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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Note

What if prompt for the 141: In the Rain

"It's pouring rain, why are you here?" Or something to this nature. I love a confession in the rain, stuck in the rain, kissing in the rain, all of it! Lol

I too love a good confession in the rain. That final scene in Pride & Prejudice is still peak confession in the rain trope for me. I think about it all the time. I think about it on repeat. I want it tattooed on my eyelids. When I think "in the rain," I think of that scene.

So, these aren't smutty by any means but one (maybe two) have some spice to them. They are full of love and longing. There are emotions, angst, and lots of kissing. It's our soaked to the bone 141 boys confessing their hearts in the pouring rain.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief mention of alcohol, suggestive themes, grief/mourning, love confessions, kissing, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings, intimacy, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

There are few things that John Price indulges in.

Cigars. Whiskey. The thought of you as his woman.

That last one plagues him. It burrows in. Makes a home every night to flood his dreams with images of you. John awakens each morning with you on his mind—and then you linger the rest of the day, crawling forward to say hello when he least expects it.

John sits on a barstool in a dive bar, contemplating life in the bottom of his whiskey glass. It’s the middle of fucking nowhere, but that’s the point. This isn’t a celebration or a job well done. This is a “thank fuck it’s over” drink.

The dive bar is dark and smoky. A jukebox in the corner endlessly rotates between eighties rock and country music. Next to the jukebox is a pool table where a group of three play. Otherwise, the place is entirely empty.

John knocks back the rest of his whiskey, signaling the bartender for a refill. He’s only half-listening to the conversations around him.

Laswell, MacTavish, Garrick, and Riley are all here. Simon is silent, staring off into space as the other three have an animated conversation. You’re here too, sandwiched between MacTavish and Riley. You’re not speaking, but you are listening, nodding your head at all the right moments.

But you look tired. Like you’re about ready to pack it up and call it a night. It’s deserved. This mission sucked. It was brutal. Tough. A complete shit-eating stink of a job. You aren’t part of the team. Not really. Laswell dragged you in last second, and John is happy that she did. Otherwise, he’d never have met you.

And that would be a tragedy.

John only has eyes for you. It is a sweet tooth that cannot be satiated. He’s been a bit reserved in how he’s approached you, but you always have a soft smile for him or a cheeky remark. It’s devolved into flirting at times, and at points so blatant that everyone else chimes in.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you yawn, pushing your empty glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender walks by and snags it, whisking it away to be deposited into the sink.

This is it. You’re about to walk away. John will likely never see you again unless Laswell decides to call on you. This might very well be his only chance.

You slip off your barstool, and John abruptly stands, his leg smacking into Laswell’s stool. Everyone—including Simon—turns in John’s direction.

He coughs. Clears his throat. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says quickly.

MacTavish smirks and elbows Gas in the arm. The two men exchange a knowing glance before they both raise their eyebrows at John. MacTavish even shakes his shoulders a bit. John shoots them a cold look over your shoulder. They stifle their laughter behind their glasses.

You don’t notice at all. Your focus is on John, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

The entrance of the dive consists of one interior door, a small entryway, and an exterior door. As the two of you enter the small entryway, a crack of thunder erupts overhead. You pause, staring out the small window on the exterior door. It’s not pouring, but the rain is steady. Getting caught it in for any period of time will likely result in soaked clothes.

You turn slightly in his direction, and John is suddenly aware of how cramped the space is.

“You don’t need to walk me to my car,” you say softly, gesturing toward the downpour. “Not with the rain.”

John shrugs. “I want to.”

It’s true. He does. But there is an ulterior motive here. This is his one chance to have a final goodbye or a new start.

You smile softly, gaze flicking down to the floor before returning to his face. John’s cheeks heat—and it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t get flustered. But this space is small. It is far too cramped. John is nearly on top of you.

Beneath those long eyelashes are your gentle eyes. It’s a look you only give him. Your lips part slightly. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. He wants nothing more than to lean down and close the distance.

“Okay,” you reply with a teasing laugh, opening the door.

The earthy scent of rain hits him first and then the pattering of the falling rain comes next. You slip out the door and stand close to the building under the small awning, attempting to stay out of the rain. John follows behind, coming up next to you.

Your smile is sweet as you gaze up into the dark sky. But then you turn to him, and that smile morphs into something devious.

“Should we race to the car?” you ask, as if conspiring.

John grins. “Think you can beat me?”

You laugh. “An old man like you? Absolutely.”

John can’t help but smile back, nudging you with his elbow. “Not that old.”

“What do I get if I win?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“A kiss,” says John automatically. It rolls right off his tongue. There is no way for him to take it back. And he doesn’t want to. “What do I get if I win?”

You wait a beat. And then answer.

“A kiss,” you reply slowly.

A kiss.

John blinks, his mind momentarily stuttering out. Your grin widens, and then you’re off, sprinting into the rain and to the car.

John nearly trips as he jogs after you. The gravel is slick and the rain splatters against his jacket. He isn’t all that interested in racing. John is only watching you, and the way your ass bounces as you make for the car. Your curves are lovely. He imagines opening the rear door and pushing you into the back seat, only to drag you into his lap to take whatever he wants.

You make it before he does, but John is right behind, nearly sliding to a stop in the wet gravel. You turn toward him, grinning. Pieces of hair stick to the sides of your face. John cannot help himself. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you in.

You don’t resist. You surrender.

John’s mouth crashes against yours and you open beautifully for him. There is no one kiss. There are many. Multitudes. It is endless. It is rain-laced. Whiskey-drenched. John might have the buzz of alcohol in his veins but you are quickly replacing it.

Your lips part and John slides his tongue inside. Your hands grab at him, fingers digging in. The two of you are pressed together, rain falling to drench clothing and skin.

With a low groan, John pushes you up against the car, intensifying his kisses. You eagerly greet him, accepting them all, returning them in equal measure. You are just as desperate. Just as hungry. Time is an illusion—and it isn’t until you shiver beneath him that John pulls away, aware that the two of you are now soaked through.

“Why are you still here?” you ask.

“You don’t know?” he replies, his hand cupping your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s pouring, John.”

“I know.” You smile, and John goes in for one more kiss. “Do you not feel this? Am I the only one?”

You shake your head. “I feel it. Everywhere, John. I feel you everywhere.”

“Let’s go. Get out of here.”

“Right now?”

John’s grip tightens and you gasp, hips pressing against his.

“Right now.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The rain is light but steady. It falls from the cloudy sky to patter against your umbrella.

The graveyard is empty, and yet you knew Simon would be here. He always is on the anniversary of Johnny’s death. Like clockwork. It’s routine for him. A ritual.

Simon’s back is to you, his head bent as he stands in front of Johnny’s grave. There is no body there. It’s ornamental. Something for family and friends. There are fresh flowers next to the headstone.

You have no idea how long Simon has been out here. Simon has no umbrella with him, and the hood of his jacket is off. He’ll catch a chill like this, which is why you came. Seeing him like this is always difficult, and since Johnny’s passing, Simon has grown more attached.

He is always checking in on you—always near. You’d call it protectiveness but it feels more like obligation. A duty. Most days, Simon appears to be on the cusp of telling you something, revealing a secret that he’s itching to confess. You don’t know what it might be. Couldn’t take a guess. But you have thought about it. You have imagined all sorts of possibilities.

The two of you are always finding the other. Always reconnecting. Always reaching out. If it’s not him, it’s you. Perhaps it’s Johnny’s death that has brought this on. Whatever it might be, Simon is closer to you than he’s ever been, and sometimes it frightens you.

It feels like more.

“I brought you an umbrella,” you say to Simon’s back.

He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Simon’s gaze sweeps from the ground and then lands on you. His hair is wet and droplets of water speckle his face like freckles.

Simon fully turns toward you.

The rain picks up a bit, soaking Simon further. You rush to him, holding your umbrella over his head, cutting off the rain. The two of you stand under it in silence, simply staring at each other. Time stretches, and then Simon’s hand rises, wrapping around your own where you hold to the handle.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

You swallow, and gather your courage. “You shouldn’t grieve alone.”

Simon’s brow softens. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.”

“I never asked you to,” you reply.

“But Johnny did.”

You start, eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Simon licks his lips. A droplet of water drips from the tip of his nose. “I made a promise. To Johnny. I made a promise to him.”

“What promise?” you whisper as the rain picks up more. The rain strikes the top of the umbrella in loud patters that nearly drown out your voice.

Another droplet falls from Simon’s nose. He leans in slightly, and the movement is confusing. It’s too intimate, like he wants to close the distance.

“I promised that I would—” he abruptly cuts off, swallowing. Simon’s gaze darts from your eyes to your lips and then back again.

“What is it, Simon?”

He sighs. “Fuck it,” he growls, shredding any distance there might have been between your bodies.

Simon claims your lips, kissing you so completely that you’re momentarily stunned. You taste the rain. Mint. A slight hint of smoke. You return the kiss, not pushing him away or pulling back. You open for him, accepting it all, and Simon continues to take, his free arm wrapping around your waist to draw you closer.

Even though he’s drenched, Simon is incredibly warm. It’s unfair how he can be an inferno in this downpour.

The graveyard is forgotten. The rain is a distant. There is only Simon’s lips, and the groan he makes when you return each kiss in equal enthusiasm.

Simon goes in for a quick nip before drawing away. It leaves you breathless and wanton.

“Was that part of the promise?” you ask, only half-joking.

Simon shrugs. “In a way.” You arch an eyebrow and Simon smiles softly. “I told Johnny I’d make a move. And now I have.”

“Yes,” you agree, heat blooming in your cheeks and your core. “You have.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

There is no turning back.

You made a choice. Kyle made a choice.

This is how it is.

You don’t want to be at the airport. You don’t want to leave. This entire situation is shit. But Kyle seemed willing to let you go. He’s not here. He didn’t beg you to stay. He didn’t try to convince you that all he wants in life is you.

That’s all you need. To be wanted. To be loved.

After all of this—after everything, and Kyle isn’t here.

You’re not mad. Not really. You are both adults. You both have made a choice. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you don’t understand. Because at the end of the day, you do. Truly.

Sighing, you haul your suitcase over the curb and on the sidewalk. The Uber that brought you here is already pulling away to go pick up someone else. The airport is packed on the inside, and the rain that falls from the sky in sheets. You have a coat, and the hood is up, but what you really need is an umbrella.

Already, you feel the water seeping into the unprotected places. Rain does that sometimes. Trickles in where it isn’t wanted.

You start to pull your suitcase behind you. A wheel catches in a small crack, and it nearly takes you down with it. Stumbling forward, you put a hand out to catch your fall. You expect your bare palm to land on concrete. To burn with pain.

But you don’t make it to the ground. You don’t touch it at all.

There are arms around you. They are strong. And somehow so damn familiar it’s frightening.

Then, you’re being lifted, guided back to your feet. Those strong arms ease you onto solid ground, and then you’re turning to thank the stranger that’s saved you from falling face first into the concrete.

But it is no stranger.

“Kyle,” you breathe, staring into the face of the man you’ve loved for years now.

Something breaks. Shatters.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Kyle hasn’t let you go. His arms are still around you. Your hands grasp his biceps, and his jacket is slick with rain. His hood is not up. And yours has fallen at some point. Already, the rain is soaking your hair. Strands of it stick to your face.

“Coming to right a wrong,” he says. Your lips part but Kyle shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t fight hard enough. I let you slip through the cracks.”

Kyle draws you in a bit closer. The people passing by and the cars are distant.

“I should have told you ‘I love you’ every day. I should have been present.”

“Kyle—”

Your next words are stolen. Kyle closes the distance, and then you’re wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, sinking into the kiss.

You can’t leave now.

You can’t.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The rain falls gently from the sky.

Johnny grins, staring up into it, opening his mouth. His tongue is out to capture the droplets. You laugh, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, going in for a quick kiss on his cheek.

As you draw back, one of Johnny’s hands shoots out, snagging your arm. You playfully yelp, and swat at him, thinking that Johnny will let you go. He’s flirty, and sweet, but there is nothing more to it.

At least, you didn’t think so.

But Johnny’s gaze is heated, and the way he holds you against him is far too intimate to be anything other than what it is.

“Johnny,” you laugh, trying to play it off, but he remains firm.

His smile faulters slightly but it’s not a frown. It’s a heated stare. His gaze is on your lips, and you can see the desire there. What would happen if you went for it? If you kissed him?

“What are we doing?” he asks. “Can’t I have you?”

Startled, everything leaves your head. “What?”

Johnny’s gaze flicks up, and those gorgeous eyes drown you—submerging you in his depths. “Why are we stepping around this? We want each other.”

You do want him, but you thought it was mostly one-sided.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, softly.

Johnny smirks, and then he’s lifting you up into the air, placing you on top of the low stone wall. “Should I use my words?” he asks, fingers sliding underneath your rain-drenched shirt. He is warm, and his touch heats your skin. “Or should I show you with my body?”

Johnny nips at your bottom lip as his hands ascend. One slides between your breasts just as his lips meet yours. Your core clenches, and then you’re grabbing for him, touching him as much as he’s touching you.

The two of you are in the Scottish countryside. There are no people around. Just the two of you, and rolling green hills.

Johnny slots himself between your legs, and you reach beneath his kilt, finding him hard and wanting. He hisses, and then groans when you stroke him.

Everything is warm. Everything is rough.

It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, or that it’s a bit cold. You allow Johnny to shove articles of clothing aside, to find the places where you’re needing him to be. His touch is a brand, and you love how it feels, pulsing through your loins like an overheated engine.

“Johnny,” you gasp into the rain, fingers threading through his hair as he goes to his knees to taste between your thighs.

There is only heavy breath. A twisting of pleasure.

When he finally brings your bodies together, there is nothing but him. Nothing but you. Just two people finding each other.

The rain is nothing.

It isn’t even cold anymore.

Johnny is all heat. And you are burning for him.

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deactivated072320241242 · 6 months

Text

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

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paddockbunny · 2 months

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Fraternisation Clause II

Summary : Working for McLaren is hard, being Lando’s PR girl is even harder….so maybe you need to make a tough decision that will be even harder yet Rating : 18+ Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 4005 words Trigger Warnings : language but clean, kissing but nothing NSFW Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : same as part 1, there’s a couple of bits that probably don’t make a whole lot of sense but hey, it’s a work of fiction people ☺️

Sakhir ‘23

You fanned yourself with the notebook you were holding in your hands. You watched as the timings on the screen were continually switching, shifting, and jumping around. Every now and then you were writing things down in your little black notebook. Ideas, things to pitch to the team, notes about managerial style - in truth you just wanted to show people you were suited for the job. During winter break you caught up with your old superior and mentor Charlotte to give you some pointers and help with the step up. She was so helpful but reiterated to just “fake it til you make it”.

As your mind wandered your eyes panned over toward Toto Wolff and instantly you attempted to shrug off the feelings of imposter syndrome. He thought you were good enough. He wouldn’t have suggested you to the Chief PRM if he didn’t. You found out from Zak on your last day last season that Toto himself had enquired about you and called you a “hard little worker” which filled you with confidence. If he saw your potential then you needed to believe in yourself. In your head you internally repeated; “I am good enough, I deserve this position, I can do this.”

In the afternoon you walked down the paddock with your new ward, Lewis fucking Hamilton. The man was a God in your household. Ever since he entered F1 your whole motorsport mad family acted like he was the new messiah. You naturally loved him because it was who everyone was always rooting for and in all seriousness, he was the reason you wanted to work in the sport in the first place. You had several pinch me moments throughout the day. First when he handed you his phone to hold while he signed some autographs. The second when he sweetly placed a hand on your back to stop someone bumping into you. And the latest was when he complimented your sense of humour making you blush so hard you were scared your cheeks would become Ferrari red. It was as if you were in an alternative universe and you were living your childhood dreams. It was completely surreal. You weren’t to be his PR overseer but since they were currently not available due to the birth of their baby overlapping the beginning of the season you were happy to step in for the next coming few months.

Approaching the Mercedes garage you realised the euphoria feeling wasn’t to last long. Heading in the opposite direction (and straight toward you) was Lando (and the new girl they hired to replace you). You wanted him to catch your eye. You wanted him to at least smile at you. Lewis said hey as you all glided past one another. Lando nodded in response.

“Hey!” You took the opportunity when he was close to say hello and nothing. Zilch. Nada. He didn’t even look at you. “That was frosty,” Lewis looked at you. You didn’t want rumours to start or any questions raised so immediately lied. “Ah, he’s joking. When I left he said he would have to ignore me now I was a traitor.” I laughed and Lewis raised a small smile “Just don’t be a traitor to Mercedes and you’ll be fine.” He jested. But you bit into the inside of your lip as you felt nothing but sadness. Lando cut you off so easily and acted as if your friendship meant nothing to him. He didn’t even want to look at you. It was as if you didn’t exist now you were in white and not orange. You had spent many nights over winter break worried if you had done the right thing. You flip flopped between moving to Merc or leaving the sport all together. You felt like a teenager again concerned about a boy and friendships. But you also realised you were being completely ridiculous. If it were true what everyone joked about and he really did have feelings for you or even just a fondness for you, then he had to have known he was going to get hurt. There was no way he wouldn’t know about the fraternisation clause and him ignoring you really was because you were dead to him.

Australia ‘23

Race three and the third one that Lando had totally ignored you. And while you were annoyed, pissed off and frustrated you shrugged it off. If he wanted to act like a petulant child then fine. You had done nothing wrong. There was no point getting upset about it. You couldn’t force him to speak to you and you knew you couldn’t cause a scene even if you could. But you took the time to focus on work. It was important to you after all.

After qualifying - when Lewis came a disappointing 11th - the media duties were tedious and boring. The same questions being peddled again and again and again. It was monotonous and repetitive. So far it was the lowest Lewis had qualified in three races and none of the journalists’ failed to bring it up. No one could blame him for any of the answers he gave in response. You tried to get the rounds done as quick as possible and get Lewis out of there. It felt like it was taking forever till the final interview ended and the pair of you swiftly headed for the media pen exit. But the universe wanted to fuck with you today as while you and Lewis were heading out Lando and Chloe - his new PR officer - we’re heading in. There was no way you could hide. You braced yourself for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Lando….” You smiled and he just tiled his head back and turned his attention back to Lewis. You noted how Chloe clocked the international and prayed she would just ignore it. It was awkward enough and you didn’t want to have to answer questions that you didn’t even know the answer too. Small talk was exchanged between drivers before finally you could get back to work and get Lewis back in time for the Merc briefing.

Lewis headed away inside ahead of you and just as you were about to ascend the stairs when your name was called from behind and there was your former colleague Sarah who threw her arms around you.

“I’ve missed you! I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since we got back” She held on to me tighter and you agreed with her. You missed the laughing and the camaraderie of being a part of that team. They were all wonderful humans who each made working a total pleasure - something you needed when you were away from home so much. Conversation flowed easily. You spoke about your new roles and how different Merc was to McLaren and she told you all about her new boyfriend. It twigged something inside of you and for some reason you took it as the perfect segway to ask about Lando.

“How is Chloe getting on? Is she managing Lando?” You smiled to show her you didn’t mean anything bad from your words. But she immediately gave you a look, one you knew exactly what she meant. “In one word, No!” She exclaimed. “She’s been struggling to gain his respect. I think shes not firm enough and is a bit too placid. He walks all over her. Its not like how he was with you. He’s being a bit of a pain in the arse to work with.” This you already knew if you were being honest. You had observed it yourself in the paddock.

“Do you think you could do something?” She asked and it truthfully took you aback. You hadn’t expected her to make this request of you. It took you aback considering Lando’s sudden distrust and even hatred toward you. With a sigh you admitted it for the first time;

“Sarah, I don’t know what I CAN do. He doesn’t speak to me anymore. He won’t even look at me. Ever since I left he acts like I’m poisonous or something.” She furrowed her brows in confusion. “Wait, what?” She expressed. “I don’t understand. He adored you. He talks about you so all the time!” She exclaimed. “He doesn’t speak to you anymore? Not even to say hi?” You shook your head. “Wow!”

“I know. I know we were just colleagues but it feels like I’ve lost my best friend, Sarah.” “Yeah it would, you spent so much time with him.” She sighed “Wait, you don’t think he’s actually y’know, been in love with you? I know we used to jest about it but…”

You shook your head. It was something you had spent hours upon hours considering. It was plausible and it wasn’t exactly as if it was what you had been afraid of when you left - not to mention WHY you left. At the absolute most he may have had a slight infatuation with you but that was it. You were now 100% positive of that. He wouldn’t have refused to look at you if he had remotely even fancied you.

China ‘23

P2.

That was where Lando finished. On the podium. You had to hide your smile and bite your inner cheek. Lewis finished P9 so it was another tough one. No one in the garage had even the faintest smile upon their faces when the race came to a close.

As Lewis gave his fourth interview you attempted to pay attention when behind you a jubilant, triumphant Lando waltzed into the media pen. You stared, his curls still wet from champagne clung to his forehead. He needed his hat. He always needed his hat after he had been up on the podium, he used it to control his hair so it didn’t get frizzy - he didn’t want to be on TV with frizzy hair you remembered. You looked at Chloe and it wasn’t in her hand so you wondered if she had forgotten. This was Sarah had been hinting at back in Aus. She wasn’t prepared enough and Lando was eating her alive. You knew how he could be and how he could get sometimes and you knew the tricks to calm him down. As Lewis moved on you quickly grabbed her arm.

“When he’s finished, give him water. He won’t drink it but he’ll use it to smooth his hair out a bit. Don’t worry about the hat. I did it too.” You had never once forgotten his hat but you didn’t want her to feel bad. She mouthed you a thank you and followed your advice immediately. Lando paid her no attention. You felt him staring at you. His eyes locked on you and you had no idea how to read it. It made you nervous which angered you. He had no right to make you feel nervous anymore.

His next interview was the one right beside you and Lewis. And you knew he stood closer to you on purpose. He was only a few feet behind. You could hear his answers, zoning out of Lewis’ completely. He was talking about the win and something that happened on track. He laughed at a joke and then started praising everyone at McLaren. He mentioned Chloe by name and you wondered if he was doing it on purpose. You were sure he was.

“Everything is going the right way and we’ve got a good team now, I have a good team behind me finally.” It was a gut punch. Lewis was finished and you turned off the recording on your phone. Your face had fallen and he immediately asked if you were ok. You nodded. Just a nod. Annoyance took over your body and you didn’t want to say something you might regret. Lewis’ hand gently caressed your back and if only your younger self could see you now. Soothed by Lewis Hamilton after being incensed by Lando Norris.

You could barely lead the PR team meeting you had been so distracted. You tried to give feedback on socials over the course of the weekend but kept thinking about how Lando had tried to throw you under the bus earlier. He had insinuated you were no good and it was such a grossly childishly, petulant stunt to pull. You struggled on to take notes on feedback from the team but you had let it stew inside you. So when finally you told everyone to head back to the hotel and get a drink to chill out, you tried to think of a way to sneak into the McLaren camp to speak to him (or give him a piece of your mind at least). You hadn’t realised but you had been sitting for a while just staring at the table. And it was Lewis who brought you out of your daze as he was walking past to head home.

“Are you sure you are ok?” You snapped and took a big inhale. The attempt you made to brush his concern off didn’t work. “Lando?” He asked “that was a dick answer today” you hadn’t realised he had heard it and you sighed while rolling your eyes. “You should talk to him.” “I can’t. He ignores me in the paddock and I can’t just waltz into his drivers room anymore.” “You can’t, but I can. Come on.” He as good as ordered you to stand up and follow him. You were going to get a bollocking for this. He shouldn’t have been doing this, least of all for you! It probably wouldn’t even work anyway.

“Norris still here?” He asked and the two mechanics he asked looked instantly starstruck. It was how most people reacted to Lewis and he clearly knew it. They nodded and pointed to where his drivers room was. “Cool just need to collect something…oh wait…” he slipped his phone out of his pocket and he said your name “can you get it for me? I need to take this.” AND THAT WAS IT! It was that simple. His face card never declined. One of the mechanics registered it was you and smiled. Astonishment befell you as he simply turned back to packing up some of the tools. It was as if you hadn’t left at all. Lewis’ spot on acting (and face card) was all you needed to slip past and enter the inner sanctum you had once known so well.

Steadying your breathing you raised a hand to the door and rapped quickly in succession. What was the worst that could happen? That he slam the door in your face? At least you would know once and for all he despised and loathed you. It took a few seconds for the door handle to depress. You swallowed hard. Hoping Lewis’ persistence you talk to him - and giving you no time to refuse - would at least earn you some answers. Or perhaps you would need to be the one sharing them, you thought as suddenly Lando was standing in front of you, face to face.

“Can we talk?” Your voice wasn’t as confident as you hoped it would have been as it flowed out of you. Lando stepped aside, a silent gesture to allow you in. You pushed your better judgment about it aside and walked over the threshold. No going back.

What proceeded wasn’t exactly an argument but it was two people who had clearly very different views on the past couple of months and the desolation of their close friendship. Lando protested he had done nothing wrong. That he was treating you the same as anyone else who had left the team (which was completely and utterly untrue). You called him a child and he scoffed. The fight to remain calm was hard. You wanted to shout at him and plead that he see sense.

“You wanted bigger better things. You didn’t want to stay here, with me.” It hit you in the centre of your chest and you felt all of the emotions rush at you. The ones that you had bottled up for the whole past year. It was you who was childish. You were transported back into being a scared teenage girl who didn’t believe she could be desired - or loved. You had done as he suggested. You ran as soon as you knew things were getting a bit too close with him. But still you tried to deny it;

“Lando…I don’t know where you’ve got that from but I,..”“Please, I’m not fucking stupid.” He seriously couldn’t believe that? “I didn’t leave because of you….well I did but it was because of me, because of…how we were” You couldn’t quite find the words. His confusion plastered all over his face.

“What does that even mean?” “Because of how close we were.” You admitted but he was looking at you - staring at you - in sheer disbelief at your words. “Stop talking in riddles” He demanded and you simply just stopped talking altogether because you couldn’t find the right words and didn’t even know how to say what you wanted to actually say. The silence grew within the small room and it was suffocating.

“God, you’re so fucking…” Out of the blue he groaned through gritted teeth. And that was all it took. It pushed you over the edge. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“There’s a clause in the contracts. No fraternisation between employees” Lando looked at you blankly. The words you had uttered weren’t registering with him.

“It means two employees of McLaren cannot be employed and be in a relationship or be, intimate or whatever. They could be… they could loose their jobs and considering YOU are Lando FUCKING Norris, YOU aren’t going anywhere. I would have lost my job and my career and everything I’ve worked for…”

“When? Why would you have lost everything? What do you mean?” He interrupted. This time you were so frustrated. Not just with him - and his his blatant naivety and how he wasn’t able to read between the lines - but because he had you feeling something. Something completely and utterly reckless. But your conscience didn’t kick in in time to register what exactly you were doing. It was all simply out of your control. The following series of manoeuvres that were as if you had become possessed.

You strode purposefully and confidently over to him. Body slamming against his with a sexual ferocity you had never experienced within yourself before. Outstretched hands reached out and pulled his face to yours. Lips attaching. It felt like it was completely normal to be kissing him. As if the world had willed it. Then you felt his hands gripping, grasping and seizing your sides like they belonged there. The sheer sense of overwhelming comfort overcame you, you felt to at home there in his arms with his tongue toying with your own. It was a feeling that was enough to startle you and so you pulled back.

“That. That is what I mean.” You were out of breath and you would have been speechless but he needed to understand what you had been attempting to convey. Like a scene from a Shakespearean play, you relinquished all control and gave in as Lando slid his hand effortlessly against your neck. His eyes seemed to go on staring into yours as if he was sending you a silent signal that he understood. It was enough to send a shiver up your spine. It came from pure unadulterated want, desire, need. And you succumbed to it all. Your lips went back to his.

Seconds, minutes or hours could have passed as you relaxed as he kissed you. Everything blended all into one and memories of all of those months you had spent denying your obvious attraction to him flickered quickly in your mind. For a brief moment Lando stopped and pulled his lips from yours. “Do you think I would have let them fire you?” Lando asked. “I would have walked before I let them do that.”

“Lan…” he pecked your lips to shut you up and you let him.

It was like one of the smutty dreams you had last year but, undeniably better. His pouty, reddened lips trailed down to your jaw and you tried hard not to gasp when he continued his decent to your neck. He softly groaned and the vibration made you feel woozy.

“I’ve dreamt about kissing you for years.” His admission. All of the jesting and joking had indeed been true and he tried to kiss you again but you pulled back. Scared of how far you would let him go.

“Lando, we cant…” “You don’t work for McLaren anymore. There’s no contract saying you can’t kiss me.” He had a point. A very strong valid point. Your eyes and his were locked together. You were searching his green orbs to find something, anything, that you could convince you kissing him again was a bad idea. Your heart thundered in your chest and you realised your breathing was erratic and you were breathless.

You were about to surrender and give into him. Feeling his sudden desire for you exuding his body. His hunger radiated through him, you could feel it reverberating into you. And truthfully, there was nothing you craved more than wanting to feel his lips again. But as a knock echoed around his drivers room, you snapped back into reality. You grabbed something inconsequential and laughed loudly just as the door opened. It was a desperate attempt to cover up your tracks and explain why you were in a rival team’s driver room.

“Thank you so much for this. He can’t believe he left without it…” You tried the best you could as Chloe, your replacement stared at you suspiciously. “No problem, I only remembered this morning.” Lando played along and you swallowed as you felt the newbies eyes on you.

“Have a good week off, Lando. Get some rest.” Any thoughts of kissing him again had now been forgotten about. The only thing that consumed you was getting out of the way and back to the safety of the Mercedes camp. You walked (pretending to do so calmly) as fast as your feet could carry you. It was so stupid of you to be so flippantly brazen. What the fuck did you think was going to happen? How could you have been so moronic to go to his drivers room of all places? You glanced down at the headset in your hands and saw the McLaren logo staring back at you. It didn’t even make any sense as to why Lewis would need this. What had you been thinking? You scoffed, it was so fucking obvious that you weren’t thinking at all. All of your thoughts were so consumed about your predicament you didn’t watch where you were going and ran straight into your boss - practically head first…well, your head to his chest. His large, imposing body sent you jolting backward and instinctively your hands flew up and against his wide, broad, muscular chest for stability.

“Toto, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed but he just smiled down at you. You felt so small in his presence. While you had gotten more comfortable around him in the past coming months and even started to have a bit of banter with him, you were still intimidated by him.

“Where are you going so fast, kleines kätzchen?”* you didn’t speak German so had no idea what he said but the fact his eyes were soft and he was still smirking meant it couldn’t be anything bad. “Just uh, I forgot something.” You tried to quell the rushing thoughts in your head. “A McLaren headset?” He motioned to your hands. FUCK!! You needed to quickly modify the story because he (of all people) would not buy the Lewis story.

“It’s silly” You tried to cover up “A game with Lando before I left, it’s my winnings.” You prayed it might miraculously sound convincing. “A souvenir” He added nodding.

“Yes, something like that.” You agreed but your lips tingled and you wondered if Lando kissing you back was actually your souvenir? You had been interrupted before you could discuss anything with him. What if now he had a taste for you he no longer wanted you? Fuck. You were such an idiot.

“Well, slow down, you might hurt yourself.” Toto winked at you and you felt a little flutter of butterflies way deep down in the pit of your stomach. There was no denying your boss was attractive and very, very desirable but you internally reprimanded yourself for your reaction. He was older, married and completely out of your league - but then Lando was also out of your league and you had just fled his drivers room after he stuck his tongue down your throat - and Toto fucking Wolff for crying out loud.

As you began walking (slower, calmer and more composed this time) you looked at the headset and swallowed. What the fuck were you going to do now?!

*little kitty

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reidmarieprentiss · 2 months

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Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar.

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive.

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence.

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real.

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again.

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right.

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

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benevolentbones · 3 months

Text

break up | spencer reid x reader

warnings: mostly fluff! mentions of physical abuse and readers ex boyfriend. gender neutral reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: reader announces their breakup with their boyfriend and spencer is more than pleased.

a/n: i hope you all enjoy this fic! wrote it during work:) reblogs and comments appreciated <3

it was a cold monday morning at the bau. everyone was busy filing away case reports at their respective desks, everyone bar spencer reid who was leaning against your desk with two cups of coffee in his hand, awaiting your arrival.

his eyes shot up to the clock that hung on the wall by the elevator. the bright neon numbers reading ‘09:18’. spencer’s brows furrowed as he scanned the bullpen. you were never this late.

almost on cue the elevator doors sprung open and you stumbled out, carrying a large duffel bag on your back, accompanied by your usual satchel. spencer’s gaze landed on you as you walked to your desk, his puzzled expression quickly changing into one of relief.

as you drew closer to your desk, spencer could make out your features more clearly. you looked tired, the dark circles under your puffy eyes evident.

he placed down both cups of coffee on your desk carefully, greeting you when you finally slung the duffle bag near his feet.

“morning y/n…is everything okay?” he quizzed, your eyes softening when they met his.

“hi spence- i’m fine- how are you?” you muttered, taking a quick seat at your desk.

spencer could tell something was off, it didn’t take being a profiler to realise something had happened.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, clearly concerned.

“i- i broke up with my boyfriend last night.” you admitted, feeling a anxious sensation rush through your body as you recalled the events from yesterday.

his eyes widened, a look of shock etched onto his pale features. “what? what happened?”

“he- he wasn’t treating me good…and i know i deserve better, right?” you questioned, more to yourself than him.

spencer took a step closer, resting a gentle hand on your arm. you felt his warm touch, instantly causing your anxious feeling to subside.

“of course- you deserve the best.”

“thanks, spencer.” you rested your head against his side, a deep sigh escaping your lips.

he smiled warmly at your actions, moving his hand from your arm and placing it on your hair, running it over in a soothing motion.

you and spencer had been friends and coworkers for over three years, everyone in the team could tell there seemed to be something more there- but when you started dating your ex, everyone was shocked.

“anyway- enough about me. did you go on that date morgan set you up on?” you questioned, pulling away from spencer to look him in the eyes.

spencer looked down and chuckled slightly, a small blush spreading across his cheeks. “well not exactly… i kind of chickened out at the last minute.”

“oh no, why?” you couldn’t help but feel a slight relief at the mention of the cancelled date.

he sheepishly looked away from you for a moment, before meeting your gaze again. he ran a hand through his awkwardly and let out an embarrassed laugh. “i don’t know…i always get so nervous at the thought of these things… and i wasn’t really feeling it with her.”

“aw spence, don’t be nervous, anyone would be lucky to go on a date with you..and you’ll find someone soon.”

he gave you a lopsided smile, a hint of a blush still evident on his face. “are you sure about that?” he teased, before adding. “i think you’re one of the only people who think that.”

“don’t say that- you’re smart and funny and handsome-“ he cuts you off with a smile.

“you think i’m handsome?”

“of course i do-“ you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, you couldn’t help but trace your eyes over the man who stood before you.

spencer wore a dark shirt which he rolled up neatly exposing his forearms, paired with dark suit pants. his gun holster was tucked away at his side, more evident when he raised his arm to push back his brown locks.

before he could say anything your phone began to ring, your smile dropped as you reached into your pocket to pull the darn thing out.

“seems like someone is trying to ruin our moment.” he muttered out lowly, a blush speeding across his cheeks once again.

you pressed your cellphone to your ear, a sigh escaping your lips as you listened to someone ramble on the other line. spencer attempted to listen in, but couldn’t make out what the angry voice on the other end was saying.

“yea-okay-fine.” you pulled your phone away from your ear, pressing the end call button before practically throwing your phone onto your desk.

“is everything alright?” he asks, slightly skeptical when you hang up the call.

“yeah, it’s just-“ you let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through your unruly locks. “he’s coming to get his things now- i told him to wait until after work.”

“he’s coming here?” spencer’s brows furrowed.

you nodded in response, casting your eyes down to the duffel bag on the floor. “he’s going to meet me outside but…”

spencer could pick up your hesitation, tilting his head to the side slightly. “..you don’t want to be alone with him.” he guessed aloud.

“yeah…it wasn’t exactly a mutual breakup..i just don’t want him to do anything.” you clasped your hands together, fidgeting with your fingers as you spoke.

spencer’s features hardened, a feeling of anger washing over him. he let out a breath to calm himself before he spoke. “has..has he done something to hurt you before?” he attempted to make eye contact with you.

when you couldn’t meet his gaze, his heart sank. how long had he been treating you like this? hurting you? if he had known- he wouldn’t done something, probably something he would regret.

“he- he was angry a lot. he threw things, broke things…he only hit me a few times.”

spencer practically flinched when you mentioned that he hit you. anger filled his dark eyes but he remained calm when he spoke.

“a few times- he should never have hurt you in the first place. why- why didn’t you tell me? i could’ve- helped?” there was a slight distress evident in his voice.

“i was embarrassed. i thought maybe he was having a bad day- i thought he loved me..” you trailed off, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. “i guess i’m a little bit unlovable.” you let a sad laugh pass from your lips.

spencer frowned at his, guiding his hand to your face so you would look him in the eyes.

“don’t say that. you aren’t unlovable. you are caring and smart and beautiful-“ he trailed off as he listed the traits he loved about you so much.

you let out a small chuckle. “thanks spence…i guess we both kinda suck at relationships.”

he returned the laugh clearly agreeing with your words, before he spoke. “yeah, i suppose we do. though i doubt i suck as much as your ex does.”

“you definitely don’t suck as much as him…spence? would you come outside with me when he shows up?” you questioned, your hands still nervously fumbling on your lap.

“of course, i’ll do anything you need me to.” he placed a hand on top of yours, easing your nervousness.

you waited outside, spencer at your side, with the duffle bag slung over your shoulder. your ex had messaged you saying he was on the way, so you nervously rocked back and forth on your feet.

spencer could sense your unease, he leaned down to you whispering out. “it’s okay, y/n. i’m here.”

you gave him a small smile, before your eyes landed on your ex boyfriend walking towards the bau. he looked mad.

your ex marched forward, stopping in-front of you. his dark hair was slicked back, you recalled the amount of hair gel he used to slather onto his head every morning.

“it’s all here.” you spoke, passing the bag to your ex, jordan. he snatched it from your grasp, causing you to jump slightly. spencer frowned, placing a protective hand on your back, ready to step between you and your ex at a moments notice.

jordan’s blue eyes scanned your form and then moved on to spencer, he was a lot taller than jordan. your ex let out a disgusted tutt, taking a step closer to you.

spencer immediately wedged himself between you and jordan, putting one hand forward to prevent the shorter man from getting closer.

“this must be who you left me for then? slut.” jordan spat, attempting to gaze upon you but blocked by spencer’s form.

spencer’s eyes flashed with anger at jordan’s comment, immediately pushing the shorter man back.

“don’t you call them that- you have your shit so leave, before i do something.”

jordan scanned spencer, contemplating wether or not he could take the younger man on. inevitably he decided just to back off, swearing once more at you before turning on his feet and walking off.

once jordan had disappeared from sight, spencer turned around, eyeing your smaller form.

“are you okay?” spencer asked, letting out a sigh of relief.

“no..i’m fine.” you mumbled out, a sad expression fixed on your features.

spencer reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “good…that’s good. if he ever bothers you again i’ll knock his lights out.”

you smile at his comment, relishing his brief contact with your skin

“thank you..” your smile faltered for a moment, your brain fixed on jordan’s comment.

“is..everything okay?”

“i’m sorry- about what he said. that i left him for you.”

spencer was quiet for a moment, thinking over your words. his cheeks turn a shade of red but he attempts to hide it. “no- it’s fine, it’s not like it’s true, is it?-“

a small blush tints your cheeks, as you chew your lip. “i…yes. but it’s not like- you don’t-“ you splutter out.

“you know i don’t what?” spencer seems dumbfounded by your words, questioning you with a curiosity to his tone.

“i know you don’t like me like that- you were going on that date.” you mumbled out, averting his intense gaze.

he took a step closer to you, analysing your features. “oh that- i’ve been trying to find every excuse not to go out with the people morgan tries to set me up with- i don’t have feelings for them. in fact i-“ he seemed a bit nervous, the next words he was going to utter out getting caught in his throat.

“…you what?” your eyes meet his again, a hopeful expression on your face.

“i- i’ve been in love with you…this whole time.” he finally managed to get the words out, afraid of how you’d react.

he’s unable to hide the fact that he’s nervous, he’s worried about how you’ll respond, knowing he can’t lie to you anymore.

you pulled him in for a hug, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso. spencer, not expecting a hug, slowly returns the gesture his long arms enveloping your form.

“this isn’t you awkwardly letting me down easily, is it?” he let out a nervous laugh.

you responded with a chuckle, pulling away from the hug. “no…” you paused, scanning his features, a mix of hope and worry.

“i- i love you too.” you announced. a wave of relief washed over spencer, he lets out a sigh before smiling and bringing a hand to your cheek.

“say it again…please?” he had being waiting so many years, hoping one day you would say those words to him.

“i love you, spencer reid.” you spoke slowly, cheeks flushed. he gave you a grin before pulling you in and pressing his soft lips to yours.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction

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ssahotchnerr · 7 months

Note

hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.

maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.

up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !

- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]

take the bench

AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3

"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."

"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."

all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.

currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.

at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.

and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.

which ultimately, led up to a new game.

"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.

it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.

while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.

as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.

"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.

"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."

"but dad-"

"you heard me. and your mother."

jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.

"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."

"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."

you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"

"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"

"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"

"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.

now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.

"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."

"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."

you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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pitchsidestories · 4 months

Text

my kink is karma II Alexia Putellas x Reader

a/n: Hi, we hope you've as much fun with the oneshot as we had writing it.

masterlist I word count: 1695

Champions League nights were always magical, no matter who the opponent was. But a Champions League final against record champion Olympique Lyonnais promised an even more special night.

After Barcelonas loss against the same team in the final two years prior, they had something to prove. So of course, the atmosphere among the team was a mixture between excitement and nervousness.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest right before the game started. You hugged your teammates and wished them a good game, partly to calm their anxiety and partly to calm your own.

“What about me?”, Alexias voice sounded from behind you.

As you turned around, she stood there, her arms wide open with a winning smile on her face.

You looked her up and down before jokingly saying: “You? Well…”

“Well?!”, she echoed, playing offended.

You winked at her: “A goal from you later would be perfect, you know why.”

You could still feel Alexias eyes following you as you took your position on the pitch.

While the referee blew her whistle, signaling the start of the game, the bench was still busy discussing what just had happened.

“What did she mean, Ale?”, Vicky asked, barely able to contain her curiosity.

Alexia shrugged: “Nothing.”

The young striker wrinkled her nose: “I don’t believe you.”

“Focus on the game, kiddo.”, Alexia laughed, nodding in the direction of the pitch.

“I’m not a kid, you’re just old.”, Vicky retorted with a grin.

Mapi joined the conversation with an innocent look on her face: “She’s not wrong about that, Ale.”

“I’ll show you guys old!”, Alexia rolled her eyes with fondness.

Ona grinned at her: “Y/n wants a goal from you!”

“From the bench?”, Mapi asked, her eyebrows raised.

“No, when she’s coming on.”, Ona explained.

“More like if she’s coming on.”, Mapi corrected her.

While the two defenders giggled, Alexia just shook her head: “Of course I’m coming on!”

You realized quickly that the game would not be an easy win. Lyon had their chances but so did Barcelona. For almost an hour, it was an even match but you could feel that your team wanted it more. And then Aitana scored.

“Well done, Tana!”, you yelled as you ran towards her to celebrate.

She hugged you tightly: “Thanks!”

From this moment on, your priority was to defend the lead and try to put your strikers into goal scoring situations.

In the ninetieth minute, Alexia came on. Your heart skipped a beat while she joined you on the pitch. But you also felt some kind of anger. There were only six minutes left to play.

Alexia made the most out of it. 120 seconds after coming on, she scored the 2:0 for Barcelona.

You could barely contain your happiness as you watched your girlfriend run across the pitch while pulling her shirt over her head to celebrate.

You had to blink away some tears as you followed her and pulled her into a celebratory hug: “Ale!”

“You got the goal you wanted after all.”, she retorted with a smug smile on her face. Despite her cocky attitude you could see that her hazelnut eyes were turning wet. The captain of your team was overtaken by her own emotions.

Everyone could see how much it meant for the midfielder to score in the final against a team to whom you both lost twice in a final.

“You deserve it so much, Ale.”, you whole-heartedly whispered into her ear, not sure if Alexia was even able to understand you as the noise in the stadium escalated.

Embracing you for one last time the Blonde had to let you go, not before muttering close to your face, giving you chills everywhere:” This one is for us.”

“Yeah, yeah, very romantic, but we still got a few minutes to play.”, Lucy interrupted the emotional moment between you two grinning before throwing the midfielder’s jersey back to Alexia who slowly put it back on.

“Lucy.”, your girlfriend rolled her eyes annoyed at the English defender.

“Let’s go.”, Lucy replied unimpressed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll celebrate that goal later.”, you promised Alexia winking.

“I can’t wait.”, she replied.

“Hey! Enough now!”, the older English player yelled impatiently by your lovebird’s behaviour.

“You don’t understand, Lucia.”, you protested laughing.

“We’ve four minutes left.”, she said unmoved by your quite visible emotional turmoil.

“Only four more minutes.”, you repeated to yourself. In fact, they felt like the longest minutes in Champions League history. Your legs were so tired, when the referee blew the final whistle, you fell to your knees, simply from exhaustion and happiness.

Barcelona has won, a second time in a row. It was Alexia's, your teammates and your triumph against Lyon at last. This was unbelievable.

“We did it!”, Alexia rejoiced, standing right next to you.

“Yes, we did.”, you answered cheerfully, before you added with a worried glance at your girlfriend, careful, don’t trip over!”

Your warning came too late, the Barcelona captain fell ungraciously over her own boots, lucky for her she landed very softly on top of your body.

“Girls, the children are still here!”, Sandra shouted at you, although the goalkeeper couldn’t hide her amusement by what just had happened.

“Shut up, Sandra.”, Alexia demanded, her usual stern face was now full of giddiness and excitement. It felt like the young girl who became a fan of Barcelona and fell in love with the club and football had overtaken her in that very second.

“Yeah, nothing to see here.”, you giggled.

“Exactly.”, the captain confirmed, while pressing a kiss to your already blushed cheek.

“You should get up now though, the press wants interviews with you both.”, Irene intervened seriously.

“Coming.“, Alexia said, carefully lifting herself off of you.

You immediately followed suit, brushing the grass of your shirt and short before hurrying to your interview.

The young journalist thrusted a microphone towards you: “Y/n, what does the CL win mean to you?“

“It means so much to me. I know people questioned whether we would be able to keep up with last years performance. But I think we proved that here tonight.“, you said. Your gaze subconsciously shifting towards Alexia who was interviewed on the other side of the stadium.

“You certainly did. Thanks for taking the time and have fun celebrating.“

You grinned at the journalist: “Gracias.“

Turning away from the camera, you were greeted by Alexia: “Done?“

“Yes, what about you?“, you asked, hoping that she was done with her media duties for the night as well.

“Me too.“

Alexia took your hand into hers, gently pulling you away from the cameras and the bustle on the field.

“Wait, where are you taking me?“, you laughed while you followed her.

“Somewhere more private.“, Alexia smiled.

You grinned: “Sounds like a good idea.“

“Come on.“

“I’m right behind you.“, you assured her while Alexia opened the door to your hotel room and pulled you in.

“So here we’re.“, you said, patiently waiting for her to make a move.

She nodded, her shoulders slumping in relaxation: “Finally.“

You wrapped your arms around her: “Oh yes, tonight was unbelievable…“

“You were unbelievable.“, she corrected you softly.

“So where you. After everything that happened in the past year.“ You were absolutely in awe about how much your girlfriend had fought to come back after her ACL injury, the setbacks she had injury-wise and with the conditions of the Spanish national team and how she dealt with the little game time she got.

People had started to doubt that she would ever come back as the World’s best football player but you knew, it was only a matter of time.

Apparently, Alexia felt a similar way. All the hard work she put in was finally worth it. She blinked the wetness in her eyes away: “Thank you. It means so much to me to have scored this goal tonight…“

“I can only imagine.“

Alexias hand come down on your thigh, right above your left knee. The bright red of the injury from the Champions League final two years ago had faded and only left a scar.

You both knew the injury was something that had bothered you for a long time. Alexia did not have to say a word, you knew what she meant but you only shook your head: “That was nothing compared to Ona tonight… that moment was really scary.“

“Ona’s tough.”, your girlfriend remarked softly.

“That’s true. Plus, she’s in good hands with Lucy.”, you were smiling fondly as you were thinking about your teammates who’s love for each other was so visible after the win.

“You don’t have to worry about it.”, Alexia declared earnestly.

“I don’t.”, you cleared your throat before you continued, close your eyes, what do you see?”

For a moment the Blonde gave you a questioning look, afterwards she dd as you told her. A huge grin was forming on her lips:” Us celebrating.”

“A very iconic moment.”, you answered mirroring her happiness while you were slowly undressing yourself.

“Oh, not this one. The next one.”, Alexia quickly corrected herself.

“The next one?”, you lifted an eyebrow which she couldn’t see, but your voice transported your surprise.

“Next year.”, the midfielder confirmed.

“What about now? You can open your eyes again.”, you offered her trying to sound nonchalantly and hide the excitement which you felt running through your veins right now.

“Now, I see you.”, Alexia swallowed hard while her eyes who appeared dark green under the light of the bedside lamp wandered through your almost entirely naked body.

“Liking what you see?”, you asked her in a cheeky tone knowing fully well what your girlfriend was feeling when she looked at you.

“You look so beautiful right now.”, the player replied, licking her lips as she bridged the distance between you both to gave you a passionate kiss. When her kink was karma, triumph never tasted as good as with you by her side.

It was going to be a long night and you couldn’t wait to get started with your own private celebration. The public could wait until tomorrow, now was your time to enjoy the win.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso oneshot #woso #woso community #barca femeni #barcelona femeni

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goddesspharo · 4 months

Text

Glen Powell at the premiere of Hit Man / Induction into the Texas Film Hall of Fame - 05.15.24

#everyone on his team deserves a raise for this look #they need to do that hair swoop more often #glen powell #*

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slut-for-evans-stan · 10 months

Text

Mission Accomplished

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Summary: Ben and you can't stay in the same room without wanting to rip each other's hearts out. The Boys, tired of dealing with you, decide to take matters into their own hands by tricking you two into completing your most crucial mission yet— resolving your problems. One thing leads to another and you discover that there was an easier, much more enjoyable method to resolve everything between you all along. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (18+), Enemies to Lovers, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, Dirty talk, oral (m+f rec), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), hate fucking!? (kind of), rough sex, swearing, choking, squirting, creampie.

a/n: this is my very first time writing smut. Not proofread, please pardon me for errors if any! I tried my best :')

I'd really appreciate if you could like, comment and/or reblog, it'll make me really happy <3

Being a Supe with extraordinary powers didn't mean you were ready to exploit people for clout, with how things were at Vought. So when Starlight and Hughie learnt that you declined Ashley's offer to have you join the Seven, they convinced you to join hands with The Boys to ensure that the arrogant liars claiming to be "Saviours of the World" got what they deserved. Despite feeling a bit unwelcome at first due to Butcher's distant behaviour, you quickly settled in and felt accepted, and connected to everyone in the team, everyone except the newest member to join forces with you all to help in taking down Homelander and others; Soldier Boy.

In the dimly lit room, stood Soldier Boy in his silk robe, a cigarette in one hand, one leg on the bed, the other supporting his weight on the floor; his back facing the door. Upon hearing a soft knock, he turned around with a smug grin on his face. He began,

"Well, hello there gorgeous! You've sure kept me waiting long enough for someone who made eager promises to choke on my dick."

Unamused, and somewhat disgusted by his comment, you shot him a stern look,

"I'm not here for your entertainment, I need to run a few tests on you. So it'll be nice if you'll please spare a few minutes before you run off to get your dick wet. We need to be sure that you're not going to explode and kill us all."

Soldier Boy's smirk echoed through his room as he eyed you with an amazed expression. Undeterred, he sauntered over to you, leaning in and mistaking your seriousness for a mere challenge.

"Sure. Whatever it is, let's get it over with. Maybe after this, you and I could-"

You cut him off with an icy glare

"Save the charm for someone who cares. I don't have time for this bullshit, we've a mission coming up."

From your very first meeting that started with a misunderstanding, it would've been an understatement to say that Soldier Boy annoyed every living cell in your body. You were both constantly arguing and bickering about something or the other, always at each other's throats.

Soldier Boy's deep, intimidating voice echoed through the room, your comment having hit a nerve.

"You know what, you're insufferable."

"At least I'm not stuck up." he shot back.

What should've been a meeting to discuss the upcoming mission, turned into yet another baseless argument between the two of you. Making your teammates uncomfortable with every passing moment. Hughie, Frankie, Kimiko and others exchanged uneasy glances as the tension thickened. You continued,

"I can't believe I've to be stuck with an unbearable asshole as you. Butcher I think I'm gonna skip this mission. Don't want us to end up in another mess like the last time."

At this point, it seemed like you were both minutes away from strangling each other. Soldier boy chuckled,

"Why, you're so intimidated by a real hero you want to hide away like a pussy?"

Eyebrows raised, you retorted, "Real hero!? More like a reckless liability. I've seen toddlers with better impulse control."

Sensing a storm brewing, Hughie spoke with a shaky voice, attempting to intervene and diffuse the situation. "Can we focus, guys? We have a mission-"

Your gaze never wavered from the supe. "I'll focus when he stops acting like he's better than everyone else. He is not the only one with superpowers here, he might be strong but he doesn't scare or intimidate me in the slightest."

Rolling his eyes, Soldier Boy muttered, "I wouldn't need to if you could follow a plan for once in your life."

Butcher commented shutting you all up "Oi. Enough! No one is backing out. You two should go fuck it out or something, whatever issues you stupid cunts have with each other. Don't need any fuck ups in the mission."

The tension spilled into the supposed battlefield, your bickering a dangerous undertone to the chaos around you. Clashing on missions, your mutual disdain fielding your actions, each vying to outdo the other. Yet beneath the surface, a spark lingered, an undeniable attraction that you both, despised and desired, but neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

On a particularly precarious mission, your incessant bickering almost jeopardized the entire operation.

Amidst the mayhem, you found yourself pinned down by one of the opponents, wounded and unable to use your powers, and Soldier boy reluctantly came to your rescue.

You grunted, "I didn't need your help."

He shot back, "Don't get used to it. I'm saving the mission, not your sorry ass."

Watching the scene unfold from a distance, your teammates exchanged knowing looks. After the mission, they decided they'd have enough, and decided to take matters into their own hands, realising that the unresolved tension between you two threatened not just personal dynamics but the success of missions itself.

On Butcher's suggestion, the team tricked the two of you into thinking there was another mission but instead locking you up in a safe house together,

"Sort this out, or we'll all end up as collateral damage."

warned Hughie before haphazardly shutting the door and leaving, forcing you to confront your issues, facing a choice: either talk and resolve the conflict or risk tearing each other apart. Silence filled the room. However, it was short lived.

Taking a deep breath, you plopped on the sofa across from where he sat and spoke as calmly as you could.

"Great, those little shits tricked us."

Soldier Boy scowled, "This is ridiculous. I don't need couple's therapy, I need a way out of here. I'm gonna beat the shit out of these fucknuts."

This made you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Maybe if you weren't so intolerable, we wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place."

As another argument filled the space, the air in the small living room of the safe house shifted. Soldier Boy's tone somewhat softened, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"You think I enjoy being like this? Constantly on edge, wondering if I'll turn into a goddamn weapon."

You sighed, your defenses momentarily crumbling.

"I didn't sign up for this either, you know. Being a supe's babysitter wasn't in my job description."

As you bickered, underlying desire simmered beneath the surface. Soldier Boy's gaze lingered a moment too long, making a very visible flush rise in your cheeks.

A smug grin playing on his lips, as he said,

"You can't resist me, can you? Admit it, there's something between us, more serious than all this bickering. You know, I think you want me-"

You cut him off, but your voice wavered. "Keep dreaming, I still can't stand you." This remark gave rise to another banter.

"Don't get over yourself. I was only pulling your leg. You're insufferable."

Accusations started flying like daggers, each word cutting deeper than the last. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, making your way back into the living room, catching him intently staring at you. Frustration morphed into a heated exchange of longing glances.

Tension crackled in the air, and just when it seemed the room might implode, his expression shifted.

He got up from the sofa, walking over to you, cornering you till your back hit the wall. He leaned in, his eyes darkening with a growing desire, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"You know what? Maybe you're right. I can't stand you, because everytime I look at you, this is all I want to do."

You arched an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Wait, what?" But before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, making the beer bottle fall from your hands, effectively silencing any protests. You caught hold of the shirt he was wearing, kissing him back with equal fervour, savoring the moment as if it was a dream that would end all too soon. All your pent up anger and frustration showed up as the two of you desperately tore at each other clothes, never once breaking the kiss. A battle of tongues. He only pulled back for a second, with a sly grin on his face, his eyes dark, pupils dilated with glimmers of lust.

"There, no need to argue when we can do this instead. We should've figured this out sooner." Rubbing you over your panties with two of his fingers, he groaned.

"You're such a slut. So wet already and I haven't even touched you. You want to get railed till you can't walk, don't you?"

Before you had a chance to say anything, he reclaimed your lips in a hunger fuelled kiss. The room once filled with tension, now crackled with a different kind of energy. Pieces of both your clothings flew across the room. Soldier boy lifted you up and carried you to the small table in the kitchen and set you down hurriedly. The two of you continued to kiss while he rid you both of the remaining pieces of clothing. He kissed you like a mad man, biting and marking every inch of your skin he could in his desperate need to be close to you. Starting from your neck, moving to your tits, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting it while palming and squeezing the other roughly, then switching and doing the same to the other one. He moved back up to place another rough kiss to your lips, both of you moaning and biting each other's tongues and lips, intoxicated with the feeling of being so close. With an animalistic growl he parted, giving you a look so intense, it could scare the bravest of people.

"When you feel the need to scream, moan my name. Scream it as loud as you can."

With that he roughly nudged your legs apart as wide as they could go and dived right in, eating you out like man starved, licking and sucking your most sensitive parts like it was his last meal. You pulled his hair, legs shaking and trembling with pleasure. His gruff beard giving you a delicious burn, that would heal in no time. He started flicking your clit with his tongue and entered two of his fingers inside you, moving them in and out rapidly. When he added two more fingers, you lost it. Screaming his name and cumming all over his face, your legs wrapped around his head, making it impossible for him to move away.

"Fuck. Ben. I can't-"

you tried pulling away but he didn't stop even then, holding you down with his arms, making you cum two more times before finally deciding to let go. You were dazed in pleasure, but still wanted more. Jumping down the table, and on your knees, you made eye contact with him as you slowly took his long, thick and veiny cock in your hand, stroking him and giving a few kitten licks from the base to the tip and sucking off the beads of precum, moaning at the salty taste, making him groan. You then looked up at him, taking him as far as you could before pulling back again and asking him to fuck your face. He hesitated for a second but his resolve crumbled as soon as you opened your mouth, showing him you were waiting for him. He grabbed your head with both his hands and pushed himself into your mouth, roughly thrusting in and out again and again, moaning your name, cussing like a maniac. You could tell he was close, and then he held your head as close as possible, making you gag a little, his eyes closing, his head thrown back, as ropes of his cum shot down your throat.

In ragged breaths, he said "Be a good little slut and swallow it all."

As you did, you opened your mouth with your tongue out, showing no remnants of his release. He chuckled, pulling you up by your arms, surprising you with a softness in his gaze as he asked

"You sure you want to go further? If you don't, we'll stop right here and pretend this never happened-" you cut him off with an aggressive kiss "Fuck me as hard as you can. I won't break. Take all your frustrations out on me."

With that he smirked and rapidly turned you around, bending your back and shoving your face on the table with his hand, setting it for support right by your head. He entered you with one brutal thrust, making the both of you moan and groan loudly, not giving you a second to adjust as he started ramming his cock into you, hard and deep, his hips moving at an inhuman speed.

"That's it. This is what you wanted right? Now take it. I don't think I'm ever going to let you go after this. You feel so good. Gonna make you my personal little fuck toy. Such a perfect fit."

Hearing all the filth leave his mouth made you clench around him, making him throw his head back in pleasure, never once letting his pace falter.

"Ah you love this. I can tell by the way your tight pussy's choking my dick."

At this point, all rational thoughts had left your brain and all you could do was moan and revel in the pleasure he was giving you. One thing you knew for sure was that he had ruined everyone else for you. After a few moments he moved the hand on your back between your legs to rub your clit and you started screaming in pleasure, feeling yourself flying close to the edge. As soon as Ben realised how close you were, he pulled out and turned you around, lifting you on the table and onto your back, swiftly entering you again.

"I know you're close. I wanna see your face when you cum all over me."

He moved his hand back between your legs to rub your clit in circles, while his other hand moved to your neck, choking you, as he went back to thrusting at his original, rough pace. This new angle somehow making him go deeper than before, hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

"Fuck. I don't think I can last long either."

To that, you finally managed to say

"Cum with me."

which sounded more like a moan than a sentence. You both looked into each other's eyes, moaning, grabbing each other, raking your nails all over his gorgeous, broad shoulders, not breaking the eye contact once. After a particularly hard thrust, you felt a funny sensation, one that you have rarely ever felt, only while pleasing yourself and before you knew, you screamed and started squirting your release, coming undone while Ben kept thrusting into you.

"Oh yes. Fuck. That's so hot baby. Cum all over me. I don't think I'll ever get enough of the look on your face right now. I think I've finally managed to shut you up, fucked your brains out. Fuck I'm cumming."

His thrusts grew frantic, and much harder than before, kissing you roughly, your teeth clashing, and he finally slammed his hips into yours one last time, holding your hips so tight, you were sure you would bruise for atleast a few hours, despite your super healing abilities. Groaning and grunting in his deep voice as thick ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, triggering yet another release out of you, making you squirt even more. He collapsed on top of you, careful that he wasn't crushing you with his weight.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled with each other for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, before he slowly pulled out of you, making you both wince at the sudden loss. As he walked to the living room, "That was it" you thought, a one time rendezvous with Soldier Boy that might have either helped you two or made things worse. He sauntered back in with a towel in hand, towards the sink to wet it, also filling up a glass of water and quietly walking to you, cleaning you up without a word, handing the glass for you to drink. Taking it from him, you looked at him mumbled a soft "thank you", getting down the table, you nudged him to walk out with you, sitting down on the couch and covering yourself with a blanket, while he picked up his surprisingly untorn boxers, putting them on and sitting next to you, making you turn to face him. You both understood you needed to talk about what had just happened.

The shared realisation that the animosity between you two that had led to this impulsively passionate encounter, had somewhere blurred the lines between desire and hate.

Ben began to say "Look, about earlier... I didn't mean half the things I said."

You replied "What? You didn't mean it when you said you want to kiss me and do other filthy things to me everytime you see me?"

Taken aback, with a raised eyebrow and confused express Ben said, "Oh no, no lies there. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."

You cut him off saying "I know, I was just pulling your leg. I've felt the same way about you. Your reputation preceded you and it made me crazy knowing I still wanted you."

He replied, "I think we let our tempers get the best of us." sighing, he continued "I care about you more than I let on."

Which made you sigh in response. "Then why do you never act like it? Making me think of you as a douche who loves berating me?"

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess I feel scared. Scared of how much of a hold you have had on me from the very beginning. It made me feel like a fool at times, I thought the only way I could supress these feelings were by acting like an asshole towards you. I'm really sorry."

Your gaze softened, "I'm really sorry too, my behaviour towards you hasn't been any better either." You continued, "I thought we were destined to be enemies. I don't hate you, I never did. I just wanted you to see the person I am beyond the righteous supe everyone else sees."

Ben slowly took your hands in his, making you look into his eyes. "Now I see you more than I ever thought I would. Maybe.. maybe there's something more here."

You replied, "Maybe there is. What happens now?"

To which he said "We talk. Like normal people. No more running away or avoiding things and arguing for no reason. We figure out where we stand, one step at a time, together."

You smiled, nodding your head. "Agreed. No more hiding how we feel. Besides, I guess I like this way of solving our issues much more." Which made him chuckle and pull you into his arms, staring at you intently, pressing his lips to yours.

Back at the Flatiron building, Hughie sat at his table across from Frenchie, fidgeting with his cup. "I'm worried. What do you think? Will they make up or kill each other?"

Butcher entered the room, a smirk plastered over his face "I'm pretty sure they are fucking like rabbits back there." And boy, was he right.

The two of you went multiple rounds, thanks to your super stamina, christening every possible surface of the safe house. From the couch, to the bedroom and the floor, and the shower too. You had both awoken a hunger, only the other could satiate.

"Now that we're not at each other's throats for the wrong reasons, I think maybe, we'd make a good team after all."

Said Ben, holding you close, running smooth circles on along your arms, with the two of you lying on the bed, tired and basking in the afterglow. You smiled, turning to face him. "We'll have to see about that, you might just be right. For now, I can't believe I'm saying this but I need sleep, we both do. You've worn me out completely."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and lips, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, feeling content in each other's embrace.

It was a start of a connection and understanding that arose from the most unexpected places, even amidst the chaos of a world filled with superhumans and the fight for good. Fiery exchanges and whispered confessions bringing in an unexpected depth to your dynamic, proving that there can be a fragile, pure connection between two polar opposites. Serendipity, often painted as an unusual force, interweaves with fate, guiding people towards love where they're least expecting to find it.

Your story a testament to the unpredicted twists of the heart, proving that even the fiercest adversaries can find redemption in each other's arms.

a/n: Finished watching Season 3 of 'The Boys' just a few days ago and let me just put this out here, Jensen as Soldier Boy is one of the best things to ever happen to this world. Oh! the things I'd let this man do to me-

Been planning this fic for a week now, I really hope y'all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this.

I'd really appreciate if you'd comment any thoughts, improvements, suggestions or requests that you have! Thank you ^_^

Credits: Banner by @mykento

post divider by @saradika

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starkwlkr · 4 months

Text

the sound of my voice will haunt you | mark webber

part 1 part 2

Grace sat in a chair watching you and Mark talk. She was so bored that she started to imagine herself as you. She found a head set and slipped them over her ears. While she played pretend, you were facing reality talking with Mark.

“Does she know about me?” Mark asked.

“She only knows your name. I never talked to her about you. Why would I? You threw it all away so easily, Mark. You broke my heart.” You snapped at him. You had to calm yourself since your daughter was just a few feet away.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and the amount of times I say I’m sorry isn’t going to fix it.”

“If this is you telling me you want to be in Grace’s life, you have no right.”

Mark knew that. It absolutely broke him that he had a daughter and he couldn’t be with her, but he had fucked it all up. He looked over at the young girl and saw how she played with the head set. She was a miniature version of you.

“I know and I won’t ask for forgiveness of any kind, not from you or Grace. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He continued. “Maybe one day you could tell her about me? If not, i understand.”

“As if you told anyone about me in your book. Mark, I did everything for you. I got in trouble for driving you to races, my parents almost took away my keys! I worked day and night in a shitty restaurant, I almost missed my own graduation because of you! A little note would’ve been nice, but it’s as if I never existed in your world. It hurt me.” You held back tears. Suddenly you’re a teenager again hearing all the loud yelling coming from your parents for driving Mark to his races.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to mention you at all. . . ” He said quietly.

“You’re my past now, I would love to stay away from the past. So when you do attend any of the upcoming races and Grace is here, don’t talk to her. It would be better if she didn’t know about you. Please.” You stated.

My own daughter won’t know about me

Mark understood. It would be better after all.

“Okay.” Was all he managed to say. He nodded and lanced one last time at Grace. “Goodbye.”

Before he could leave, Grace looked at him. She wondered why he looked sad. “Why are you sad? Is your favorite team not winning?” She asked Mark.

“Grace. . . It’s time to go.” You hoped Mark wouldn’t start a conversation, but he did. Of course he was making it harder for you.

“Actually, I used to drive for the team that’s winning and I was okay for a number two driver.” Mark crouched down to talk to Grace.

“Did you win lots of races?” She asked.

Mark let out a chuckle. “I won nine races.”

Grace gasped. “My dad won nine races too!”

At that moment, you wished you were anywhere else. Why couldn’t Mark just leave? Why did Grace have to be nice to everyone and be so curious? And why did you tell Grace that her dad was a driver?

“Your dad? He drives?” Mark questioned.

Grace nodded. “Well I think he doesn’t anymore. Mom said my dad was a driver and that he won nine races, but that’s all I know. I had to make a school project about my family and I asked mom about my dad. Do you know my dad?”

Before Mark could reply, you stepped in. “Sweetheart, it’s time for him to leave. Come on, we’ll get ice cream on the way back.”

“Bye!” Grace waved to the unknown man as you grabbed her hand and walked away from Mark.

He felt a little okay knowing his daughter knew something about him. Maybe one day you would change your mind and let Grace know the truth.

MIAMI 2024

Mark wouldn’t see you or Grace until the Miami Grand Prix. He honestly didn’t feel like even going, but Oscar insisted. At least he wasn’t going to be alone, Jenson was also going, but the British man would be conducting interviews. He kept busy looking at his phone until found him in the Mclaren hospitality. He wasn’t sure why you were even looking for him in the first place.

“Can you look after Grace? My friend couldn’t make it and she was the only person I trust to look after her. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” Mark nodded, putting his phone away. “Where is she?”

“She’s with Oscar in his driver’s room. Just please don’t mention the obvious.” You demanded.

“I won’t, but can I ask one thing?” He stared at your eyes that he still loved after many years. “Why did you tell Grace that her dad won nine races and that he was a driver? You could’ve lied.”

You didn’t want to lie to your daughter, you just couldn’t so you told her part of the truth. Technically, you didn’t think she would even meet Mark ever.

“I can’t lie to her. She knows when I’m lying anyways.” You said.

“What’s her favorite color?” Mark suddenly asked. “I want to know at least some stuff about her so I can talk to her. What if she gets bored halfway through the race?”

You hesitated even telling Mark, but you did anyway. “Her favorite color changes everyday, but today it’s purple. She loved coloring with chalk, she wants to have a puppy and name it Goose like the character from Top Gun, her favorite book series is Junie B. Jones and she tells everyone that she’s tall for her age.” You listed several things.

Mark smiled as he listened to you. “Top Gun? We watched Top Gun on our first date, you know?”

“You’re so annoying.”

You and Mark walk back to the Mclaren garage, which obviously made several people confused. Were you back together? No, you couldn’t be . . . right? By the time the race was close to starting, photos of you and Mark were everywhere. Even Sebastian had texted Jenson wondering about you and Mark.

Grace was sitting next to Mark when the race began. She occasionally glanced at him then grabbed his paddock pass and read his name.

“You’re here with Oscar?” She asked.

Mark nodded. “I’m his manager.”

“So you’re like his dad when his dad is not here?”

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckled. “Your mum told me you like want a puppy.”

Grace’s eye lit up with joy. “Yes! The puppy is going to be named Goose and they’re going to sleep in my bed.”

Mark hardly payed attention to the race. He kept asking questions in hopes that he could learn more about her. Once in a while, you would look back only to see Mark and Grace laughing.

“One time, my mom almost lost her necklace because she was dancing too hard to her favorite song. It fell and we looked everywhere for it but we couldn’t see it because it was a small letter. But I found it!” Grace said which made Mark question if it was the same necklace that he had given you years ago.

“What letter was it?”

“I think it was M?”

The ‘M’ necklace was a gift from Mark on your first anniversary. It was old, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it. If anyone asked what the M stood for, you lied saying it was your middle name or for someone in your family.

“Does your mum always wear it?” Mark asked.

“Not anymore. But I think it’s pretty.” Grace replied. “Your name starts with M!”

All Mark did was nod.

The race had finished and soon you were back to your daughter. She had told you how Mark has dogs and invited her to meet them.

“Grace, can you go sit over there for a little while? I need to talk to Mark.” You pointed to the seat that she was sitting during the race. She obeyed and now it was just you and Mark. “Thank you. I really hope she wasn’t too much to handle.”

Mark shook his head. “She’s very talkative when it comes to her favorite things. She’s a great kid.” He debated whether to tell you about the necklace story that Grace had told him. Finally, he decided he would keep that to himself.

“I wanted you to hear this from me instead of the media. I’m leaving the team after this season.” You said only loud enough for him to hear.

“But you’ll be back, right? I mean the team is doing well, Lando just won his first ever race, obviously it could’ve been better for Oscar, but you are the heart and soul of this team.” Mark could see a frown forming on your face.

“I love this team, but it’s time for me to be a mom. Grace needs me, Mark. I already told Zak and it’s final. They’ll announce my departure soon. Thanks again for looking after Grace, this is the last time you’ll see her.”

He was glad that he could at least spend some time with Grace. She was a joy to be around. Their time together was something Mark would cherish forever.

For the rest of the 2024 season, Mark stopped calling you the Mclaren team principal and, instead, used your name. He praised you, gave you the credit you deserved and defended you any time. Mark had even made a statement about the person who had leaked the information about you and him when he talked with Fernando. It was rumored that a photographer had leaked it. He knew nothing was going to change, but he needed to correct his wrongs. It all started with an instagram post about you.

INSTAGRAM

(this is just for fanfic purposes, you can use any faceclaim)

liked by oscarpiastri, f1 and 837,377 others

aussiegrit everyone i meet will have to know you, to understand me. anyone that truly knows me, knows your name.

comments are limited

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#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mclaren team principal!reader #f1 instagram au #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic

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formulawolff · 3 months

Text

xiv. the aftermath - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.3k

warnings: ANGST, lots of angst, mentions of sexual relationships, slight mentions of misogyny, cursing, slut-shaming, mentions of divorce, toto is lowkey yearning through this messiness, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“do you have any idea how serious this is?”

you huff, rolling your eyes slightly, “i am quite aware.”

“you are actively engaging in a sexual relationship with the team principal of another–”

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“james,” a voice interjects, “do not make assumptions. we are not quite aware of the details or nature of their relationship.”

james scoffs, folding his arms across his chest, “i think i have a pretty good idea of the nature of their relationship. she fucking kissed him. in front of the entire world, nonetheless. it was not just a small peck either it–”

“james,” the voice’s tone shifts, hardened with a sternness, “she’s a twenty-two year old woman. she can speak for herself. i am aware that you are very passionate about the current reputation of the team, but i think we need to let her speak for herself, hmm? would you like to make a comment regarding the incident in monaco?”

your gaze falls on sir patrick head, co-founder of williams racing. surrounding you were members of the board, along with members of the management committee. all around, the paper white walls of the board room were blank, reminiscent of an interrogation room. the lack of notebooks, tablets, and laptops on the table were no help either, as you felt the entire focus of the room was lasered in on you. to your left was james, alex on your right.

marcus prosser, one of the heads of commercial and marketing sat across from you, his phone lying on the table, recording every single second of the ongoing conversation. you swallow the lump in your throat, shifting uneasily in your chair.

“do you want me to start from the beginning again or?”

“if you would like,” patrick shrugs, “you are not inclined to share every detail regarding your relationship with the mercedes team principal. we would like to know the gist of it, that’s all. is it strictly personal? borderline business? has he spoken of any future contract deals? that sort of thing.”

“well,” there was no reason to lie anymore, “after the first grand prix, in bahrain, he approached me. that was the beginning of our personal relationship.”

“did he mention any sort of thing about a future contract with mercedes?” marcus inquires, jotting down a few notes, “look, to put it plainly, the fia wants to ensure that your contract was not breached. that is the main thing that everyone is buzzing about. if he approached you with a contract deal and then began a personal relationship with you, then that’s textbook manipulation. mostly due to the fact that he was using the deal as leverage to kindle that relationship. and he deserves to be punished for that.”

“but what about me?” you raise a brow, “i consensually agreed to the personal relationship. i wanted–”

“you have to remember that you are thirty years younger than this man,” marcus’ voice is quiet, “he took advantage of you. he knew your age, and he began a relationship with you.”

“what happened to me being an adult?” you counter, “i am so sick of this bullshit that everyone is spreading around. i wanted a relationship with him. it wasn’t like he cornered me and demanded that we start seeing one another. it developed over time–”

“developed over time?” patrick’s brow furrow, “elaborate on that.”

“oh my god. i feel like we’ve been over this about a million times,” you exhale, “the relationship started in bahrain after the grand prix. we have been seeing one another in private since that night. i made things public in monaco. are we forgetting that here? that i was the person who initiated that kiss?”

“so in summary,” marcus clears his throat, his eyes honed in over the plethora of notes before him, “you placed eighth in bahrain. toto wolff approached you later that evening, stating that he wanted a personal relationship with you. in these last few weeks, the two of you have been engaged in a romantic relationship. is that correct?”

“let’s not forget that in that time, he did approach me inquiring about her contract,” james interrupts, “that was around jeddah or miami, i don’t really recall the details.”

“while i appreciate the statement,” marcus’ eyes narrow, glaring over at the team principal, “i was speaking to your driver.”

sucking in a breath, you nod, “everything we have discussed thus far has been answered to the best of my ability.”

“i see no further need for questioning,” marcus leans forward, pressing the stop icon on his screen, “if no parts of her contract have been breached, then i see no issue with their relationship. additionally, i trust that she has a good head on her shoulders and would not betray the team in any fashion. however, if there are future contract talks or negotiations, then you must facilitate a meeting with not only us and mercedes, but with the fia. they will want to ensure that you are not treated differently than any of the drivers or given perks that most drivers are not.”

“that’s it?” james coughs, “what about—“

“you can speak with her on your own accord,” patrick leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, “you have to remember james, she has won us a significant number of grand prixes. she is currently in first place for the title. and with her current trajectory, i do envision her standing on that podium, showered in champagne.”

“you see,” marcus taps his pen against the table, “if anyone’s reputation is suffering, it’s toto’s. he is the one who has a family. he is the one with an established career at mercedes. our american girl here, sponsors, investors, and the general public can forgive and forget. especially when there are world titles at stake.”

“but what about our team?” james retaliates, his voice growing louder with each and every word, “what about our reputation?”

“to be quite honest,” james, the other marketing head chips in, “we haven’t seen much talk regarding our reputation. most of the focus is on toto, like marcus said. additionally, imagine the publicity that are going to come out of this. drive to survive has already sent usa number of inquiries regarding an episode about our american girl. the fans are raving. in their words, they’re excited for the drama that will unfold in the coming season.”

“so to clarify,” you pipe up, “i’m not in trouble?”

“no, you’re not in any sort of trouble,” patrick’s voice was gentle as he spoke, “this is something that has never happened before in the history of formula one. there is sort of a grey area. at least, right now. per your contract, we cannot dictate who you can or cannot date. however, if you end up deciding that you would like to join toto at mercedes, please be as transparent with us as possible. additionally, be forewarned that the fia may not allow it due to conflict of interest.”

“right,” you nod, fiddling with your thumbs, “i thought i was going to lose my seat, if we’re being honest.”

“as long as you do not leak confidential team information with mr. wolff, then i do not see an issue with it,” patrick affirms, “we can’t afford to lose you. you’re our little shining star.”

at his tenderness in his words, tears brim your eyelids, threatening to spill over. your lower lip trembles, alex wrapping an arm around your shoulders as your voice shakes, “i-i can’t th-thank you guys enough. for everything. thank you for sticking by my side as we figure this mess out.”

“it’s not the worst we’ve seen,” a chuckle bubbles up in patrick’s throat, “sure, we may appear to have a no-nonsense policy, but we consider ourselves to be pretty flexible. also, this isn’t a mess. honey, it’s your personal life. of course we’re going to make sure that your well-being is prioritized. if you want to pursue a relationship with this man, we just want you to be happy.”

“besides,” marcus shoots you a wink, “it’s our job to keep the press at bay. if you would like, we can release a statement that we have thoroughly investigated the matter and will not make any further comments. that will keep the media satisfied until mercedes releases their own statement.”

“that would be nice,” you sniffle, wiping away a tear, “again, thank you so much. you guys have no idea how much this means to me.”

“we’re not going to force you to end things with someone just because you’re on different teams,” patrick rises to his feet, crossing over to you. patting your shoulder, he continues, the corners of lips curled into a sympathetic smile.

“besides, susie wolff worked with us for quite some time. although the circumstances are a little bit different this time around, this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a williams driver and a mercedes team principal involved in a romantic relationship.”

in the wake of monaco, it almost felt as if your little secret was completely exposed, for the entire world to pick apart and ridicule.

well, it was your fault, after all.

to make things worse, you could no longer seek out your escape, as he was thirty-nine miles away.

in the moments following the kiss, the wave of realization came crashing over the two of you, the cameras flashing, gasps arising from the crowd. you were whisked away by james, the image of toto almost disappearing as more and more journalists swarmed him, their phones and mics poised, eager for any sort of information regarding what just occurred.

it didn’t take long for the headlines to be blasted all across social media, tabloids, and any sort of press associated with the world of formula one.

toto wolff, team principal of mercedes-amg petronas, was deeply involved in an affair with the twenty-two year old williams driver.

to put it lightly, you spent the following hours sobbing in your motorhome, the guilt filling you to the brim, pouring out as the tears splattered all over your pillow.

alex was the first one to offer solace, reaching out hours after the monaco grand prix.

when you didn’t answer the phone after about sixty-seven calls, he showed up, flowers and snacks in hand, a mix of emotions painted across his features.

yet, the second he noticed the tears, he set the items down at the door, scooping you up in his arms, rubbing your back as the sobs rang out, filling the space with your wails.

“are you okay?”

“d-does it look i’m okay?”

“can i come in?”

“if you even want to talk to me right now. the entire world hates me.”

“even if the world hates you, i love you. let me in.”

so, you allowed him in, your walls crumbling completely as you started from the very beginning, recalling every possible detail. you began with bahrain, filling in the spaces through monaco, including the spat with daniel, as well as your time in brackley. at first, alex was stone-faced, taking it all in. however, once you were finished, wiping away your tears once again, he leaned over the couch, offering you a tissue.

“you’ve been wiping away your own tears the last few hours. let someone else do it for you this time.”

the only aspect you did not include was the offer to sign with mercedes. as much as you wanted to tell someone, to get that crushing weight off your chest, you knew you couldn’t. that was far too risky. well, not like there were many risks left. your biggest secret had been spilled to the entire world, no thanks to you.

so much for keeping things between the two of you.

as much as you wanted to believe that the other drivers despised you after monaco, that was far from the truth.

lando, charles, lewis, george, and oscar had reached out, mostly voicing their support. lando was shocked, but he was more concerned about your well-being. same with oscar and charles.

lewis and george on the other hand, had somehow gotten ahold of your number, leaving a series of voicemails.

hey, hey, hey. it’s lewis. george and i want to come over and talk for a little bit, if that’s okay? i promise we just want to comfort you. toto is not doing too well either. if you want, we can sneak him over here somehow. it may be kind of hard, but we’ll try our best to make it happen.

hello, it’s george. we know that you’re really in the chatting mood right now, but we want to come over and bring toto. we know you need him. we would just make sure that no one comes by or bothers the two of you. just let us know what’s the best option. i hope you’re okay.

however, you never called the british drivers back.

it wasn’t like you didn’t want them to bring toto or comfort you, it was just the matter at hand.

they didn’t deserve to be whisked into this.

and fuck, they sure as hell did not deserve any negative press if they were spotted around your motorhome or speaking with you.

sure, you were really fucking scared of was what to follow in terms of your future career following the kiss of monaco, but you were more apprehensive of the press. the fia was vicious at times, but nowhere near as ruthless as the headlines, articles, and videos the press created. if the fia was a storm, the press was a hurricane.

and sure enough, it seemed as if the media was never going to let this go. even though the entire grid was prepping for canada, here the press was, pestering you for comments or tidbits on your little “affair” with the team principal. they nearly salivated over it, the slightest morsel or crumb of information dramatized into a lengthy article or used for clickbait, generating thousands upon thousands of views.

you were called a slut. you were called a whore. you were referred to as a homewrecker. it was stated over and over again that you should never set foot in a garage or sit behind the wheel of a car ever again.

this is why women should not be in formula one. they fuck everyone and everything in sight. even married men.

god, what a fucking slimy slut. fucking a married man? breaking up a family? the fia should ban her from competing for the foreseeable future.

yet, the general public was unaware of one crucial piece of information.

toto wolff was a single man.

a very single man.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“i cannot believe you. i cannot fucking believe you.”

toto wolff sat in his office chair as a figure paced back and forth, shaking her head, her tone laced with a venomous barb.

before him stood susie wolff, her neatly cut hair bobbing as she moved, “toto, you have fucked up before, and i have happily stood behind you, supporting you with everything i have. but this? oh my god. oh my fucking god. this is absolutely atrocious.”

yet, the team principal’s mind was focused on other matters.

his mind wandered, relishing the way your plush lips felt in that moment in monaco. the way your arms were around his neck, pulling him closer and closer to you as your mouths molded together, his tongue slipping in as your head rolled back, granting him more access. the way your beautiful lashes fluttered. the way you marched up to him, determination deeply embedded across your gorgeous face. the way the entire world around slowed, the team principal completely lost in you as the cameras recorded, taking in every second of the kiss.

fuck, he missed you.

too much.

so much that he took every blow from susie’s frustration with ease, still as a statue as she continued on, the words drowning in his ears.

“are you even fucking listening to me right now?” the question snaps him out of his trance, the team principal blinking.

“sure.”

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” she growls, pointing a finger at him, “do you have any idea how much this has diminished our reputation? our marriage?”

“what marriage? we’ve been divorced for some time, susie.”

“the marriage we’ve been putting on for the cameras!” the blonde exhales, bringing a hand to her temple, “we’re supposed to be happily married, toto. or was that something that slipped your mind as you were fucking that little american driver? in our home, nonetheless.”

at the sheer spite in her tone, the team principal’s jaw clenches, “you have no idea what you’re talking–”

“i know you toto,” fingers massage her temple, “it’s pretty obvious that you’re screwing her. if you weren’t, you would have dropped her like a fucking hat the moment she pulled that little stunt in monaco.”

since monaco, the days blurred together.

how was he supposed to rebuild his broken reputation, his shattered world when you were thirty-nine miles away?

well, not like there was much to repair.

after the incident, the team principal was thoroughly investigated by mercedes, as well as the fia. he answered every single one of their questions with his full capabilities, ensuring to include every detail that would grant him some grace. well, there were a few things he left out.

one, your visit to brackley.

two, the numerous conversations involving his offer to sign you with mercedes.

three, the fact that you were joining him at mercedes for the 2025 season, driving alongside george russell.

there were no recorded conversations, messages, or evidence proving that he was planning to sign you. so, there were no repercussions. the only incident found was the time he spoke with james, inquiring about the details of your current contract.

sure, toto was a little careless when it came to keeping things private.

but he was not an idiot.

he was not going to lose his job over this, that was for sure. if the fia was to discover about his offer to make you a world champion at mercedes, he would be terminated immediately. so, that part was to remain in the dark.

at least, for the time being.

after speaking with the board members of williams racing, mercedes made it very clear that if there were to be talks of signing the american driver, or even hints of wanting her to join the team, then it needed to be officiated among both teams, in a space where the conversation could be recorded. there were to be no special perks, exceptions, or favoritism towards the driver. each and every aspect of a future contract would be detailed in a manner to ensure fairness and equality.

additionally, since this was one of the first few times that a team principal was involved in a romantic relationship with a driver, there were not a lot of rules or regulations regarding the subject. the fia made it clear that they truly had no direction or idea of how to go about the matter. and since it was not a prominent issue in the world of racing, they were going to leave it up to the teams to deal with the matter.

thank god for the gray areas.

yet, there were repercussions. consequences of his actions.

and one of those repercussions was standing before him, her eyes narrowed, her brows knit together, foot tapping against the floor.

“toto, just tell me this one thing.”

“and that is?” toto presses, leaning back in his chair.

susie inhales a sharp breath, her fiery gaze breaking away from the team principal as she stares at the floor, eyes glossy from the promise of tears.

“are you in love with her?”

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#toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #alkaline: female driver! x toto wolff #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x y/n #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #alex albon #george russell #lewis hamilton #williams racing #mercedes amg petronas

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

I saw ur taking miguel requests!!! 🫢how about grumpy x sunshine trope with miguel trying to ignore his feeling for r (who doesn’t hide hers) until one day he just snaps bc she’s so perfect that if he doesn’t kiss her he’ll explode

AN | My first attempt at Miguel, but I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Miguel x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You know, Miguelito," you popped up behind him and caused him to start slightly. He cringed at the fact that one, he hadn't heard you coming, and two, that you were there, "you'd be pretty cute if you weren't so grumpy all the time."

He made a small sound of frustration as you made one of satisfaction. There was almost nothing you loved as much as getting under his skin with your eternal cheeriness.

"You'd be a lot more tolerable if you weren't so obnoxious all the time," he huffed as he walked past you, leaving you staring after his tall, brooding figure. His lack of response and disinterest weren't enough to detour you. You followed after him, a small skip in your step as you picked a few sunflowers from one of the market stalls, leaving behind a large bill for the owner.

It took a few beats to catch up to the man but you soon fell into stride next to him. He turned his head towards you, raising an eyebrow in question but otherwise remained silent. You took the bright, fresh flowers and pointedly pressed them into his hand. They had felt so large in your grasp but were practically tiny in his hold.

"Why?" He grunted as you smiled brightly at him. His stomach churned with what he was positive was sheer annoyance.

"Why not?" You moved so you were in front of him and started walking backwards. You could feel a few annoyed passersby step out of your way, grumbling but you weren't bothered. It was a beautiful, summer day and you were enjoying it with Miguel. He might have been your neighbor and reluctant friend, but you held a great amount of feelings for him, "everyone deserves something a little special now and then."

"Not-"

"Even you, Miguel O'Hara," even if he'd never admit it to another living person, or even out loud to himself, he thought you had the prettiest smile, "you're a good man, Miguel. Even if you don't want to see it. And just so you can't say no, I'm telling - not asking - you to come to dinner at mine on Friday. A few of the neighbors are coming too. Be there or be square!"

You offered him a parting wave before darting away and leaving him alone with nothing but his flowers and thoughts. Miguel let out a long, heavy sigh as he watched you go until you disappeared into the crowd. You often made comments about how good of a man he was; he wondered what you would think if you ever learned that he was Spider-Man.

A heavy sigh escaped him as started walking towards the office where he worked at his day job. It might have been mundane and mind-numbing but sometimes he appreciated the monotony it provided compared to, you know, running a team of spider-people.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Today, however, he was very unthankful for the quiet and stillness. It allowed his mind to reel all over the place and somehow, annoyingly in his book, everything went back to you. You were so…incessantly happy, bright, and kind. It was almost disgusting but he loved it. Ugh. That realization practically made him nauseous.

He stared at his computer screen blankly but his attention shifted to the vase now containing the flowers you'd gifted him. His fingers drummed along the top of his desk, and he couldn't help but think of the smile on your face as you'd given to him. You looked so pretty today, all cute in a summer dress and sandals, with your beautiful face and perfect hair.

And your lips…they'd looked so glossy and plump. He wondered what they would feel like and what you'd taste like and - wait.

No. No, no, no. He shouldn't be having thoughts and feelings like this. He was definitely just having a moment. He felt nothing for you besides the appropriate friendly neighbor feelings. Right? Right.

He was just a normal guy that was totally normal about you. Besides, he was positive that whatever odd flutters he was experiencing was probably something bad he ate earlier. Yeah.

"O'Hara?" Miguel snapped out of his daze as he looked up to find his coworker standing in the doorway of his office, "everything alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" His voice was pitched about two octaves higher than normal and his cheeks darkened.

"No reason," Diego shook his head in amusement, "just seem a little distracted is all. Nice flowers - your girl get you those?"

"She's not my girl," he almost choked on the words. His heart felt like it was fluttering around his chest with nerves, "she's just…my friend."

"Whatever you say man," Diego held up his hand in a small little salute before darting down the hall. He'd rather not be on the wrong side of Miguel's annoyance.

The man in question, meanwhile, was left staring at the space Diego formerly occupied. Was it…were his feelings that obvious? Whatever those feelings were anyway. Did you like him more than a friend? Surely not. But…if other people thought that there was more than friendship between the two of you, maybe there was something. Maybe…

"Fuck," he scrubbed a hand over his tired face. There was way more going on in his head than there should have been.

He hated it. He hated the fact that he'd probably been blind this whole time even more.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time Miguel showed up at your apartment on Friday, it had been a whole two days since you'd seen him. Two days too long you would argue.

He'd arrived almost an hour earlier than you'd had expected with an anxious smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. These were daisies mixed with other seasonal flowers - your favorites. You'd mentioned them maybe once in passing but he'd remembered. You knew that this was no accident.

"Hey there," you welcomed him inside, noting that there was something different about him today. Something just slightly…off, "you're early, Miguelito."

"Came to see if you needed some help with anything," he admitted sheepishly, watching as you gently took the flowers and put them into a vase before displaying them on the countertop. A shiver ran down his spine at your reverent actions, "and wanted to come and annoy you."

"Well, you're out of luck," you offered him a cheeky little grin, "you could never annoy me. So."

"So…" he snorted in amusement as you motioned for him to come around the counter so he could help you. You set him up with chopping veggies for a salad before turning back to finish your desserts.

"Can I ask you something?" your voice almost dropped to a whisper as you focused on the task at hand and all but refused to look him in the face.

"You just did," there was a teasing lilt to his voice as you groaned at his terrible little joke, "but you can ask me something else."

You were silent for a few moments, carefully mulling over your words. But then - you decided just to go for it, "how long have you been Spider-Man?"

You felt him stiffen, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he balked at you. There was at least part of your answer; you knew that you were right on the money. After a few moments of floundering he set down his knife and turned to you, "I-I have no clue what you're talking about. But you're funny! I mean me being Spider-Man? That's-"

"A true story?" You turned so you were facing him head on and crossed your arms over your chest. This was turning out to be thoroughly entertaining, "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not dumb."

"How did you…you know?" His shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh escaped him. It had been a long time since he'd shared his secret identity with anyone else. Sure, he had his team of elite spider-people, but no one else knew. There was a bit of him that was relieved to have someone else know. It made him feel so vulnerable but so…alive.

"I wasn't born yesterday," you nudged his arm and he let out a huff of air that you figured was amusement, "let's see - the mysterious injuries, the coming and going at odd hours, you 'happen' to be near anything bad that occurs…"

"Those could be…coincidences."

"And I've seen your suit," you turned to him with your hands on your hips and a little smirk on your features. Miguel's eyes widened in surprise as instinctively looked down at himself to make sure he wasn't wearing it, "you're not the best at hiding it under your clothes. Don't worry, I don't think anyone else has noticed. I'm pretty sure no one's looking at you how I do."

"And how is that?" He was practically vibrating with nervous anticipation. The idea that you were watching him in any sense made him feel electric, "how do you look at me?"

"Miguelito," you put your hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, "you don't really need me to answer that, do you? You're a smart man after all."

"Oh," he nodded as though he understood what you were saying but you could practically see the gears in his turning as he processed your words, "oh. Oh?"

"Oh," you teased, giving his chest a playful shove. Not that it mattered, he was built like a mountain and didn't move an inch, "are we on the same page now?"

"Y-yeah," he answered while every single alarm in his mind and body was going off. Did you…had you really just confessed that you liked him without saying it?

Maybe you'd meant you'd liked as a friend. Surely -

"Not as a friend," you answered for him, turning back to your dessert. You couldn't deny that you were enjoying this just a little too much.

"Are you a mind reader now?"

"Nope," you smiled sweetly, "I just happen to know you well. You're not as mysterious as you like to think. Not to me anyway."

He hummed in response as he leaned against the counter. He had the desperate urge to turn you around and kiss you dizzy. He'd been thinking about it for so long now, even if he'd never admit it to himself. Honestly - he'd dreamed of doing the same thing, and then some.

He'd been lying to himself for so long now that it had become his truth and his armor. In the past, when he'd let people in and opened his heart to them, bad things always happened. It never ended well for him or anyone else. And he wasn't about to be the source of anyone else's pain…not again.

And you. You were so kind and sweet and lovely, a practical ray of sunshine and he was afraid that he'd just bring you down. That's why he'd put up a wall between the two of you. That's why he'd been lying for so long now. If anything happened to you…he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from that.

"You're thinking much too loudly," you turned and mirrored his position. He easily dwarfed you, which made you chuckle to yourself, "don't shut me out, Miguel. Talk to me."

He met your eyes and swallowed thickly before nodding in response. You offered him a small smile, hoping to coax him out of his shell.

"I want to kiss you."

Now that caught you off guard. He sounded so positive and unsure at the same time that it made your heart melt. You were about to say something but he quickly cut you off as he took your face in his hands, his touch gentle as he brushed his thumb over your cheek.

Your mouth parted in surprise before forming a small pout as you looked at him. You were going to be the death of him, he was sure about that. But it would be a sweet, wonderful death.

"Miguel?" Your voice sounded so small and gentle as you waited for his next move.

And then he did it - he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and gentle against yours. He was hesitant at first, making sure it was okay to even kiss you but when you melted into him and sighed softly, he knew he was doing the right thing.

His large hands found your hips as he effortlessly picked you up and set you on the counter. You looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, eagerly to finally experience his touch.

It felt so right, kissing him, like you'd been doing for so long and it was second nature for you. He kissed you until you were left dizzied and breathless, looking up at him with starry eyes.

"Are you okay?" He ghosted his fingertips along your jaw, admiring your pretty face as you tried to catch your breath.

"Yes," you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrists as he rest his hand on your cheek, "took you long enough."

"Yeah well…" he rolled his eyes playfully as you laughed softly, "you know how I am."

"Stubborn? Thick skulled? Bull headed?" You raised an eyebrow as he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah," he agreed, "all of that."

He kissed you more, stepping into between your legs as you sighed into him. This was definitely going to be your favorite place in the world - his arms.

"I really like doing this," you pulled back but rested your hand on his chest, "but people are going to be here soon so we should probably finish dinner."

"Fine," now that he knew what you were like, he was addicted. He needed more, he wanted to know all of you in all the ways, "but this is far from over."

"Oh, I'm counting on that," you brushed a hand through his dark locks before kissing his cheek, "I'd be disappointed if this was it."

"Yeah," he let out a long exhale followed by a small laugh, "me too."

"What caused you to finally….realize?"

"You drive me crazy," he eyed you with eager eyes as you slid off the counter, "all the time. It just all made sense. So."

"So," you echoed and the two of you exchanged a small giggle, "hurry up, O'Hara. The sooner we finish all this up, the sooner people leave, the sooner we can-"

You didn't have to finish your sentence - he was already back to furiously chopping the vegetables.

You were glad the two of you were finally on the same page.

So was he.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #across the spider verse

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avis-writeshq · 11 months

Text

02 — haunted

summary: “something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst warnings: rated 16+ for alcohol, religious talk (inaccurate portrayal of Christianity), vomit, INCREDIBLY CANON COMPLIANT ‼️IF YOU WERE TRIGGERED BY S2 EP15 REVELATIONS IN CRIMINAL MINDS, DO NOT READ THIS‼️ wc: 10.1k a/n: another special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading and hyping me up!! love you loads zahra 🤎 (she's also doing an AMAZING derek morgan series that i have the honour in beta-in so if you have time please do check it out!! it is an absolute work of art) SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

There is never a dull day when working at the BAU. After weeks of cases and paperwork, a night out was exactly what everyone needed. A place to get drunk, have fun and unwind– and O'Keefe's was the exact place to do just that.

“You know, you can at least try to look like you’re having fun,” Emily muses, nudging your shoulder.

Emily joined the team soon after Elle had resigned, and as much as you missed your friend, you enjoyed Emily’s company. She’s too observant for her own good; grinning at you from across the room whenever you have the slightest interaction with certain people. She’s a brilliant addition to the team, much to your chagrin, but you know it’s all in good fun. Well, all in good fun for her.

You shoot her a playful glare, sipping on your drink. “I am having fun!”

“Liar,” Emily says instantly, grinning at you. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you deny, “I’m just tired. Things have been… busy to say the least. I’m just glad that the team is getting some R&R. Well deserved, might I add. How are you? You know, with joining the team and all that.”

She smiles in your direction before downing a shot and shrugging. “It’s been good! Yeah, everyone is so… welcoming. It’s nice.”

“Different to a desk job?” You ask with a teasing lilt in your voice.

Emily laughs softly. “Yeah, totally.”

Your gaze shifts to where Spencer is sitting, for once enjoying himself in such a crowded area. He’s talking to two strangers at a table, his hands gesticulating as he explains something and the two people seem thoroughly amused.

“So… Spencer, huh?”

You frown. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Emily laughs, “You’re staring at him with heart eyes. Anyone can tell. Except for him, apparently.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For a profiler, you’re a horrible liar.”

You let out something that sounds akin to a dying cow, turning your attention back to your drink. Your attention wavers and it shifts back to Spencer who is enthusiastically talking about something to the two amused guests. He grins at them as they drink, his own cup still full. Derek is thoroughly enjoying himself as he dances with a group of girls, and you can see Aaron and Haley dancing together on the floor as well. It’s wholesome, seeing everyone in their casual wear and just having fun.

“You should talk to him,” Emily tries again, nudging you. “I’ll buy you a drink if you do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re bribing me to talk to my best friend?”

“I’m bribing you to give me entertainment,” she corrects, laughing.

“You’re horrible,” you tell her, smiling, as you walk past her in Spencer’s direction. “I expect that drink to be delivered to me.”

“Deal!” She calls after you, downing a shot as she watches you.

Spencer smiles when he sees you make your way over to him, shuffling his chair to the side to give you more room.

“Hi,” he murmurs, pulling your seat closer to him. “Having fun?”

“I should be asking that to you,” you respond, smiling. The two people he was once talking to take their leave, giggling about something you couldn’t quite make out. “I didn’t mean to scare away your company.”

He immediately shakes his head at your words. “I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

You can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face or the way your cheeks heat up and you cough. “Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

Spencer laughs, his hand gravitating to your knee and he squeezes good-naturedly. “You exceed them.”

You think he’s trying to kill you and you swear you stop breathing as you choke out, “I’m glad.”

It isn’t long before Emily makes good on her promise, and a waiter appears on your left. He presents a drink to your table, the glass adorned with a lemon rind and a raspberry, and you eagerly take a gulp.

Spencer frowns a little as he watches you drink. “Aren’t you going to question who it’s from?”

“I know who it’s from,” you respond cheerfully, letting out a contented sigh. You offer the drink to him, moving the straw so that it’s pointing in his direction. “Want some?”

He eyes the pink drink suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s a Pink Bikini!” You chirp, sipping the drink again. “Like… coconut rum, raspberries, and lemonade. It’s good, Spence, you can barely taste the alcohol.”

His nose scrunches at the idea of coconut rum. “I dunno.”

“You’re not gonna get drunk from one sip,” you protest happily, a little tipsy. “It’s good! Besides, how do you know you’re not going to like it if you never try it?”

“You’re literally drunk right now!” He points out, laughing a little and moving the drink out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“That’s only because I had a couple drinks earlier,” you argue, lunging for the glass. You’re quick but Spencer is quicker (and taller), and he chugs the drink before slamming it back onto the table. “Spencer!”

He grins at you, smacking his lips as he plays with the paper straw. “I’m protecting you, (Y/N). Who knows what you would’ve done if you drank any more.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chastise half-heartedly, “I was thirsty.”

“I have water,” he says, fishing a plastic bottle out of his satchel. He cracks the lid open, taking a sip himself before passing it to you. “Drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol can lead to dehydration. Drinking water slows down this effect, allowing the liver to metabolise the alcohol that was already consumed. This also means you won’t have as bad a hangover tomorrow morning.”

You beam at him, taking tentative sips from his water bottle. The fact that you’re drinking from the same bottle as him is not lost on you, nor the fact that he finished your drink by using your straw– your lipgloss stained straw– and he didn’t even bat an eye.

“What would I do without you?” You croon, handing his bottle back.

“Probably die of dehydration,” he responds, taking one last gulp of water, before returning the bottle back to his bag.

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” you laugh again, beaming at him. You’re not sure if it’s from the drinks, but you can feel your cheeks begin to flush. Did it get hotter in here?

“Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we have a case,” JJ pats your shoulder sympathetically, frowning. “Horrible timing, but it’s urgent.”

You all but whine. “But I’m tipsy.”

“I’ve got aspirin in my bag,” JJ says, “you’ll be fine.”

“Stupid serial killer,” you huff, getting up from your seat. “They owe me a day off.”

***

“You know it never fails. Just as I’m getting my groove thang going, bam! We’re back at the BAU,” Derek says, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee and sitting at the roundtable.

Spencer shrugs. “You know, statistically, a case doesn’t come in with any more frequency if you’re at a party or gathering than if you aren’t. It’s a… trick of the mind. We merely remember the ones that came in that way more.”

“Besides, how long does it take for you to get your ‘groove thang’ going anyway?” You tease, sipping from your own cup of coffee, and Emily cackles from beside you.

“Only when he’s sleeping,” Gideon comments, walking into the conference room and taking off his coat.

Hotch’s brows raise in a mixture of surprise and concern. “Where were you tonight?”

“I told you, I went to the Smithsonian,” he grunts as he sits into his chair.

“You missed a good time,” Emily insists, smiling.

“I had a good time,” Gideon responds, his attention turning back to the screen where JJ was getting ready to present the latest case.

“Well, that’s definitely over,” she says, flicking the screen on. “Georgia. The Kyles– Dennis and Lacy– were murdered an hour ago in the suburban Atlanta home.”

Hotch’s brows raise in surprise. “An hour ago?”

JJ nods. “Police were on the scene unusually fast.”

“Why?” Derek asks, leaning over the table.

“One of the UnSubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.”

You huff out a laugh in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“From inside the house.” JJ purses her lips, gesturing to the transcript that was printed out in their files. “According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there.”

“‘Sinners’?” Hotch echoes.

JJ nods again, a grimace painted over her features. “The 911 centre is going to send Garcia the tape.”

“How fast was the police response time?” Spencer asks, glancing at the screen.

“Four minutes, twenty-six seconds. During which time Raphael was able to do…” JJ clicks a button on the remote and an array of gruesome crime scene photos popped up onto the screen. “This.”

“In four and a half minutes?” Emily asks incredulously, frowning.

Garcia immediately turns away from the screen, clutching her mug closer to her chest. You can’t help but cringe as well from the violence presented in the photos: blood everywhere, smeared across the walls and floors of the house, and the victims lifeless.

“Mr. Kyle is a dot-com millionaire. His company is one of the largest employers in the community. There’s going to be media coverage. Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

Another image appears on the screen, this time a page of the Bible placed into a plastic evidence bag with a certain section highlighted.

“Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8,” Hotch reads for the rest of the team.

Derek can’t help but scoff. “They’re killing sinners.”

“These guys are on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing,” Spencer says with a wince.

“‘And I looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was Death,” Hotch begins, eyes trained on the Bible page.

Gideon continues, his voice quiet and grim, “And Hell followed with him.”

***

You sigh tiredly as you slump into the seat beside Spencer, playing with the cap of your water bottle. The sky outside is painted in oranges and purples as the sun begins to rise, and you try to hold back the frustrated groan when you see the blaring ‘4:22AM’ flash on your watch.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks quietly, looking over at you.

You shake your head, running your fingers through your hair. “I just… I have a bad feeling about this case. There’s something… off about it.”

He hums in thought, “we’ve dealt with religious motives before, though.”

“I know but just–” you huff, leaning against the headrest. “It’s just weird. I mean, usually if one of the UnSubs were partnered with someone who was a liability, they’d eliminate them. But that’s just not happening here.”

“Don’t think about the case,” Spencer says gently, resting the palm of his hand flat against your knee. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”

When you don’t respond, he pokes your cheek gently shooting you a lopsided smile. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope it will be,” you respond quietly, moving so that your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “But you saw those images; what the UnSubs can do in less than five minutes. I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before but–”

“(Y/N).” He squeezes your knee again and you flush as he continues to speak. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be back home before you know it. Trust me.”

You nod, although you can’t shake this feeling off. “Promise you’ll be safe?”

Spencer smiles at you. “Promise.”

***

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter, turning away as the video of Mr. Kyle being murdered plays on repeat. Your stomach churns at the mere mental image that pops up in your mind, and a chill run downs your spine.

The case is a lot more gruesome than you expected it to be, especially when it came to the team’s attention that a video of the murder was circulating the internet. The video was currently being played on loop, with the voice of the UnSubs playing out of the computer. You thought you saw it all but this was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

That is, until Spencer stood from his seat.

“Agent Franks?” He whispers, looking towards the lead detective. “Does this building have wireless internet?”

Agent Franks nods. “Yeah. Why?”

Spencer swallows, gesturing to the computer. “That camera’s on right now. The computer has connected itself to the internet; it’s streaming a video feed somewhere.”

Hotch’s concern only deepens, along with the frown on his face. “Can we trace the stream to the destination?”

“If we keep it open, Garcia might be able to–” Spencer begins, only to be cut off by a beeping from the computer.

In bright red lettering, the words: ‘THE ARMIES OF SATAN SHALL NOT PREVAIL’ flash against the black screen before turning off.

“So, they’re controlling it remotely?” Hotch asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that even possible?” Emily asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, you can totally access someone’s computer remotely. It’s actually done a lot today when a mortal calls for tech support. Instead of giving you instructions the tech can work on your computer from wherever she is,” Garcia explains through the phone.

“And they maintain the access even after the work is done?” Hotch asks.

“They’re not supposed to, but I suppose you could install a Trojan horse.”

Spencer turns to Gideon. “Something left in the computer to be turned on later. It’s the same way that websites get pop-up ads onto your computer.”

“Garcia can you check the Kyles’ phone records and see if they called tech support in the last six months?” Hotch requests as he flips through the Kyle family’s folder.

“Right-o. Oh, and if you get me the laptop I can search the drive for anything implanted there.”

Hotch nods. “As fast as we can.”

“By the way, this video? It’s gone crazy viral.”

Gideon frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That means it’s the most downloaded video on the entire Internet. Worldwide. And judging by the responses people seem to think it’s pretty cool.”

“Call us if you find anything on the Kyles’ computer,” Hotch mutters, before the phone hangs up.

“Honestly, they probably don’t even realise that the video is real,” you say quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I mean, you see a video on the internet. The last thing you’d think is that it’s actual people being murdered.”

“They probably think that it’s marketing for a horror film or something,” JJ adds on, but the look on her face is just as disgusted.

“Well, the UnSubs were right about one thing,” Derek mutters, nodding grimly. “The world is pretty screwed up.”

***

After hours of going through files and trying to find a paper trail, you’re left with a mountain of paperwork in front of you and sore eyes. You press the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eyes, slumping over the table.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and you peek a look at him. “Hm?”

A takeaway cup of coffee is placed in front of you and you immediately perk up. He chuckles softly, patting your head. “You looked like you needed it.”

You spy the name written across the paper cup and frown. “It’s your coffee.”

“You need it more than me,” he says honestly, smiling. “Besides, I’m okay.”

You take a tentative sip of the drink, the sweetness of the sugar overwhelming the bitter taste of the coffee but you don’t mind it. Instead, you didn’t actually mind it; especially because it’s from him.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “We can share it if you want.”

He shakes his head ‘no’, turning back to the files on the page. “Where did you get up to?”

“Nowhere special. Agent Franks is right; there’s nothing in any of the files relating to knife fights that are remotely similar to the case,” you say, slumping against the table and leaning your head on your arm. “I’ve got six or so left to go through but I’m not getting much luck anyway.”

At that moment, JJ enters the room, holding another cream coloured file. “What if we were looking at this the wrong way?”

Hotch turns to her. “What do you mean?”

“I looked for unsolved home invasions. Three months ago there was a prowler called in directly outside of the Kyles’ house.”

Your brows knit together at her words and look up at her. “A prowler?”

JJ nods. “The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park. Going back to his car, he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the police got there, the prowler was gone.”

“Only one man?” Hotch asks.

“Apparently.”

“Was the witness able to describe the man?” Spencer questions.

JJ looks into the papers before shaking her head. “If he did, it’s not in this case file.

Hotch looks at JJ then back at the corkboard. “Is there a name and address to the witness?”

“Tobias Hankel,” JJ reads. “Lives about an hour from here.”

Hotch lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a long shot, but he might be able to give us a description. Why don’t you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr Hankel, and see if he remembers anything.”

You immediately frown, perking up at his words. “I can go too, sir. There’s a safety in numbers.”

“You’re exhausted and we need you here,” Hotch says, immediately shutting your suggestion down. “We don’t need three people to talk to a witness.”

Your face falls and your stomach churns. “I understand that, sir, but it’s late and wouldn’t it be safer if more people go?”

“We’ll be fine,” Spencer reassures, squeezing your arm. “We’ll be armed and we’ve got our phones.”

A small breath escapes you and you nod slowly, chewing your bottom lip. “Okay. Be safe.”

He smiles. “I will.”

JJ snickers lightly, turning to Hotch. “Be safe,” she echoes, grinning.

Hotch can’t help but chuckle as he returns with, “I’ll be so safe.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

JJ grins. “But how will that keep us safe?”

You throw an eraser at her shoulder in response and she laughs loudly, walking out of the room. Spencer squeezes your arm again, rubbing your shoulder through the fabric of his jumper before following after her.

It isn’t long before the lead detective rushes into the room, his words flying out of his mouth. “Agent Hotchner, we got another murder.”

***

“Tobias Hankel is the UnSub.”

Five words is all it takes for your world to come crashing down around you. Hankel? The UnSub? Your mouth is dry as the head detective explains about the dogs and you think you’re going to throw up. Your mind spins and your chest pounds with anxiety because oh God, what’s going to happen to the others?

“We sent Spencer and JJ there,” you whisper, your throat closing up. You tug desperately at your collar, trying to breathe. “Oh my God, we sent them there. We sent them there.”

“Hey, hey,” Derek is quick to ground you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “They’ll be okay. It’s Spencer Genius Reid and Jennifer Bad-ass Jareau. They’ll be okay.”

You shake your head firmly, pulling away from his grasp and clutching your head. “I should be there with them. I should have gone with them. We don’t know what Tobias is capable of, Morgan, something could have happened to them.”

“We’re dispatching police now,” the detective says, getting off the phone.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and you try to keep your breathing steady. It doesn’t work. The room is spinning and you can’t see straight. The words your team are trying to get through to you fades into background noise and you let out a choked sob.

“They could be–” Your words don’t make it off your tongue and you turn, gesturing to the black screen that was once playing the video of the woman and the dogs. “Oh my God.”

“(Y/N),” Emily holds your shoulders tightly, her words a mixture of firmness and care as she tries to snap you out of it. “They’re going to be okay. We have to go there now.”

“They can’t be gone. Spencer can’t be gone,” you say, more to yourself than anything. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. We have to find them.”

The others don’t need to be told twice. You get into the passenger seat with Emily, trying to calm your breathing. One hour is too long. Why does Tobias have to live so far away? You press the palm of your hand to your mouth, the lump in your throat getting bigger. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as the world becomes a blur of flashing lights and you try not to cry. It’s your fault. You should have been there with him. There’s safety in numbers. Why didn’t you trust your gut?

“Don’t do that,” Emily says sternly, gripping the wheel tighter.

You can’t bring yourself to respond, merely shaking your head adamantly.

“Stop blaming yourself,” Emily tries again, glancing at you for a second before turning her attention back to the road. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should be there with them.” Your voice cracks pathetically and you wipe furiously at your eyes.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.”

She looks at you again. “Stop. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”

The rest of the car ride is silent. You’ve learned that this is the hardest part of the job: losing someone. Losing someone because of a job. It seems ridiculous, considering that it’s something so miniscule in the grand scheme of things, and yet it is the most common factor in divorces. A lack of commitment. Instead of committing to something that actually matters and can’t be replaced, their attention turns to something so lacklustre. If Spencer were here he would tell you the exact statistics. If Spencer were here, you wouldn’t even need to think about the statistics.

The sound of sirens echo through the once quiet country area and the police officers file out of their cars. You fasten your Kevlar vest over your chest hastily, fumbling with the clasps as you jump out of the car.

“John, Bobby, take the house with Hotch, Gideon and (L/N),” the captain orders, pointing towards the house.

Your stomach lurches as Hotch busts the door open, and you move upstairs with your gun pointed out.

“Clear!” You yell, rendezvousing with Hotch and Gideon soon after.

“Downstairs is clear,” Hotch says, nodding towards you.

“Then where the hell is he?” Gideon mutters, looking around the rooms of the house.

The blood rushes to your ears and the air grows thick. You can’t breathe. The house is unmaintained with mould growing in the corners of the rooms and dust gathering on the shelves, the paint on the walls cracking from water damage. Your eyes sting as the air pricks at your skin, and your legs carry you down the stairs and out the house.

“JJ,” you breathe, your eyes wide as you meet the blonde sitting at the back of an ambulance. You pull her into a hug. “You’re okay.”

It’s a different JJ to what you’re used to. She’s always been put together with not a hair out of place. She’s usually so full of life and mirth, bringing a sense of serenity and security when you need it most but this…

Her blue eyes are red and puffy from crying and she’s shaking miserably against your body. She scratches at her wrists and picks at the bandages, her bottom lip trembling. Her gun is set beside her, not in the holster she usually carries it in.

“(Y/N),” she sobs, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” You demand. “Where’s Spencer?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I tried–”

“Where is he, Jennifer?” You ask, pulling away from her like she burned you. “Where is he?”

She sobs again, clutching her head. “I don’t know, we separated–”

“What do you mean you separated?!” You’re trying not to scream. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. Spencer is gone. He’s gone. “Why would you do that?”

Jennifer lets out a wail, trying to explain herself through broken words. “We didn’t– he said– I’m sorry I’m sorry–”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring him here, does it?” The words are harsh and low, and you tug at your collar again. “He’s not here, Jennifer! Does that mean nothing to you?!”

“(L/N), that’s enough.”

Hotch’s voice makes you snap your head in his direction and you see red.

“I told you I should have gone with them,” you snap, and it doesn’t even occur to you that this man is your boss. “If I went with them, Spencer would still be here right now!”

“(L/N).”

“No.” You glare at him menacingly, too deep in your anger to even comprehend anything else. “He should be here right now! He should– he should be spouting out statistics or coming up with some theory! He should be here and he’s not!”

“We’ll find him. Trust me.”

“I did!” You yell, your voice fervent. “I trusted your judgement! And look where that got us. Spencer is gone. He’s not here, Hotch, because I trusted you!”

“(Y/N), enough.” Hotch is firm and he stares you down. “That is enough, do I need to remind you who you are speaking to?”

In an instant you stop, your heart lurching and you quiver. “... This is my fault.”

He immediately shakes his head no. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with him. I should have– it’s my fault. It’s my fault.” Your eyes well with tears and you tug at your hair erratically. “He can’t be gone. He’s not gone. He’ll figure something out. Why didn’t I do something? I should have–”

“Stop it. (Y/N), stop.” Hotch grips your shoulders squarely, bending down so that he’s eye level with you. “Take deep breaths.”

Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, hot ragged breaths leaving your lips shakily as you cover your face with the palms of your hands. Tears fall down your cheeks and gather in your hands as you make a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. It’s all too much. The sky is pitch black and the feeling of cold rain stings and bites your skin. The sounds of sirens fade away and for a moment it’s just quiet. Quiet, except for the words and the voices that swirl in your mind.

“A man that matches Hankel’s description was spotted in the next town over.”

Derek’s words bring you out of your thoughts and you manage a soft, “What?”

“Alright,” Hotch nods, before turning back to you. “Go back to the police department.”

“What?” Your ears are ringing. You must have heard wrong. “No. No, no, I can’t– no, Hotch, I’m not going back to the police department. Spencer is missing.”

“You’re too close to the case.”

A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you stare at him. “We’re all too close to the case, Hotch. Look around!”

“You attacked JJ and you raised your voice at me. I want you to go back to the police department and work the case from there.” He speaks to you as if he were speaking to a child and it makes you feel sick.

“Oh, so you’re punishing me?”

“No, I’m using you,” he says firmly, and then his voice softens. “It won’t do you any good to be here, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Aaron,” you try again, your voice wavering. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Go back and find us something that we can use.” He turns to one of the policemen. “Make sure she gets there.”

The policeman nods, tipping his hat, and gesturing for you to follow him.

“Wait I– let me talk to JJ. I need– just, please,” you say quickly, clearing your throat. “Sir.”

He’s sceptical before nodding. “Go ahead.”

You don’t need to be told twice. In moments you turn back to the ambulance, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”

JJ shakes her head adamantly. “No, you’re right. It was my fault.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “I know Spencer and I know you. It was… probably his idea to split up.”

She smiles wryly, fiddling at the bandage on her arm.

“It’s not your fault,” you say again. You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore. “You went through something too and I ignored that and that wasn’t right of me. I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffles, pursing her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond quietly, patting her arm. “I need to go. Um, Hotch wants me off the case, or something.”

She nods. “Okay.”

You look at her again, the guilt building like bile in your stomach. “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she whispers, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “We’ll find him.”

You don’t respond.

***

Everything hurts. His head is pounding and he can feel the sticky blood drip from the side of his head and against his cheek. His feet hurt from each thwack of wood, and his wrists hurt from the handcuffs. It’s cold. So, so cold, and he feels so weak. No amount of knowledge or training could have prepared him for this.

Spencer’s throat throbs from crying. No matter how many times he tries to convince whatever personality is taking over Tobias, it never seems to work. What’s the point of being a profiler if he can’t even save himself?

The creaking of the door brings him out of his thoughts and he jolts. Tobias, at least who appears to be Tobias, enters the room carrying a slaughtered animal. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine and all he can do is watch.

“You need to eat,” the man says, his voice strangely soft and oddly calm.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, his voice small.

The man looks back at him. “Tobias.”

“Tobias, who was here before?” The fear is obvious in his voice and Spencer just wishes for an ounce of Hotch’s stoicism or Derek’s bravery.

Tobias chuckles weakly. “It was probably my father. I’m sorry if he hurt you.”

Before he could comprehend his movements, Tobias takes off his belt and walks over to him. Spencer fears the worst. Did Tobias’s father take over again? He tries to inch away, struggling against the restraints as best he could.

“W-What are you doing?” Spencer asks shakily, trying to pull away from him.

Tobias doesn’t respond, slipping one end of the belt above his elbow. Everything begins to click.

“No, no. Don’t. Please, please don’t.” He resorts to begging.

In this moment, Spencer hates the way his mind works because he doesn’t need to know the statistics. He doesn’t need to know that 75% of drug abusers started out using pain killers. His head swirls with what Tobias could be using. Codeine? Heroin? Opium? The list goes on and he tries to keep his breathing steady.

“It helps,” Tobias says, ignoring the way Spencer trembles and shakes his head adamantly. “Don’t tell my father. He doesn’t know they’re here.”

Tobias takes the syringe and the bottle out of his pocket and Spencer sobs even harder. He tries to appease him again, shrinking away as best he could in his chair.

“Please,” he tries again, his chest heaving and tears wetting his waterline. “Please, I don’t want it, I don’t want it.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“Please,” he begs, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Don’t.”

Tobias doesn’t listen.

The effects are far too quick for codeine, heroin or opium and Spencer can feel it hit. He knows it’s wrong. He can go on for hours about the statistics about it but the feeling so euphoric that he can’t help it. And then he sees it.

“We have another recruit as well. Came in a couple weeks ago,” Derek told him, walking him through the halls of the BAU headquarters. “She’s part of the academy Honours program. Top of the class, apparently.”

“Oh.” Spencer nodded slowly, fidgeting with the zip of his bag.

Derek grinned. “Relax, kid. You still have the most impressive résumé. She’s just an intern; doing paperwork, mainly.”

“I wasn’t– I wasn’t worried about that,” Spencer stammered, wetting his bottom lip. “I mean– not that I think she isn’t smart or anything. I just meant–”

“Kid, I mean it when you have to relax,” Derek snorted as he opens up the door to the bullpen “Meet the rest of the team.”

He walked through the doors, ready to make his mark. He’s spent so long believing that he was nothing but now… he took another step, meeting Hotch’s gaze and– he didn’t get very far when something catapulted into his side. There was a flurry of paper work and cream coloured files, case details splayed all over the floor. Spencer grunted a little, tumbling to the ground like a house of cards.

“Oh, my God, I am– I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I was running and I am not used to office attire! I am so sorry!”

The ramblings of a girl– she couldn’t be older than him, at least, not by much– filled Spencer’s ears and he grimaces. “No, it’s– it’s okay. Don’t– uh– don’t worry about it.”

“(Y/N)...” JJ huffed out a quiet laugh, helping the other girl to her feet. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer said, slowly getting to his feet.

The girl didn’t do the same, instead scrambling to pick up the multitude of papers that litter the floor. “I’m fine! Just– great. Great. Brilliant.”

Spencer immediately started to reach for the papers, trying his best not crumple them up anymore than they already were. “You’re… the intern?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, breathless. “I’m still getting used to all…” You gesture wildly to the interior of the bullpen. “... this.”

“(Y/N), meet Doctor Spencer Reid. He’s the youngest addition to the team. Reid, meet (Y/N) (L/N). She’s part of the Academy Honours Program,” Gideon introduces, peering at the two of you from behind his glasses.

“Hi,” you said meekly, stretching out your hand.

His words hitched in his throat because once he’s gotten past the flying papers and the fact that you literally ran into him, he realises just how beautiful you are. You were right there in front of him, close enough to touch but–

“I don’t shake hands,” he said quietly, the anxiety gnawing at his stomach. His fingers twitch at his sides and he moves them to grip the handle of his satchel. “Sorry.”

You smile at him and his heart thunders in his chest. Is this how Romeo felt when he met Juliet? Or how Charles Bingley felt when he met Jane Bennett?

“It’s okay,” you told him, tucking the papers under your arm. “Don’t worry about it. So, you’re a doctor? That’s really cool!”

“Reid here got accepted into the BAU without even taking a physical exam,” Derek chimed in, practically bragging about Spencer’s intellectual prowess. “Isn’t that right, kid?”

“I’m not an athletic person,” Spencer said awkwardly, his worries dissipating when he heard you laugh good-naturedly. Regardless, he felt the urge to defend himself. “I’m not weak.”

JJ laughed along. “We know, Spencer.”

“I’m not weak… I’m not weak…”

“I don’t give a damn whether you’re weak or strong.”

Spencer barely manages to blink his eyes open as he hears the familiar timbre of Tobias’s father’s voice fill the room. He’s slowly coming down from the high of the drugs and the room spins as he does.

“Yell all you want boy,” Tobias sneers, bending down so that he’s eye level with Spencer. “Ain’t no one gonna hear you where you are.”

As if to prove his point, he begins to scream. Deep and rumbly, and it jolts Spencer back to reality. He wishes he was careful. He wishes he was with you.

***

“Tobias has dissociative identity disorder,” Garcia explains to you through the phone, and you slap a hand to your forehead.

“That makes so much sense,” You mutter to yourself, pacing around the room of the police department. “I should have seen it. It was right there in front of me and I missed it.”

Penelope hums, her voice tense with worry. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. No one knew until we started digging into the journals and cross-checking dates.”

“I know but–” You rub your eyes, cringing as stars litter your vision– “it was just so obvious. What else have you gotten?”

It has been a little over ten hours since Hotch sent you back to the police department and you haven’t gotten much sleep. You tried, you swear you tried, but every time you see the terrified face of Spencer and it makes you sick. The whiteboard in front of you is littered with different evidence files and profiles. Profiles on Tobias, profiles on the victims, geographical profiles… the list goes on.

“We know that Tobias is an addict,” Emily says. “He picked dilaudid as his poison.”

“For someone so hellbent on following the Bible, he’s incredibly hypocritical,” You say, jotting down the words onto the whiteboard.

“His personality is split into that of his father, Charles, and Raphael,” Emily continues, and you can hear the frown in her voice.

You’re about to say something when Garcia’s voice raises by an octave.

“Oh God,” she squeaks, and you can hear the clicking of keys in the background. “Morgan? Emily, get the others, oh my God!”

“What’s going on?” You demand urgently, gripping the phone tighter. “Garcia, what’s going on?”

“It’s Spencer,” her voice is hushed and far from the speaker, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

“What happened? Penelope, what happened?”

“We have to go,” she says hurriedly, and the sound of footsteps from the rest of the team fill the speaker.

“No! Wait, don’t hang—“

The sound of the prolonged dial tone echoes in your ears and you resist the urge to scream. You press the pads of your fingers to your eyes, hot tears wetting your skin. Crying will get you nowhere and you know that. You know that Spencer is holding on. He’s relying on the BAU to save him.

You gather all the available files on Charles Hankel, spreading them around the table. There’s not much to read; he’s lived a relatively quiet life. He was a farmer, his wife left him… dead end. Again. You’re at your wit’s end and you grab your keys.

“John, want to work on a federal case?” You ask, shaking your keys. The younger policeman nods eagerly and you point to the door. “Great. Let’s go.”

It’s a small country town in Atlanta. Someone has to know something, especially if Tobias was a drug abuser.

“We’re going to a few Narcotics Anonymous groups,” You explain to John who looks a little too excited to be sitting in a federal car. “Ask questions on Tobias Hankel and Charles Hankel. Someone has to know something.”

“All due respect, um, ma’am,” John stammers, and you raise an eyebrow amusedly. He coughs before continuing, “why aren’t you with the rest of the team?”

You falter, turning your attention back to the road. “They need me to work it from here. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Two miserable hours pass by with not much luck. Two hours that could have been used for something more meaningful than asking a bunch of drugged up assholes about the UnSub. Anxiety claws at your chest again as you flick through the answers. It’s nothing you didn’t already know.

“I got something,” John says a little breathlessly, jogging back over to you.

“Yes?” You need something. Anything.

“A few sheep were stolen off of a farmer’s property,” he says, flipping through the notebook and reading off his scrawny handwriting. “Wasn’t Charles a farmer?”

“What does that have to do with–” You feel your mouth go dry and you turn to him. “Which farm?”

“Which– um…” He swallows. “Mcallister? Shawn Mcallister.”

In seconds you’re dialling Garcia again and she picks up with a trembling, “hello?”

“Is Spencer alive?” You ask firmly, slamming the car door.

“Y-Yes. He’s– it’s not good, (Y/N),” she whimpers, clicking on the keyboard. “There was another murder. Spencer had to– he had to– he had to choose who to save. The UnSub fed a video to us, (Y/N), it’s horrible.”

There was another murder? John seizes up beside you and you grimace. You keep forgetting that John is practically a kid, barely twenty-one, and he hasn’t even seen the horrors of the world yet.

“But he came back, right? To Spencer?” You ask, gripping the steering wheel tighter in an effort to keep yourself steady. “Penelope, Tobias posted a video of the latest murder, right? When was it posted?”

“9:23,” she says woefully, typing away.

“Okay, and…” you check the police radio, biting your lip nervously. “Okay, it says that the call for the murder came in at 9:04.”

There’s a little static in the background along with some shuffling before she responds. “Um… okay?”

“John, I need a map. Where’s– goddamn it– where’s the map of the area, John?!”

He fumbles, spreading the paper open. “Here!”

“That road– it’s 60 miles an hour, right? That means he needs to be–” you scribble across the map, frowning. “That’s within seventeen miles of the crime scene. There’s a farm, uh, poaching or something. Mcallister farm?”

“We’ll find something,” Penelope says quietly. “I’ll try find the farm area. He is going to be okay, I promise.”

You let out a heavy breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

***

The guilt alone is enough to kill him. Spencer knows that he is not at fault for this; Gideon said so. Regardless, he can’t get their faces out of his head. They were happy. What if they had kids? They were good people; they didn’t deserve to die the way they did. Spencer’s head pounds as he slumps against the chair, his breath quickening when he realises that Tobias is right there.

“Sorry, I had to leave for a while,” Tobias, the real Tobias, says quietly, strapping the belt to Spencer’s arm again.

He’s felt this so many times now. The high, and then the inevitable low. There’s no point fighting it, Spencer tries to justify, it’s biology.

“You can leave again,” he says softly, “and you can take me with you.”

“My father would be angry,” Tobias says, drawing the liquid up the syringe.

“Not if he can’t find us.”

Tobias scoffs. “He always finds me.”

“If you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us,” Spencer pleads, trying to look him in the eye.

“We can’t be saved,” he says dismissively, flicking the syringe.

Spencer sniffles, and for a split second he feels the fear course through his veins. “We can. We can, I promise, if you tell me where we are I’ll save us both.”

“Listen to me. It’s not worth fighting.” Tobias pauses, readying the syringe. “Tell me it doesn't make it better.”

The silence that follows is humiliating. He hates the way that he isn’t fighting anymore but he can’t. It’s almost as if his body doesn’t even want to listen to him. Tobias doesn’t waste another moment and the familiar feeling of artificial ecstasy floods Spencer’s mind.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

The phrase was so unfamiliar and Spencer’s brows furrowed as he looked at you. It has been a couple weeks since you were officially indoctrinated into the BAU and he couldn’t be any happier. It felt nice to talk to someone who was his age, especially because he never really knew anyone of his age back in Las Vegas.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You laughed and his heart fluttered in his chest. He remembered the feeling distinctly; how could he forget? The feeling is still the same now.

“I mean… tell me something not a lot of people know about you. Like… okay, I’ll go first. Um… my favourite flowers are hydrangeas. The purple ones.”

He committed that information to memory. Every year for your birthday he would buy you a new pot of hydrangeas for your apartment or something flower related like an automatic waterer or a replacement sun lamp.

“Hydrangea macrophylla,” Spencer said slowly, his cheeks flushed. “It means… gratitude, grace, and beauty. It’s fitting.”

He relished in the way your eyes lit up and the way you smiled at him. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Um… my middle name is Walter?” He chuckled awkwardly, wetting his bottom lip. “No one really calls me that, though.”

You typed something on your computer, reading out loud, “The name Walter is Germanic in origin and means ‘commander of the army’.”

His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I like it.” You grinned at him. “Walter.”

Spencer choked a little, the hairs on his neck standing on end and heat crawling up his cheeks. “You– you don’t have to call me that.”

“I won’t if you don’t like it,” you told him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said quickly, his eyes widening. “I’m just not used to it.”

He remembers the way you beamed at him and the way he felt knowing that he made you happy.

“Well then,” You began, meeting his gaze, “I guess that means I just have to call you that more often.”

Tobias’s yelling brings him back and all he can do is stare as he watches him slam on the keyboard angrily. A bright red pop up is flashing on his computer, and Tobias turns to Spencer with a murderous scowl.

“They’re trying to silence my message.”

“I can’t control what they do,” Spencer defends tearfully, his voice wavering. “I’m not with them, I’m with you.”

Tobias scoffs again. “Really?”

He types something onto the keyboard and Gideon’s face show’s up on the screen. He’s leaning towards the camera, his words a mantra that Spencer repeats in his mind.

“Reid,” the crackly audio sounds with Gideon’s voice, “if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this, understand me? He’s perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He cannot break you.”

Tobias slams the computer off, walking back to him. “You think you can defy me?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about–”

“You’re a liar!”

Spencer can only grimace in response, the words caught in his throat. Tobias must have been able to see something and the fear creeps into his heart again as the man lunges for his arm. Tobias forces Spencer’s sleeve up and the guilt crashes like waves.

“You’re pitiful,” Tobias sneers, “Just like my son.”

Spencer wracks out a sob, silent pleas of mercy never leaving his lips. Maybe he does deserve this. Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, the universe is out to get him for all his shortcomings. Maybe, he thinks to himself as he watches Tobias turn the camera on, maybe he does deserve to die this way.

“This ends now,” Tobias snarls. “Confess your sins.”

“No,” he whimpers.

Tobias’s fist collides with the side of Spencer’s face with a resounding slap.

“Confess!”

“I haven’t done anything…”

His fist meets Spencer’s cheek again and all he can do is recoil in his chair.

“Tobias, help me,” he manages, but his plea is shut down almost instantly.

“He can’t help you, he’s weak. Confess!” He hits him again and the pain is almost too much to bear. “Confess your sins.”

Spencer sobs. “No…”

In a fit of anger, Tobias throws Spencer to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts as he feels the back of his head meet the cold musty ground. He can’t breathe. He feels like he’s underwater. Have to breathe, he needs to breathe, why can’t he breathe? He needs to see you again. He can’t die like this. He can’t, he can’t, he needs to breathe. He tries to take a breath of air but it’s like his mouth is full of water. And just when he thinks he reached the surface, he’s pulled under once again.

Warmth. The feeling of his blood pumping to his ears is the first thing Spencer feels and his fingers twitch. He’s alive. There’s only one reason why that must have happened.

“I was given CPR,” he rasps out, Tobias’s words swirling in his head.

“There are no accidents,” Tobias says slowly. “How many members are in your team?”

Spencer can barely whisper the word. “Eight.”

“Seven, not including you. ‘The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to Earth’.” He hoists Spencer’s chair upright, standing before him. “Tell me who you serve.”

“I serve you.”

“Then choose one to die.”

Spencer blanches, looking up at him. “What?”

“Your team members. Choose one to die.”

He doesn’t need to think when he responds, “kill me.”

Tobias jeers. “You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied.”

“Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies.”

Spencer breathes in as if it were his last. “No.”

Tobias pulls out a revolver from his jacket pocket, spinning the cylinder before aiming it for Spencer’s head. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Tobias clicks the trigger and nothing happens so he repeats, “choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

The trigger clicks again and nothing happens. “Life is a choice.”

“No.”

Spencer’s mind is racing. His first thought goes to you. He knows you would understand any and all references he throws in your direction, but it makes him sick just thinking about putting your life on the line. He needs something. He needs to think.

“Choose.”

“I choose…” his voice stammers and he can barely see straight. “Aaron Hotchner.”

***

“We got him.”

The words echo in your mind as you pace up and down your hotel room, chewing on your destroyed nailbeds. It’s nearing two in the morning and you can’t sleep. The rest of the team are awake. Why should you be given the privilege of rest when none of them were able to? Why should you be given the privilege of rest when Spencer is out there fighting for his life? It’s not fair. Life isn’t fair.

When you hear the sirens outside you run out the door. Blood is pulsing in your ears and you’re still wearing the thin hotel slippers but it doesn’t matter. How could anything else matter? The car door clicks open and Emily helps Spencer out of the car. She whispers something to him and he looks in your direction. Those big hazel eyes stare at you with so much hurt and you can’t contain it anymore.

“Spencer.”

His arms wrap around your waist, his nose pressing against your neck as he holds you, breathing in the smell of your vanilla perfume. He almost doesn’t believe you’re real. He pulls you impossibly closer, sniffling, and he can feel your fingers run through his hair.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, trying to be reassuring, but he can hear the way your voice cracks. “You’re okay.”

“I should have listened to you,” He whimpers, feeling the cold wet rain soak through his shirt. “I should have– I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be, Walter.”

The moment he hears that name spill from your lips he begins to cry. He’s okay. He’s with you now. You’re right here.

“I thought–”

You shush him for the first and last time, squeezing his arms. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

He wonders how a person could be so warm. Even in the cold Atlanta weather you’re still so warm.

“Hotch wouldn’t let me work the case from the house,” you tell him quietly as you sit beside him on the bed. “Understandable. I screamed at him.”

He chuckles a little, flinching when you gently pull the bandage off the side of his face. He feels a lot better now that he’s clean, the shower more than necessary and he savours the feeling of warm water on his skin. The gash on his head is oozing sticky blood and you dispose of it accordingly, reaching into the first aid kit.

“It’s gonna sting a little,” you tell him, pressing a damp cloth to the wound.

He hisses at the contact, gripping your arm and he tries to change the subject. “Why did you scream at Hotch?”

You hum, continuing to clean the blood off his head. “I was mad at him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.”

You smile at him, applying a new bandage to his head. “It’s okay. I was able to help the case from here, anyway.”

“Stay with me,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “Please?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course, Walter.”

He curls into your side, an arm wrapped around your middle and he breathes in the scent of your strawberry and honey shampoo. Your fingers curl in his hair, untangling the knots when your eyes flicker to your desk, the letter of resignation tucked inside your bag. He doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

***

You knock at the door of Hotch’s office, chewing on your bottom lip. You remember being in this office for the first time four years ago when you were an intern; the way you shook with nerves and anticipation as you handed in your résumé for the honours program and then again when you were hoping to take the job full time. It’s ironic that you’re back at his office again, but for a very different reason.

“Come in.”

The breath that leaves your lips is shaky and you take a seat in front of his desk. “Hotch.”

“(Y/N).”

You place the pristine white envelope onto the desk,watching the way his face shifts from stoic to surprised.

“You don’t have to do this,” He says, not touching the envelope. “The situation at hand was stressful. No one blames you for reacting the way you did.”

“It’s not just because of that,” you say slowly. “You were right. I was too involved.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say quickly, a humourless laugh slipping at your words. “I would have killed him.”

Hotch looks at you, his eyes meeting yours. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I would have,” you say surely. “After what he did to Spencer, if I had found him I would have killed him. And I would have– I would have slept well. I love this team, Hotch, but I can’t separate those feelings when I’m on the field no matter how hard I try.”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, rising from his seat. “I’m assuming it’s a two-week’s notice?”

You nod, also getting up from your chair. “Yeah. I– I don’t want to just leave, you know?”

“We’re going to miss you,” he says, walking with you to the door, “but this will be good for you.”

“I know.” You can feel the stares of the rest of the team through the glass and you can’t help but smile. “They’re horrible at being nonchalant.”

“They’re profilers,” Aaron chuckles. “Can you blame them?”

“I guess not,” you muse, pulling the door open. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You always have a place here, (Y/N),” he says gently as you walk back down to the bullpen.

It doesn’t take long before the overflowing dam of questions burst and in moments Emily is crossing the room and sitting next to you.

“You’re leaving the BAU?”

You look at her with wide eyes before laughing a little. “You… are very good at your job, huh?”

“Oh…” Penelope tackles you in a hug, her arms tight around your frame. “We’re going to miss you.”

JJ sniffles a little, joining the hug. “Don’t forget us.”

“As if I ever could.” A bittersweet smile rests on your lips.

Derek hugs you as well, his chin on the top of your head. “Look after yourself, kid. We’ll make these last two weeks the best you’ve ever had.”

“If you ever need anything…” Emily begins slowly, squeezing your hands. “I’m here, okay?”

Gideon pats your shoulder lightly, a sad smile on his face. “You’re a good person. Never forget that.”

You nod, trying to blink away the tears that fill your eyes. “I know. Thanks, you guys.”

The opening and shutting of the BAU doors brings you out of your thoughts and the familiar head of brown hair stalking away makes your face fall. Gideon meets your gaze, gesturing towards the door. That’s all you need to run out of the bullpen.

“Spencer– Spencer, wait, please.” You tug on his arm desperately. “Please–”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asks, his voice cracking. It has only been a few days since the incident and he looks a little better. The scratches on his face are still visible, but they’re fading slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I–” you falter, flinching at the pain and hostility in his voice. “It was never a good time.”

He scoffs quietly, rubbing at his arm. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t just randomly tell you,” you say, frowning. “How would that be fair?”

Spencer rubs his eyes, the dark bags beneath them even more prominent. “Why are you leaving?”

“I have to,” you say gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I love this job but I can’t do it anymore–”

“Why not?!”

“Because–!” You exhale, trying to calm yourself down. “Because I swore an oath when I took this job that I will put this country above myself. And I can do that. I would die for this country to protect the people in it, I will hunt down the people who make this country so unsafe and I will sacrifice myself willingly, but you? I can’t– I can’t lose you. If I had to choose between catching the UnSub and saving you, I would save you in a heartbeat. Even if that meant letting a bad guy go. Even if that meant more people would get hurt I would still choose you and I can’t let that happen.”

Your words deem him speechless and he shifts his weight on his feet. For a moment, all he can do is stare at you as your reasoning sinks in. It makes sense. He hates that it makes sense.

“So that’s it?” He asks quietly, finally looking you in the eye. “You’re actually leaving?”

“Not for another two weeks,” you tell him truthfully. “Besides, you can still text me. And call me. You know where I live so you can always visit.”

He bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, teetering on his feet before hugging you tightly, burying his nose into your hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

His grip is tight around you and if you paid attention you could feel him tremble. “I can’t do this job without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You can, Walter. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

There are so many things he wishes he could tell you. You’re right here. He doesn’t have to yearn for your touch anymore because you’re right here in his arms. He wants to tell you so many things. Like how he adores the colour of your eyes, or the way you smile, or the way your hair falls. He wants to tell you how much he likes spending time with you and how he feels so good with you but he can’t. The words are at the tip of his tongue so how can he not say anything?

“I–” love you– “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you whisper. “Me too.”

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