, the stakes are high, and they’ve rolled out the red carpet for you, eager to delve into the stories behind your meteoric rise and iconic career. 

You had barely wrapped up your latest thought, answering a question about the creative process behind your new album, when a soft knock interrupted the flow of your interview. The chief editor, who had been so focused on your words, paused, a small frown creasing their brow as the door cracked open. 

The person who had greeted you and your team at the front desk earlier poked their head into the room, eyes wide with apology and urgency. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but we have two agents here from the FBI. They say they are working on a case that could involve some of our publications. What should I tell them?”

The editor’s eyes flicked back to you, concern knitting their features together. “Y/N, I am so so sorry. Do you mind if I step out for one second?”

You offered them a reassuring smile, waving a hand dismissively. “No! Not at all! Take care of whatever you need.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the editor breathed, clearly relieved as they stood and followed the receptionist out of the room, leaving you alone for the moment.

After a few minutes, they returned, apologizing profusely for the interruption, but you could see the tension still etched on their face, the slight edge of distraction in their voice. The rest of the interview passed without incident, but once it wrapped up, you couldn’t shake the curiosity bubbling inside you.

As you gathered your things, you politely declined their offer to show you to the bathroom. "Thank you, but I think I can manage," you said with a smile, wanting to stretch your legs a bit and maybe take a peek at the source of the earlier interruption.

After wandering down the corridor for a minute or two, it became clear that you had no idea where you were going. The building was far larger than you anticipated, with identical doors lining each hallway. You turned a corner, hoping you were heading in the right direction when you noticed a room with an open door.

Inside, two men stood by a large table filled with neatly organized files and documents. Their presence was commanding, unmistakably official, and more than a little bit attractive. One was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair, his expression serious as he sifted through a stack of papers. The other, slightly younger, had sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of glasses, his movements precise as he carefully handled what appeared to be an older document.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to intrude on whatever important work they were doing, but your need to find the bathroom was becoming more pressing by the second.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the doorway and cleared your throat softly. “Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know where the bathroom is?”

Both men looked up, their attention snapping to you as if they had been pulled out of deep concentration. Aaron Hotchner blinked in surprise, his composed demeanor faltering just slightly before he offered a polite, practiced smile. “No bother at all. I don’t believe I know where the bathroom is. Reid?”

Spencer Reid barely looked up from his work, his attention already drifting back to the papers in front of him. “Out the door to the left, down the hall, last door on the right,” he mumbled, his voice soft and almost distracted.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Oh, he was pretty—and not immediately bowled over by your presence? You liked a challenge. “Oh! Thank you!” you chirped, your tone a bit more enthusiastic than you intended, but it wasn’t every day you met someone who didn’t immediately fall into the rhythm of your world.

After finding the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the thought of that cute, nerdy man with the sharp intellect and distracted charm. You quickly texted your assistant, Dylan—who was also your brother—asking him to pick up two coffees and some pastries, and to meet you on the floor where you were currently stationed.

When the delivery arrived, you approached the room where the men were working once again. You knocked lightly on the doorframe to announce your presence. “Hi! Thanks again for helping me out earlier. I thought maybe you two could use a little pick-me-up,” you said, holding out the goods with a bright smile.

Aaron looked at the offering with a hint of suspicion, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your motives. “Wow. That’s very kind of you, thank you,” he said, his voice polite but guarded.

You quickly picked up on the hesitation and offered an explanation. “Sorry, I know it’s a little odd to get gifts from strangers. I just like paying it forward. You helped me, so I do something kind for you, and maybe you’ll do something kind for someone else later.”

Aaron’s expression softened at your explanation, a hint of warmth creeping into his eyes. “I like that. Thank you again,” he said, this time with more sincerity.

Meanwhile, Spencer still hadn’t fully reacted, offering only a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgment. You handed the coffee and pastry to Aaron before turning your attention to Spencer, who was already drifting back into his work. “Here,” you said, holding out the coffee to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, glancing up briefly. “Any sugar?”

“Uh, no, just black. I’m sure there’s some in the break room…?” you offered, tilting your head slightly in question.

He nodded again, his attention already starting to slip back to the papers in front of him. “Alright… I’ll just put this here,” you said, placing his pastry on top of what appeared to be his satchel, casually slipping a note underneath the paper bag. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself—maybe he’d notice, or maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, you’d planted a seed of curiosity in that brilliant mind of his, and that was enough for now.

—

Spencer's eyes lingered on the note, the neat, playful handwriting contrasting sharply with the serious documents scattered across his desk. He blinked a few times, trying to piece together the brief interaction he had with you earlier, but the details were frustratingly fuzzy. He’d been so engrossed in his work that he barely registered your presence, let alone your face. The only thing he could recall was the faint scent of coffee and the sound of your cheerful voice, but nothing more.

Across the room, Hotch was watching the scene unfold with a faint smile, his amusement barely concealed. He hadn’t known who you were either, but he found the situation oddly endearing. Spencer, brilliant and socially awkward as he was, seemed utterly baffled by the note in his hand. Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger colleague’s bewilderment.

“Staring at it won’t help,” Hotch advised, his tone light. “Maybe you should call?”

“I don’t know her,” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing as he continued to scrutinize the note as if it held some hidden meaning he was missing.

Hotch leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a knowing look. “You could get to know her,” he suggested, the amusement in his voice evident. “She obviously went out of her way to reach out to you. It’s not every day someone leaves their number like that.”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing through all the possible outcomes of making that call. On one hand, he was intensely curious about you—who you were, why you’d left the note, and what you’d seen in him that made you interested. On the other hand, the idea of reaching out to someone he didn’t know, especially in such a personal way, was daunting.

But Hotch had a point. He always did.

Spencer glanced down at the note again, reading the words over and over as if they would change with each pass. 

Give me a call when you’re not so busy? Promise I’m more interesting than some old prints <3 Xxx xxx xxxx.

There was a lightness to your words, a promise of something different, something outside the usual routine that consumed him. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk to find out what that was. Taking a deep breath, Spencer carefully folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, the decision made, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.

Hotch’s smile widened just a fraction as he watched Spencer’s resolve take shape. “Good choice,” he said simply, returning his attention to his own work, leaving Spencer to contemplate when—and how—he’d make that call.

—

March, 2006

Life as a pop star was nothing short of chaotic, especially when you were barely 24 and on the brink of releasing yet another album. Your days were a whirlwind of recording studios, press conferences, interviews, and the constant need to stay relevant on social media. It was a lot to handle, but having your brother, Dylan, by your side made it all feel a little more manageable. He was your rock, keeping things running smoothly even when the demands of fame threatened to overwhelm you.

Currently, you found yourself back in LA, swept up in a relentless schedule that Dylan had meticulously organized. The days blurred together—back-to-back interviews, recording sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning, and brief moments snatched away for obligatory social media posts. In the midst of all this, the memory of the mystery man you’d given your number to in New York had faded into the background. It was easier not to dwell on it, to keep your expectations low. After all, not everyone was going to reciprocate your interest, and you’d learned early on in life not to take things personally.

Weeks passed, and your mind was consumed by the demands of your career. The mystery man became just that—a mystery you tucked away, almost forgotten amidst the chaos. That is, until one quiet evening in your LA apartment, when you were finally able to unwind, your phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number. 

You stared at the screen, your instincts urging you not to answer. In your line of work, you never knew when or if your number might get leaked, and you weren’t about to take any chances. But as soon as the call ended, curiosity got the better of you. Who could it have been? You needed to know.

With a quick text, you reached out to your tech-savvy friend, Kade. Their enthusiasm for solving puzzles like this made them the perfect person to track down the owner of that mysterious number. Within minutes, Kade had the information—and a picture too. When the image popped up on your screen, your heart skipped a beat.

It was him. The mystery man from New York. The one you’d thought might never call.

Without a second thought, you hit the call button, your nerves tingling with anticipation as you listened to the line ring. Finally, after weeks of wondering, you were about to hear his voice again.

—

Spencer stared at his phone, the dial tone echoing in his ear before it abruptly ended, signaling that the call had gone unanswered. He felt a pang of disappointment, a weight settling in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake. He’d taken the leap, albeit a few weeks late, and now it seemed like it might have been for nothing. Maybe you’d forgotten him, moved on with your life. 

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he placed the phone back on the table. It had taken him so long to muster the courage to call you, to push past his own reservations and insecurities.  He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that it was just a phone call, just a moment in time that didn’t have to mean anything. 

But deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, like he’d let something slip through his fingers before it even had a chance to begin. Spencer was no stranger to disappointment, but this time, it felt different. It felt like an opportunity he might never get back.

Spencer sat there, lost in his thoughts, the weight of his insecurities pressing down on him. His mind wandered through all the reasons why you might not have answered—maybe you really had forgotten him, maybe you had better things to do, or maybe he was just one of a hundred people you’d encountered that day. The more he thought about it, the more his doubts began to take root, spreading through him like a slow, creeping fog.

Then, breaking through the haze of his thoughts, his phone began to ring on the table in front of him. The sudden sound jolted him from his reverie, and for a moment, he just stared at the screen, as if unsure whether it was real. The number flashing across the screen was the same unknown one he’d dialed just moments ago. 

His heart raced, a mix of hope and disbelief surging through him. Could it be you? Had you actually called him back? He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the phone, almost afraid to answer. But the ringing continued, insistent and almost impatient, pulling him back into the present.

With a deep breath, he swiped to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said, his voice a little shaky, betraying the nervousness he felt.

“Hi! Is this Spencer?” Your voice came through the line, bright and unmistakably warm, instantly cutting through the tension that had been building within him. 

For a moment, Spencer was too stunned to respond, his mind scrambling to catch up with the fact that you were actually on the other end of the line. “Yes, it’s Spencer,” he finally managed to say, his voice steadier now, though his heart was still pounding.

“I’m so sorry I missed your call earlier!” you continued, your tone light and genuine. “I didn’t recognize the number when I saw it. But I’m really glad you called. I’ve been hoping to hear from you!”

Spencer’s doubts began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of relief and excitement. You hadn’t forgotten him, after all. You were as curious about him as he was about you. “No, no, it’s fine,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“Of course I remember you! How could I forget the cute, smart guy who helped me find the bathroom?” you teased lightly, your laughter filling the space between you and putting Spencer at ease.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh along with you, the tension in his chest finally easing. “Well, I’m glad I could help,” he said, the smile now fully blossoming on his face. “So… what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d be free sometime soon? I’d love to actually get to know you better, maybe over coffee or something? I should be back in New York in a few weeks!” Your invitation was casual, but the sincerity in your voice was something Spencer couldn’t ignore.

“I would like that,” Spencer began, hesitating slightly before continuing. “Um, I actually live in Virginia…”

“Oh! That’s no problem, I can come to Virginia,” you replied without missing a beat, your tone so effortlessly confident and reassuring that it caught Spencer off guard.

He blinked, momentarily confused. What kind of life did you lead that allowed you such flexibility, such willingness to drop everything for a spontaneous trip? “Are you sure? It’s a three-hour train ride,” he said, the logical part of his brain struggling to grasp the ease with which you offered.

“No problem! I’m in Los Angeles right now, but I should have a bit of freedom in, say, two weeks? Would that work for you?” Your words were filled with a casualness that suggested this kind of thing was just another day in your life.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Spencer responded, still wrapping his mind around the idea that you were so eager to see him, despite the distance and the logistics involved.

“Amazing! Are weekends better for you?” you asked, the excitement in your voice making it clear how much you were looking forward to this.

“Yes, weekends are good,” Spencer confirmed, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside him.

“Okay, Spencer,” you said, and he could practically hear the smile in your voice. “How about you pick a time and a café in Virginia for Saturday two weeks from now, and I’ll meet you there?”

“Uh, sure, I can do that,” Spencer replied, a bit overwhelmed but in the best way possible. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Great! I can’t wait,” you said, your enthusiasm palpable even over the phone. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As you ended the call with a cheerful goodbye, Spencer found himself staring at his phone again, but this time, the feeling of defeat was replaced with something entirely different—a sense of anticipation, of possibility. He had two weeks to figure out the perfect place to meet, and the thought of seeing you again made his heart race in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—

Two weeks flew by, and soon you were landing in New York, excitement and nerves swirling inside you. Instead of flying to Virginia, you chose the train, savoring the slower pace after the constant rush of airports in your career.

As the train glided smoothly along, a calm settled over you, the rhythmic sound of the tracks providing a rare moment of peace. You were anxious about meeting someone new, but also excited—Spencer seemed down-to-earth and refreshingly different from the usual whirlwind of fame. And he was undeniably attractive, with a quiet, intelligent charm that had caught your attention.

Though your security detail accompanied you, the ride was peaceful. Most passengers didn’t mind having a pop star in their car; a few asked for autographs and pictures, which you happily provided. For the most part, you were left alone to chat with your security and enjoy the journey.

—

Arriving at the café was agonizing for Spencer. His nerves had been on edge the entire day, and he’d debated countless times whether he should even show up. The closer he got, the more his anxiety spiked. What if you didn’t show up? What if you were a soon-to-be unsub? His mind raced through every worst-case scenario, each one more unsettling than the last.

As he approached the café, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. What if you just wanted to hurt him? What if you had forgotten about him entirely? The uncertainty gnawed at him, making each step feel heavier than the last. It took every ounce of his willpower to push through the doubt and walk through the door, hoping—desperately—that this wasn’t all a mistake.

But to his surprise, when Spencer finally entered the café, he saw you already there, seated at a small table near the window. You were early, a black coffee in front of you, with a canister full of sugar beside it, waiting to be poured. The sight of you, so relaxed and genuinely present, eased some of his lingering fears.

You had arrived first, intentionally choosing a slightly hidden booth and quietly informing the staff of your presence to avoid any unnecessary attention. It wasn’t about having a big head, but rather wanting to keep the date as normal as possible, just in case someone recognized you and caused a scene.

“Spencer! Hi!” you greeted him warmly, your smile lighting up the room as you waved him over.

“Hello,” he responded, raising a hand in a shy wave as he walked toward you, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness.

“It’s so good to see you!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm evident. “Can I hug you?”

“Um,” Spencer hesitated for a split second, caught off guard by your openness. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the nerves. “Yes, sure.”

You stood up and gently wrapped your arms around him, your embrace warm and welcoming. Spencer felt the tension in his shoulders start to melt away, the simple act reminding him that maybe, just maybe, this could turn out better than he’d feared as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“So, I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and got you a coffee,” you said, gesturing to the cup in front of him. “I wasn’t sure how sweet you like it, so I just asked for a whole thing of sugar.”

Spencer couldn’t believe how thoughtful you were, the small gesture meaning more to him than you might realize. “Oh, thank you so much,” he replied, his voice soft with gratitude. “That’s perfect.” 

He felt a warmth in his chest, a sense of comfort in knowing that you had already taken the time to consider his preferences. It was a simple act, but to Spencer, it spoke volumes about the kind of person you were.

Spencer took a seat across from you, feeling the warmth from your earlier hug still lingering. You watched as he carefully added just the right amount of sugar to his coffee, stirring it with a quiet focus that made you smile.

"So," you began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "how have you been? I hope your day wasn't too stressful."

Spencer looked up, meeting your eyes with a small, appreciative smile. "It’s been… a bit nerve-wracking, to be honest. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m really glad I came."

You leaned in slightly, your expression softening. "I’m glad you did too. I’ve been looking forward to this."

He felt a flutter in his chest at your words, the sincerity in your voice easing some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at him. “I’ve been looking forward to it too, though I was worried I might say something awkward.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about that. I like awkward—it’s honest. Besides, I’m probably just as nervous as you are.”

Spencer looked at you with surprise. “Really? You seem so confident.”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ve had a lot of practice pretending to be. But trust me, I get nervous too, especially when I’m meeting someone new.”

There was a pause as your words sank in, making Spencer feel a bit more at ease. “Well, if it helps, you’re doing a great job of making me feel comfortable.”

Your smile widened, your eyes sparkling with warmth. “Good, that’s exactly what I was hoping for. I just want us to enjoy this, no pressure, just two people getting to know each other.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the last of his nerves start to fade away. “That sounds nice. I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

You raised your coffee cup in a mock toast, your grin contagious. “Here’s to a good start, then.”

Spencer clinked his cup against yours, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “To a good start.”

After you both took a sip of your coffee, the conversation started to flow more naturally. Eventually, Spencer asked, “What do you do for work?”

It was at that moment you realized that Spencer genuinely didn’t know who you were—he wasn’t just pretending for your sake. “Oh! Um, I sing,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

“You sing? That’s so great! What kind of music?” Spencer’s enthusiasm was genuine, and it warmed your heart.

“Mostly pop, but I’ve been called indie pop before too,” you explained, trying not to let your nerves show.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t listen to much pop, but I would love to come to one of your shows sometime. Where do you perform?”

You laughed nervously, not sure how to break it to him. “Ha ha, well, a little bit of everywhere? I could invite you next time I perform close by!”

“That would be great,” Spencer said with a dopey smile, clearly pleased with the idea.

“So, what do you do, Spencer?” you asked, eager to shift the focus.

“I work for the FBI,” he replied, almost bashfully.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That is so much cooler!”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Spencer said, blushing slightly at the compliment.

“Do you take down bad guys?” you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Yeah, something like that. I’m a profiler, so I help catch criminals by understanding how they think.”

You couldn’t help but be impressed. “Wow, that’s amazing! You’re like a real-life Sherlock Holmes.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at your words, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I think that’s the best compliment I have ever gotten,” he said, clearly touched by the comparison.

You smiled back, pleased to see how much the compliment meant to him. “Well, it’s true. It sounds like you have a pretty incredible job.”

Spencer’s smile softened, a hint of shyness returning. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but it’s rewarding.”

You could see the passion he had for his work, and it only made you more curious to learn about the man behind the profiler. “I have a feeling you’re really good at what you do,” you added, feeling more drawn to him with each passing moment.

As the conversation continued, you felt a growing connection with Spencer, charmed by his sincerity and humility. It was refreshing to talk to someone who saw you as just a person, rather than the pop star you usually were.

—

The date was, in a word, phenomenal. You and Spencer clicked in a way that felt effortless, the conversation flowing naturally, and the time slipping by unnoticed. By the end of it, you both agreed to meet again the next time you were close by. Spencer left the café feeling lighter, with a genuine smile on his face. From what he gathered, you traveled often for work but mostly lived in New York, which suited him just fine. The idea of seeing you again was something he looked forward to.

Monday morning came around, and as Spencer walked into the office, he barely had time to settle in before Derek Morgan sauntered over, a teasing grin on his face. “So, pretty boy,” Derek started, leaning against Spencer’s desk, “heard from Hotch you had a hot date this weekend.”

Spencer felt a blush creep up his neck, trying to play it cool as he adjusted his tie. “It wasn’t… I mean, yeah, I had a date,” he admitted, though he couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “And? How’d it go? Are we gonna see wedding bells soon, or what?”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “It went well, really well. We’re planning to meet again soon.”

Derek gave him a playful nudge. “Look at you, Pretty Boy, out here dating like a pro. So, what’s she like?”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing back to the date. “She’s… incredible. Smart, funny, down-to-earth. I really enjoyed spending time with her.”

Derek nodded approvingly. “Sounds like a keeper. Just make sure you bring her around sometime so the rest of us can vet her properly.”

Spencer laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Derek walked away, Spencer found himself thinking back to the date, the smile still lingering on his face. He had no idea what the future held, but for now, he was more than happy with the way things were unfolding.

—

May, 2006

Even though your schedule was packed, you managed to carve out moments in your day to text Spencer. It became a little ritual—finding those brief pauses between studio sessions, interviews, or flights to send him a quick message. Sometimes it was a simple Good morning! or Hope your day’s going well! Other times, you’d share something funny or interesting that happened, enjoying the way his replies always seemed to brighten your day.

Spencer, in turn, did his best to keep up with the texts, even when his work took him deep into intense cases. He found himself looking forward to your messages, the small glimpses into your life offering a welcome distraction from the often grim realities of his job. 

A month after your first date, the stars finally aligned again, and you both found yourselves free at the same time. Spencer had been looking forward to seeing you, but as luck would have it, the BAU team had already planned a bar night for that weekend. There was no way he could bow out without raising suspicions, so instead, he decided to invite you along.

He texted you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Hey, I know we’ve been planning to meet up again, and I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me and my team this weekend? We’re having a bar night, and I’d really like for you to meet everyone.

That sounds like so much fun! I’d love to meet your team. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.

Spencer smiled as he read your reply, feeling a sense of relief and excitement all at once. It wasn’t what he’d originally planned, but he realized that introducing you to his team felt like a natural next step. Plus, he was curious to see how you’d fit in with the people who had become like family to him.

As the weekend approached, Spencer found himself growing more and more eager to see you again. This time, he wasn’t just looking forward to spending time with you—he was excited to see how you’d interact with the people who meant so much to him.

—

You decided to meet Spencer at his apartment before heading to the bar, a decision that filled you with both excitement and nerves. The idea of seeing him again, of spending time with him in a more casual, intimate setting, was thrilling, but it also made your heart race with anticipation. You stood outside his door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before finally mustering the courage to knock.

Meanwhile, your security team was stationed discreetly at the base of the building, sitting in their cars to avoid drawing attention. You didn’t want to alarm Spencer with an obvious security presence, especially since he didn’t know the full extent of your fame. They had already done a thorough sweep of the bar, learning all the exits and identifying the best spots to keep watch over you without intruding on your evening. 

As you waited for Spencer to answer the door, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This was a big step—meeting his team, blending your two worlds, and trying to keep the balance between your public life and the private connection you were building with him. But as the door opened and you saw Spencer’s familiar, warm smile, those nerves began to ease. 

“Hey,” he greeted you, his voice soft and welcoming.

“Hey,” you replied, returning his smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Being here with him, seeing that look in his eyes, reminded you why you were doing this. The rest of the world could wait; tonight was about the two of you. 

Spencer stepped aside to let you in, his apartment cozy and inviting. “You look great,” he said, his tone slightly shy as he took in your appearance.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm. “You do too.”

There was a brief pause, the two of you just standing there, enjoying the moment. Then, Spencer gestured towards the door. “Ready to go? The team’s probably already at the bar.”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence as you linked your arm with his. 

—

As you and Spencer arrived at the bar, your nerves returned with full force. You had been feeling confident earlier, but now, faced with meeting his entire team, the reality of blending your world with his hit you hard. Spencer seemed to sense your hesitation, offering you a reassuring smile as he led you inside.

“Hey, guys, this is Y/N,” Spencer said, introducing you to his team with a hint of pride in his voice. “Y/N, this is my team.”

Before anyone else could say a word, Penelope Garcia practically barreled through the group, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh. My. God. Y/N Y/L? I love your music! How did you two meet?”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, though it made you a little self-conscious. “Um, we met at a publishing house in New York,” you said, trying to keep things casual.

Spencer looked adorably confused as he turned to Penelope. “How do you know Y/N’s music?”

Penelope’s face lit up even more. “I’ve been a fan for years!”

You felt a warm blush creeping up your neck. “Thank you so much,” you said kindly, appreciating her support. But you were also eager to shift the focus away from your celebrity status. “But, uh, let’s not focus on me. I want to get to know all of you.”

The team exchanged glances, a mixture of curiosity and amusement playing on their faces. It was clear that they were intrigued by the dynamic between you and Spencer, but they respected your wish to keep the conversation light and inclusive.

“Fair enough,” Derek said with a grin, extending his hand to you. “I’m Derek. It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand, relieved that the introductions were moving forward. “Nice to meet you too, Derek.”

As each member of the team introduced themselves, you felt the initial wave of nerves begin to subside. They were a friendly, welcoming group, and their easy going nature made it easier for you to relax. Spencer stayed close by your side, his presence comforting as you navigated this new and somewhat intimidating social landscape. 

Unfortunately, as pleasant as the evening had been, things took a sharp turn when it was time for you and Spencer to leave the bar. The moment you stepped outside, you were met with the overwhelming sight of a large crowd waiting by the entrance, their faces eager, some shouting your name. The flashes of cameras lit up the night as paparazzi swarmed, snapping photos in a chaotic frenzy.

“Y/N, come with us,” your head security guard, Emerson, called out firmly, their voice carrying over the noise. They were already moving to shield you from the crowd, their team efficiently surrounding both you and Spencer.

Spencer was beyond confused, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The crowd, the screaming, the relentless camera flashes—it was all a world he had never experienced before. One moment, the two of you were having a quiet night out with his team, and the next, you were being hustled into a black SUV by your security detail.

As the vehicle sped away, leaving the chaos behind, Spencer finally found his voice. “Y/N, what the hell was that?” he asked, his tone filled with concern and bewilderment.

You let out a sigh, knowing this was something you’d have to explain sooner or later. “I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you began, turning to him with an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Someone must have recognized me and tipped off the paparazzi.”

Spencer frowned, still trying to piece everything together. “Recognized you? But why would…?” He trailed off, the reality slowly dawning on him. “Wait… Are you famous?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. That’s why there was a crowd outside—they wanted pictures and autographs, that sort of thing.”

Spencer sat back in his seat, processing what you had just told him. “I had no idea,” he said softly, a hint of shock still in his voice. 

“I know,” you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal between us. I just wanted you to get to know me for who I am, not because of my career.”

He looked at you, his expression a mix of understanding and concern. “Y/N, I don’t care about any of that. I just… I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I understand,” you said, reaching out to gently take his hand. “I should have been more upfront with you. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Spencer squeezed your hand, his gaze softening. “It’s okay. I just need a little time to process everything.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. “Of course. We can talk more about it when you’re ready. I don’t want this to change anything between us.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, the initial shock beginning to fade. “It won’t,” he assured you. “I still want to get to know you, the real you. We’ll figure this out together.”

His words brought you a sense of relief, and as the car continued to drive away from the chaotic scene, you felt a renewed sense of hope for what lay ahead.

— 

The security team swiftly brought you and Spencer to a hotel with a private parking garage, ensuring that you wouldn’t be followed or harassed any further. It was a relief to be away from the chaos, but you couldn’t help feeling bad for dragging Spencer into your world so abruptly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly as you both exited the car. “Do you mind hanging out here for a bit until everything dies down? Or I can have Emerson take you home.”

“No, no, I want to stay with you,” he quickly replied, his sincerity evident.

You smiled, grateful for his support. “Okay.”

The two of you were guided up to the room where you’d be staying for the weekend. Your security team stood guard outside, some doing security sweeps to ensure the area was safe. Inside the room, the atmosphere was much calmer, but you could sense Spencer’s curiosity lingering.

“Alright, so tell me about it. How famous are you?” Spencer asked, his tone light but clearly curious.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because you hated that question. Measuring your fame felt strange and impersonal. You valued your fans and appreciated the love they showed you, but fame was such a nebulous concept. “Uhhh…”

Spencer quickly backtracked, noticing your discomfort. “Sorry, that was a weird question.”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I, uh, guess I have quite the fan base.”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to your reluctance. “Would it bother you if I looked you up when I get home?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. “That’s fine, Spencer. Just… don’t judge me too harshly.”

He looked at you with that soft, earnest expression that always seemed to put you at ease. “I would never.”

“I know, I know,” you said, letting out a small sigh. “It’s just—there’s a lot of nasty rumors, and bad things people say about me. Just, keep an open mind?”

Spencer’s gaze was steady as he reached out to take your hand. “Y/N, I like you. I don’t care what some idiot says about you on the internet, okay?”

His words were like a balm to your nerves, and you felt a warmth spread through you. “Okay. I like you too,” you admitted, feeling a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

Spencer’s eyes softened even further, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and full of hope.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing.

Spencer leaned in, his hand gently cradling your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of understanding, of acceptance, and of something that had the potential to grow into something truly special.

And so began the beautiful relationship between you and Spencer. Every chance you got was spent together, each moment building the foundation for something truly special.

—

June, 2006

As you and Spencer strolled hand in hand through the grand halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the world around you seemed to blur into the background. The marble floors echoed softly with your footsteps, and the air was filled with the quiet hum of visitors lost in their own reverence for the art surrounding them. But for you, the real masterpiece was right beside you, his voice animated as he guided you through the exhibits.

“And here,” Spencer said, his eyes lighting up as he gestured toward a stunning Greek statue, “we have a marble sculpture of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. What’s fascinating is that this particular piece is from the Hellenistic period, where artists began to explore more dynamic poses and emotions in their work.”

You looked up at the statue, trying to see it through Spencer’s eyes. “It’s incredible,” you murmured, squeezing his hand lightly. “You make it all sound so alive, like we’re stepping back in time.”

Spencer smiled, a soft blush coloring his cheeks. “I’ve always loved how art can connect us to the past. It’s like a conversation across centuries, where every brushstroke or chisel mark tells a story.”

You could hear the passion in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. “You know, I’ve been here before, but it’s never felt this… magical,” you admitted, looking up at him.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he gazed back at you. “It’s not just the art,” he said quietly. “It’s who you’re experiencing it with.”

You felt a warm blush rise to your cheeks, his words sending a flutter through your heart. “You’re amazing, you know that?” you said with a smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just a guy who likes art history,” he replied modestly.

“And I’m just a girl who’s falling for that guy who likes art history,” you teased, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder as you continued your walk.

Spencer’s smile grew as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. “Then I’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

—

August, 2006

The weekend in Los Angeles felt like a breath of fresh air, a pause from the relentless pace of your lives. The sun was warm against your skin as you and Spencer strolled along the beach, the Pacific Ocean stretching out endlessly before you. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the easy conversation that flowed between you.

“I never imagined LA would be so…relaxed,” Spencer remarked, his gaze drifting out over the water. “I always thought of it as this fast-paced, high-energy place.”

You smiled, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “It can be, but there’s a whole other side to it too. It’s not all about Hollywood and traffic. Sometimes, it’s just about finding those quiet corners where you can breathe.”

Spencer nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can see why you like it here. It’s like the city has this dual nature—busy and vibrant, but also peaceful when you know where to look.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your hand slipping into his. “I wanted to show you that part of my life, the part that isn’t all about work and appearances. Just… the real me.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “I like the real you. I mean, I liked you before, but getting to see this side of you…it makes me feel closer to you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to just…be with you, without any distractions.”

The two of you continued walking, the sand shifting beneath your feet as the conversation turned to lighter topics. You talked about everything from your favorite movies to childhood memories, finding joy in the simplicity of sharing these little pieces of your lives.

Later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, you found a cozy spot at one of your favorite hidden restaurants, tucked away from the bustling streets. The atmosphere was intimate, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in conversation without worrying about being recognized. The soft candlelight flickered between you, casting a warm glow over the table.

“This place is amazing,” Spencer said as he looked around, taking in the rustic charm of the restaurant. “It’s like a little secret.”

You grinned, pleased that he liked it. “It’s one of my favorites. The food is great, but it’s the atmosphere that keeps me coming back. It’s like a little escape from everything.”

As the evening wore on, you both savored the delicious food and each other’s company, the rest of the world fading into the background. The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, Spencer’s wit and intelligence making every moment more enjoyable.

By the time you made your way back to the beach for a final stroll under the stars, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The city’s vibrant energy had melted into the tranquility of the night, and it was just the two of you, walking hand in hand along the shore.

“I could get used to this,” Spencer said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“Me too,” you replied, leaning into him as you walked. “I wish we could stay here forever.”

Spencer smiled, a serene look on his face as he glanced down at you. “We can always come back. Maybe this could be our little escape.”

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought. “I’d like that.”

—

September, 2006

Spencer stood in the audience, his heart swelling with pride as he watched you perform, captivated by the way you commanded the stage. The lights bathed you in a warm glow, and your powerful, confident presence mesmerized the entire crowd. To Spencer, it was like seeing a new side of you, one that was awe-inspiring yet deeply connected to the person he knew so well—the one who shared quiet moments and deep conversations with him.

As the final notes rang out and the audience erupted in applause, Spencer clapped with fervor, pride evident in his eyes. After the show, you headed backstage, your adrenaline still high, but the moment you saw Spencer waiting for you, all the excitement of the stage melted away. His eyes shone with admiration, and in that instant, nothing else mattered but you.

Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “You were incredible,” he whispered in your ear, his voice full of emotion.

You smiled against his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace grounding you after the high of the performance. “Thank you,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m so glad you were here.”

Spencer’s gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of awe and love. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing you up there, it was… it was something else. I’m so proud of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel even closer to him. “It means everything to me that you’re proud,” you replied, your hand resting against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I am. More than you know.”

—

November, 2006

Visiting Diana Reid in Las Vegas was a deeply personal step for both you and Spencer, a gesture that spoke volumes about how much you meant to him. The significance of the visit wasn't lost on you, and as you arrived at the care facility where Diana lived, you could feel the weight of the moment settling in.

Spencer’s hand held yours tightly as he led you inside, nervousness and pride evident in his eyes. You knew how important his mother was to him, and the fact that he was introducing you to her was a clear sign of the depth of his feelings. As you walked through the halls, you felt the butterflies in your stomach, but the steady pressure of Spencer’s hand in yours reassured you.

When you finally reached Diana’s room, Spencer paused, taking a deep breath before gently knocking on the door. “Mom, it’s Spencer,” he called softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

The door opened, and there she was—Diana Reid, with a warm smile that instantly made you feel at ease. “Spencer, my sweet boy,” she greeted, her eyes lighting up as she saw him. Then her gaze shifted to you, curiosity and kindness mingling in her expression. “And you must be Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer squeezed your hand, his nerves clearly still present, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “Mom, this is Y/N. I wanted you to meet her.”

You stepped forward, offering a genuine smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Diana.”

Diana’s smile widened as she reached out to take your hand in hers. “The pleasure is mine, dear. Spencer speaks so highly of you.”

Diana welcomed you with warmth, her kindness evident in every word. It was clear how much Spencer loved her, reflected in the way he cared for her.

As the three of you chatted, you found it easy to connect with Diana—her sharp wit and stories filled the room with laughter. Spencer listened intently, his eyes often on his mother, revealing the deep bond they shared.

At one point, as Diana shared a funny childhood story about Spencer, you glanced at him and saw the soft, affectionate smile on his face. It made your heart swell with love for both him and the woman who raised him.

Throughout the visit, Spencer's hand never left yours, a silent sign of pride in introducing you to his mother. The connection you built with Diana added another layer to the bond you and Spencer were creating, one that grew stronger with each moment.

As the visit came to an end, Diana hugged you warmly, whispering in your ear, “Take care of him, won’t you?”

You hugged her back, your voice soft but sincere. “I will, Diana. I promise.”

When you and Spencer left the care facility, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. Meeting Diana had been a significant step, one that solidified the love and trust you and Spencer shared. And as you walked together under the bright Las Vegas sky, you knew that your relationship had grown even stronger, rooted in the love and connections you were building together.

—

December, 2006

The final piece fell into place when Spencer met your family in New York. Both of you had been a little nervous, knowing how important this moment was, but those nerves quickly dissolved as your family welcomed him with open arms. They were eager to meet the man who had captured your heart, and Spencer, with his quiet charm and genuine kindness, fit in seamlessly.

You watched with a smile as he effortlessly engaged in conversation with your parents, his gentle demeanor putting them at ease. He listened intently to your father’s stories and shared thoughtful insights that sparked lively discussions. Your mother was instantly taken with his manners and the way he looked at you with such clear affection.

It was your brother, though, who really put Spencer to the test, teasing him playfully and cracking jokes that had the room roaring with laughter. Spencer, to your delight, not only kept up but even managed to throw in a few quips of his own, earning him a slap on the back and a hearty laugh from your brother. 

As you observed them all interacting, a warm feeling settled over you. Seeing Spencer so naturally integrated into your family, like he had always been a part of it, made your heart swell with happiness. You knew then, without a doubt, that he had become an irreplaceable part of your life.

Later that evening, as you walked hand in hand through the quiet streets of your old neighborhood, you turned to him with a smile. “I think they love you,” you said softly, leaning into his side.

Spencer glanced down at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was more nervous about meeting them than I was about joining the FBI,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “But your family is wonderful. I feel really lucky.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “I’m the lucky one,” you said, your voice filled with emotion. “You mean so much to me, Spencer, and seeing you get along with my family… it just makes everything feel even more right.”

He pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I feel the same way,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “This—us—feels right.”

—

June, 2007

It wasn’t until you and Spencer had been together for a year that the first crack in the armor began to form. A year ago, Spencer had kept his promise and looked you up online. But what he didn’t tell you was how much he hated what he found. The dating rumors, the fan crushes, the obsession from your fans—he saw it all, and it gnawed at him. The jealousy simmered beneath the surface, his insecurities festering as he watched the world fawn over you.

At first, Spencer’s comments seemed harmless enough—slight jabs and subtle jokes about the rumors and fan pages. You thought he was just teasing, playing along with the absurdity of it all. But over time, the tone changed. The jokes became sharper, more pointed, until you couldn’t ignore the underlying resentment.

The breaking point came when you and Billie Eilish, a close friend since the beginning of your career, collaborated on a song for her new album. The promo involved interviews, social media posts, and what Spencer hated the most—a chicken shop date. The chemistry between you and Billie was undeniable, something that couldn’t be faked. Watching the video, Spencer felt his stomach churn with jealousy, convinced there was something more between you two.

Unable to keep his feelings in check, Spencer picked a fight over it. The tension that had been building for months finally erupted, his words laced with bitterness. “You and Billie looked like more than just friends in that video,” he snapped, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

You stared at him, stunned. “Spencer, we’re just friends. You know that.”

He shook his head, frustration clear in his eyes. “It didn’t look like that to me. Everyone sees the way you two are together, and I can’t stand it.”

The pain in his voice cut deep, and you realized how much he had been holding back. “Spencer, there’s nothing between us but friendship. You have to believe me.”

But the damage was done. The fight opened up the insecurities Spencer had tried so hard to suppress, and the trust that had always been the foundation of your relationship began to waver. As the argument continued, it became clear that this wasn’t just about Billie—it was about everything Spencer had been silently battling for months. The dating rumors, the fans, the world’s obsession with you—it had all taken its toll, and now it was threatening to tear you apart.

—

August, 2007

You and Spencer were lost in a heated makeout session, the tension that had been building between you two finally dissolving as you straddled his lap on your couch in New York. It had been too long since you’d had a moment like this—no schedules, no distractions, just the two of you reconnecting in the way that always felt the most natural. Spencer’s hands roamed over your body, and you could feel the urgency in his touch, the desire to be close to you after so much time apart.

Just as things were beginning to escalate, your phone started ringing. You ignored it, too wrapped up in the moment to care who might be calling. After all, the most important person in your life was right here with you. But the ringing didn’t stop. It kept going, over and over, cutting through the haze of your desire and pulling you back to reality.

Spencer pulled back, clearly annoyed by the persistent interruption. His breath was ragged, his frustration evident as he grabbed your phone from the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, and his expression quickly shifted from irritation to something darker—anger mixed with jealousy. 

“Seriously?” he said, his voice dripping with venom as he flipped the phone to show you the screen. 

You looked at the image and felt your stomach drop. It was a picture of you and Billie, taken during a trip when the two of you had gone swimming under a waterfall, wearing little more than bathing suits. Spencer had once liked looking at that picture, a reminder of the carefree times you’d shared. But now, that same image seemed to fuel his insecurities, the sight of you and Billie together igniting a seething jealousy within him.

“Spencer…” you began, but he cut you off, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Why is she calling you? Now, of all times?” he demanded, the hurt in his voice unmistakable.

“She’s just a friend, Spencer,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away slightly, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a chasm.

“Is she, though?” he shot back, his tone laced with bitterness. “Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. Not when she’s always there, in your life, interrupting us even now.”

You could see the pain behind his words, the way his jealousy had been festering for far too long. “Spencer, you’re the one I’m here with. You’re the one I love,” you tried to reassure him, but it was clear that the tension between you two wasn’t going to dissolve as easily as it had built up.

The moment that had been so full of passion just minutes ago now felt heavy with unresolved emotions. The weight of Spencer’s jealousy and your own guilt for not addressing it sooner pressed down on you both, leaving you to wonder how you could mend the growing rift between you.

—

October, 2007

The article was nothing more than a piece of sensationalized gossip, a tabloid’s attempt to stir the pot with baseless claims. It wasn’t even on your radar as you prepared for your upcoming tour of the Americas, your mind focused on rehearsals, logistics, and the excitement of performing for your fans. But Spencer had seen it. And instead of brushing it off as the ridiculous fabrication it was, he believed it.

His rational mind—the one you had always admired—had been overwhelmed by months of festering insecurities and jealousy. The TMZ article, with its blurry, barely discernible photo of two women who vaguely resembled you and Billie, was the final straw. In his mind, it was proof that his worst fears were true.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at the article, his eyes blurring with tears. The image, though unclear, fed into his paranoia. He could barely think straight, his emotions a chaotic storm of anger, hurt, and betrayal. He grabbed his phone, his hands trembling as he dialed your number. You were in Brazil, preparing for the first leg of your tour, oblivious to the storm brewing back home.

When you answered, you were met with a voice you hardly recognized—sharp, cold, and filled with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Spencer had never sworn at you before. In fact, you weren’t even sure you’d ever heard him use the word “fuck” at all. The venom in his tone made your stomach drop, a cold dread seeping into your veins.

“What happened, baby?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the unease was already gnawing at you.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” he snapped, his voice breaking with emotion. “You made out with Billie in public, and you got caught. I have photo evidence that you’re cheating on me now. I’ve known for months! Months! How could you lie to my face?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the pain and betrayal in his voice, but all you felt was a profound sense of disbelief and heartache. “Spencer, what are you talking about? That’s not true. I would never—”

“Stop lying!” he interrupted, his voice thick with tears. “I saw the picture! How could you do this to me? To us?”

Your heart broke at the sound of his despair, but the accusation, the deep mistrust, cut even deeper. “Spencer, I didn’t do anything. There isn’t a picture because I’m not cheating on you,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the weight of your own emotions.

But Spencer was too far gone, his mind too clouded by jealousy and doubt. “I can’t believe anything you say anymore,” he whispered, his voice filled with resignation. “I thought we had something real, but now… I don’t even know who you are.”

The fight that followed was explosive, both of you hurling words that only deepened the wounds already festering between you. Every attempt you made to explain, to reassure him, was met with anger and disbelief. Spencer’s trust in you had been shattered, and no amount of reasoning could bring him back from the edge.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. The constant jealousy, the mistrust, the way he had let a baseless article destroy the bond you had worked so hard to build—it was too much. “I can’t do this, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, but I can’t live like this. I can’t be in a relationship where I’m constantly accused and doubted. It’s tearing me apart.”

There was a long, painful silence on the other end of the line, and then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, Spencer said, “Maybe we both deserve better than this.”

Tears streamed down your face as you realized what had just happened. “Goodbye, Spencer,” you choked out, hanging up before he could say anything else.

As you stood there, staring at the phone in your hand, the enormity of what you had just done hit you like a tidal wave. You had ended things with the man you still loved deeply, because the relationship had become a minefield of jealousy and mistrust. It was the hardest decision you’d ever made, and the pain of it felt unbearable.

You were heartbroken, knowing that despite everything, your feelings for Spencer hadn’t changed. But the relationship had become toxic, and you couldn’t continue down that path. As you tried to pull yourself together, preparing to go on stage and perform as if your world hadn’t just crumbled, you couldn’t help but wonder if either of you would ever truly heal from this.

—

Spencer sat in the silence of his apartment, feeling like a shell of the person he once was. The shock of what had just happened left him numb, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of it all. You were gone, and it was his fault. 

—

In the months that followed, Spencer couldn’t escape the crushing weight of what he had done. He replayed every argument, every moment of doubt, and came to a painful realization: he was the bad guy in this story. 

He watched as your tour progressed, each new headline a reminder of what he had lost. The press coverage was relentless, but what struck him most was how your relationship with Billie remained the same—close, supportive, but nothing more. There was no secret romance, no hidden agenda. Just the friendship that had always been there, and that he had been too blinded by jealousy to see for what it was.

Then, the truth about the photo came out. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t even Billie. It was a completely different couple—Phoebe Bridgers and her girlfriend. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had destroyed everything over a lie, over a distorted perception fueled by his own insecurities.

Spencer spiraled into self-loathing, he knew he had been an asshole—an irrational, emotional, accusatory, jealous, ignorant asshole. And now, he had to live with the consequences of his actions, knowing that he had let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers. 

—

June, 2008

“So, Y/N… you just finished the first leg of your tour, how does it feel?” the interviewer asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You couldn’t help but smile, the emotions from the tour still fresh in your mind. “Oh, it feels amazing! The energy from the crowds, the love and support—it was incredible. I miss them all so much already. Honestly, I wish I could go back and say thank you again to every single person who showed up for me and made this possible. They’re the reason I get to do what I love, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“Isn’t she great?” the interviewer exclaimed, prompting cheers from the live audience. After the applause died down, the interviewer leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I have to know, if you’re comfortable, what happened to that sexy string bean you used to have on your arm?”

Spencer, who had been half-listening to your interview as usual, suddenly found himself on high alert. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response.

You shifted slightly in your seat, a small, wistful smile on your face. “Oh… um, we separated. But I still care for him deeply and hope he’s doing well.”

The interviewer nodded sympathetically before pressing on, “Are you seeing anyone new?”

Spencer held his breath, not sure if he wanted to hear your answer.

You shook your head, your smile more focused now. “No, I’m not. Just focusing on the tour right now! It’s hard work!”

The interviewer grinned. “I bet it is! Keeping busy with something you love is the best way to go.”

Spencer released a breath he’d been holding, a mixture of relief and lingering regret washing over him. He hadn’t moved on either.

—

July, 2008

(we pretend this is our song for the sake of the plot <3)

You released a few new songs before the second leg of your tour started, wanting to keep things fresh and exciting for your fans. Among the tracks was a deep cut, a raw and emotional song about your love for Spencer. It was a piece of your heart, a reflection of the pain, regret, and lingering love that still existed despite everything that had happened.

Spencer, however, had stopped listening to your music after the breakup. Every song felt like a reminder of what he had lost, especially the love songs that once brought him joy. The melodies that used to connect you two now only deepened his regret, making him avoid your music altogether.

But when Garcia heard your new song, she knew immediately that Spencer needed to hear it. Without hesitation, she sent it directly to him, attaching a message that read: You need to listen to this. Trust me.

Spencer hesitated when he saw the message. He knew it would hurt, but something made him press play. As the song played, the lyrics washed over him, each word piercing through the wall he had tried to build around his emotions. It was as if you were speaking directly to him, baring your soul in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As the song ended, Spencer sat in silence, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He realized that despite everything, the love you had shared was still there, buried beneath the pain and mistakes. The song was a painful reminder of the depth of your connection, and it left him wondering if there was any way to mend what had been broken. 

But as much as he wanted to reach out, he knew that no apology or explanation could undo the hurt he had caused. Spencer felt lost, grappling with the knowledge that he had loved you—and still did—yet had let his own insecurities destroy the best thing in his life.

—

Spencer had endured just about everything in his time at the FBI—being hit, kicked, shot, drugged, kidnapped—but never, in all those years, had anyone flicked him on the forehead. Until now. Derek Morgan’s fingers connected with a sharp flick, jolting Spencer out of his thoughts.

“We all know, Reid. Garcia sent the song to all of us,” Derek said, his voice laced with both sympathy and frustration. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure a flick doesn’t cover it.”

Spencer shook his head, the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. “It doesn’t,” he admitted, the truth settling like a stone in his stomach.

That night, Spencer decided he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Swallowing the last remnants of his pride, he picked up his phone and dialed your number. But when the automated message informed him that the line was no longer in service, his heart sank. You had changed your number. Still, the adrenaline coursing through his veins wouldn’t let him stop. He dialed the next number he knew by heart.

“Hello?” came the familiar voice on the other end.

“Dylan?” Spencer’s voice trembled slightly, betraying his nerves.

“Who is this?” Dylan’s tone was cold, guarded.

“Spencer Reid. Please, don’t hang up.”

“What do you want, asshole?”

Spencer flinched at the anger in Dylan’s voice, but he knew he deserved it. “I deserve that.”

“Damn right, you piece of shit. I watched my sister cry for months over you. And she didn’t do anything wrong—it was all you.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So let me repeat myself, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to her,” Spencer said, desperation creeping into his tone.

“No fucking way.”

“Please, I need to apologize.”

“She’s moved on, she doesn’t want to hear from you,” Dylan shot back, his words cutting through Spencer like a knife.

“She moved on?” Spencer’s voice wavered, the reality of those words hitting him hard.

“Yeah, most people would by now.”

Spencer felt a painful twist in his chest, but he pressed on. “I still… I still want to apologize.”

Dylan’s voice was ice-cold. “If you actually cared about her, you’d let her go.”

“Dylan—” Spencer tried to plead, but the line went dead, the dial tone echoing in his ear.

Spencer stared at the phone in his hand, the finality of it all crashing down on him. He had lost you, not just because of his mistakes but because he hadn’t been able to see what was in front of him until it was too late. 

—

“He called today.”

“What?” you asked, looking up in surprise.

“He called me.”

“Who?” But even as you asked, you felt a knot forming in your stomach, dreading the answer.

“Spencer.”

You froze. That name hadn’t been spoken around you in what felt like forever. Hearing it now sent a wave of emotions crashing over you, emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

“Why?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Jackass said he wanted to apologize to you,” Dylan replied, his tone laced with disdain.

“After all this time?” The disbelief in your voice was evident, and you could hardly process what you were hearing.

“Mhm,” Dylan confirmed, watching your reaction carefully.

“What did you tell him?” you asked, already fearing the answer.

“That you’d moved on, that he should too,” Dylan said, his voice firm and protective.

“Oh.” The single word hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and lingering feelings.

Dylan’s voice softened, sensing your turmoil. “Y/N… he’s not worth it. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Dylan. I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Dylan said, his concern palpable even through the phone.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but wish your number hadn’t been leaked. You knew Spencer would have called you directly if he could have. And if you had answered? You might have at least heard him out, given him the chance to say the things he had left unsaid for so long.

But now, as you stared up at the ceiling, the what-ifs swirled in your mind, keeping you awake long into the night. You had moved on, or at least you told yourself you had. But the unresolved feelings, the remnants of a love that once meant everything, were still there, lurking just beneath the surface. And as much as you wanted to push them away, tonight they were impossible to ignore.

—

Hey Kade – think you can find a number for me? And not tell Dylan…

For sure, just give me a name and a city

God bless Kade. They didn't ask any questions, just worked their magic. Within minutes, Kade had sent you Spencer's number. You stared at it for a long moment, the screen glowing in the dim light of your room. Your thumb hovered over the call button, knowing that if you didn’t do it now, you’d lose your nerve.

With a deep breath, you tapped the number and pressed the phone to your ear. The ringing felt endless, each second adding to your nerves. But then, the line clicked, and his familiar voice came through.

“Spencer Reid.”

“Spencer Reid’s ex-girlfriend,” you said, your tone shy yet teasing, trying to mask the anxiety bubbling inside you.

There was a brief pause, then his voice, softer now, almost incredulous. “Y/N?”

“The one and only,” you replied, your heart racing as you tried to steady your voice.

There was another pause, this one filled with emotions that neither of you knew how to express just yet. 

“You called Dylan,” you said, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

“I know, your old number didn’t work,” Spencer replied, his tone tinged with regret.

“Someone leaked it…” you explained softly, the memory of that chaotic time flashing through your mind. But you quickly refocused, your heart pounding as you asked the question that had been weighing on you since you heard he’d tried to reach out. “Why were you calling, Spencer?”

“I love you,” he blurted out, the words raw and desperate.

“What?” The sudden confession caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to process what he had just said.

“Your song, i love you. Did you mean it? Do you still love me?” His voice cracked with vulnerability, and you could hear the pleading in his words, the desperation of a man who had realized too late what he had lost.

“Spencer…” You hesitated, the pain and love intertwined so tightly within you that it was hard to speak.

“I’m begging you, Y/N. Do you love me?” The vulnerability in his voice was palpable, and you could almost see him, his heart in his hands, waiting for your response.

“Of course I do,” you finally admitted, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. 

“Are you in New York?” Spencer asked, his voice filled with hope.

“Yes,” you replied, your heart racing as the conversation took a turn you hadn’t expected.

“Can I come see you?” His question hung in the air, the possibility of seeing him again making your pulse quicken.

“Right now?” you asked, still trying to catch up with the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Right now, I can be there by 4 pm,” he responded, the determination in his voice unmistakable.

“Okay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

“Okay? Really?” Spencer’s voice was filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, a small smile forming on your lips. “You remember where I live?”

“By heart,” he replied, and you could hear the warmth in his voice.

“See you soon, Spence,” you said softly, the familiar nickname bringing a wave of nostalgia and comfort.

“See you soon,” he echoed, and with that, the call ended, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions and the realization that in just a few hours, Spencer would be standing at your door.

—

Spencer spent the entire train ride to New York mentally rehearsing what he would say to you. He went over every possible scenario, trying to find the right words to express everything he felt—the regret, the love, the longing. But as the train pulled into the station and he made his way to your apartment, his mind went blank. By the time he was standing at your door, all his carefully planned words had vanished.

His hand, seemingly moving on its own, raised to knock. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, and within moments, the door swung open.

When you appeared in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. You looked even more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, filled with emotions.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece

[reidreaders]

Your Insta If You Were Dating Spencer Reid Pt. 8

Warnings: throwing up, a lil sexual

Liked by ssahotchner, drreid, and 254 others

y/n out n about

View all 24 comments

drreid I had the best day with you!

-> y/n 😘😘

davidrossi Have fun kids!

babygirlpg love ur outfit Spencer!

-> drreid Thanks, Garcia!

emprentiss lowkey weird seeing him wear something that's not a suit

-> chocthunder ikr I didn't know he had other clothes

Liked by chocthunder, jenniferj, and 123 others

y/n 🚨ROSSI SIGHTING🚨

View all 15 comments

davidrossi It was nice running into you!

-> y/n it was so good to see you!

chocthunder I have a rossi sighting every day of my life

-> emprentiss real

-> drreid real

-> chocthunder real??

-> drreid @/y/n taught me

babygirlpg they're so bff

-> y/n ikr

Liked by jenniferj, davidrossi, and 162 others

y/n squealing cause look what I came home to

View all 37 comments

drreid I'm glad you were excited! I love you ❤️

-> y/n I LOVE YOU STOP

davidrossi Nice job, Spencer! I can see you're putting those cooking lessons to good use.

ssahotchner Looks good!

babygirlpg im squealing for you this is so sweet!

-> y/n I KNOW

Liked by jenniferj, emprentiss, and 278 others

y/n I love u @/drreid

View all 41 comments

drreid I love you, too!

jenniferj this is so cute!!

babygirlpg I love u guys so much im going to throw up

-> chocthunder im going to throw up for other reasons

-> emprentiss im going to throw up bc they're making me feel so single

-> babygirlpg oh so true

Liked by davidrossi, babygirlpg, and 215 others

y/n hes so FINE I can't

View all 29 comments

emprentiss not y/n being horny on main

-> jenniferj im not even surprised at this point

-> babygirlpg me neither but I wholeheartedly support it

-> y/n thanks penny 😘

ssahotchner I feel like I'm not supposed to be seeing this.

-> drreid Yeah, I wish you hadn't.

-> y/n sorry spence ❤️

idk why some of these pics keep uploading funny so sorry ab that but if anyone knows how to fix it lmk anywaysssss hope y'all enjoyed ily

MASTERLIST

[sugarskulls99]

Me after reading a fluff boyfriend au and realizing he'll never be my boyfriend because he's 30+ years older than me.

[bunbunbl0gs]

daily life with spencer

masterlist

criminal minds masterlist

join my tag list here :)

Tag list : @astess

@cham9ions @rosieandthethorns

[luvhotchner]

━ Loud

summary: hotch and reader keep the team up while they’re on a case.

warnings/pairings: hotch x fem!reader x BAU, established relationship, swearing, use of y/n, no smut but sexual content implied, talk of vomit (as a joke), the team being menaces (as always.)

feel free to send me your own ideas for criminal minds texts!

━ ★ ━

this if my first post! let me know how i did, and feel free to send me your requests in my inbox!

[spence-hotch-luver]

Instagram if you were dating aaron hotchner ft.the bau<3

i really enjoy these so i decided to make some, lmk if u want a part two 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[simp4eshal]

main masterlist

Masterlist

Criminal minds

daddy issues (aaron x reader)

mornin sweetheart (spencer x reader) smut !!

we fell in love in october (spencer x reader)

Yes ma'am (spencer x reader) suggestive !!

The boy is mine (spencer x reader masterlist)

Reassurance (spencer x reader) suggestive !!

As your husband, I declare you mine (spencer x reader) smut !!

Solace (spencer x reader)

If being lovable was a crime (spencer x reader) suggestive !!

BTS

Ryd (seokjin x reader) smut !!

ocean's laments (taehyung x oc/reader)

"she’s a maneater" masterlist suggestive !!

2022 masterlist

Death herself was a beauty part 2 suggestive !!

Death herself was a beauty

Others 

Aaron Taylor Johnson x reader - Your lips my lips, apocalypse

Count Vronsky x reader - Ballroom - Anna Karenina smut !!

Anakin Skywalker x reader- Silent treatment - Star Wars

Teacher x student imagine smut !!

OC x reader - Baby you're the meanest - (childish gambino inspired) smut !!

kiss kiss xx

(the art is not mine)

[alexblakegf]

derek shepherd x fem!reader instagram posts

taglist 🏷️:

@imthebadguyyy

be added to my tag list here

send in asks and requests here

[daisyy345]

how your instagram would look like if you were dating spencer pt4

yourusername

liked by ssahotch, derekm69 and others

yourusername beach day after the case 🌊☀️👙

view all comments

derekm69 i bet he drowned

emprentiss i bet he got sunburned

boywonder hey have a little faith in me

yourusername u r both correct

boywonder dont tell them that!!

pennygirl couple goals 💘

davidrossi looks like fun 😀

meangirljj invite next time 😒

yourusername u r always welcome babe

yourusername

liked by pennygirl, boywonder and others

yourusername spence thinks we are ready for masterchef 😐

view all comments

boywonder we are!!

davidrossi im so happy my cooking lesson’s are paying off ❤️

yourusername learned from the best!

derekm69 omw to sign u both in

ellegreenaway 🫶🏻🫶🏻

emprentiss bring some to the bureau

pennygirl this

yourusername ofc my loves

ssahotch 👏🏻👏🏻

yourusername

liked by ellegreenaway, davidrossi and others

yourusername corporate needs you to find the diference between this picture and this picture

view all comments

emprentiss they’re the same picture.

yourusername thank u my love i knew u would get my reference

pennygirl aww henry w his uncle spence 🥺

derekm69 there are no differences

ellegreenaway they have the same expression lol

meangirljj thats spencer now and spencer when he went to college

yourusername lmao u r so real for that

boywonder i love spending time w my favorite nephew ❤️

yourusername baby he is ur only nephew

boywonder so…?

yourusername

liked by emprentiss, meangirljj and others

yourusername w my gymbros 🏃🏼‍♀️

view all comments

boywonder 🤭

derekm69 and u don’t invite?

yourusername no

emprentiss stop running from ur problems guys 🙄

pennygirl looks… promising

meangirljj 🫡🫡🫡

ssahotch get. back. to. work.

yourusername yes sir

yourusername

liked by ssahotch, boywonder and others

yourusername he is literally a child

view all comments

boywonder but you still carried me

yourusername u threatened me to carry u

emprentiss REID????

boywonder dont believe everything you read on the internet

derekm69 he is

pennygirl okay questionable

ssahotch seriously?

boywonder sorry dad

[crazyinluvfix]

1:1 WOLF MOON ( pt. 2 )

FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story

summary: after a lot of research, a lot of arguing, and a run in with a mysterious stranger, stiles and sera come to the conclusion that scott is a werewolf. sera struggles with this fact while simultaneously trying to keep them from finding out her own secret.

WARNINGS: none

series masterlist

5.5k words

┌──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┐

After practice, I headed straight to my shift at the hospital - an internship I got thanks to Ms McCall.

I was eternally grateful. Not because I had an affinity for medical care, but because a girl needs to eat. And nowadays I would rather suck my blood from a bag rather than a jugular; morality and all that.

The boys shot me a text saying that they were going to pick me up when I was done so we could continue last night’s target of finding the body, or at least just Scott’s inhaler - collateral damage.

I easily spotted Stiles’ Jeep, skipping over to hop in after watching Stiles kick Scott into the backseat.

“Man, that’s so unfair! Why does she always get to ride shotgun?” Scott protested, now sulking in behind us.

When I got in Stiles put his hand on the headrest of my seat to turn back to Scott, “Because it’s her seat.”

I stayed silent, my satisfied smile spoke for me.

My seat. It truly was. I was in this passenger seat more than anyone else so we dubbed it so. It was such a known rule that Stiles had even started to enforce it.

As we drove, Scott noticed me keeping my bag securely on my lap, rather than chucking it to him.

“What’s in the bag?” he pointed to my heavy-looking, extremely full bag.

‘Dinner,’ I wanted to say. But I didn’t. “Oh, just homework,”

Then Stiles looked over too, “God, your teachers must hate you.”

~

“I don’t know what it was.”

Me and Stiles wanted to go over Scott’s sudden, unnatural aptitude for lacrosse.

“It’s like… I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.” It seemed as if it didn’t make sense to him either.

“And that’s not the only weird thing…” his tone almost sounded worried, meanwhile Stiles was just intrigued. “I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear… smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” I inquired with a short laugh - I was trying to make light of the situation, but the more he spoke the less funny it became. Maybe it was all just placebo after thinking he got bit by a wolf, that’s what I’d go with.

Scott sniffed the air, “Like the mint mojito gum in Stiles’ pocket.”

Stiles scoffed, reaching down to prove him wrong, “I don’t have any mint mo-” and there it was. The half-wrapped stick of gum lay on his palm.

“Ew,” I muttered, trying to divert my feeling of unease.

“I’m scared that I’ve got some kind of infection from the bite or something,” Scott rambled like he was scared he was dying, although he seemed far from it, “like, what if my body is just flooding itself with adrenaline before I go into shock!”

Noticing the smirk grow on Stiles’ face as I waited for his witty remark.

“You know what, I actually think I’ve heard of this,” he stated as if he was suddenly a biology expert. Scott looked over with hope.

“It’s a specific type of infection,” his hand on his hips as he stopped in his tracks, feigning seriousness.

“Are you serious?” Scott questioned, knowing it was probably one of his jokes, but he was too desperate to care.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded and I rolled my eyes, obliging him since I was curious about where this was going. “It’s called… lycanthropy,” he stated solemnly.

I fought the urge to sigh, or even laugh, but I waited for Scott’s reaction first. Seems like we were on the same wavelength here… except my concerns were a little more real.

“What’s that?” Scott asked, his tone building in worry, “Is that bad?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles agreed quickly, shaking his head, “the worst.”

Scott got just a little more pale as Stiles carried on. “But, only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“Mhm,” I stepped in, donning the same earnest expression as the boy to my left, “on the night of the full moon.” I felt Stiles’ eyes travel to me and out of the corner of mine I caught his smirk, a silent communication as to what we would do next.

We turned back to Scott and howled in sync, I put my hands around my mouth to amplify the dramatics before we both burst out laughing at Scott’s unimpressed look, him moving forward to push us.

“Not funny, guys, there could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott stomped on the dry leaves and we continued walking.

“I know! You’re a werewolf!” Stiles put his hands up and growled like a monster.

Again, Scott’s only reply was a glare. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding.”

“I’m not,” I mumbled softly toward the ground, but they both turned around and questioned if I said something.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I looked up and shook my head innocently.

“Look,” Stiles always tried to lighten the mood, “just saying, if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon,” he ran with the joke, reaching back to tap me on the arm to ask if I heard that one. I didn’t want to laugh, but he was just too good.

Scott just ignored us - he had learned that was best sometimes - instead, mentally scanning the ground. “I- I could’ve sworn this was it.” he squatted down to examine what wasn’t there further. “I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler.” He started to root around in the leaves, retracing his steps.

“The killer might’ve moved the body?” I speculated, because he was right, it was gone, I couldn’t even smell blood anymore.

“Well if he did I hope he left my inhaler, those things are like 80 bucks,” he grumbled saltily.

Over the noise of our banter I must’ve missed the sound of footsteps because, in a moment of silence, I picked up another heartbeat, turning to the side to see a tall man dressed in all black staring ominously in our direction. My arm outstretched to hit Stiles and my leg to kick Scott, but before they could complain, they saw him.

Scott shot to his feet as the man started to walk over.

“What are you doing here?” his voice boomed as he approached, clearly scaring the two boys on my either side as I heard their heart rates pick up and Stiles’ hands fidgeted frantically.

We obviously didn’t answer quickly enough because he spoke again, “Huh?”

I waited for Scott or Stiles to reply first, but they were frozen, I sighed.

“This is private property,” the man warned, the dark tone in his voice unsettling.

Then I smelt it… Wolf.

I stepped up, putting on my best, well-practiced innocent face, and looked up at him. “Oh! We’re sorry, we had no idea. We were just looking for something my friend lost,” my wide eyes sparkled, but he didn’t seem to fall for it, instead, his eyes lingered threateningly on me for a few seconds longer than they did on the boys.

A moment of eerie silence came over us before he swiftly took something out of his pocket and threw it into Scott’s hands. His inhaler. Then, without another word, the man walked away, but not before giving me another creepy death stare.

When he was a few paces away and the boys were still a little too shaken to talk, I broke the tension and chuckled. “Well, he was creepy,”

If my suspicions were right, I knew he heard that.

Stiles spun on his heel to face us his hands jumping up and he looked at Scott as if he was stupid for not reading his mind. “Dude!” he took a step closer so he could talk quietly, “That was Derek Hale! You remember right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

“His family all burned to death in a fire like 10 years ago,” he continued, but I wasn’t listening. I checked out the moment he said ‘Derek Hale.’

So I was right.

The Hales were a notorious werewolf pack down here on the West Coast, but I had no idea they were still around! I had also heard that they were a different type of wolf… stronger, as they were not bound by only turning on a full moon. But I didn’t exactly know how ‘different’ they really were.

And if that was true about the Hales… then I was correct about Scott.

~

I stayed up the whole night thinking.

Was I a bad friend for not telling them what I already knew? For making them figure this out for themselves while I could easily explain? Yes.

Was it selfish of me to keep such a big part of my life from them when they were the two most important people in my life? Also yes.

But all of this was for their own good. At least that’s what I kept telling myself to distract from the constantly looming cloud of guilt that hung over my head.

Matters only got worse when Stiles messaged me in a panic. A confirmation. They found animal hairs on the body. More precisely, wolf hairs.

~

The next day I got into school considerably late and very sleep-deprived - because despite what the fairy tales say, vampires still need their beauty sleep.

I was practically dozing off in third-period Chem without Stiles there to keep me awake since the team had a mandatory practice before the big game this week, so I excused myself to go to the bathroom and wander around the halls.

“Now listen, McCall. You’re gonna tell me exactly what it is and who you’re getting it from because there is no way you’re out there kicking ass on the field like that without some sort of chemical boost.”

I stopped my stroll around the halls at the sound of a familiar voice from around the corner.

“Oh, you mean steroids! Are you on steroids?”

Then Scott.

I poked my head out around the corner - Jackson had definitely noticed something was up and Scott wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping it a secret. This wasn’t good.

Crash. “What’s going on with you McCall!”

“You really wanna know?”

Uh oh.

“Well so would I! I can see hear and smell things that I shouldn’t be able to see hear and smell! And I-”

“Woah woah woah,” I ran over, replacing Jackson’s hand on Scott’s shirt with mine and pushing Jackson away, standing in between them.

Jackson looked furious, if he were in a cartoon smoke would be coming out of his ears. I stared him down.

He scoffed and took a step back, “You need your little friend to come rescue you?”

I quickly shushed Scott before he made the situation worse.

“Goodbye, Jackson,” I gave him a fake smile and waited for him to leave.

When he kept his eyes on us as he walked away. “I’m onto McCall. I’m gonna find out what it is you’re taking and I don’t care how long it takes.”

Once he had turned the corner I focused my attention back on Scott.

“Thanks, Ser-”

My hand took hold of his collar once more and did the same move Jackson had just done, another crash as he hit the lockers, his eyes wide and confused. “What were you thinking!”

“What do you mean!” he was incredibly confused.

I sighed, realising he doesn’t know what’s going on at all, so I let go. “You can’t just go around telling Jackson Whittemore this stuff! I know you’re scared but he is the last person you should trust.”

The way his expression dropped told me he knew I was right. But our little interaction was cut short by Coach screaming that their break was over.

“Listen,” Scott started as he stepped back towards the door of the locker room, “I’ll see you later at the game.”

“The game? I thought Stiles told you-” but he left before I could finish my sentence.

~

“Stiles!” I hurried over to where he sat on the bench, his leg bouncing frantically as he chewed on his bitten fingernails.

His head flicked in my direction, a look of relief on his face, “Sera! I haven’t seen you all day,” he stood up quickly and put his hands on my shoulders to make sure I was really there.

“I came in late,” I brushed it off.

“Have you talked to Scott?”

His head shook vigorously, “He wouldn’t listen. I’m waiting for him to come out so I can try again.”

Just as he said that I saw Scott walking out onto the field and we both approached him, trying to stop from going out onto the field.

“Scott!” Stiles shouted, his voice breaking as he practically bashed the helmet out of his hands.

“Look! I’m playing the first elimination guys, can it wait?” Scott threw his hands up in annoyance, completely ignoring our desperation.

“Man, just listen!” I put my hands on Scott to physically bring his attention to us.

Stiles spoke and he spoke fast. “I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis on the body came back from the lab in L.A. and they found animal hairs on the body from the woods!”

But Scott was already leaving. We chased after him, no longer bothering to keep our voices hushed.

“Wait! Just hold on!” I reached to grab his sleeve but he was too far, “You’re not gonna believe what the animal was!” Still, he didn’t look back.

Then it was just me and Stiles again. Scott was long gone, but I still finished my sentence, quietly as if only to myself, “It was a wolf.”

For the entirety of the game I could not tear myself away from Stiles on the bench, I simply sat down on my haunches beside him. The more I watched Scott the more my nerves started to skyrocket.

If he was good last time, he was phenomenal now. Before, it was unusual. Now it was plain unnatural the way he swerved and dodged, moving with agility that wouldn’t be out of place in a superhero movie. He even did a whole ass flip over three of the players, that was the kicker. I looked up to Stiles who was already looking back down at me, sharing my loss for words.

Once the game was over we were too lost to join in on the cheering. I knew what was up, and it scared me to know that Stiles knew it too.

Was it so crazy to say that Scott was a werewolf?

~

“So… what exactly are we looking for again?” my eyes wandered over to Stiles at his computer while I lay on his bed, filing my nails.

He was practically buzzing after popping a couple Aderalls the second we got back from school. “Something… Anything!” His hands continued their frenzied typing, the clicking of the keys becoming a soothing background noise.

This was more or less me and Stiles’ typical Wednesday night - him doing whatever at his desk and me simply just being there so I didn’t get too bored sitting at home alone. To be fair, we usually didn’t have the constant impending sense of doom over the fact our best friend might be a freaking werewolf.

But even though we were both here, we hadn’t directly discussed our thoughts or theories, we didn’t really have to. But my anxiety was starting to escalate. “Okay, Stiles!” I speak louder - I had been saying things here or there but he’d been too in his own world to hear.

Finally, he spun his chair around and looked at me with wired eyes, “Hm?”

“What are we doing? What are we thinking?” I longed for a peek into his brain on a regular day, but today I really wanted to delve into those spinning cogs.

He paused to find the words. “We are thinking… There is something seriously up with Scott, and dare I say it- something not even human,” a sigh left his lips that he had bitten to pieces. The way he said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’m thinking’ was almost a plea for agreement, to tell him he’s not going crazy here, and if he was, at least I’d be crazy with him.

I nodded. “Yeah…” it was hard for me to know how much I should or shouldn’t say, or what I could say. Because I knew a lot more than I was letting on, and it was a shitty move - but the more he figured out about Scott… the closer he got to knowing my truth.

Silence hung in the air for a minute before he called me over with a wave of his hand.

“Come, look at this,” he swivelled his chair back around to sift through the myriad of tabs he had open that made his computer run slow and make an awful whirring noise.

My feet carried me to stand behind his chair, bending down to have a look at the screen.

‘Lycaon’

‘Wolfsbane’

A bunch of gory, ancient images littered the screen as he pointed out key phrases from each website.

And then, finally, the word ‘WEREWOLF.’

He must’ve noticed my wide-eyed muteness as he prompted a response out of me.

“Well?” he waited. “Listen, I- I know it sounds crazy, I know that. But… tell me this doesn’t make perfect sense?”

“You’re right,” I admitted candidly. He was.

“Look I’ve texted Scott… I figured he’s the one with all this he should be here to hear it.”

I was left to wonder how Scott would react to all of this; but the fact Stiles had accepted it so quickly was a wonder in itself. Secretly, I think he loved it all a little too much.

Knock knock.

When two loud bangs came from the other side of Stiles’ door he practically jumped out of his skin, luckily I was behind him to hold his chair upright, puting my hand down on his beating chest that he clutched with his own.

I tiptoed toward the door, reaching for the handle, but it opened before I got there.

There he was, his trademark crooked smile plastered on his lips as he could tell from our faces that he had scared us.

“Get in here!” I beckoned.

That’s when Stiles scrambled up to drag Scott in by the collar and pushed him back to sit on the bed while he paced around the room, finally sitting down in his chair.

“I’ve been reading,” he spoke at the speed of light as I took a seat next to Scott.

“For hours,” my hint of sarcasm didn’t seem to be appreciated, so I let him continue.

“Websites, books, all of it!”

Scott chuckled, “How much Adderal have you had today?”

“Unimportant.”

I turned to whisper one last thing before I shut up, “A lot.”

“Remember the joke from the other day…? Not a joke anymore.”

Scott looked clueless.

“The wolf– the bite in the woods!”

Still nothing.

Stiles shot up out of his seat. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?” His hands were flailing about like they always did; sometimes I genuinely thought he moved faster than me, and I have super speed!

“Should I?”

It was a rhetorical question.

“To signal its location to the rest of a pack! So if you heard a wolf howling that means there could’ve been others nearby, maybe even a whole pack of ‘em!”

The poor guy had not taken a break since 3 o’clock. I got up and stood at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder for him to take a breath, “Shh.”

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott asked, now intrigued.

“No…” Stiles had finally calmed down a tad, “werewolves.”

My insides physically churned upon hearing him say it out loud. Scott however, did not look impressed. He stood up and grabbed his bag, ready to walk out, “Man, are you seriously wasting my time?”

Stiles was about to step forward, but I took over, moving my hand in front of him to signal I had got it, and my other one a bit rougher to Scott’s to stop him from leaving. “Look dude, I saw you on the field today, Scott. What you did today wasn’t just incredible… It was impossible.” My eyes softened, trying to reason with him.

He was about to retort when Stiles jumped back in, “People can’t just do that overnight! You flipped over 3 guys, Scott,” Stiles almost laughed, “Since when have you been able to do that, huh? I mean- your speed, your reflexes! And there’s the vision and the senses,” he listed everything off on his fingers.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice you don’t need your inhaler anymore!”

“Okay, dude! I can’t think about this now, we’ll talk tomorrow.” He somehow brushed off everything thing we had said as if it was the latest school gossip.

But I was now consumed by the same fever as Stiles, scampering up to him and taking him by the shoulders, raising my voice to their volume. “Tomorrow?”

“What!” Stiles added.

“No!” our pleas ping-ponged back and forth rhythmically as we begged for him to just listen. “The full moon’s tonight! Don’t you get it?”

“What are you guys trying to do!” Scott pushed back, but there was nothing in our eyes other than concern for him… and Allison.

“Everything in my life is somehow perfect, for once! Why are you trying to ruin it?”

I could physically feel the shift in the air as Stiles raked his fingers through his hair, taking in a lungful of air. “We’re trying to help,” his sincerity was like a pang to the heart.

“You’re cursed, Scott.”

That somehow hurt even worse.

It was a fact. But I found myself longing again for just a glimpse at what he really thought. Did he think his best friend was a monster? Did he think less of him? My questions were inherently selfish; I didn’t care what he thought about Scott - not nearly as much as what he thought about me. Because imagine how he would feel discovering his other friend is even more cursed, riddled with a dark history of deceit, horror, and even murder.

But this wasn’t about me. “Scott, he’s right,” my face turned just as solemn.

“You’re not only about the risk of you physically changing… it’s also when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

Ah, my old friend. I was one to talk.

“Bloodlust?” his repetition was incredulous.

“Your-” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Your urge to kill.”

Scott practically seethed as his eyes flicked between us, “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Sera.”

But before I could offer a witty retort of my own, Stiles had begun reading a passage from one of the books on his ransacked desk, “‘The change can be triggered by anger or anything that raises your pulse,’” he snapped the book closed and I half-flinched.

“Alright? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date.”

Scott knew he was right, but I could hear the anger raising his pulse right there and then as Stiles shot towards his bag, scrambling around to get his hands on Scott’s phone to do it himself. “Screw it, I’m doing it myself.”

The next few seconds seemed to play in slow motion.

Scott’s voice shouted louder than I’d ever heard it, his actions much more aggressive as he practically flung Stiles against a wall in protest for his phone. A fist aimed at his best friend’s face, and his arm swinging back to push over the chair.

Too fast for either of them to notice I ran forward and intervened, pushing Scott’s now heaving figure away from a shellshocked Stiles. No one spoke.

Until Scott.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry.

“I gotta get ready for that party.”

Tension in the room hung heavy, it was safe to say that was an unexpected turn.

And me? I was still stuck worrying that either of them had noticed the speed at which I got to them or the strength at which I countered Scott.

But when I finally came to my senses, I knew there was only one thing I could do.

Wordlessly I put my arms around Stiles, his naturally finding their place around my shoulders as I listened to the sound of his breathing.

Whatever was going on with Scott, I would take care of it.

~

The best way to stop Scott from doing anything stupid tonight was to keep an eye on him in person. He was with Allison at Lydia’s party, which naturally had half the entire school there even though it was announced just yesterday.

Which in turn meant that it might be a little more difficult to spot him than hoped.

Since I had come with Stiles I was immediately roped into one of his and his nerd friends’ conversations about something I had no clue about - it sounded like a foreign language. He could tell I was a little out of place, so he stuck by my side, his hand snaking around my waist as nothing more than a friendly gesture.

While we waited for a gap in conversation to seek out Scott, one of the jocks from the lacrosse team ‘bumped into me,’ a typical cocky grin on his lips. “Sorry, babe.”

It was so insincere I almost laughed in his face.

“Come here, I’ll get you a drink to make up for it.”

Gross. Stiles noticed the interaction and audibly scoffed, but I ignored him.

“Ew?” I said simply in the guy’s face, pushing him away with my fingertips and shooing him off.

This little interaction made the boys we were standing with suddenly aware that I was in fact a girl, and a popular one at that, turning them all even more awkward in the blink of an eye - Stiles found this incredibly stupid.

“Hey,” my demeanour screamed boredom and he must’ve noticed. “You go have fun. We can find Scott later, we’ve got plenty of time.”

My eyes lit up. ‘Thank God.’ “Ugh, you’re the best, Sti,” I grabbed his hand with both of mine and walked away, dropping it when out of reach. “Love you, man!” I pointed a finger at him before turning and skipping away.

There was a collective gasp from those boys, so shocked that Stiles could get a girl to say she loved him.

Poor losers. They’re lucky Stiles was a little nerd at heart because he was way too cool for them.

Outside seemed like my best bet to have some fun. Everyone was dancing, drinking, making out. This was my scene. You never outgrew a high school party (unless you were my buzzkill of a twin brother); just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you have to stop living.

I found some guy to dance with to kill my time, sipping a drink out of a red solo cup, all the while keeping my eyes peeled for that pesky little werewolf on the prowl somewhere.

And as we moved, there he was. He still looked very much human, and Allison didn’t look horrified, so it seemed as though we were all good.

The night moved quickly, 40 minutes had felt like ten and now there were even more people to block my watchful eye.

I could smell dog - or wolf rather - over the alcohol and teenage B.O., so Scott must be nearby.

But as soon as I told myself not to panic, my phone rang.

STILES…

Stiles

SCOTT

MISSING

CAN’T FIND HIM

GET OFF THAT DUDE AND COME

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, causing the guy I was with to give a dumb ‘huh?’ which I waved off, excusing myself and running back into the house.

I soon found Stiles who was standing at the front door, keys in hand and ready to hit it.

But when we got to Scott’s house he had already left out his bedroom window. He would be back, there was no point in chasing him - not on a full moon, not out there.

Stiles went to sit on the bed while I paced, putting a hand on my forehead.

“Listen,” he stayed calm in an effort to soothe my nerves, “he’ll be back soon. I can take you home and I’ll come back to wait for him, I know you haven't been sleeping well.”

I spun on my heel to look him in the eyes, sincere enough to make my hand drop-down. “It’s fine you don’t-”

“Come on,” he stood up, not letting me finish and I didn’t want to argue - he was right, I was stressed, tired, and could not pull another all-nighter due to supernatural stress.

I was an overthinker in life, that was only amplified with being turned.

“Okay…” I admitted defeat, a once-in-a-lifetime thing to hear from me. Stiles even raised his eyebrows in shock that he didn’t have to do any more convincing.

“Thanks,” I paused, looking up at him. Maybe this was his way of making it even after I saved him from Scott earlier; he was the only one who ever saw that I needed saving sometimes too.

~

Late-night rides in Stiles’ Jeep were always a comfort. Music on, but not blaring, yet loud enough for me to sing along - quiet enough to hear my soft melodies over the recording.

I got him to drop me off down my road (as usual), using the excuse of ‘not wanting my brother to see me sneak back in.’

But the walk up to my house felt like a walk of shame. Every time I lied it felt worse. Especially to him.

After opening my door I sped straight up to my room, my swirling thoughts refusing to quiet for one second. I felt so alone in this fabricated life I had made spun. I couldn’t tell Scott or Stiles what I knew, and they were the ones fucking involved!

So I did the only thing I could do and called my brother.

“Damon?”

Immediately, he could hear something was up. Yeah, he was a rude, stone-faced, ladykiller (literally), but I saw his true heart of gold, just like when we were kids.

“Sera? Hey, what’s up?”

Where do I start?

Werewolves. My best friend being one of them. Thinking there might be more.

It was a long conversation.

~

After getting everything off my chest and a nice glass of bourbon, I slept like a rock.

In the morning, Stiles had finally managed to find Scott, picking me up on the way, but I wasn’t much entertainment. I was still half asleep, leaning my head against the window while I yawned.

“You needed that sleep, huh?” Stiles teased, wanting me to admit he was right to send me home last night.

My pride was too strong, but I did crack a smile, “Shut up.”

And soon, we saw a familiar, shirtless frame, wandering alone down where the road met the trees - did he have any idea how much of a werewolf cliche he was?

The car stopped beside him and he saw us, stopping to get in, looking downright shaken.

When he unlatched the door to my side he opened his mouth to tell me to get in the back, but Stiles interrupted before he could.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, hands still gripping the wheel, “you know the drill, climb through,” he nodded toward the back.

My smile widened. It had become a given.

Scott went to protest that he had just been gallivanting through the woods for a night, but Stiles cut him off with another noise, pulling a disgruntled sigh out of Scott as he dove over the middle console.

The drive was unusually tense. A strong vibe of ‘I told you so’ came off both me and Stiles that coerced Scott into silence who now felt bad for the way he reacted yesterday, because we were right.

After about 3 minutes, he finally spoke, “You know what worries me the most?”

Stiles craned his neck back to see his friend curled up against the metal frame, his face unmoving as he was still angry. “If you say Allison I’m gonna punch you in the head.”

“She probably hates me now,” he whined, not listening.

“I doubt that,” I interjected, “But you might wanna come up with a pretty amazing apology.”

“Or you could tell her the truth,” Stiles shrugged as we both cast looks at him to tell him that was stupid. “And revel in the fact that you’re a freaking werewolf!”

“But really, we’ll get through this,” he continued, not only looking to Scott but to both of us. “If we have to we’ll chain you up ourselves on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it.”

There he was. His tone was lighter again as he reached down into his bag to chuck Scott the shirt he brought for him since we were headed straight for school. It was Stiles. He couldn’t stay mad for too long, not at something he found as awesome as this.

It left me with a glimmer of hope.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: things are getting tense… check the series masterlist at the top for other parts x leave liked and comments !

└──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┘

[countrymusiclover]

Feisty Coffee Girl

Y/n twin sister of Izzy Steven's stumbles to Seattle with her ten year old daughter Everly. She hears all the gossip from Izzy and her other intern friends at the hospital, never expecting to get involved with any of it. That is till Mark Sloan pays a visit to the coffee shop she works at.

1 - First Name Basis

2 - Doctor Nicknames

3 - A Sloan Date

4 - What I Want

5 -

???

Tag list - just send me an ask to be added

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[luvdella]

A ten year old and the after school/break care center just told me that my boyfriend looked like a character from a show her mom watches and I asked his name and she said it was like Spencer ride and I was like Spencer Reid? And she said yeah I showed her a picture and she said YES

My point is I think I have a type and I found someone who is that type and now I’m very happy

[reidmarieprentiss]

Sweet & Sour Motivation

Summary: You are casually seeing Aaron Hotchner after his divorce, but what happens when he brings around his pretty friend, Spencer?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader, Aaron Hotcher xfem!reader

Category: smut, angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, needy & jealous aaron, not really cheating, picking spencer, alcohol consumption, reader sings in a band, use of Y/N, age gap (24 & 37)

Word count: 11.7k

a/n: didn't mean to make hotch so pathetic lol my bad --- also wrote this super quick ,, no proof reads ,, no edits ,, apologies in advance

main masterlist

Additional warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), multiple partners, oral (m), fingering, grinding

After the painful end of his marriage, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t looking for anything serious. One night, while drowning his sorrows at a bar, he was captivated by a beautiful woman singing on stage. Drawn to her presence, Aaron began frequenting the bar just to see her perform. Eventually, their paths crossed when he spotted her getting a drink, and his curiosity led him to you—a vibrant 24-year-old who offered him a much-needed escape from the chaos of his life. What started as a casual rebound quickly evolved into something more complicated. Spending nearly every weekend together, you’ve built a bond that straddles the line between friendship and something deeper, though neither of you has dared to define it. As Aaron juggles the pressures of his job and the remnants of his broken family, and you navigate your own feelings about the age difference and the nature of your connection, you find yourselves in a delicate dance that could either solidify into something real or shatter the fragile peace you’ve found in each other.

—

The moment the bathroom door closed behind you, Aaron’s hands were on you, rough and insistent, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel you against him. His lips crashed against yours, the kiss urgent and filled with a need that had been simmering for months, now boiling over. There was nothing gentle about the way he backed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a possessive hunger.

“Aaron,” you gasped against his lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed his body against yours, hard and demanding. His response was a low groan, his breath hot against your neck as he bit down, just enough to make you arch into him, craving more of the roughness he knew you wanted.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he spun you around, your hands bracing against the wall as he pulled you back against him. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your hips before yanking you closer, his body pressed tightly to yours. There was no room for anything but the raw, desperate need between you.

Clothes were a nuisance, and they were pushed aside quickly, carelessly, until nothing stood between you but the heated press of your skin against his. Aaron’s hands gripped your hips, his hold firm and unyielding as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts, each one forceful, pushing you to the edge with a ruthless precision that only he could master.

The sounds of your moans and his ragged breaths filled the bathroom, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin. It was dirty, intense, everything you had both craved since the first time you saw each other. Aaron’s pace was relentless, his control slipping as he lost himself in the rhythm, the connection between you raw and primal.

“Tell me you want this,” he growled, his voice rough, almost desperate, as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Yes, Aaron, please,” you gasped, the words barely coherent as the sensations overwhelmed you. “I want it, I need it—”

Your words were cut off by a sharp thrust that had you crying out, your body trembling as you reached the peak, the world dissolving into a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Aaron followed you over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself deep, his release shuddering through him with a force that left you both breathless and spent.

—

For a couple of months, your relationship with Aaron was intense, secretive, and driven by an unquenchable need. You’d meet wherever you could—bar bathrooms, his car, your apartment, motels. The connection was raw and consuming. But over time, the urgency softened, and your quick hookups turned into long conversations, dinners, and movies. You were becoming friends, maybe more.

Then, after an especially intimate moment, Aaron surprised you by wanting to introduce you to his friends. Panic set in, as the reality of your relationship became too close, too real. To deflect, you suggested he bring them to your show, hoping they’d have a few drinks before you had to face them. The thought of what Aaron might have told them—or how he’d introduce you—filled you with unease.

—

Aaron had invited the whole team to come see you perform, and they all eagerly agreed. They were curious to meet the woman Hotch was "seeing," though he hadn’t shared many details, leaving out the more provocative aspects of your relationship. None of them imagined the reality of the situation; they were simply excited that he was opening up after the divorce and sharing this part of his life with them.

When the team arrived at the bar, they settled into a table right at the front, not wanting to miss a moment. The anticipation was palpable as they chatted, speculating about what you might be like. But when your band finally took the stage, their reactions were anything but subtle. The team was flabbergasted. There was no way Hotch was just "seeing" you. You were so young, so hot, so confident—everything they wouldn’t have expected from him. You were the complete opposite of the reserved and serious Aaron Hotchner they knew, and it left them stunned.

“Dude, how much you wanna bet Hotch is just banging her?” Derek leaned over to Spencer, his voice low but teasing.

“Um, that’s—I don’t know. Why would he invite us to meet her?” Spencer replied, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

“That’s a good point,” Derek conceded, “but she’s gotta be at least ten years younger than him.”

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, not sure where Derek was going with this.

“I bet he’s using her as a rebound,” Emily chimed in, leaning in closer after having overheard the exchange.

“For sure,” Derek nodded, “but do you think she knows?”

The way you performed on stage—sensual, captivating, commanding every ounce of attention—they assumed you were fully aware of the situation and in control of it.

And Spencer? Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. There was something about you that was otherworldly, enigmatic. You drew him in, fascinated him in a way he’d never experienced before, and he found himself unable to look away.

—

You couldn’t help but notice Spencer staring at you; how could you not? He was the most beautiful man in the bar, his eyes dark and intense, drinking you up like you were the only thing that mattered. There was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart skip a beat, even in the middle of your performance. But then again, he was sitting at Aaron’s table, and that complicated things. Flirting with him? It seemed like a line you shouldn’t cross, especially with Aaron in the picture. You and Aaron weren’t exclusive, sure, but still… it felt like a no-go.

But then an idea struck you. Maybe you couldn’t flirt outright, but you could still send a message, something subtle yet unmistakable. A smile tugged at your lips as you decided to sing your signature cover, one that always held a bit more meaning when you performed it—"Only Angel," the demo version.

Your voice dipped into the lyrics, eyes locked on Spencer as you sang:

“Painted it on your back, I knew we’d get along  

But I caught you in a mirror staring way too long  

I could love you if I didn’t think I’d do it wrong  

I’m gonna have to take you home…”

You let the words linger, your gaze never leaving Spencer’s, the air between you crackling with an unspoken invitation. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the effect the song was having on him, the way he seemed to lean in, as if drawn by an invisible thread. The tension was electric, and you knew he felt it too. 

The rest of the room faded into the background, the only thing that mattered was the connection sparking between you and Spencer. And for those few moments, you let the song say what you couldn’t—flirting with him in a way that was both bold and discreet, leaving just enough room for him to wonder if it was really him you were singing to. But from the look in his eyes, you knew he understood.

—

As you emerged from the backrooms of the bar, still riding the high of your performance, you were greeted by Aaron’s warm embrace. “Y/N! You were wonderful!” he said, pulling you close, his voice filled with pride.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you murmured into his shoulder, a mix of gratitude and nerves bubbling in your chest. You knew what was coming next—meeting his friends. The thought sent a flutter of anxiety through you, especially after the intense connection you’d just shared with Spencer across the room.

Aaron kept an arm around you as he turned to face the table where his team was gathered. “Everyone, this is Y/N,” he announced, his tone confident and unguarded. And then, with a smile that seemed so simple, yet carried so much weight, he added, “My girl.”

Your stomach dropped at those words, the casual claim sending a wave of emotions through you. You hadn’t expected him to introduce you like that, not in front of his team, not in such a public way. The label—"my girl"—felt both comforting and constricting all at once, like a door closing on the undefined space you’d been occupying together.

“Hi,” you managed to wave, your voice a little shy as you took in the faces around the table. You could feel their eyes on you, studying you, trying to figure out who you were and what you meant to Aaron. It was all a bit overwhelming, especially with Spencer’s gaze lingering on you, more intense than before.

But you held your ground, offering them a small, nervous smile, hoping it conveyed more confidence than you felt.

Emily was the first to break the ice. “So, Y/N, how did you and Aaron meet?” she asked with a playful lilt in her voice, leaning in just a little too close, her breath carrying the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

“Here, actually,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though your nerves were starting to creep in. You could feel Aaron’s arm tighten around your waist, his fingers splaying possessively against your hip. “He, uh, kept coming to see me sing.”

Derek, already grinning, jumped in next. “So you’re the reason Hotch has been in such a good mood lately,” he teased, giving you a wink. “We’ve been wondering who it was. Didn’t think he had it in him to date a rock star.”

“I wouldn’t say rock star,” you laughed nervously, glancing around at the group. You could tell they were all a bit tipsy, their laughter a little too loud, their movements a little too loose—except for Spencer, who sat quietly, his eyes fixed on you with that same intensity you’d noticed earlier. He hadn’t touched his drink, instead seeming to take everything in with a quiet, respectful demeanor that stood in stark contrast to the others.

JJ leaned forward, her smile warm and kind. “What’s it like dating Aaron? He can be pretty intense, I bet.”

Before you could answer, Aaron, clearly more than a little tipsy himself, pulled you closer, his hand drifting lower than you were comfortable with, even in front of strangers. “She loves it, don’t you?” he slurred slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. The gesture was meant to be affectionate, but with the alcohol on his breath and the eyes of his entire team on you, it made you mildly uncomfortable.

You tried to laugh it off, gently nudging him in the side. “It’s… an adventure,” you said, attempting to keep things light despite the awkwardness creeping in.

“Sounds like it,” Rossi chimed in, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To the woman who’s tamed the wild Hotchner.”

The group laughed, and you forced a smile, but inside you were starting to feel the strain of the situation. Aaron’s handsy behavior wasn’t helping, and you could see the team watching your every move, analyzing the dynamics between you and their boss.

But then, your eyes met Spencer’s again, and you found a moment of calm in his steady gaze. Unlike the others, he wasn’t laughing or teasing—he was just watching, as if trying to understand you in a way the others hadn’t even thought to. It was a small comfort in an otherwise overwhelming situation.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was just a night, just a moment, and you could handle it. Even if Aaron was being more affectionate than you were used to, even if his team was dissecting every word you said, you could get through this. After all, you’d faced tougher crowds before—just never with quite so much on the line.

—

You were pushing your cart down the aisle, absentmindedly scanning the shelves for a few last-minute ingredients, when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the canned goods. Spencer Reid, the quiet and somewhat mysterious member of Aaron’s team, was holding a can of peas in front of his face, staring at it with such intensity that you half-expected it to reveal the answer to some complex riddle.

“Spencer?” you called out, curious about what could possibly have him so engrossed.

He quickly glanced over, squinting slightly as if trying to place you. “Yes?”

“It is Spencer, right? I’m Y/N—we met last week…” you trailed off, hoping he’d remember.

“Oh, Hotch’s girlfriend,” he replied, a hint of recognition in his voice.

You smiled, though his label caught you off guard. “Well, not exactly. But yeah, that’s me.”

Spencer’s lips morphed into a tight-lipped smile before he nodded, his gaze shifting back to the can of peas as if it held some deep, unresolved mystery.

“Did those peas do something to you?” you teased, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Excuse me?” He looked back at you, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“You’re looking at the can like it hurt you and you’re expecting an apology,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Spencer gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, no. I, uh, I forgot my glasses in my car. I was trying to read the label.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the situation suddenly making a lot more sense. “Do you want some help?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the offer. “Um, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” you replied with a smile, taking the can from him. You quickly scanned the label and handed it back. “Low sodium, no added preservatives. Looks like a pretty solid choice.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice sincere, though there was still a hint of awkwardness in his demeanor. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said lightly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I know how frustrating it can be when you can’t read something.”

Spencer nodded, then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to assume anything last week. About you and Hotch, I mean.”

You shrugged, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I think everyone assumed a lot that night.”

He nodded again, this time more slowly, as if considering your words. “Well, it was nice running into you, Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” you replied, genuinely pleased by the unexpected encounter. “Maybe next time I can help you pick out something more exciting than peas.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Spencer’s mouth. “I might take you up on that.”

With that, he gave a polite nod and turned to continue down the aisle, leaving you with a surprising sense of warmth from the brief interaction. There was something endearing about Spencer’s quiet, awkward nature, and you found yourself looking forward to the possibility of running into him again.

—

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about you. You weren’t an obsession, but you lingered in his thoughts more than he expected. Whenever he saw Hotch on his phone or noticed him smiling, Spencer couldn’t help but assume it was because of you. Curiosity gnawed at him, driving him to consider going back to the bar just to see you perform, but he dismissed the idea, thinking it might be odd without Hotch.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave him alone. One Friday evening, knowing Aaron had Jack and wouldn’t be at the bar, Spencer took the plunge. It felt risky, like stepping into unknown territory, but he went anyway, sitting where you might spot him if you were looking hard enough, comforted by the idea that he could slip away unnoticed if things felt too strange.

As the lively crowd buzzed around him, Spencer’s focus was solely on you. His heart raced as he watched you perform, a mix of nerves and something deeper stirring within him. After your set, as you headed to the bar for a drink, you spotted him—a familiar, lanky figure perched on a stool, slightly out of place yet somehow perfectly where he belonged.

“Looks like those peas didn’t kill you after all,” you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you approached him.

“Y/N,” Spencer smiled, the warmth in his eyes genuine. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, genuinely touched by his compliment. You glanced around, noticing his lack of company. “Are you here alone?”

“I am… is that weird?” Spencer asked, his tone filled with curiosity and uncertainty.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said with a reassuring smile. But something about the situation tugged at you. “Does Aaron know?”

“Should he?” Spencer responded, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the question hanging between you like a weight. It wasn’t an accusation, just an acknowledgment of the complexity of the situation. The lines between you, Spencer, and Aaron were blurred, undefined, and here you were, caught in the middle of it.

Spencer nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken tension. “I just… wanted to see you perform again,” he confessed, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “Is that okay?”

Your heart softened at his admission, and you found yourself smiling, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “Of course, Spencer.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly at your words, the tension easing as you both stood there, caught in a moment that felt charged with possibility.

“Maybe we could sit and talk?” you offered, the idea suddenly feeling right. “You don’t have to be alone.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and for the first time that night, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had made the right choice by coming here. “I’d like that,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, sincere smile.

And with that, the night shifted, the two of you finding a quiet corner where the music faded into the background, leaving room for something new to take its place.

“So, Spencer,” you began, your tone light and teasing as you sipped your water. “Do you usually spend your Friday nights at bars alone, or is this a new hobby?”

He chuckled, a little self-conscious but clearly amused by your playful question. “This is definitely a new hobby. I’m not exactly the bar-hopping type.”

“Really?” you replied, feigning surprise. “I would have pegged you as a regular party animal.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m more of a stay-at-home-with-a-book kind of guy.”

“Ah, a man of mystery,” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “I like that. So what brings you out of your comfort zone tonight?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Honestly? I couldn’t stop thinking about your performance. I wanted to see you again.”

His words caught you off guard, but in the best way. There was something so genuine, so sincere in the way he said it that you couldn’t help but feel flattered. “I’m really glad you decided to come,” you said softly, your smile reflecting the warmth you felt inside. “I was hoping I’d see you again too.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he shifted in his seat, clearly a little shy but not backing down. “You were?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your tone playful but sincere. “There’s something about you, Spencer. You’re different. I like that.”

He looked at you, a mix of curiosity and something deeper in his eyes. “Different in a good way, I hope?”

“In the best way,” you replied, your voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “You’re smart, sweet, and let’s be honest—very easy on the eyes.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he smiled, clearly enjoying the attention. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know. You have this… presence. It’s hard not to notice.”

“Noticed me, did you?” you teased, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Hard not to,” he admitted, his voice softening as he leaned in just a little closer. “You have a way of drawing people in.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the chemistry between you becoming more palpable with each passing moment. “Maybe I’m just good at reading people,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “Is that so? What do you read from me?”

You pretended to study him for a moment, your gaze playful and assessing. “Hmm… I see someone who’s incredibly intelligent, maybe a little shy, but with a heart of gold. And… someone who’s curious about me.”

“Curious, yes,” Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And maybe a little more than that.”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at his confession. “Good,” you said, leaning in just enough that your faces were only inches apart. “Because I’m more than a little curious about you too.”

The air between you felt charged, the flirtation natural and effortless. There was a comfort in being around Spencer, a sense that you could be yourself without pretense, and the attraction was undeniable.

Just as you were about to say something, your phone started ringing from your bag, the sound cutting through the cozy bubble the two of you had created. You reached for it, intending to silence it quickly, but when you saw Aaron’s face flashing on the screen, your heart skipped a beat. Spencer’s eyes flicked to the phone, clearly noticing who was calling.

“You should probably take that,” Spencer said softly, his voice understanding but with a hint of something unspoken beneath it.

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside you. The timing couldn’t have been more inconvenient.

You offered Spencer an apologetic smile before excusing yourself. “I’ll be right back,” you promised, trying to keep your voice light even as your mind raced. 

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere, the warmth and easy connection with Spencer giving way to the reality of your situation. You took a deep breath before answering the call, bracing yourself for whatever Aaron might have to say, all the while aware that Spencer was inside, waiting.

You answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “Hello?”

“Hey gorgeous, how was your show?” Aaron’s voice came through the line, warm and familiar.

“It was good,” you replied, glancing back toward the bar, where Spencer was still waiting. The conversation you’d just had with him lingered in your mind, making this moment with Aaron feel strangely disconnected.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s tone shifted, laced with concern. He could always tell when something was off, even through the phone.

“I’m fine, still at the bar,” you reassured him, hoping to keep things simple.

“Alone?” he asked, and you could hear the subtle tension in his voice. Aaron wasn’t the jealous type, but there was something there, something unspoken.

“Yeah, wanted to get a drink,” you lied, knowing it was easier than explaining who you were really with.

There was a pause on the other end, then Aaron spoke again, his voice a bit softer, more vulnerable. “Do you want to come over?”

The question caught you off guard. Aaron had never invited you to his place before, and you knew Jack was there. It felt like a big step, one you weren’t sure you were ready to take, especially with everything that had happened tonight.

“Um, not tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. “I’m really tired, was gonna head home soon.”

There was a brief silence, then Aaron’s voice returned, back to its usual steadiness. “Okay, get home safe. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night,” you whispered, ending the call.

You stood there for a moment, the cool air brushing against your skin, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. Aaron’s invitation had surprised you, but it also made you realize just how complicated things were becoming.

With a deep breath, you headed back inside the bar, ready to face Spencer again, but now with a new weight on your shoulders, one you weren’t sure how to carry.

As you walked back inside, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the coolness of the night, your eyes immediately landed on Spencer. He was standing at the bar, his tall frame slightly hunched as he reached for his wallet. You quickly realized he was paying both of your tabs.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Spencer glanced at you, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone gentle. “I don’t want to complicate things between you and Hotch.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. The truth was, you didn’t even know what was happening between you and Aaron. Everything felt so muddled, so undefined.

“Okay,” you finally managed, though it came out more as a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, and there was genuine regret in his eyes, as if he wished things were different, as if he wished he could stay.

“No, I’m sorry,” you replied, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid between you both.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender, fleeting kiss. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you whispered back, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure gradually disappearing into the crowd.

As you stood there, the echoes of the night settling around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had just slipped through your fingers. Spencer’s presence had been a breath of fresh air, a glimpse of something new, and now, as he walked away, you were left wondering what could have been if things were less complicated.

—

Derek leaned against Hotch’s office door frame, a mischievous grin on his face as he asked, “Hey, Hotch, what was the name of that bar your girlfriend plays at? I wanted to take a lady friend there this weekend.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly in a playful mood.

Hotch barely looked up from the file he was reviewing, his expression tightening. “Sanders Pub,” he replied curtly, then quickly added, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Derek’s smile faltered at the sharpness in Hotch’s tone. “Whoa, sorry. Did something happen?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more serious note.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, a clear signal that the conversation was over. “Not appropriate work conversation, Morgan,” he said, his voice clipped and final.

Derek held his hands up in surrender, the tension in the air unmistakable. “Alright, alright, backing off,” he muttered, retreating to his desk with a bemused expression.

As he returned to his desk, Derek leaned in toward Spencer, who had been watching the exchange with quiet curiosity. “I think things ended with Hotch and his girl,” Derek whispered conspiratorially.

“What? Why?” Spencer asked, his voice betraying a bit more interest than he intended.

Derek shrugged, lowering his voice even further. “I asked about her and he got super defensive and weird, told me it wasn’t work appropriate.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the sudden surge of emotions he felt. “Yeah, I wonder…”

You had ended things with Aaron, knowing it wasn’t fair to continue when you were so uncertain about what you wanted. Aaron’s life required stability, especially with a child, and you weren’t ready to step into that role. What you did know was that you weren’t prepared to be a stepmom, and more importantly, you felt a stronger pull toward Spencer. The connection you felt with him lingered in your thoughts, making it clear that you couldn’t stay with Aaron when your heart was drawn elsewhere.

—

As you walked out of the bar, the cool night air hit your skin, bringing a welcome relief from the warmth inside. You hadn’t expected to see anyone lingering outside, so when you noticed Spencer standing next to the brick exterior, staring intently at it as if lost in thought, you were momentarily taken aback.

“Spencer? What are you doing?” you asked, your voice cutting through the quiet night.

Spencer jumped slightly, clearly startled by your sudden appearance. He hadn’t heard the door open. “Waiting for you,” he admitted, turning to face you.

“Why?” you asked, curiosity and concern threading through your voice. His presence here, after everything that had happened, felt significant, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

“You ended things with Hotch, didn’t you?” Spencer’s question was direct, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You blinked, taken aback by how sure he seemed. “How do you know that?” you asked, your voice softer now, the weight of the conversation sinking in.

“So you did?” he pressed, his expression intense but gentle, as if he needed to hear it from you.

“Yes,” you finally admitted, the word hanging in the air between you both, laden with unspoken emotions.

Spencer nodded slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And now?” Spencer asked, his tone laced with quiet hope, as if he were afraid to push too hard, yet unable to hold back.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you considered the truth of it all. “Now… I’m trying to figure that out,” you said, your eyes meeting his, the connection between you undeniable.

Spencer’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need help figuring it out,” he offered, his voice gentle but firm, a silent promise in his words.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, standing in the cool night air.

“Spencer?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you took a tentative step closer to him.

“Mhm?” His response was almost a hum, his eyes locked on yours, waiting, searching for what you needed to say.

“Kiss me?” The words slipped out before you could second-guess them, a plea as much as a question, filled with all the emotions you’d been holding back.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it was replaced by something softer, something that made your heart flutter. He didn’t hesitate. Instead, he moved closer, the space between you shrinking until there was nothing left but the warmth of his presence.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that made your heart ache. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savoring the moment, the feeling of your lips against his. But as you pressed closer, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, the kiss deepened. His lips molded perfectly to yours, warm and inviting, a slow dance of exploration and longing.

The world around you disappeared completely, leaving only the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the gentle but insistent pressure of his hands as they cupped your face, pulling you closer still. Every brush of his lips sent a spark through you, igniting a fire that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers.

Time seemed to stretch, each second filled with the intoxicating mix of passion and tenderness, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment far longer than you realized.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, your foreheads pressed together, your noses brushing as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer’s eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and you could see the faintest hint of a smile playing on them.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

Spencer opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice just as soft. “Wow.”

Neither of you moved, savoring the closeness, the lingering warmth of the kiss still tingling on your lips. It was as if the world had shifted, something new and precious blooming between you, something that neither of you were quite ready to let go of.

—

Spencer was kicking himself for not getting your phone number. The thought had crossed his mind a dozen times since that night, and each time, he berated himself a little more for letting the moment slip away. But he also knew that you were still sorting through your feelings, and the last thing he wanted was to pressure you by showing up two nights in a row for your show to ask for your number. He wasn’t even sure if you performed both nights of the weekend. Did you perform every weekend? All year long? What was your other job? Where were you from? Did you go to college? 

These questions swirled around in his mind, each one adding to the growing realization that he knew so little about you, despite how much he felt drawn to you. It was a strange, almost unsettling feeling—like being pulled into a deep, endless well of curiosity that he couldn’t climb out of. He was, as Derek would probably say, down bad. 

Spencer found himself thinking about you at the oddest times—during meetings, while reading, even in the middle of a conversation with someone else. His mind would wander back to the way your lips felt against his, the way your voice sounded when you whispered his name, the way you looked at him like he was someone worth knowing. It was enough to drive him crazy.

—

Meanwhile, Aaron’s constant texts and voicemails weighed heavily on you, each one more insistent than the last, as he pleaded for another chance, convinced he could be what you needed. You understood his struggle—after all, you were the first person he’d been with since his marriage ended, and he was trying to find something familiar and safe in the aftermath. But it was clear he was projecting, hoping to recreate the all-encompassing relationship he’d had with his ex-wife.

You knew you needed to gently explain that what you shared wasn’t the same, that you couldn’t be the anchor he was searching for. Adding to your turmoil was the growing connection you felt with Spencer, which only heightened your anxiety. You were certain that pursuing anything with him, especially under these circumstances, wasn’t the right move.

Caught in a web of conflicting emotions—Aaron’s needs, your own feelings, and the undeniable pull toward Spencer—you realized that whatever decision you made next would have far-reaching consequences for all three of you.

—

“Spencer Reid,” he answered, his tone professional.

“Hi, it’s me. I hope it’s okay I’m calling you at work,” you said, a bit hesitant.

“Y/N?” Spencer whispered urgently and lowered his voice.

“Yeah, is this weird? I’m sorry, I’ll go,” you quickly offered, suddenly feeling awkward.

“No!” Spencer replied quickly, looking around to make sure no one was listening.. “No, just… can you give me your cell, and I’ll call you back?”

You gave him your number, and within minutes, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. 

“Y/N?” Spencer's voice came through, full of relief and curiosity.

“Hi,” you responded, feeling a warmth spread through you just hearing his voice.

“Hi,” he echoed, and for a moment, the two of you simply basked in the quiet connection over the phone, neither rushing to fill the silence.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, just as you said, “I need to talk to you.”

You both laughed, the nervous tension easing slightly.

“Go ahead,” Spencer urged, his tone gentle.

“Can you come over tonight? I think we should talk,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with the weight of what you needed to discuss.

“Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Just want to clear the air,” you reassured him, though there was a slight edge of anticipation.

—

Later that evening, Spencer arrived with Thai food in hand and a knot in his stomach. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was determined to face whatever conversation awaited him. Still, he took a deep breath and knocked.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted him with a warm smile as you opened the door.

“Hi,” he replied, feeling some of the tension ease at the sight of you.

“Come in, come in. I got us all set up in front of the TV, I like noise while I eat. Do you like Doctor Who?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and without thinking, he blurted out, “I’m going to marry you.”

“What?” you laughed, clearly delighted by his reaction.

“I love Doctor Who! The fact that you put it on without knowing that? This is a proposal. I’m sorry I don’t have a ring—will pad Thai do?”

“Yes, I accept,” you said with a grin, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you both laughed, the earlier tension dissolving into something much lighter, much sweeter.

Spencer’s nervous energy began to dissipate as he followed you into the living room, where you had everything set up just as you promised—cushions, blankets, and Doctor Who already playing on the screen.

You both settled onto the couch, the takeout containers spread out on the coffee table between you. Spencer glanced over at you, taking in how relaxed you seemed. “You really know how to set the mood,” he teased lightly, gesturing toward the TV with his chopsticks.

“Well, I figured if we’re going to have a serious conversation, we might as well do it with the Doctor,” you replied, giving him a playful smile. But then, your expression softened as you looked at him, and Spencer could sense the shift in the air.

“You wanted to clear the air,” Spencer prompted gently, setting his food aside to give you his full attention.

You took a deep breath, nodding as you gathered your thoughts. “Yeah, I did,” you began, your voice steady but thoughtful. “I ended things with Aaron because… well, because it wasn’t fair to keep things going when I was so uncertain about what I wanted. He’s been through a lot, and I didn’t want to complicate his life any more than it already is, especially with Jack in the picture.”

Spencer listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, the empathy in his gaze clear.

“And then there’s you,” you continued, your voice softening even more. “I don’t know exactly what this is between us, but I know it’s something. But I also know that things are complicated, especially with everything that’s happened.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed your words, the vulnerability in your voice mirroring the emotions swirling within him. “Nothing has to happen between us,” he said softly, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’m perfectly happy being your friend. Truthfully, I just like being around you, and I’ll take that in any capacity I can get.”

The words had barely left Spencer’s mouth before you were on him, your lips capturing his with an urgency that neither of you had expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you before—no one had ever cared like that before. Complications be damned, Spencer Reid was going to be a hell of a lot more than just a friend.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but it only took him a heartbeat to catch up. His initial shock melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hands instinctively finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss was filled with all the unspoken emotions you both had been holding back, a fiery blend of passion and need that neither of you could deny any longer.

Your fingers tightened in Spencer's hair, the silky strands slipping between them as you tugged, eliciting a low moan from him that reverberated through your body. The sound was intoxicating, feeding the fire already burning between you. You pressed against him more firmly, your body molding to his as the kiss deepened, becoming more heated, more urgent.

Spencer’s lips were soft, pliant, yet insistent against yours, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse race. His mouth parted slightly, inviting you to explore, and you didn’t hesitate, your tongue sweeping across his lower lip before sliding into the warmth of his mouth. He met you with equal passion, his tongue teasing yours in a sensual dance that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

His hands, once tentative, became bolder, fingers brushing over the fabric of your shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of your skin beneath it. Each touch, each caress, sent shivers down your spine, making you press closer to him, needing more.

With a gentle but firm push, you guided him further back into the couch, your bodies shifting until you were straddling his lap, your leg sliding over his to settle on either side of him. The new position brought you even closer, your hips brushing against his, and you felt a tremor run through him at the contact.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, but his lips never left yours. His hands, now anchored at your hips, pulled you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any space between you. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the way his body responded to yours, and it sent a thrill of power through you.

Your lips moved against his with a purpose, tasting, savoring, as if you were trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he responded to you. His moans, low and throaty, vibrated against your mouth, and you couldn’t help but echo them, the sound swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

His hands roamed more, this time sliding up to your shoulders, then down your arms, before returning to your hips, where his grip tightened. The need in his touch was palpable, almost desperate, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position to align your bodies even more perfectly, and Spencer gasped into your mouth, his fingers digging into your ass now as he tried to control the reaction surging through him. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the connection between you both so powerful that it made every touch, every brush of your lips against his, feel electric.

You deepened the kiss, your tongue teasing his as you nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low groan from him. His response was immediate, his hands slipping under your shirt, palms pressing against the bare skin of your waist, drawing you even closer.

The heat of his touch was searing, branding you with the undeniable evidence of his desire. You could feel the tension building between you, a coil tightening with every second, threatening to snap at any moment. The way his body responded to yours, the way he moaned into your mouth, only fueled your own need, making you press harder against him, your hips rolling slightly to test the limits of his control.

Spencer’s breath was ragged, each exhale shaky as he fought to keep himself grounded in the moment, but you could feel him unraveling beneath your touch. You could feel the desire pulsing between you, the air thick with the promise of what could be, but for now, all that mattered was the way he kissed you—like he couldn’t get enough, like he was drowning in the sensation of your lips on his. His mouth moved against yours with a desperate intensity, as if each kiss was a lifeline, anchoring him to you.

As the kiss grew more fervent, your hands began to roam, exploring the hard lines of his chest, the curve of his shoulders, the muscles tensing beneath your fingertips as you discovered the contours of his body. You could feel the strength in him, the barely restrained power that made every touch feel like a spark igniting between you.

Your name escaped his lips in a breathless whisper as you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They were dark with desire, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. His gaze was filled with awe and hunger, like he couldn’t believe this was happening but was desperate for more.

“Y/N…” Spencer’s voice was low, strained with the weight of everything he was feeling, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

You silenced him with another kiss, your hands threading through his hair as you poured every ounce of emotion into the contact, letting him know without words that you felt it too, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

The kiss was slow this time, languid and deep, as if you had all the time in the world to savor the taste of each other, to lose yourselves in the sensation. The urgency that had driven you earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as you let yourselves simply exist in the moment, wrapped up in each other.

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer suddenly breathed out, his voice laced with hesitation and longing.

You paused, searching his eyes, your heart pounding as you tried to read the emotions flickering across his face. “What—what’s up, Spencer?” you asked, your voice soft, trying to keep the moment from slipping away.

“I thought you didn’t want to complicate things?” he said, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for reassurance.

“All I know right now is that I want you,” you replied, your voice steady, but filled with the intensity of everything you were feeling.

“You want to have sex with me?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“We don’t have to,” you assured him, shaking your head slightly. “I want you,” you emphasized, your eyes locked on his. “I want you to tell me all the interesting facts and theories behind Doctor Who and kiss me when I finish a set. I want to go grocery shopping with you and see you in your glasses. I want to cook horrible food together and order takeout when it inevitably fails. I want you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s breath hitched at your words, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed what you were saying. “Y/N…” he started, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m serious,” you interrupted, needing him to understand how much this meant to you.

Spencer’s gaze softened, but a shadow of uncertainty still lingered. “What will Hotch say?”

You took a deep breath, acknowledging the weight of his question. “I don’t know… but it’s not up to him, is it?”

Spencer considered this, the conflict in his eyes slowly giving way to acceptance. “No, I guess not,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“And besides,” you added with a playful smirk, “you already proposed.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the space between you. “I did, didn’t I?”

You grinned, feeling the tension between you dissolve as you leaned in closer. “So, what do you say, Doctor? Are you in?”

Spencer’s eyes shone with relief and joy, the last remnants of doubt fading away as he pulled you closer, his hands resting on your hips. “I’m in,” he whispered, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Spencer pulled back slightly, a hint of sheepishness coloring his expression as he asked, “Does that mean we’re not going to have sex?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his question, the sound warm and affectionate. Leaning in closer, you whispered with a teasing smile, “Oh no, Spencer, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then his lips curved into a grin, the tension between you dissolving completely into something playful and charged with anticipation. 

Spencer's playful grin lingered as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that quickly deepened, growing more urgent with each passing second. The teasing, lighthearted atmosphere shifted as the heat between you reignited, the need for each other becoming undeniable.

His hands, initially resting on your hips, began to move again, fingers tracing the curve of your waist with deliberate slowness. The touch was electrifying, each stroke of his fingertips igniting a fire under your skin. Spencer’s lips never left yours, his kisses growing more heated, more insistent, as his hands continued their journey downward.

With a deliberate and confident motion, Spencer's hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts. The feeling of his fingers against your bare skin sent a jolt of anticipation through you, your breath hitching in response. His touch was both gentle and firm, exploring with a careful yet eager curiosity that made your pulse quicken.

He found your clit almost immediately, and the moment he touched you, a soft gasp escaped your lips. Spencer paused for a fraction of a second, gauging your reaction, before continuing, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you tremble. The sensation was intense, his touch both tender and commanding, driving you to the edge with each stroke.

“Spencer, oh god,” you gasped, throwing your head back, completely unprepared for him to make the first move.

Your hips instinctively pressed into his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction he was creating. Spencer responded in kind, his movements growing bolder as he felt your body responding to his touch. His name fell from your lips, breathless and needy, urging him on.

As his fingers continued their skilled work, your own hands were not idle. You found yourself reaching for him, desperate to feel more of him, your fingers tugging at his shirt, slipping under the fabric to explore the warmth of his skin. The feel of his muscles tensing beneath your touch only heightened your desire, fueling the fire between you.

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, matching yours, as he continued to drive you higher, his fingers moving against your clit with an almost maddening precision. The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter, until it was nearly unbearable, a sweet tension that you craved more of with every second. His lips found yours again, this time hungrier, more demanding, swallowing the soft moans that escaped you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take any more, Spencer’s fingers shifted, inserting two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. His movements were more confident as he found exactly the right rhythm to send you spiraling. He knew exactly what he was doing, every brush of his palm against your clit and the stroke of his fingers sending another jolt of pleasure through you, making your body arch into him, desperate for more.

“Spencer, please,” you gasped, your voice breathless and pleading, your hands gripping his shoulders as you held on to him, grinding yourself into his hand as the pleasure became all-consuming.

He responded with a low, husky moan, clearly affected by your actions, by the way your body was reacting to his touch. Spencer’s free hand slipped beneath your shirt, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made you shudder.

The combined stimulation was too much, and you could feel the coil inside you tightening to its breaking point. Spencer’s lips never left yours, his kisses growing more fervent, more insistent, as if he could sense how close you were, as if he wanted to take you there, wanted to be the one to push you over the edge.

And then, with one final, perfectly timed stroke, you shattered. Your body trembled violently as you came all over Spencer’s fingers and hand, wave after wave, so intense that it left you breathless, your mind spinning. Spencer’s name fell from your lips in a cry, your hands fisting in his shirt as you clung to him, the only solid thing in a world that had dissolved into pure sensation.

Spencer’s movements slowed, his touch gentle as he helped you ride out the last waves of your climax, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses to your neck, your jaw, anywhere he could reach. His other hand stayed on your breast, caressing you softly, anchoring you as you slowly came back to yourself.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found Spencer watching you with a look that was equal parts awe and desire. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender, and he smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much warmth that it made your heart swell.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your breath still coming in shallow pants. “Says the man who just made me cum in under ten minutes,” you murmured, your lips curving into a soft smile.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, vibrating through both of you. “I guess I have a few talents,” he replied, his tone teasing, but the admiration in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You definitely do,” you whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was different from the earlier urgency, this time more tender. You could feel his smile against your lips.

When you finally pulled back, you met his gaze, both of you basking in the warmth of the moment. Spencer’s hands gently stroked your back, his touch soothing as you nestled closer into his embrace.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he whispered, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back.

“Do you think we’re done?” you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you began to slide off his lap, letting your body glide down onto the floor in front of him.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly as he watched your every move, the anticipation clear in his gaze. “I-I hope not,” he stammered, his voice catching as you settled between his knees, your hands resting on his thighs.

A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips as you leaned closer, your fingers beginning to undo his belt, your eyes never leaving his. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's breath grew ragged as you slowly undid his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clicking open echoing in the heated silence between you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating through him as your fingers deftly worked to free him from the confines of his pants. The tension between you was electric, a palpable current that made every touch, every glance, feel like a spark igniting in the air.

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his anticipation practically humming through his body. As you eased the fabric down his hips, your hands brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the slight tremor in his thighs as he fought to keep his composure. His breath hitched again, a sharp intake of air that sent a thrill through you, knowing how much you were affecting him.

Your fingers brushed over the outline of his cock, feeling the hardness straining against the fabric still covering him. The way he responded to even the lightest touch, his hips shifting slightly, made your own pulse quicken. You reveled in the control you had in this moment, the way he was so completely at your mercy, and the way he willingly surrendered to it.

As you freed him fully, Spencer let out a low, guttural moan, the sound vibrating through the air and making your skin tingle. The weight of his cock was heavy in your hand, the heat of him searing against your palm as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him pulse with every beat of his heart. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parting as he exhaled shakily, the sensation clearly overwhelming him.

As you slid his pants lower, you couldn’t help but notice the soft, dark curls at the base of his length, a natural, intimate detail that only added to the rawness of the moment. Your fingers brushed through the coarse hairs, the sensation making Spencer moan wildly and buck his hips.

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, savoring the way his breath hitched with each movement, the way his body tensed and relaxed in response to your touch. His skin was smooth and hot beneath your hand, the texture contrasting with the firmness of him, and it was intoxicating. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, feeling him twitch in your hand as you teased him with the warmth of your breath.

Spencer's fingers dug into the cushions of the couch, his knuckles white as he fought to keep control, his entire body coiled with tension. But when your lips finally brushed against his tip, all that control seemed to slip away. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his hips involuntarily lifting to meet your mouth, the sensation overwhelming.

You took your time, letting your tongue explore the sensitive skin, tracing the large vein with a deliberate slowness that had him trembling beneath you. Every moan, every gasp, was a reward, fueling your desire to drive him further, to make him lose himself completely in the sensation.

His taste was intoxicating, a mix of salt and something uniquely him, and you savored it as you took him deeper, your mouth enveloping him in warmth. The feel of his curls brushing against your lips had you soaking further, grounding you in the raw, physical reality of what you were doing. The sounds he made—breathy moans, desperate gasps—only spurred you on, your own arousal building with every reaction you coaxed from him.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tightened, his breath coming in shorter, more erratic bursts as he neared the edge. His hands found their way to your hair, not guiding, just holding on, as if he needed something to ground him in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Y/N…” he gasped, your name a plea on his lips, his voice raw with need.

You responded by increasing the intensity, your pace quickening, taking him deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue. His grip on your hair tightened, not painfully, but with enough force to convey just how close he was. You could feel him straining, his body on the brink of release, every nerve ending attuned to the sensations you were creating.

“Y/N, pull off,” Spencer's voice was breathless, tinged with urgency.

But you were lost in the moment, too caught up in the sensations to register his words. When you didn’t move, his hand tightened in your hair, and with a firm tug, he roughly pulled you off, causing you to whine loudly. Both from loss and pleasure. 

The intensity in his eyes was undeniable as he looked down at you, his chest still heaving, his breath ragged. “I just… I want to be inside you,” he managed, his voice hoarse, the desire in his words unmistakable. He was clearly struggling to regain control after the overwhelming pleasure you’d just given him, his need for you palpable in every word, every breath.

The raw honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, your own desire flaring at the thought. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly rose, your movements deliberate, feeling his gaze follow you as you stood before him. 

“Well then, big boy, come show me a good time,” you whispered, your voice low and filled with all the need you felt in that moment. You reached for him, your hands steady as you guided him to his feet, bringing your bodies back into alignment. The anticipation between you was electric, a charged silence that spoke louder than any words could.

Spencer's hands found your hips, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled you closer, his eyes dark with hunger as he looked down at you. The air between you was thick with unspoken promises, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all of your desire into it, feeling him respond with equal fervor. The kiss was intense, filled with the heat and urgency of everything you both wanted, but before it could deepen further, you pulled away—much too soon for his liking. Spencer let out a soft, involuntary sound of protest, his eyes dark with longing as you broke the kiss.

You gave him a teasing smile, taking his hand in yours, and began leading him toward your bedroom. Spencer followed eagerly, the anticipation between you growing with every step. His hand tightened around yours as if he couldn’t stand the distance, even those few steps feeling like too much.

As soon as you reached the bedroom, without needing to say a word, you moved together, hands exploring, fingers tugging at fabric, as you helped each other remove the rest of your clothing. Spencer’s touch was both gentle and fervent, his hands sliding over your skin as he peeled away the last barriers between you.

The air was charged with anticipation, each brush of skin against skin sending sparks through you. When the last of your clothing fell away, you found yourself in his arms again, your bare bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin against yours only fueling the fire.

With a shared, breathless glance, you guided him to the bed, the softness of the sheets a welcome contrast to the intense need between you. Spencer’s eyes were dark with desire as he watched you climb onto the bed, and he quickly followed, his hands finding your hips as you straddled him.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the question carrying excitement and vulnerability.

“God, yes, please,” Spencer breathed, his voice laced with desperation, as if he needed this as much as he needed air. His hands gripped your hips firmly, but not harshly, his touch grounding you both in the reality of the moment.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fullness that made you gasp, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders as you steadied yourself. Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parting as he let out a low, throaty moan, his hands tightening on your hips as if to anchor himself.

The feel of his pubic hair brushing against you with each movement heightened the sensation, a constant reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection between you. It was intimate, real, and it made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that allowed you both to savor every sensation, every brush of skin against skin. Spencer’s hands guided your movements, his fingers pressing into your flesh with a need that mirrored your own. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one a testament to the pleasure you were both feeling.

As you moved together, the friction between your bodies built steadily, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through you. The sensation of him inside you, combined with the feeling of his coarse hair brushing against your clit with every grind, was almost too much to bear. You could feel the tension building within you, a coiled spring ready to snap, the pleasure intensifying with every thrust.

Spencer’s hands roamed your body, his touch both reverent and possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, the way you moved against him. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, down to the swell of your hips, then back up to your waist, as if memorizing every inch of you.

With each movement, your pace quickened, the need between you becoming more urgent, more desperate. The sounds of your shared pleasure filled the room—his deep moans, your soft gasps, the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving together in perfect sync.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tighter as he felt you begin to tremble above him, the tension within you reaching its peak. He bucked his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper into you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of the pleasure building inside you. “I’m so close, you’re fucking me so good!”

“Y/N, shit. You can’t just say that. You feel so good,” Spencer groaned loudly, and then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered. The pleasure exploded within you, wave after wave crashing over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Spencer’s name fell from your lips in a cry, his hands gripping you tightly as he felt your walls tighten around him. 

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock so tightly drove Spencer over the edge. "Oh, I'm gonna—" Spencer's voice was filled with urgency, his breath ragged as the sensation overwhelmed him. And with a few more deep, deliberate movements, Spencer buried himself completely within you, his body tensing as he succumbed to the wave of pleasure that crashed over him. He let out a strained, almost desperate sound as he reached his own release, the intensity of the moment leaving him trembling in your arms.

After Spencer came down, the room gradually quieted, leaving only the soft sound of your mingled breaths. Spencer's hands continued to gently caress your back, his touch tender and soothing as you both returned from the overwhelming high.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, a grounding presence that made you feel safe and cherished.

"You okay?" Spencer asked softly, his voice laced with concern and affection as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, a contented smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good," you whispered, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and peace wash over you.

Spencer's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his touch light and reassuring. "I want to make sure you’re comfortable," he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine care.

Spencer smiled as he helped you shift to a more comfortable position, reaching for the covers to pull them over you. But you gently stopped him.

“I have to pee,” you said with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you for sharing,” Spencer teased, his voice light with amusement.

“Get out and let me up,” you giggled, playfully nudging him.

With a laugh, Spencer shifted to give you room, and you quickly made your way to the bathroom. When you returned, you grabbed some comfortable clothes—sweats and a T-shirt—for both of you.

“Here,” you said, tossing him a shirt and some pants. “I’m assuming you’ll spend the night?”

“Happily,” Spencer replied, slipping into the clothes, a contented smile on his face.

“And you’ll still be here in the morning?” you asked, a hint of playful seriousness in your tone as you pulled on your own clothes.

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation, his eyes meeting yours.

“And you’ll let me cuddle you?” you continued, your smile widening as you crawled back into bed.

“Absolutely,” Spencer said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“And you’ll be my boyfriend?” you added, your tone teasing, but there was a genuine question behind it.

“Duh—wait. Oh, you got me,” Spencer chuckled, realizing he had walked right into your playful trap. He kissed your forehead, his expression softening. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You both laughed, the lightness of the moment a perfect contrast to the intensity of earlier. As you snuggled into his arms, the warmth and comfort of being together settled over you like a blanket.

—

The shrill ringing of a phone pulled you from the depths of sleep, and you groggily rolled over, reaching for the device on your bedside table. 

“Hello?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other end was unmistakable.

Your eyes widened in sudden realization. “Aaron,” you breathed, your heart skipping a beat.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a question laced with confusion and suspicion. “Why are you answering Spencer’s phone?”

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

[jordanmoreau]

Nothing In Particular

limoreau au; → in which two strangers come to understand one another as friends and (perhaps) as something more♡ 1,6k words

───

“Can you not be a jack ass for like, 5 minutes?” Marie grumbles weakly, her slender fingers lazily stirring the spoon that sat in her half drunken coffee. It must have been almost cold by now, the foam now separated and sad.

Her eyes never strayed from the window opposite where her and Emma sat, watching absentmindedly as leaves swayed and danced down from the trees above. Her friend snorted lightly next to her, nudging Marie’s leg with her foot jovially.

“C’mon, can’t you take a joke? she chirps. Her notes are left forgotten in front of her, half of them threatening to fall off on top the slabbed floor. They were barely legible due to the excessive highlighter however Emma insisted she could read them perfectly. Marie didn’t believe her.

“If you're interested in them, why don’t you just go over and say hi?” she says, as though its as easy as that. She begins scrunching up her face when Marie protests, “they’re not going to bite your head off, top ten or not”.

───

Emma was referring to a certain bi gender student that now occupied the furthermost booth inside the tiny cafe they had begun to frequent since the beginning of the semester.

It was a few weeks before that Marie had decided to give the new spot a try. She had sighed shakily to herself before entering, bracing herself for the certain conversation at the counter. The bell above the door chimes as she opens the door and it startles her a little. Did she always have to be so on edge, she thinks.

She orders at the counter with ease (a chai oat latte, extra cinnamon). Whilst waiting she leans against the counter, hugging her self tightly from inside her jacket.

Her head turns as she studies her surroundings curiously. It’s quiet apart from one other person, their mass of dark curls falling across their forehead as they bowed their head, clearing immersed in whatever they were reading. A pair of round wire rim glasses sit on the table in front of them along with a small pouch of pens and a stack of textbooks. Marie can make out 'Hero Ethics' in bold on the side of one of them, the rest of the words escaping her vision.

As if feeling eyes on them, the strangers head suddenly shifts, wet brown eyes coming into view as they peer upward. Marie's cheeks feel hot and she hurriedly turns away, feeling caught and almost knocks her order off the counter with her arm. She pulls her bag higher up on shoulder with a grimace and picks up her drink. A beeline for the nearest window table, she doesn't look back over for fear of making eye contact.

───

Over the next few visits Marie catches herself looking for the stranger in the corner. Her bottom lip snagged subconsciously between her teeth and a ridiculous amount of caffeine under her belt.

The stranger never looked the same twice in one week, she realized. On one day she’d entered to find them leaning back nonchalantly, legs spread in a comfortable manner. One hand held a book with ease, the other playing with their hair. It was short, slightly wavy and swept back off their face. A necklace that hung around there neck was balancing against their lip as though placed there as they read and a jacket was draped across their broad shoulders.

The next week, she almost missed them. Marie could tell it was the same person instinctively, the same blue jacket slung over the back of the booth and a sleek curtain of raven black hair falling against their cheeks in a little bob. She watched intently as the stranger pouted softly, pausing their note taking and reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. They seemed to think for a while, twirling their pen between their fingers before returning to the page.

Marie liked the way their hair sat prettily around their face, the way their shoulders tensed slightly or when they chewed absentmindedly on their pen.

She didn’t know what was so magnetic about this stranger; maybe it was nothing in particular.

───

It was the day before last that Marie had chosen to peek at the stranger again, only tilting her head slightly and peering through her eyelashes. Her heart faltered though when she realized they had met her gaze. This caused her mouth to run dry and she felt a pang of panic rise in her stomach.

Their head tilted slightly to one side almost cat-like, the corners of their mouth twitching almost like a smile was threatening to break through. Marie silently cursed herself for being so nosy and decided to concentrate on her work, head ducking down. She almost dove head long into her latte in an attempt to seem busy, the cinnamon causing her to cough lamely as she inhaled it.

By the end of her study session (Marie had persevered, very bravely she thought) she had completed a few pages of work for her intro to Hero Ethics class. She blows on the pages from a short distance, hoping to hurry along the ink drying. The bell above the door chimes behind her and she flinches only to notice that the booth in the corner was now empty.

“Chai latte, extra cinnamon?” the server appears at her table, cradling a cup and saucer. Marie frowns with confusion, finger tips tapping her empty cup.

“I didn’t order anything, I’m sorry,” she says, to which the server shakes the head.

“It’s been paid for,” they say, gently setting it down. Marie freezes for a second at that before thanking the server. She tries to push away the butterflies in her stomach, giving the cafe one last scan before returning to her notes.

───

“It must’ve been them!” Emma says loudly. Marie’s gives her a tight lipped expression in return, causing Emma to roll her eyes with a playful grin.

“You know I could introduce you,”

Marie almost gets whiplash from how quickly her head snaps up at that. “You know them?” she whispers, almost afraid of them hearing her from across the room.

Emma mumbles something incoherent, gesturing with her fingers.

“Vaguely,” Marie scoffs at that. Emma throws her a look of indignation. “I do!”.

Emma knew of them. She recognized their face from the rankings board, nearly tackling Marie when she told her about the 'mysterious booth stranger' with the unreadable demeanor.

Today, the stranger was hunched over their table with their head down. Marie assumed that they were writing something urgent, a paper perhaps. They had barely looked up, hand gliding over each page without stopping.

Marie hadn’t looked over hardly at all that day, bringing Emma along for a good distraction. Besides, the girl was always a good friend to have around. Unfortunately she also had a habit of never letting anything go. Marie swallows.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

Marie’s trance is broken, the gentle cadence new and almost musical. It was the stranger from the booth. They were in their male form, expression controlled and brows knitted together. Marie couldn’t help but stare for a moment, mouth slightly ajar before Emma interjected.

“Marie has one, don’t you Marie?” Emma says, intentionally pushing her own pencil case toward Marie with the end of her pencil. The stranger looks to Emma for a moment before focusing back on Marie.

“Yeah?” they ask, their hip grazing the table as they step closer. Marie, finally snapping out of her momentary daze, pushes the pen in her hand toward them. Their eyes follow Marie’s movement, flitting between the pen and her face.

Marie gives them a tight lipped smile, inwardly urging them to leave. She can’t take the awkwardness she’s exuding. However the stranger suddenly smiles, a small lovely smile. She notices the dimples that appear as they smile wider and her pulse jumps at the sight.

“Thank you, Marie” they say, waving the pen as if to indicate they were taking it. They don’t move for a second, a moment of silence falling across the trio. Emma pretends to clear her throat, leaning across the table.

“And you are…” she asks, her face contorted comically as though she has a lot riding on the answer. Marie felt like she at least, did.

The stranger half smiles again, scratching the back of their head.

“Uhh, Jordan?”they offer, almost posing it as a question. Emma grins, clearly pleased with herself.

“Emma,” she says, using two thumbs to point at herself, “and this is Marie, obviously”

It’s then with a pang of embarrassment that Marie realises Jordan’s eyes haven’t left her face since Emma began talking.

Jordan nods at her and Marie wonders if they’re usually this shy. Emma coughs again as if to alert Marie, eyeing the two exasperatedly.

Jordan smiles again awkwardly, mumbling something about “seeing them around” and wonders off back to their table, pen in hand. Emma smacks her hands dramatically on the table to which Marie jumps. Emma expression screams “are you kidding me” as she jabs a finger at a retreating Jordan.

“Stop,” Marie hisses desperately. Jordan finds their way back to their table, leaning down to test the pen on a loose bit of paper. Presumably pleased, they sit back down. Marie wants to scream at herself. She rubs her face roughly, frustrated.

"Hero Ethics, right?" a voice calls. It's Jordan, leaning across their table with their textbook presented toward Marie. She can read it more clearly now and she realizes that Jordan must be the year above her, maybe even a senior.

Marie nods slowly. She blinks and Jordan's half way across the room already, rounding her table before she can utter an audible response. A folder in hand, Jordan offers it to her. "First year notes," they explain. With a shaky hand, Marie takes them. She smiles, her first proper smile in their presence and meets their gaze.

"Thanks," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. Jordan shrugs coolly.

"Least I can do, freshman".

// authors note: did someone say, slow burn?? I am fairly rusty at writing like this so this was a little daunting to start however I hope this reads well. If this does well, I'll begin writing a part two soon! <3 trust me the study partners will be partnering eventually.

[bunbunbl0gs]

spencer aesthetic

masterlist

criminal minds masterlist

Tag list : @astess @cham9ions

@rosieandthethorns

@watercolorskyy

[mrsstruggle]

The Beast of War - Chapter 1 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

This is the second part of the Shadow Wolf Series. Read The Lost Child First if you haven't!

Series Summary: In the aftermath of discovering her true identity and reuniting with her long-lost family, Y/N Stilinski finds herself adjusting to a new chapter of her life in Beacon Hills. With her brother and his friends in their senior year at High School, the town faces a fresh new threat. Y/N must navigate the complexities of her new life while confronting the looming threat that threatens to hurt her and the people she loves.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Series Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Stiles Stilinski x Malia Tate (for now), Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Words: 4.5k

Note: I am aware this is late! Please don't hate me!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Beast of War Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

---

“Are you going to keep secretly writing notes about me or ask me that question you’ve been too afraid to ask?” Y/N questions, her eyes never leaving the computer where she is tying in the new patient information. She is currently six hours into her ten-hour shift.

The boy sitting on the exam table freezes. His thumbs stop typing in his notes app as he looks at Y/N in surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Mhm, sure. This is the fifth time you’ve been in this week, but you always seem to leave with nothing wrong. You either have hypochondria or you’ve kept coming back until I was your nurse.”

“Maybe the previous nurses and doctors didn’t do a good job and sent me home without properly helping me.” He picks at the bottom of his shirt in a nervous habit.

“The first time you came in was for pink eye, which has been noted that you didn’t have that. The second time was for a rash on your arm that you didn’t have.” Y/N says, looking over his previous visit notes, “The third time was a bump on your knee that turned out to be your kneecap. The fourth time was for a broken wrist that turned out to be broken or even sprained. Now you’re here due to flu-like symptoms, but your vitals are all good and there is currently no indication of you being sick.”

He forces out a fake cough, “Are you sure about that?”

Y/N turns to look at him, “I’m sure. You do know this is an emergency room, right? We have actual patients that need help, and we are short staffed. We don’t need some kid coming in trying to meet the Stark girl to get a good photo for his Instagram or whatever.”

“First of all, I’m not a kid—we’re the same age. Second, this isn’t for my Instagram, this is for my criminology class.” He says, dropping his act. He knew there was no point in tripling down on his lies.

“Well, your parents must have a lot of money or some really good insurance for you to be able to show up here five different times.”

“Something like that.”

Y/N looks him up and down, contemplating what she should do. She should just send him home, but she’s worried he will keep showing up until he gets what he wants. “The school year just started, why do you need to speak with me for your criminology class now?”

“Our first assignment is to do a paper on a famous crime. What’s more famous than the kidnapping of Tony Stark’s daughter?”

“I can think of several.” Y/N lets out a sigh, turning her body to fully face him, “You get five questions. If I don’t want to answer one, then it’s still going to count as one of your questions. After that, you have to leave and also promise not to come back here unless you have an actual emergency.”

He smiles in victory, turning his phone back on, “Do you mind if I record this so I can type out your answers later?”

“Sure.”

He opens the Voice Memos app on his phone, hits the record button, and holds it up between Y/N and himself. “Okay, first question, I am aware that the Avengers are currently relocating to a little outside of Beacon Hills, but have you been back to the other Avengers compound or the place you lived while with them?”

“No, I have not been back.”

He opens his mouth to ask her to elaborate but decides against it in case she counts that as a question. “Second question, what was your initial reaction when you discovered the truth?”

Y/N pauses as she thinks of an answer. For safety reasons, when they announced who she was, they changed the story of how it happened. Instead of telling the public she was re-kidnapped by Hydra, they told them about Bucky discovering the photo of her in Derek’s auto shop. It’s part of the reason some people like to show up there.

To the public’s knowledge, Hydra kidnapped her in hopes of raising her to be their soldier before she was able to escape on her own when they left her unattended outside. She was then found by a friend of Talia Stilinski and adopted by the Stilinski’s. To the public’s knowledge, Pepper didn’t hand her over to Hydra, she was never experimented on, she has no powers, and she didn’t know about the Avengers because she was too young—not because her memories were blocked.

“Mostly confusion. It’s not every day that someone shows up and claims to be your other family.  Now I’m just waiting for my biological family to do the same thing.” Y/N jokes.

“Third question, I know thanks to photos online that you spend some time with your brother, Peter, but have you spent any time with your sister, Morgan?”

Y/N debates on whether she wants to answer the question or not. The answer is no, she hasn’t spent any time with her sister, nor has she met her. She has nothing against Morgan, and she doesn’t blame her for Pepper’s actions, but she’s not sure if Morgan feels the same way. According to Peter, she is close with her mother, and her relationship with Tony is strained due to his shortcomings as a father to her.

Y/N is unsure if Morgan blames her for those shortcomings. It’s because of Tony’s obsession with finding her that caused him to neglect to be a good father for Morgan. It’s because of his resentment and anger toward Pepper’s nonchalance at Y/N being gone and her happiness toward the new baby that caused him to leave Pepper in the first place. It’s because of his grief of losing her that caused him to be unable to hold her until she was three years old.

It wasn’t until Morgan became a teenager did Tony start to step up as her father. He still isn’t perfect, and he can never make up for her younger years, but he is a lot better. Y/N adds Tony and Peter moving to Beacon Hills as another reason for Morgan to be justified to hate her.

Y/N knows that if Derek or Peter knew her thoughts about Morgan, they would tell her that she can’t blame herself for Tony’s mistakes. The choices Tony made were his own, not hers. Right now, she’s told Peter and Tony that the decision to meet, form a relationship, or anything is fully up to Morgan. She doesn’t want to cause any upheaval in Morgan’s life by inserting herself into it. If Morgan wants Y/N in her life, then she will be. If she doesn’t want anything to do with her, that’s okay. If she wants to meet her once and then never again, Y/N will do that too.

She does however know—thanks to Peter—that Morgan has decided that she prefers a private life away from the spotlight. While Peter attends all charity and public events in the Stark name, Morgan likes to stay home away from the crowds and paparazzi. She even keeps away from social media, so she doesn’t see anything about herself or her family.

“Um, I’m going to pass on that question. Morgan is a minor and prefers to stay out of the press. I don’t feel comfortable talking about whatever relationship I may or may not have with her. That’s private and it will stay that way.” Y/N answers. “You have two questions left.”

The guy huffs in frustration, “Fine. Fourth question, what are your thoughts on the theories and videos people were making after it was first brought to the public’s attention that you’re Y/N Stark?”

“I think the best word to describe I how felt, and still feel, about the things people were saying is disappointment. I’m disappointed in how people were, and still are, talking about my family. Honestly, I don’t really care what people say about me,” That’s a lie but she isn’t going to correct herself, “but I am disappointed in the way people talked about my family and the people I love.”

He nods his head in understanding, “Okay, last question, do you plan on changing your name back to Stark?”

No, she doesn’t. To be honest, it’s not even a thought that has crossed her mind. Scott asked her about it once when he saw her driver’s license and her only thought was that she hopes Derek proposes before Tony asks so she has an excuse that won’t hurt his feelings.

“Maybe, I guess we’ll see,” Y/N says instead. “Now, you can be on your way, and I’ll make sure to let the front desk know I refuse to see you if you come back with anything less than a life-threatening injury. Hopefully, that will keep you away and make you reconsider faking injuries and illnesses, and taking a room away from someone who actually needs it.”

He hits the stop button before turning off his phone and thanking her for answering his questions. He follows her out of the room and rushes out of the building to start working on his paper.

“What’s that about?” Melissa asks, watching the boy run out of the hospital.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sighs, “Just another person who wanted to interview me. I humored him for a few questions before I told him to not come back unless he’s dying.” She hands Melissa the boy’s file that’s in her hand. “Can you put a note in his file to let the others know I won’t see him if he comes back unless necessary?”

“That’s like the fourth one this month,” Melissa laughs in disbelief.

“What can I say, I’m famous,” Y/N winks at her. She and Melissa both know how much she hates the amount of attention she’s gotten since Kate exposed her. At one point in her life, she dreamed of being a star that everyone loved and was extremely famous. Now she wishes she could go back to being a nobody.

“When do you get off today?”

“I have about four hours left and then I’m out of here. I’ve got to go home a prepare myself for family dinner.” Y/N says, grabbing a new patient’s clipboard.

“I heard Stiles telling Scott about that. Is this the first dinner with all of you together?”

“Yep, and I’m already regretting it.”

Melissa lets out a laugh, “I’m sure it will be fine, and if it isn’t, you can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“I actually have the next two days off, so it will be a few days until I can give you a play-by-play.” With her working so many shifts to make up for her unintended long absence, she decided she needed two days to take a break. She’s exhausted and just wants to sleep in for a day.

“I can’t wait.”

---

“Hey! Where’s Stiles?” Y/N asks as she greets her dad. He’s the first one to arrive for dinner and she expected Stiles to be with him.

“He said that he could drive himself here, so I drove here straight after work.” The sheriff replies, pulling Y/N into a big hug.

“Okay, well, the others should be here soon if you want to go ahead and sit at the table, or I can turn the TV on, and you can sit in the living room and wait.”

“Where’s Derek?” He questions.

“In here!” Derek calls out from the kitchen.

The sheriff follows Y/N into the kitchen to see Derek checking on the rolls in the oven. “How are you, Derek?”

“I’m good, sir. How are you?” Derek asks, shaking Noah’s hand in greeting.

“Well, I’m still here so I guess I’m good.”

“Dad, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll help Derek finish up,” Y/N says, gesturing her hand toward their dining table. She moves to help Derek when there’s a knock on the front door. “Never mind.”

Walking toward the front door, she can hear two heartbeats on the other side. Opening the door, Tony and Peter are now standing in front of her, “Hey. Thanks for coming.” She hugs them both as they enter the loft.

They had a few conversations after taking down Kate and the hunters, but they are still a little awkward around each other. Y/N and Peter not so much, but she isn’t sure how to navigate a relationship with Tony. She doesn’t want to come off as she doesn’t care about him, but she also needs time to get used to having another dad.

With Peter it’s different. They’re close in age and they have the shared trauma from Hydra. She also feels like she talking to Stiles most of the time.

Y/N shuts the door behind them, she leads them into the kitchen. She pulls out her phone to text Stiles as they greet Derek and Noah. Tony and Peter sit down at the table, and she helps Derek bring the food over.

She looks down at her phone when it vibrates in her hand, “Stiles says he’s a bit caught up and that we should start without him. He’ll be a bit late.”

“What’s he caught up with?” Derek asks, sitting at the head of the table next to Noah and Y/N.

“He didn’t say.” She hopes it’s just something to do with school and not supernatural-related.

“So, Derek, when are you going to start working on your old house?” Peter asks Derek. Y/N has told him a bit about Derek’s plans, but she hasn’t told him everything.

“Um, soon. I’m waiting until after I hire someone to help out at the shop.” Derek replies. A few people have applied to the open position, but two of them ended up being Avengers fans who faked their resumes.

“You know who would probably be interested in the position, Barnes,” Tony says. “He would know what to do and he’s been looking for a job.”

Bucky hasn’t applied to any yet, but he has a few saved. He’d been thinking about taking a step back from the Avengers for a bit. After seeing the files and the videos of what happened to Y/N, they seemed to trigger some bad memories that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. He’s also had several nightmares about what they could’ve possibly done to Y/N if she wasn’t rescued when she was.

Derek shares a small look with Y/N as if to ask for help with what he should say, “Yeah, I could send him the listing to see if he’s interested, or it’s on our website too. At least, that’s what Lydia told me.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders a little when Derek looks back at her. She’s not going to tell Derek whether he should hire him or not, or even give Bucky a chance. It’s Derek’s business so that decision is completely up to him.

Tony opens his mouth to say something else, but Y/N decides to interrupt him. She’s sure Tony is about to say something that he thinks will be helpful for Derek, and she knows Derek probably doesn’t care to hear it. Derek likes doing things his way and he doesn’t always love people injecting their opinions. “So, Dad, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Y/N ignores the longing look in Tony’s eyes as she speaks to the other man who raised her.

“Uh, not to my knowledge, no.” Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The tone in her voice says he should, but he can’t think of anything.

“Really?” Y/N looks down at his left ring finger where his wedding ring used to be.

“Right, I may or may not have a date tomorrow night.”

“Good for you,” Derek says proudly, patting him on the back. They haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but he and the sheriff have grown closer after he started dating Y/N. It was rough at first, but they started to get along after the sheriff saw how well Derek took care of Y/N after she was attacked one night by a hunter. They bonded that night as Y/N rested. It’s why Derek knows that the sheriff going on a date is a big deal for him.

“Who’s it with?” Y/N asks with a teasing smile.

“It’s with someone you know,” Noah says, keeping it vague.

“Well, it’s not with Melissa because she would’ve told me. But you also didn’t tell me until now. Oh my god, you’re date’s with Melissa.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Deaton?”

“It’s with a woman.”

“Well, who else do I know that’s at an appropriate age for you to date?” Y/N mutters mostly to herself.

Tony and Peter silently eat their food and watch the conversation with amused smiles on their faces. They like seeing Y/N with a smile on her face. It’s a lot better than what she looked like when dealing with Hydra, the hunters, and Derek getting shot with an arrow.

“It’s Lydia’s mom,” Derek states.

Noah looks at him a little shocked. He didn’t expect Derek to guess correctly or even chime in. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t, but I do now.” Derek sends a triumph wink toward Y/N. She’s a little surprised he’s showing this side of himself with Tony and Peter here. With strangers, and sometimes the pack, he prefers to only let them see him as the tall, broody guy who doesn’t have many feelings.

“Just don’t tell Stiles. I haven’t told him I’m going on a date yet either.” He looks pointedly toward Y/N.

“Fine. My lips are sealed.” Y/N pretends to zip her lips for added effect. “What about you Peter? How’s MJ?”

The last time Peter had talked to her about MJ he wasn’t sure about the direction of their relationship. He loves her, but she’s still in college going for her master’s and he’s moving to Beacon Hills to be closer to his sister. They hadn’t decided if they wanted to try long-distance, have Peter go back and forth, or if they should call it quits for now.

Y/N told him that she shouldn’t be the reason his relationship with MJ should change. He just replies that he thought she was dead for several years and has missed out on being in her life, so he doesn’t plan on missing anymore.

“She’s good. We still haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet.” Peter replies, keeping his eyes down on the food on his plate to avoid looking at her.

“How has it been at the hospital? Are people still showing up and harassing you?” Tony asks, turning the attention away from Peter because he can feel he doesn’t want to talk about MJ.

“Yeah, we had a guy come in today asking me questions. It’s the fifth time he’s been in this week.” Y/N rolls her eyes in annoyance.

Tony frowns at her answer. He offered her a job to work with the Avengers in their medical wing to avoid the crazy press and fans and to spend more time with her, but she declined. She likes her job, and she likes that she can help her brother and friends by having her job.

“He’s been in five times?” Derek questions, his tone on the protective side.

“Yeah, he’s some college guy who wanted to interview me for some school project.”

“College guy?” “Didn’t the school year just start?” Derek and Peter question at the same time.

“He said it was for a paper for his criminology class. I let him ask me a few questions and then told the front desk not to let him back unless he’s dying.”

“What questions did he ask you?” Peter asks.

“Like ‘how did I react when I found out’ and ‘how did I feel about the videos people were making about me.’ I gave him five questions and only answered the ones I wanted to.” Y/N shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I only did it so that he’d stop wasting the staff’s time with his fake injuries and illnesses.”

“Has Stiles told you if he’s on his way?” Noah asks, changing the subject.

Y/N checks her phone and sees that Stiles hasn’t texted her, “Nope, but you know how he gets. He probably lost track of time, or he’s still caught up in whatever he’s doing.”

The table goes quiet, and everyone continues eating. No one knows what to say. This isn’t the first dinner they’ve had together, but they all typically end in silence. They do some polite small talk in the beginning—mostly everyone only speaking to Y/N—then finish their food in silence.

Derek takes his and Y/N’s empty plates to the sink when they're done. Y/N packs up some of the leftovers for her dad to take home.

“I should go. I’ve got a long shift in the morning.” Noah says. He pats Derek on the shoulder as a goodbye. He takes the leftovers from Y/N’s hands and follows her to the front door. “I’m assuming you’re going to show up to the station before my date tomorrow.”

“You know me so well.” Y/N smiles, hugging him goodbye. “See you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He closes the door behind himself as he leaves. Y/N turns to Tony and Peter who are ready to leave as well.

“Thanks for having us over. Dinner was good.” Tony says, putting his jacket back on that he took off while eating.

“Thanks for coming,” Y/N says, hugging them both goodbye. “My schedule is starting to slow down so I’ll let you know when I’m free for us to do something.” She notices Tony perk up at the thought of spending more time with her.

She waves at them goodbye before closing and locking the loft door. Sighing in exhaustion, she turns to see Derek standing and staring at her with a familiar lovestruck look in his eyes.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Y/N says, slowly walking over to him.

Derek wraps his arms around her when she reaches him, “Well, I’ve done the dishes, so how about we go upstairs, take a nice hot bath, and then get you to bed?”

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll get on one knee right now and ask you to marry me.”

“I prefer when you get on both knees.”

Y/N scoffs at his joke, “Just take me upstairs to a bath. If you treat me right, maybe the bath could turn into something more.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Derek says. Y/N lets out a laugh when Derek wraps his arms around her thighs and picks her up, carrying her upstairs.

---

Y/N slowly opens her eyes to see Derek asleep next to her. She smiles a little at how cute he looks when he’s asleep. Turning to the clock on her bedside table, she notices that it’s almost midnight. She’s only been asleep for a little over an hour and she’s not sure what woke her up. As she turns back to Derek, their bedroom door flies open.

“Y/N?” Stiles calls out from the doorway.

“What the fuck Stiles?” Y/N groans, clamping her eyes shut when he flicks on the bedroom light. She can feel Derek waking up next to her. “Why the fuck are you here so late?”

Stiles walks into the room and sits on the bed next to Y/N, “I feel like I’m going crazy and you’re the only one that believes me.” Y/N can smell that he reeks of anxiety.

“Go home,” Derek groans, wraps an arm around Y/N’s waist, and pulls her in closer to him, pushing his face into the back of her neck to try and hide from the light.

Y/N sighs, using her hands to block the ceiling light, “You can tell me what’s going on after you turn off the light.”

Stiles huffs in frustration but gets up and turns off the light before sitting back on the bed, “There’s something off about Theo but no one believes me. Scott thinks I should give him the benefit of the doubt and that, even if he is bad, everyone is savable.”

“Does some of this have to do with why you didn’t show up to dinner?”

“Sorry about that. Me and Liam followed him around to see what he’d do.”

“And what did he do?”

“We may have followed him to the bridge near where his sister was found.” Stiles mumbles, fiddling with the drawstrings on his hoodie.

“He could’ve noticed you following him and put on a ‘good guy’ act,” Y/N says, trying to think of something that would support Stiles’ theory.

“Don’t encourage him,” Derek mumbles sleepily behind her.

“I broke into the administration office and found the transfer form his dad signed and compared it to a speeding ticket he signed eight years ago. The signatures are completely different.” Stiles says. He knows he’s right about Theo and he doesn’t get why Scott doesn’t believe him.

“Okay, I believe you. Look, I’m exhausted so how about we get some sleep and talk about this some more later? You’ve got school tomorrow, so you need some sleep too.” Y/N says as gently as she can. She doesn’t want him to feel like she doesn’t believe him either, but she might fall back asleep any minute now. “You know you are welcome to the guest room. It’s practically yours now anyway.”

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Stiles asks shyly.

“No,” Derek answers quickly.

“Not like in your bed, but like can I drag the guest room’s mattress in here and sleep on it on the floor?”

Even in the dark, Y/N can see the vulnerability in his eyes, “Yes, you can sleep in here.” Stiles smiles and runs out of the room toward the guest room.

“You should’ve said no,” Derek groans.

“He’s worried about his friends and senior year has been giving him a lot of anxiety after asking Dad about his high school buddies.”

“How has that given him so much anxiety that he stinks of it?”

“Dad told him that he no longer speaks to any of his friends from high school and he’s scared him and his friends will end up the same way.”

Derek sighs, “Fine, but him staying in here is a one-time thing.”

Y/N starts to reply when Stiles comes back into the room, pulling the guest bedroom mattress behind him with one hand and his pillows and blankets in the other. He puts the mattress against the wall that faces Y/N’s side of the bed.

He puts his pillows down on the mattress before laying down and wrapping his blankets around himself, “Okay, goodnight. Don’t do anything gross since I’m here.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his last sentence, “Goodnight Stiles.”

As she starts to drift back off to sleep, she hears Stiles speak again, “Y/N?”

“What?”

“Did you notice that Dad stopped wearing his ring?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replies gently.

“Do you think he’s met someone?”

“You’d have to ask him that.” She would’ve responded with yes, but she promised her dad earlier that she wouldn’t tell Stiles because he wanted to be the one to do it.

“I just want him to be happy,” Stiles says, staring up at the ceiling.

“Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence before Stiles says, “I miss Mom.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, goodnight,” Stiles rolls over to his side to face the wall.

“Goodnight,” Y/N pushes herself back into Derek’s loose embrace. After Stiles laid out the mattress, he was out like a light. She starts to drift off again when Stiles interrupts her again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for believing me.”

“Always.”

---

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