#i hope this all made sense! i had a conference all day so my brain may be a little fried!

[rosewould]

one way; cbg

part i | part ii | part iii

🖱️⤻ pairing; afab!reader x beomgyu 🖱️⤻ word count; 5.4k 🖱️⤻ genre; enemies 2 enemies PLUS, smut, & angst 🖱️⤻ synopsis; beomgyu has come to retrieve his clothing... as if he didn't just do the unthinkable 🖱️⤻ warnings; hate sex, really mean!gyu, slut shaming, dubcon (more than last time, proceed with caution), beomgyu got you good this time, mc is in shambles, unhealthy... relationship?, solo masturbation, cunnilingus, more pain play, biting, hair pulling, post orgasm torture (mc receiving), piv, I think that's all

⌨️⤻ I couldn't just make it "Beomgyu getting his clothes back" that would be too simple!!111!! I like the way this ended so there will be no part three, I like where they are.

Nestled into your dirty hamper are a solid grey cotton t-shirt and loose pair of black sweats. Not unlike some of your own clothes in your closet other than being a touch larger. The articles of clothing get buried deeper and deeper without you even noticing. You wash and dry them before finally discovering them while folding. You set them to the side for the next time you journey to the boys’ dorm.

That day never comes.

“All I ever do is stick my neck out for you, you know? The department heads raise suspicion about how much time you spend with them and I make an excuse. And now I find this out?”

Your manager rants and raves while pacing your apartment. You remain motionless on your couch, staring at nothing, drowning out all her words. You just can’t believe he went through with it. 

“Did you at least use a condom?” She asks exasperatedly, clapping in front of your face when you don’t answer. “You’re not that reckless, I hope. You have to know your punishment will be more severe. Certain actions against Beomgyu could be a huge liability but they can do more to you no problem.”

Of course. Of course that’s the case. You curl forward and clutch your head. He was okay throwing himself under the bus because he’d get a slap on the wrist and you’d be royally fucked. Maybe you shouldn’t have let your emotions get the best of you. You embarrassed him and boasted about your “success”. You even rubbed it in on the days to come. You made it your mission to subtly throw jabs at him in the presence of his members. It’s what he put you through for so long, it was only fair. That fucking asshole.

“Well, I can’t help you anymore. You’ll attend a disciplinary meeting to determine where we go from here. I hope you have a future at HYBE.”

Her words echo in your mind in an attempt to make sense of them. After failing you look up at her in shock. “There’s a chance I get kicked out?!” You were a trainee, but a valued one. They sought you out specifically and fought all the other companies trying to snatch you up. You thought maybe your debut would get delayed and you’d definitely get banned from the dorm, just like he wanted. But he fucked you over even further than you thought he had the balls to. 

Your manager sighs, the pity in her eyes not easing the dread bubbling in your stomach. You can feel bile climb up your throat then and now as you’re standing outside the conference room. You take a long shuddering breath, deciding to just live with the disorienting fog clouding your brain as you walk in. As the meeting progresses the fog gets more and more treacherous with the news being hinted at. 

“This is just temporary until everything is sorted out. I hope you understand.”

They barely let you get a word in, just recounting everything Beomgyu told them and discussing amongst themselves. They automatically believed him.

The fog stuck around. It was a safety measure deployed to keep you from fully processing how dire the situation was. Soon enough you’d have to understand the gravity of the situation. After a week and three days of waiting in limbo with no news, you were forced to face the truth. Trainees rarely come back after a suspension, and if they do, they’d be back by now. Through all the insanity your brain still has room to worry about Soobin. What lies he’s being fed and if he’ll ever speak to you again.

You pull at your hair, sinking to the ground with your eyes clenched shut. You couldn’t even cry or scream. You just grit your teeth as the frustration gets too strong for you to cope with. A knock on the door sends you immediately walking to answer it, intending to hurriedly send the person away.

You pull the door open and immediately your frustration washes away. 

“Are you just gonna stare at me?”

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been doing it but you’re not sure what else to do. An alarming level of anger builds inside you until you can feel your chest constrict. You’re so enraged you can’t move or speak, so you just look at him as tears pool and threaten to spill. Tears that had been building up for the past week and three days.

“I’m here for the clothes you stole. I’ve been looking for them and can’t find them.”

“Do you know what you’ve done, Beomgyu?” You ask genuinely. Maybe there’s a chance he only thinks you got banned from the dorm. Perhaps his audacity wasn’t quite as boundless as to possibly get you kicked out and still show up to your apartment over two easily replaceable articles of clothing.

“Relax. You were already famous. You can easily get into another company, maybe even the big three.” He says dismissively as if it’s so obvious and the tears streaming down your cheeks were foolish. It was like a siren was blaring in your ears, piercing your eardrums until there was no other noise as you scream at him. Shouting obscenities in between accusations that he just ruined your life and doesn’t even care. You don’t spare a glance at the neighbors who open their doors to see what the hell was going on. 

Beomgyu shoves you into your house and slams the door shut. “Are you fucking crazy?!” He spits with a sharp glare. As if you’re supposed to care about his image after what he did.

“You’re the one making me crazy! You’re provoking me and getting surprised when I react? I’ve been just sitting here in my house losing my mind because I could get the news any day now, and you expect me to have a civil conversation with you?” The veins in your neck bulge as you rush more words out at him.

“Look, I’m just here for my clothes and then I’ll be on my way.” He’s infuriatingly calm, not bothered by bringing you to hysterics once again. Not bothered by your tears or the situation he’s put you in.

“Oh, you want your clothes?” You raise your eyebrows, anger painfully evident in your eyes. You stomp off to your room, finding the neatly folded clothes sitting atop your dresser before searching for a pair of scissors. You step back into your living room with the clothes in one hand and the scissors in the other, making him watch as you cut through the fabric. You hold the scissors open, ignoring the way the other half of the blade digs into your fingers as you stab into his clothing and rip large holes into them.

“What are you doing?!” Beomgyu rushes over and attempts to rip the scissors from your hand before the situation escalates. After a brief struggle you drop the scissors and clothes to the ground and wrap your hands around his throat. You squeeze hard as you look into his eyes, pushing him toward the couch until he falls on top of it. He tries to pry your hands away and you resist as much as you can, feeling tingling in your toes as his face turns redder. “You fucking waste of space.” You mutter as you kneel over him with one leg.

The rage labors your breathing, or maybe it was the pleasure you derived from seeing him suffer. Just as he starts to wheeze he finally pries your hands away and roughly grabs your face. You try to pull at his forearm but he grips your jaw tighter until he’s painfully digging into the bone. “You’re not doing this shit again. Do you actually want to be kicked out?” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You whisper through ragged breaths, trying to grab onto him but he restrains your arms behind your back.

“If you want me just say so.” He smirks. You spit on him and his expression immediately sours. “Suit yourself.”

He familiarly grabs both your wrists in one hand while the other unzips his pants. He pulls his hardening cock out through the hole in his boxers and begins pumping it as he stares at you. “I’ll just jerk off until I cum all over you and make you watch.” He groans as he squeezes precum from his tip.

You grunt, trying to free yourself but he just tightens his fist until it starts to hurt. You wince but never dull your glare. The more worked up you get, the more it seems to turn him on. “Little baby is crying because she’s about to get fired.” He pouts, precum rolling from his slit over his knuckles watching you seethe.

“I love seeing you cry. I jerk off and cum over and over imagining you sobbing because of me.” He breathes, slowing the drag of his fist as he drinks you in. Your heaving chest and glare. You look so sexy when he pisses you off. He wonders if he could get you to cry more.

“They told me it’s unlikely they’ll trust you again, you know.”

“Shut up.” You grit, trying to tug your arms apart.

“Because only pathetic whores get into a potential sex scandal before their idol career even starts. Who knows how many dicks you’ll let inside you before you even step foot on stage.” He laughs in your face, belittling your emotions and getting off to them just to add insult to injury. You strain your hand to dig your nails into any of his flesh you can reach. He hisses, before his smile is back in place, taunting you. You dig them deeper until he squeezes your aching wrists again. You let go with a huff as your frustration translates to tears. 

“That’s right. Fuck— you’ll make me cum, baby.” He exaggerates his moans in his efforts to taunt you. Feigning a wanton expression as he fucks his fist. All his salacious noises make your core ache but there’s nothing you can do to stimulate it. Real and sexual frustration mixed together is a dangerous combo. You were already starved of social interaction, locking yourself in your house waiting for the news. You were banned from the only place you got it from outside of staff, and now the first interaction you’re getting isn’t satisfying your need in the slightest.

If you couldn’t get a shoulder to cry on, the least you wanted was to get fucked until you couldn’t think. Beomgyu is just wicked enough to know how to torture you. 

“Come on. All you have to do is ask for it nicely and I’ll fuck you.” Beomgyu strains, close to cumming. It’s now or never before you’re left with frayed emotions and a mess to clean up. Your stubbornness prevails as you just let out a defeated noise, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing more tears free. Real moans seem to break through as Beomgyu’s hips jerk, pointing his cock at you as he covers you in his cum. He loosens his grip on your wrists and you rip yourself free, shoving him pathetically once he finishes. He stands with a cocky grin, fixing himself before making his exit.

“You can keep the clothes.” He casts a disinterested look back at you and you lose it. Flipping furniture and throwing anything you can carry across the room, just missing him as he shuts your door. You continue your rampage, turning your entire living room upside down as you sob violently. When it subsides you look at the mess and clutch at your hair.

You collapse to the ground, hugging your knees as you cry until you can’t cry anymore. 

--🖱️▷

From behind your crusted lids, you watch the sun rise from the large window to the left of you. You don’t get up as it slowly goes higher and higher, indicating how long you’ve stayed there. Your doorknob turns and you still don’t look up. Maybe the burglar will think your house already got ransacked and leave.

“You’re almost making me feel bad.” Beomgyu nudges you with his foot and you sit up. You gawk at him and he just smiles back. 

“What are you doing in my house?” He was a lot less welcome than the burglar.

“You left your door unlocked.” He shrugs.

“You’re crossing a dangerous line.” You warn in a low voice, rising to your feet. 

“What’re you gonna do? Have sex with me again? Scary.”

“I’m not in the mood. Get out of my house.” You try to push him but he stays rooted in his spot, smiling down at you. He was clearly still high off fucking with you last night. “Fine. You can stay.”

His smile stretches wider before trying to smooth his knuckles down your cheek which you dodge. “Only if you eat me out.”

He snorts, instantly dismissing you. “That’s not happening.”

“Then leave.”

“And if I don’t?” He leans closer to your face and you’re transported to the day that potentially ruined all your hard work in one fell swoop. Your blood pressure rising around him had become customary, along with the urge to mutilate him somehow. You wordlessly pull out your phone, typing in three numbers dramatically until he snatches the phone out of your hand. “Give it back. I’m trying to report the intruder in my home.” He hurls your phone to the floor before regarding you once more.

“You really are dense.” His face is serious suddenly as he closes in on you. “There’s something seriously wrong with you. Soobin dodged a bullet.” There was potent malice in his eyes, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Leave. Now.”

The two of you stare at each other as if you’re trying to kill the other with your eyes alone. He grasps the end of the shirt he sullied before pulling it up and forcing it off your body. He moves to your ratty shorts with streaks of his cum, shoving them down and almost tripping you to get them off.

He kneels on the floor, the only clean circle of space surrounded by the wreckage, keeping his eyes on you. He moves your underwear to the side and starts sucking on your clit. There was nothing left for interpretation for either of you. There was no denying the hatred in both your eyes or the arousal you make each other feel. Your glare falters once he starts to suck harder, your brows slanting upward as you swallow hard. He growls into your cunt, making your legs wobble. You grab a tuft of hair at the top of his head, yanking him closer. He tries to pull away and protest but you shove him back in. “Don’t stop–” Your moans are a little embarrassing but you can’t hold back how desperate you are. Fuck, did you need this bad. 

He keeps your legs pried apart just as they start closing around his head. Even when he’s doing what you demanded, he still feels as though he’s getting his way. Every flick and drag of his tongue has you at his will. He pulls away, tugging your fist from his hair and watching the disbelief form on your face. 

He looks up at you with his brown eyes blown and hair messy, licking you off his lips before smirking. There was that urge again. To sink to your knees and scratch, slap, kiss– do something to his infuriating face. You clench your teeth and try to push him back but he dodges you, pulling back completely and enjoying your protests. 

“Fine I’m calling–” You gasp, hands flying to his hair as he grabs your thighs and runs his tongue between your folds. His tongue catches your hole, threatening to slip in only to run to your clit and back. Your knees buckle, balance getting screwy but Beomgyu holds you steady. He curls his tongue into your heat, repeatedly scooping out your essence that’s gushing for him.

Then he pulls back again and you whimper, two actions that have you deeply disappointed. “What the fuck.” You shout at him. He makes a show of licking his lips. “I bet you would beg for my tongue, wouldn’t you?”

“What?!”

“Do it. Say please and I’ll make you cum.”

You go to deny him but he brushes the tip of his nose against your clit and sends the most violent shiver through your body. You whimper again, unable to deny the clawing need to cum anymore. “Fuck! Fine! Please, Beomgyu make me cum.” You’re too exasperated to put on a pleading tone but it’s enough for him.

He reattaches his mouth with a cocky grin, surveying your needy expressions closely as he sucks and licks your clit. Obscene noises fill the air along with your unrestrained moans. You clutch at him desperately, practically riding his face in your pursuit of release.

Beomgyu lets go of your thighs to free his cock. He pumps as you roll your hips against his face, holding his head steady. Your legs get progressively less reliable until your pussy is throbbing. With a moan of his name you cum on his tongue, stomach caving as his tongue continues to ravish you. His eyes are wild as he carries you through your trembling climax. You tug at his hair but he just hums. Not even that can bring him down as he squeezes and tugs on his hard cock, not intending to stop tonguing you until he’s finished himself. You pull his hair harder but he just grabs your leg with one hand and pushes in closer. Shoving his face deep within your folds, lapping at your sensitive nub and forcing a scream out of you. “Beomgyu! Enough!” You try but he only wiggles his face against you. Your stomach feels completely hollow, squeezing as another orgasm is forced out, gushing against his face until you have nothing else to offer. You suck in a large whoosh of air, holding it in before releasing it with a guttural groan.

With that, Beomgyu moans against your mound and shoots cum out his cock. Some streams reach far enough to hit your bare legs, most just ribbon over his fist. He stands up, completely disheveled and still jerking his cock. He breathes a laugh. “Please, Beomgyu make me cum!”

You roll your eyes at his childishness and shove at him, nearly pushing him over. “Shut up and get out.”

--🖱️▷

“Good morning, hyung.”

“Don’t talk to me.” Soobin responds breezily like it’s normal conversation, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Beomgyu watches Soobin maneuver around the kitchen. He rarely looks him in the eyes unless it’s to drive home an insult. 

“I did you a favor.”

“You refuse to listen so I refuse to talk to you.” He finally looks up at him during the last three words before brushing past him. 

“Just drop it. She’s been gone for a while now. You got what you wanted.” Yeonjun grumbles as he groggily enters the kitchen. 

“I’m not the one who needs to drop it.” Beomgyu responds, a hint of annoyance peeking through his cocky facade. 

“Soobin will talk to you on his own time.” He answers simply. Both of them were sat in the living room as if nothing was wrong. As if there wasn’t tension in the dorm now. Beomgyu scoffs.

“You know she’s more worried about her career than you.”

“That’s normal, Beomgyu.” Yeonjun turns on the tv but Beomgyu catches Soobin’s quick expression change. His brows drop, hanging heavy over his eyes as he thinks it over.

“Has she asked about me?” Soobin asks, looking up to reveal the vulnerability glinting in his eyes. Beomgyu finally untenses, moving to pour his own cup of coffee. He sets the cup down and sighs, pressing his hands to the counter before regarding his leader.

“Not even once.”

--🖱️▷

Your brain is desperate to focus on anything else than the lack of news, so you always notice when his footsteps are coming. You stand from your couch and open the door before he can. You expect a quip about how eager you are but are met with desperate lips. He moves inside your house before shutting the door with his foot. He’s frustrated today, you can feel it in the way he kisses you. His jacket is nothing but a disturbance so you push it over his shoulders and he lets it fall to the floor. Each time he pulls away and comes back he’s hungrier than before. There has been a comfortable, quiet acceptance established of what the other needs by now. 

Too bad you have to ruin it.

You reach for your phone in your pocket, cracking an eye open to open your camera. You position it to get both of you, deciding to snap a picture when his hands snake up to your neck. A place they’ve seemingly gotten comfortable. You snap another when he bites your lip. Another when he nips and kisses your jaw. Only then does he realize that you’re distracted. 

He opens his eyes, following your eye line until he spots the phone. His heart drops and he immediately reaches for it. You back away, quickly snatching the pepper spray from your coffee table and aiming it at him with your finger hovering over the button. A sense of hopelessness washes over him as he stops moving toward you. 

“You’re making a huge mistake.” His threat is dulled by the panicked look in his eyes and you resist the primal urges screaming at you. “This is going too far.”

“No, Beomgyu. You went too far when you got me fired.”

“You haven’t been fired yet–”

“You’re right.” You interrupt his dramatics and hold up a picture you took. “Because you’re going to tell them you lied.”

“And if I don’t you’re gonna show them proof that I wasn’t lying? Great plan.” Beomgyu is eased for a moment as more holes form in your plan. 

“No. I’m not showing this to them.” You lower the phone and hurriedly send the pictures to a trusted contact, shaky fingers reminding them of the plan right after as you mutter, “Someone else will post the picture publicly when I tell them to.”

“You’re willing to fuck yourself over too?!” Beomgyu erupts, racing toward you and only halting when you lay your finger on the trigger. 

“Beommie. You already fucked me. I’m fucked either way.” Your words slowly garner more venom, clenching your mouth shut when you see his resolve crumble. You chuckle bitterly. “You really think I would’ve just let you have your way with me with no consequences after what you did?”

“I didn’t mean for you to get kicked out. I only meant for them to ban you from the dorm.” Beomgyu admits regrettably. Like he was ashamed he wasn’t attempting to ruin your career.

“Well. Guess you really fucked up then. Get it done quick and make it believable for your sake.”

You keep your arm raised as he starts to walk away. He has this look of sarcastic acceptance on his face and you panic for a moment. Did he have something else up his sleeve? Was he going to snitch instead? You would still post the picture anyway, ruin the fantasy for his fangirls and his idol image. You had to do something other than wait in this damn apartment. And he had to understand you weren’t forgetting about the torment he put you through.

--🖱️▷

You heard nothing from Beomgyu for twelve days. Twelve days of radio silence and being cooped up in your apartment. You were borderline stir crazed but you were too scared to do anything. You found yourself holding your breath at times. 

He doesn’t show up at your house, but social media is blowing up. “Get well soon Beomgyu” is trending on Twitter. Turns out he’s on a “mental health hiatus”. Either that’s true and he’s chickening out or he’s on a temporary suspension as well. You don’t find out until the next day. 

“We would like to apologize and we hope you can forgive us and begin preparing for your debut again.” 

Your face lights up and you thank the executive profusely. You stand up and bow to everyone in the room, thanking them through your tears.

Whether or not Beomgyu showed up at your house hadn’t occurred to you nor did you care. You were rarely at home and busy rehearsing day in and day out. You were utterly exhausted, trudging home with sore legs one night when you saw him. He was waiting by your door, looking shocked when he notices you. 

“I already know you did your part. You don’t have to come here anymore.” You brush past him and push your keys into your door.

“We’re even now.”

You turn the keys and then the doorknob before stopping to spare him a glance. “I know.”

“You left me with blue balls last time and never made up for it.” He doesn’t even try masking the entitlement in his voice. You shove the door open, tonguing your cheek as you turn to face him.

“I don’t owe you anything and I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“Oh come on.” He rolls his head back dramatically. “Don’t make this difficult. What we have is fun and easy. We don’t have to tiptoe around each other, wondering if we said the wrong thing or whatever. We already know we hate each other.”

You sigh, already agitated mere minutes into the conversation. You enter your house and try to shut him out but he keeps it pried open with his hand. You turn to scowl at him to find he’s scowling back. You tug him in by his shirt and shove the door closed. 

“What we have isn’t mutual. It’s not “I hate you, you hate me”. You’re a terrible person and I–” Your rant loses steam as you take a step back and realize that this man is yet again in your home. “I keep subjecting myself to it.” You mutter under your breath regrettably. 

Beomgyu huffs a short laugh. “And what does that say about you?”

His words go down like shards of glass. Mostly because he’s right. He was right before, too. You don’t have to guess what’s going on in his head or what any of this means. You could kiss him right now and not have to worry about what it will mean tomorrow, what the next step for you two is. None of this will lead to mailing wedding invitations and discussing how you’ll split your income. It’s certain.

“Doesn’t really matter now does it?” You smirk as he pushes your jacket off and tosses it away. “No. Now let’s get on with this, Soobin’s getting on my fucking nerves again.”

“Wait.” You distance yourself from him. “Is something wrong with Soobin?”

“As if you care.” He cups the back of your neck and crushes your lips together. You hum a pitiful protest, wanting to continue the conversation but he tastes so fucking good. You finally gather the willpower to pull away. “He’s my friend, of course I care.” Your fingers tangle into his hair as he moves to mark up your neck. 

“You’re only asking about him now?” He mutters between nipping your neck just a little too hard. He’s amazing at pissing you off. You hiss, getting annoyed by his teeth and his words. “You really think I trust you enough to believe anything you say? You’re probably still turning them against me.”

“Lucky for you,” Beomgyu sinks his teeth into the apex of your shoulder and neck, intending to leave a reminder, “they’re on your side.”

“Huh,” You bite your lip and arch into him. The upper hand, you think. Always feels good.

“Don’t even say anything.” He growls into your neck. Before you could do just that he was pulling you to your kitchen and bending you over the counter. “We never make it to the bedroom.” You chuckle. The glee in your voice was sickening. “What did I say.” He warns.

“Aw, what’re you gonna do? Have sex with me? Scary.” You laugh, gasping in delight when he rips a hole in your leggings. “Not gonna shut up?” He grits, seething at your neverending smugness. You hear him behind you, angrily undoing his jeans and shoving them to his ankles. What you don’t see coming is him shoving you full of his cock in one fierce thrust. You gasp harshly this time, reaching back to push at his legs. “So fucking annoying.”

He thrusts you into the counter, banging your pelvic bone against it repeatedly. You fall forward onto the cool material but get lifted back up when he grabs you by your hair. He holds you at that awkward angle and keeps you there as he hammers into you. “Sh-shit!” You try to push back on him and attempt to regain your upper hand but he never ceases. With his other hand he lashes his palm over your ass, dick aching with each yelp you let out. He keeps going until your flesh feels red hot.

But it doesn’t matter. None of this tantrum of his matters. At the end of the day you still deflected each of his attempts to screw you over. They all failed. “Give it to me Beommie.” You mewl obnoxiously. He keeps spanking you until his own hand starts to hurt and curses under his breath.

God, does it feel good. Hate fucking is one thing, but nothing makes your cunt purr like successfully getting under Beomgyu’s skin. He should’ve never told you that. You squeeze around him teasingly, humming when he groans. You’re distracted from your teasing when he readjusts, aiming right for your g-spot. Your resolve melts and you wish for nothing more than to lie forward, go completely limp. Your back and neck start to ache and you whine.

Beomgyu growls again, egged on by your sniveling. The things he’d do to hear you beg for him to let go of your hair are endless. He wouldn’t do it, of course, but it’s your suffering that matters. You whimper, “Beomgyu,”

“What?” He tugs your head back and you release another sweet noise. 

“Right there… that feels good. Don’t stop.” Your voice is so quiet, much different than how you usually are. Not to mention what you said, which took quite a while to register. Beomgyu stops for a moment and you protest, but he needed a moment. He shuffles his feet awkwardly before letting go of your hair. You flop to the counter, welcoming the return of your mobility. He grabs your hips and starts stimulating your sweet spot again. You dissolve into the pleasure and he does too. Without the constant bickering and trying to show each other up you could just… relax.

Your body still aches a bit from the straining and spanking but it’s slowly recovering as your high approaches. Beomgyu moans and leans forward, curling his hands around your wrists as his hips continue to smack against yours. An intricate knot loops in your belly and is pulled tighter and tighter with each genuine sound of pleasure from Beomgyu. He’s actually kinda bearable when he isn’t blabbering a bunch. You rest your cheek against the cool counter as the pleasure practically incapacitates you. Placating all your defenses and strong emotions until you’re a numb blob melting onto the counter. Your debut song is way out of your register and you have practice again in the morning but no one couldn’t tell any of that was the case if they looked at you right now. 

All that mattered was the smooth dick easing in and out of you and the tightening knot and his grip tightening around your wrists and his body moving against you and–

“I’m cumming!” You gasp out before pushing your ass against him as a gush of arousal floods around him. He pulls you up abruptly, holding your body against him as he pumps into you for the last few times. He sees the blinding light of the first of many climaxes for the next month or so. He holds you there until his own climax subsides, yours flickering out a while before. Then he lets you go. You were going to be seeing each other a lot, so there was no need to stay after the deed was done. It didn’t need to be complicated.

likes and reblogs are very appreciated! 🖱️⤻ txt masterlist

[muiitoloko]

Sorryy I completely forgot to specify 😭 Harry from Love Actually 🫶🏻 thank you btw 🫶🏻

Title: Inappropriate

Summary: You were his secretary, he was your boss, and yet, in that moment, none of it mattered

Pairing: Harry (love actually) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Boss-secretary relationship, masturbation, pervert and smut.

Author's Notes: Well, here we go again! Thanks for throwing this request my way. Gotta admit, I had a similar draft collecting dust in the corners of my brain, but with a totally different character. So, I had to do some serious rewriting. Hopefully, what I've cooked up here hits the spot for you, but fair warning: I might've made Harry a tad bit pervy in this one! 😅 As always, feedback is welcome and highly encouraged!

Anon's request here

As you stepped into the elevator with Harry, your stomach churned with guilt, the memory of your mistake weighing heavily on your mind. You apologized profusely once again, but Harry ignored it, sighing irritably as he waved off your concerns.

"It's fine, really," he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation, "just forget about it."

But you couldn't forget about it, not when the consequences of your error were staring you in the face. Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely your fault. You were sure you had booked two hotel rooms for the conference in New York, but somehow, there had been a mix-up, leaving you and Harry stuck with only one room.

As the elevator doors closed behind you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling over you. It was like something out of a cheesy romantic movie or one of those fanfics you read late at night in bed. Except, instead of swooning over your attractive boss, you were stuck in an awkward situation with a man who seemed to see you as nothing more than his secretary.

Harry stood beside you, his tall frame towering over yours, his hooked nose and glasses giving him an air of sophistication that only added to his allure. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, you couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking, marveling at the way his tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled jawline.

But as attractive as Harry was, there was a tension between you that made it difficult to enjoy his company. Sometimes, you got the impression that he despised you with how much he avoided talking to you since he hired you. It was like he couldn't stand being in the same room as you, let alone having to share a hotel room for the duration of the conference.

As the elevator ascended to the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the pit of your stomach. You had hoped that the conference in New York would be an opportunity to prove yourself to Harry, to show him that you were capable of more than just fetching his coffee and filing his paperwork.

But now, all you could think about was how to navigate the awkwardness of sharing a hotel room with your boss, a man who seemed to barely tolerate your presence. You dreaded the thought of spending the next few days in such close quarters with him, the tension between you only adding to the discomfort of the situation.

And as the elevator ascended to the designated floor, Harry kept his gaze fixed on the blinking numbers, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He felt a mixture of frustration, attraction, and guilt, all bubbling beneath the surface as he tried to maintain his composure in front of you.

The memory of your mistake and the awkwardness of the situation weighed heavily on Harry's mind, but beneath it all, there was a deeper undercurrent of attraction that he couldn't deny. Despite his best efforts to push it aside, he couldn't shake the magnetic pull he felt towards you, his secretary.

As the elevator doors opened and Harry stepped out into the hallway, pulling his suitcase behind him, he couldn't help but steal a glance at you standing beside him. You looked nervous and guilty, your eyes darting around anxiously as you followed him closely.

Opening the door to the hotel room, Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw the sofa positioned beside the bed. It looked comfortable enough to sleep on, but before he could offer to take the sofa, you spoke up, volunteering to sleep on the couch without hesitation.

Harry hesitated for a moment, torn between his desire to be a gentleman and his own selfish desires. But ultimately, he saw no reason to oppose you if that was what you wanted. With a nod of acquiescence, he stepped aside, allowing you to make yourself comfortable on the couch.

As you sat down, working to take off your heels, Harry found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you. He watched as you exposed your legs in that pencil skirt, the fabric clinging perfectly to your shape, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through him.

Damn, why did you have to be so beautiful? Harry shook his head, forcing himself to look away before he did something he regretted. "Well, um, I guess we should both try to get some rest from the Jet Lag," he said awkwardly, attempting to break the tension that hung between them.

You nodded in agreement, looking at him with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "I'll, uh, take a shower before bed," he stated, his tone a little more confident now, "and then you can have your turn after me."

You nodded again, offering him a small smile. "Sounds like a plan," you said, your voice tinged with relief.

With that, Harry retreated into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a sigh of relief. Alone at last, he leaned against the cool tile, his mind swimming with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As the hot water cascaded over him, Harry couldn't help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way about you, his secretary, but try as he might, he couldn't deny the attraction that burned within him.

With a frustrated growl, Harry shook his head, determined to push aside his desires and focus on the task at hand. But deep down, he knew that the night ahead would be anything but restful, as he struggled to resist the pull of temptation that threatened to consume him.

As Harry emerged from the bathroom, clad in comfortable pajamas, he found you waiting patiently outside, ready to take your turn. You exchanged a brief nod before you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit hotel room.

With a tired sigh, Harry made his way to the bed, feeling the weight of jet lag settling heavily on his shoulders. He crawled beneath the covers, sinking into the plush mattress with a grateful sigh. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, the bed felt like a sanctuary after a long day of travel.

As Harry drifted off to sleep, his mind still swirling with thoughts of you, he found himself succumbing to the sweet embrace of slumber. It didn't take long for exhaustion to claim him, pulling him into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Hours passed in blissful silence, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the air conditioning. And then, slowly, you emerged from the bathroom, your eyes heavy with sleep as you made your way to the sofa.

But as you settled down on the beautiful but uncomfortable sofa, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of regret that gnawed at the back of your mind. You cursed yourself for offering to sleep on the couch, knowing now how much you would come to regret it.

As you tossed and turned, trying in vain to find a comfortable position, you couldn't help but envy Harry, sleeping soundly in the bed just a few feet away. It wasn't fair that he got to enjoy the comfort of the mattress while you were stuck on the sofa, feeling every lump and bump beneath you.

You sighed heavily, resigning yourself to the uncomfortable reality of the situation. Life wasn't like the movies, you realized, and sometimes you just had to make the best of a bad situation.

With a weary sigh, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the gentle rhythm of your breathing gradually slowing as exhaustion claimed you. Hours passed in blissful silence, the darkness of night enveloping the room in a peaceful embrace.

But then, slowly, you began to stir, your dreams giving way to the hazy fog of consciousness. As you blinked sleepily, trying to make sense of your surroundings, you were surprised to find yourself lying in bed, the soft warmth of the covers cocooning you in comfort.

Confusion clouded your mind as you glanced around the room, trying to piece together how you had ended up in the bed. Your gaze landed on Harry's sleeping form beside you, his features softened by slumber, and you hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

With a hesitant hand, you reached out and lightly poked his shoulder, calling his name in a soft whisper. Harry grumbled sleepily, his baritone voice thick with drowsiness as he questioned what was wrong.

You furrowed your brow, your confusion deepening as you struggled to comprehend the situation. "Harry, how did I end up in the bed?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Harry sighed tiredly, turning to face you with a sleepy gaze. "You were tossing and turning on the sofa," he explained, his voice a low murmur, "and I thought you'd be more comfortable here. It's a king-size bed, plenty of room for both of us."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, the intimacy of the situation not lost on you. This was highly inappropriate, you realized, and yet, there was a strange comfort in being nestled beside him, sharing the warmth of the bed.

With a grateful nod, you settled back against the pillows, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you closed your eyes and let sleep claim you once more.

The next morning, you awoke to the soft chime of the alarm, the sound jolting you from your slumber. Blinking sleepily, you sat up in bed, stretching your limbs as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

Harry stirred beside you, his gaze bleary as he reached out to silence the alarm. "Good morning," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," you replied, offering him a small smile. "Thanks for letting me sleep in the bed last night. That was really kind of you."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze flickering away. "It was no trouble," he muttered, avoiding your eyes. "Besides, it's not like either of us got much sleep anyway."

You nodded in understanding, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. "So, what's the plan for today?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

Harry glanced at his watch, his expression thoughtful. "Well, we have breakfast downstairs at 7:30, followed by the first session of the conference at 9:00," he explained, his tone businesslike.

You nodded in agreement, mentally noting the schedule. "Sounds good," you replied, swinging your legs out of bed and reaching for your suitcase.

As you both got ready for the day ahead, the awkwardness of the previous night lingering in the air between you, you couldn't help but wonder what the rest of the conference had in store. But for now, you pushed aside your doubts and uncertainties, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The rest of the day went smoothly, with you buried in work tasks until lunchtime. However, once you and Harry sat down for lunch, he surprised you by giving you the rest of the day off to explore the city on your own.

Thrilled by the opportunity to discover New York, you eagerly accepted Harry's offer, thanking him profusely before setting off to immerse yourself in the vibrant energy of the city. Harry, on the other hand, opted to stay behind, citing a need for some extra rest after the long flight.

As you navigated the bustling streets of New York, your senses were overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. From the towering skyscrapers to the eclectic street vendors, every corner seemed to offer a new adventure waiting to be discovered.

With Harry's encouragement ringing in your ears, you set off to explore the iconic landmarks and hidden gems of New York. From Central Park to Times Square, you marveled at the city's rich history and vibrant culture, snapping photos and collecting souvenirs along the way.

Meanwhile, Harry returned to the hotel room, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as he collapsed onto the plush bed. With a tired sigh, he kicked off his glasses, placing them on the bedside table before burying his face in the soft pillows.

But as he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of you lingered in the air, filling his senses with an intoxicating mix of desire and frustration. He cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to stray to you, his secretary, when he should be focusing on more important matters.

With a frustrated growl, Harry pushed aside the tempting thoughts that threatened to consume him, reminding himself of the boundaries that he had sworn to uphold. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the memory of your presence beside him, your warmth seeping into the very fabric of the pillows.

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to clear his mind of you, but your smell on the pillows tormented him, that sweet scent that drove him crazy because he couldn't identify it. Was it jasmine? He didn't know, he would only know if he felt it up close, maybe burying his nose in the crook of your neck. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and Harry groaned in frustration, feeling the desire stir inside him.

Turning away from the bed, Harry sat down heavily on the edge, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for allowing his thoughts to wander into dangerous territory. It was just a perfume, he reminded himself, nothing more. He shouldn't get excited; it was inappropriate. You were his secretary, damn it!

As he abandoned the buttons on his shirt and kicked off his shoes, Harry's frustration grew, manifesting in careless actions. Without meaning to, he flung one of his shoes aside, narrowly missing your travel laundry bag on the sofa. With a curse, he watched as the bag fell to the floor, spilling its contents in a messy heap.

"Shit," Harry muttered, scrambling to gather up your belongings and shove them back into the bag. But as he reached for a lacy black bra and matching panties, his hands hesitated mid-air. Was that what you wore last night? The thought sent a jolt of electricity through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he held the delicate lingerie in his hands.

With a shaky breath, Harry swallowed hard, his resolve wavering as temptation beckoned. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, but the allure of your scent was too powerful to resist. Convincing himself that you wouldn't be back anytime soon, he succumbed to his desires, letting curiosity and excitement guide his actions.

Carefully unclasping your bra, Harry's pulse quickened as he held it up, admiring the delicate lace and imagining the softness of your skin against his fingertips. And when he reached for your panties, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through him.

It was inappropriate, he knew, but in that moment, all Harry could think about was the intoxicating thrill of indulging in forbidden desires. With trembling hands, he pressed your panties against his nose, inhaling deeply as he surrendered himself to the heady rush of arousal.

He felt like a fucking pervert, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when the excitement was taking over his mind, blinding him to everything else. With each breath, he drank in your scent, his imagination running wild with fantasies of what could be.

And as Harry held your panties against his nose, inhaling deeply, he felt a surge of desire coursing through him, his cock straining in his pants, begging for release. It had been a long time since he had indulged in such forbidden pleasures, and now, with the opportunity tantalizingly within reach, he found it impossible to resist.

With a shaky breath, Harry rose from the floor, still clutching your underwear in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved with purpose, undoing his belt and pants with trembling fingers. As he stroked himself through his underwear, he couldn't help but imagine you here with him, begging for him, your small hand replacing his big one, your touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Harry crawled onto the bed, still clutching your panties in his hand. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at the pit of his stomach. What was he doing? This was wrong on so many levels, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

With a shaky breath, Harry took off his shirt and underwear, throwing them aside in a careless heap. He lay back on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping him in comfort as he held your panties against his nose once more.

Closing his eyes, Harry inhaled deeply, letting your scent wash over him like a tidal wave of desire. He caressed his chest with his free hand, tracing lazy circles over his skin as he slowly went down, creating the mood while indulging in the intoxicating aroma of your underwear.

With each breath, Harry's imagination ran wild, conjuring up vivid fantasies of you here with him, your touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. He imagined you straddling him, your soft curves pressed against his chest as you rode him with fervor, your moans of pleasure echoing in his ears like a sweet symphony.

"Oh, fuck," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he imagined your pussy wrapped around him, hot and tight, squeezing him with every thrust. He could almost feel the heat of you, the slickness of your arousal coating his cock as you rode him hard and fast, driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

With a shaky breath, Harry pressed the panties against his nose once more, his fingers trembling as he imagined your moans of pleasure, your breathless gasps mingling with his own. "God, I want you," he whispered, his voice a low, guttural rasp of desire. "I want to feel you, taste you, fuck you until you're screaming my name."

As Harry continued to indulge in his forbidden fantasies, his arousal grew with each passing moment, his cock throbbing with need as he surrendered himself to the intoxicating allure of you. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, but in that moment, all he could think about was the overwhelming need to have you, to possess you, to make you his in every possible way.

And as he lay there, lost in the haze of desire, Harry couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out about his secret fantasies. Would you be disgusted? Shocked? Or would you embrace them, surrendering yourself to the same forbidden desires that consumed him?

With a shaky breath, Harry pushed aside his doubts and uncertainties, focusing instead on the overwhelming need that burned within him. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but the sweet release that awaited him, just a few strokes away.

With each stroke of his hand, he imagined you here with him, your body pressed against his as he fucked you senseless, your moans of pleasure driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Oh, fuck," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he imagined the taste of you on his lips, the feel of your soft skin beneath his touch. He could almost feel the heat of you, the slickness of your arousal coating his cock as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

With each thrust of his hips, Harry's arousal grew, his need for release reaching a fever pitch as he surrendered himself to the intoxicating allure of you. He wanted you, needed you, craved you with every fiber of his being, and nothing else mattered but the sweet release that awaited him.

But then, as Harry's fantasies reached their peak, he heard the sound of the door opening and closing, his heart freezing in his chest as he realized that he wasn't alone. With wide eyes, he turned to see you standing there, your shopping bag dropped to the floor with a thud as you took in the sight before you.

For a moment, you both froze, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of shock and disbelief. But then, as reality sank in, you began to apologize profusely, scrambling to find the door handle behind you as you tried to escape the awkwardness of the situation.

But Harry's hand stopped you, his touch firm and commanding as he reached out and closed the door, trapping you between his body and the door. His chest heaved with exertion as he stood before you, his gaze burning with intensity as he held your gaze captive.

"Shh," Harry whispered, his voice low and husky as he silenced your apologies with a single command. "Be quiet."

You obeyed without hesitation, feeling a familiar tightness in your pussy as his dominant tone washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine. But then, as you glanced down, you noticed something in Harry's other hand, something that made your breath catch in your throat. Your panties, the delicate lace fabric clutched tightly in his grasp, evidence of his forbidden desires..

God, he was masturbating with your panties, using them to fuel his fantasies of you, and the realization sent a surge of arousal coursing through you. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the sight before you, mesmerized by the raw desire that burned within him.

With a shaky breath, Harry stepped closer, his body mere inches from yours as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. "You shouldn't have come in without knocking," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural rasp of desire, "but now that you're here, there's no turning back."

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush of heat spreading across your skin as Harry's words washed over you. Despite the guilt and shame that gnawed at the pit of your stomach, you couldn't deny the overwhelming arousal that pulsed through your veins, urging you to surrender to the forbidden temptation that beckoned.

And as Harry pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, his hand tightening around your panties, you knew that there was no going back. You were his now, completely and utterly, bound by the intoxicating allure of your shared desires.

But as Harry broke away from the kiss, his breath ragged and his chest heaving, he kept his eyes closed, almost as if he was ashamed of his own inappropriate behavior. He knew he had crossed a line, indulging in forbidden desires that should have remained buried deep within him. And yet, as he stood there before you, his arousal still burning hot and fierce, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

With a shaky breath, Harry opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and desire. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion, "I shouldn't have done that. It was completely inappropriate, and I understand if you want to leave. We can pretend it never happened, and I'll keep my distance from now on."

But as you looked up into his face, studying his handsome features and the vulnerability in his eyes, you knew that this was your chance. Your chance to walk away and pretend that none of this had ever happened, or your chance to seize the opportunity that lay before you and indulge in the forbidden temptation that beckoned.

And the choice was obvious.

With a hesitant breath, you reached out, your hand trembling as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around Harry's erect member, feeling its firmness and heat pulsating beneath your touch. Harry groaned at the sensation, his head lowering to watch the movement of your hand as you explored him with newfound curiosity.

As you touched him, slowly discovering what he liked and how he responded to your ministrations, Harry's desire surged to new heights. But it wasn't enough. No, he wanted more. He wanted to feel you, to taste you, to fuck you senseless against that very door.

"God, yes," Harry groaned, his voice a low, guttural rasp of desire as he reached for you, his hands roaming over your body with a primal urgency. "I want you, need you... Fuck, I need to feel you wrapped around me, begging for more."

With a hungry growl, Harry seized you by the hips, pulling you closer to him as he pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue delved deep into your mouth, exploring every inch of you as he devoured you with reckless abandon.

You moaned into the kiss, your own desire burning brightly as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating allure of Harry's touch. With each passing moment, the tension between you grew, the air thick with anticipation as you danced on the edge of ecstasy.

But Harry wasn't content to simply kiss you. No, he wanted more. With a primal growl of need, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you against the door as he devoured you with feverish abandon. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and contour as he worshiped you with single-minded determination.

As you wrapped your legs around him, holding onto his shoulders for support, you melted into the kiss, your lips moving in sync with his as the heat between you intensified. Harry's hand roamed over your body, exploring every curve with eager anticipation. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

But as much as you enjoyed the foreplay, you couldn't wait any longer. Breaking away from the kiss, you looked into Harry's eyes with a hunger that matched his own. "Forget the foreplay," you whispered, your voice thick with desire, "I want you inside me now."

Harry's breath caught in his throat at your words, his desire mirroring your own as he nodded eagerly. "God, yes," he breathed, his voice low and husky with arousal, "I've imagined this moment for so long, dreamed of having you like this."

With a primal growl of need, Harry reached down and pulled aside your panties, his fingers grazing your wetness as he positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped at the sensation, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you braced yourself for what was to come.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Harry pushed inside you, his cock stretching you in the most deliciously sinful way. You threw your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of being filled by him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he buried himself deep inside you. "I've wanted this for so long, imagined it in my darkest fantasies."

You moaned in response, the sensation of him moving inside you sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. With each thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge of ecstasy, his girth stretching you in all the right ways as you clung to him, lost in a haze of pleasure and desire.

"Harder," you begged, your voice a breathless whisper as you urged him on. "I want to feel all of you, every inch of your cock inside me."

Harry growled in response, his movements becoming more urgent as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. You clung to him, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you chased the blissful release that awaited you both.

As Harry continued to thrust into you with abandon, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing moment, you found yourself lost in a haze of pleasure and desire. With each stroke, he filled you completely, his cock stretching you in all the right ways as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you braced yourself against the door.

"Oh, God, Harry," you moaned, your voice thick with desire as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. "Yes, just like that. Harder."

Harry growled in response, his hands roaming over your body with a primal urgency as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension reaching a fever pitch as you chased the blissful release that awaited you both.

And then, as you opened your eyes and looked over Harry's shoulder, you saw the reflection of the two of you in the mirror on the other side of the hotel room. The image seemed almost mocking, you fully clothed while Harry was naked, pressing you against the door as he fucked you with abandon.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your blouse partially unbuttoned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberries that clung to your skin, you couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through you.

Strawberries. That was the scent that had driven Harry wild with desire, the sweet aroma that had ignited his passion and fueled his forbidden fantasies. And now, as he breathed it in with eager anticipation, he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over he, knowing that he had finally discovered the source of his obsession.

With each thrust of his hips, Harry's arousal grew, his need for release reaching a fever pitch as he surrendered himself to the intoxicating allure of you. He wanted you, needed you, craved you with every fiber of his being, and nothing else mattered but the sweet release that awaited him.

It was so inappropriate, so taboo, and yet, you loved every second of it.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he continued to thrust into you with abandon. "You're driving me crazy, you know that?"

You smirked, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the effect you were having on him. "Oh, I know," you teased, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I like driving you crazy."

With a hungry growl, Harry pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devoured you with feverish abandon. You melted into the kiss, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating pleasure that consumed you.

And as Harry continued to fuck you senseless against the door, you knew that this was only the beginning of your forbidden affair. The thrill of the taboo, the excitement of being caught, it all added to the intensity of the moment, fueling your desire with every passing second.

You were his secretary, he was your boss, and yet, in that moment, none of it mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming need that burned between you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy as you surrendered yourself to the forbidden temptation that beckoned.

[yellow-berrys]

heart needs a beat | sirius black x reader | FINALE

summary: you visit the potter household during the summer. sirius knows his heart needs a beat when he sees you.

warnings: mentions of an abusive household

navigation | masterlist

part: one | two | three

the summer is bright but i could swear you are brighter

and the flowers are pretty but you are beautiful

something tells me you’re the person to take my breath away

taglist: @tinylittlebuggies, @navs-bhat, @jamespotterswhcre, @mrs-kamisato,    @wonszigrzybek 

 “thank you, y/n,” euphemia slid over many neatly wrapped gifts one by one, as fleamont studied you closely. 

“uh, for what exactly, effie?” sirius was sitting awkwardly in the conference room watching your brows furrow in pure confusion, wondering how his parents had gotten so many gifts in about an hour’s time. but then again, fleamont potter had always been the best at apparation. and sirius had told his father over potion-making sessions everything about you. 

“last night, of course,” euphemia smiled warmly. 

“oh! that was my pleasure, really,” you glanced over to sirius, “i’m always willing to help a friend in need.” 

friend. friend. friend. friend! you said it with 100% confidence. 

euphemia leaned into you and whispered something which made your expression turn flustered. “effie!” you whispered back, then some inaudible noises of protest. 

“thank you so much for the gifts, effie, monty, but i can’t accept them. sirius is my friend,” the dreaded word again, “i would always take care of him and james if they needed.”

“oh but you must take the gifts,” fleamont reasoned, “we would give them to you for christmas on top of your gifts anyway.”

“thank you then, and sirius, i hope you’re feeling much better now,” you gave a small nod in his direction and he smiled back at you. 

oh no, he thought, oh nononono. this cannot be happening. 

“lovely!” fleamont clapped his hands together, “now that’s sorted, how about we go on a potions’ ingredients shop together, y/n?”

“i would love to, fleamont.”

“c’mon effie! y/n, would you mind calling lily?”

“on it!”

you pulled out the device. 

{ conference room asap!! bring sum money and brain no james }

( coming )

fleamont gave sirius a comforting smile, “think things through, alright, son?”

sirius nodded, mind faraway. sensing he was tense, you handed him a chocolate bar and softly turned on your heel.

bam! everything crashed. 

i want to spend every single moment of my life with y/n l/n. a heartbeat. where’s prongs?

james was sulking the sudden departure of his ginger goddess. but as sirius came running into his room, out of breath, james took one look at him and laughed. the idiot laughed! 

“why d’ya look drunk?”

“prongs what is that feeling where you want to learn and cherish all of someone?”

“i believe that is love, pads.”

“nonono! it’s not!” sirius shook his head fervently, “it can’t be!”

“as in you don’t want it to be?”

“it’s nothing like i ever imagined, prongs. when i see her, i just get this overwhelming fondness for her, i want to hold her hand, i want to protect her, i want to kiss her eyelids and run my hands through her hair. my heart needs a beat when i see her.”

“i think you’re in love, pads. you’re getting all mushy.”

--

it had been days since the confession and sirius felt incompetent dealing with all his feelings. he had talked to his dad, his mum, lily, and nothing made him feel relieved. 

he felt a little different to pre-realisation, but still as infatuated.

especially as you waltzed ever so tenderly out of bed before him, sorting his pile of letters by alphabetical order, and setting out some parchment so that he could reply to them later. you then did your morning routine and padded downstairs. 

he had gotten used to memorising you by the sounds you made, quietly rearranging the flowers in the vase, and the sheets around him. he was all too aware of his feelings for you, to the point where he forced himself to keep a foot away from you at all times when you were asleep. cuddling had come involuntarily to him, but now he had the intention to cuddle you, he thought that would just be taking advantage of you. 

and you didn’t even notice. you lived your life in a blissful ignorance to him quaking in his boots whenever he saw you and turning so so so red. (“i’m sure that’s his natural complexion,” you said to lily when she brought it up, “or maybe he’s trying out a new blush?”)

“y/n,” he started as you sat admiring the roses. 

you grinned, a little barmy, “sirius.” 

“have you ever thought about getting with me?”

“why d’ya ask?” 

he closed his eyes for a brief second, eyelashes kissing his skin. 

“have you ever thought about getting with me?” he repeated, words patient. 

“...yes.”

he beamed. 

“do you still think about getting with me?”

“what’s the point of this little game?”

“just answer!” he drummed his fingers on the ground, “do you?”

“err..yeah?” 

there was your staggering admission. sirius felt his heart beating so fast. you did too, but what was sirius trying to get at? he had wheedled a confession out of you, now what? 

“now ask me.”

“sirius...”

“please.”

“have you ever thought about getting with me?” your tone was hopeful, but quiet. 

“yes.”

“do you still think about getting with me?” 

“always.” 

“really?” 

“i love you,” he breathed in shakily, “i can’t live without you.”

your eyes widened. it was your turn to quake in your boots. “hey sirius?”

“yeah?”

“be mine?”

hearts stopped together. an intimate silence, before;

“i was always yours.”

finis. 

[brightlytae]

Okay okay. I'm an Exo-L and I used to be an Army but the fandom really hurt my feelings when I got into EXO. (Like fell in love but I never stopped loving Bts) I felt shunned by some Army who felt like I couldn't like Bts if I liked Exo. So I just became an Exo-L. But after seeing about Bts' new album, I really wanna get back into Bts again. But I find it really hard to do it. Maybe because of what I associate them with. But can you tell me reasons why you love them? Maybe I'll remember too!

Hey there! First I guess I want to apologise on behalf of other ‘armys’ who made you feel like you couldn’t listen to Exo. Unfortunately there is such a longggg and (very tired) rift between exo-ls and army and its just so unnecessary. As someone who listens and enjoys both groups, I believe that there is no reason for others to try and stop people from enjoying both! Kpop is meant to be enjoyed and fans shouldn’t feel like they get to control other fans! I hope that you can get back to enjoying both groups!!

I understand what its like when something effects you to the point that it turns you off from your interest. Sometimes people can be so mean and so pushy that its understandable why you would begin to distance yourself. Something I have always done in being a part of a fandom, is to keep myself away from a lot of the fandom issues- such as fanwars and toxic fans who have a little too much to say about other groups. ive said this a few times on my blog, but BTS are not their fans, and these ‘fans’ shouldnt stop you from enjoying what you want to enjoy!

why do I love BTS? for me there are many reasons:

1) Plain and simply- they make me smile. When i’m having a tough day, when i’ve been working late or something has gone wrong, i can watch a bangtan bomb or a run episode and they make me laugh so much. All of the boys are such characters that compliment each other so well and they all have a streak of humour that is just attached to my funny bone. like they’re just so chaotic and fun, they arent afraid to laugh at themselves and have a good time and that to me, is so refreshing to see. When I watch them, i just feel so connected and drawn in, they make me somehow feel a part of the jokes and i really enjoy that.

2) Their music and message. BTS songs really are pieces of art. I really love how active a role the members have in the production of the songs and i specifically love the way they use their music as an outlet to talk about very real problems that teens and young adults are facing as well as just addressing social issues in such a mature and intelligent way. Songs like no more dream and N.O from their earlier albums, songs like Paradise and Answer: Love myself from their newer albums… these are things that i feel like people like me need to hear. They have reminded me that i will be ok and that i deserve to be happy. They tell me that i am worth something even when i am confused about who i am/ what i want in life and they tell me that i am allowed to believe in myself. They use their talents to create these songs that speak to people and connect to them. When I think about Agust D and Mono i know for a fact that there are songs on those albums that have helped so many people (me included). but also songs like Baepsae and 21st century girls are just so so important too? As someone very interested in politics/class systems/society and someone who considers themselves a feminist- i just love seeing these things being brought up in music!

3) Their bond. The boys are so so so connected and that was one of the early things that really pulled me towards bts and made me stay. i noticed when watching their videos, just how considerate they are of each other, how much they look after one another, build each other up, rely on one another, remind each other that they are doing a good job… that they matter. Their friendship is so beautiful to see and for me, it makes the content they release feel so organic- they’re just so themselves around each other and its very real to me, they ways in which they are dedicated to the group. they are a family and they love each other so much!

4) They are good people. They run the Love myself campaign with unicef and several members have donated thousands to charities around South Korea. They truly want to make a difference in the world and they really want this difference to be a positive one. They’re so dedicated to giving and giving- and we dont see this often with celebrities really. 

5) they are relatable. I strongly believe that groups deserve privacy and to have a personal life but bts have always been very open with their fans and i have such a huge amount of respect for them for doing that. They have been vocal about the hard times they have faced, some of their struggles and they remind us that they are just like us.Where they have opened up, they have allowed others to feel like they too can share their concerns and that is so important! And they have torn down the fan/idol barrier in so many ways and allowed us to view them as friends or family. They really care about us all and want us to be happy- they’ve dedicated songs specifically to give us this message and they never forget to tell us just how much we mean to them.  

6) They work so so so damn hard! They dedicate hours and hours of their time to making music and practising choreography, even on their breaks they find time to record songs and covers for us, go on vlive, post on twitter and connect with their fanbase. But really the amount of work they apply to their craft shows- they’re comebacks are always so flawless and intense, I am always surprised and excited by what they are going to do next and they are never predictable! their music videos are literally some of the best things i have ever seen in my life- the artistry, the vision, the storylines…. its all on another level to me. Things are not half-assed. They make sure that when they want to show us something, that something is perfect and it really is always just. so.  damn. perfect!

7) and that leads me on to the steps bts have taken beyond just music. They dont just give us albums, they have given us a whole world! We get notes, a comic book and short films all dedicated to a whole story-line of events that (sure is confusing af) but it keeps me so intrigued! I cant help but want to always know more, find out what I can and see whats coming next! 

I think ive probably rambled at you for long enough but i just want to say that i  found bts at a time in my life where i felt very confused and unlike myself. Bts reminded me of who I was and what I like. I have to say that Taehyung especially did this for me. As i was learning about them and i saw how unapologetically himself he was, how he was so optimistic and caring, how he didnt let things bother him, he reminded me that i used to be like that and that i wanted to be like that again. He and the rest of the group helped me find myself and reconnect to a lot of my emotions. 

I hope this could help you in some way remember what it was about bts that you loved so much, and please dont hesitate to contact me again if you want to talk about this more! When the new album comes out, I hope you can get back into bts like you want to do! Im sorry again for what happened with those other army who shunned you. On this blog I will never make someone feel bad for enjoying exo or any other kpop group out there. 

Thank you for stopping by and asking me this question. It was really nice revisiting why i love bts as much as i do and reminding myself of all they have done for me!

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 6

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your decision.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: There’s a little bit of smut in here, not too filthy though I guess???

A/N: VOILA NO ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER, only tension teehee anyway I hope this doesn’t disappoint and I am looking forward to seeing everyone’s rage about this part lmfaoooo

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

The last time you lost sleep was back in your days at the university, when you were working on your thesis. And that was years ago so now that you were wide awake at two in the fucking morning, it was frustrating you.

What was even more frustrating was the fact that you were up because of a guy, and not just any guy— Bucky Barnes.

You didn't know whether you made the right decision of rejecting him like that, without even giving the relationship a damn chance. But you were right, weren't you? That making it official with courtship was going to make your corporate life a living hell.

Perhaps you were overthinking?

You groaned out loud and sat up on your bed, grabbing your phone from the night stand and opening up your messaging app.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things that I said.

Delete, delete, delete.

Can we talk again?

Delete, delete, delete.

I already miss you.

"Really, now?" you chuckled to yourself, albeit sarcastically.

When did you ever chase a guy? Never in you entire life did you put your walls down for a fucking guy. What would make Bucky an exception? Sure, he was rich as fuck and handsome as hell but those wouldn't give him an immunity from your pride.

Throwing your phone under your pillow, you decided to stand by your verdict about keeping things professional between you and Bucky.

-

The universe seemed to hate you because aside from losing sleep, you also forgot to set your alarms and now you were running late for the mancom meeting. You really had to confront Bucky like that a day before the meeting, huh?

By the time you reached the conference room, the meeting was already in progress. Heads turned to you upon your arrival, the entire room silent as you whispered your apologies. When you looked around, you realized that the only seat available was the one next to Bucky.

Great, just great!

You could feel his eyes on you as you carefully made your way towards him, mumbling another apology for your tardiness before sitting down. You knew how much Bucky hated it when people were late, whether for a meeting or for a rendezvous. The last time you were late, he denied you of your orgasm when he fingered you in his car.

Was he thinking of the same thing now? If not for last night's discussion, you would probably be bent down on his desk by lunch time. You cleared your throat and squeezed your legs uncomfortably, a gesture that Bucky noticed right off the bat.

You crossed your legs and focused your attention on the presentation until you noticed what Bucky was doing beside you. You tried to be discreet when you checked him out through your peripheral vision; he was leaning back against his seat with his legs wide apart. He seemed to be paying attention to the presentation but then he started stroking his chin in a certain way that made you remember all the times he did that whenever he had his eyes on you.

"Mister Barnes? What do you think about this suggestion?" the head of operations asked.

Bucky hummed lowly as he stroked his lower lip, nodding his head in approval before saying in a rough voice, "I like it."

"I like it."

"Like what?" you asked innocently, lifting a curious brow at Bucky when you entered his office one night in a tight fitting skirt with a slit that showed off the garter of your stockings.

You knew that it was going to drive Bucky insane if you walked around the office wearing something so teasing like that. To hell with the HR, you actually received a memo for wearing such at a workplace but whatever. The reward from Bucky would surely be more than enough to make this decision worth it.

"Playing coy now, are we?" Bucky asked, standing up from his seat and then walking over to you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bucky." you teased.

Bucky smirked and kept his eyes on you when he knelt down in front of you, his rough palms sliding against the skin of your thighs before tugging at the edge of your stockings.

"I'll show you what I'm talking about." he said before he bunched up your skirt, licking a stripe against your lace-clad pussy.

You exhaled heavily at the memory and shook your head. Fuck no, you weren't going to give in! You weren't even sure whether Bucky was intentionally teasing you. Nope, definitely not giving in so easily.

-

You survived the entire day, despite being on the receiving end of Bucky's subtle teasing. That motherfucker was testing you alright, you were damn sure of it. He really went to the pantry during lunch, when you were washing your mug at the sink. And he had the audacity to stand behind you, pretending to be reaching for something from the cupboards.

Janet the snitch was there too! Thank fuck she was preoccupied with her salad and didn't notice when Bucky pressed his crotch against your ass, his breath fanning against your neck when he whispered "Excuse me." in that delicious, rough voice of his.

Thinking that you were finally free to head home, you started gathering your things until you received an e-mail from none other than Bucky. It was a little past seven in the evening already and you've submitted all your reports earlier. What does he want now?

Come see me in my office. Now.

Regards, Bucky Barnes

A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your entire body going cold and you weren't sure whether you should be nervous or excited. Or aroused, even. You weren't going to lie but you sort of hoped that his e-mail contained another dick pic again, something to let you know that everything was fine between the two of you.

Who were you kidding though, you were the one who asked for this set-up.

You adjusted your skirt and went straight to the elevator, counting the seconds until it reached Bucky's floor. Every step you took towards his office felt heavier and heavier as you neared his door. What does he want?! You couldn't think of anything that he needed to talk to you about.

"Shit. Okay, bitch you got this." you mumbled to yourself before knocking.

Bucky didn't even tell you to come in, he just opened the door and left it ajar as he went back to his seat behind his desk. He seemed agitated but god did he look good. You really needed to get a grip of yourself.

"You need anything, Mister Barnes?" it felt strange to address him like that.

He heaved out a sigh and shrugged, "I'm very disappointed in this report." he said, slamming the folder on top of his desk before looking up at you.

"I don't understand. I followed every instruction and even included charts to make it easier to understand." you explained, slightly offended that he was questioning your hard work.

You worked hard on that report, and he knew how much. Was he power tripping you now?

"That's the thing, you followed every instruction. Sometimes you have to make certain changes, that doesn't mean it's automatically wrong as long as the outcome is the same." Bucky explained.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was insinuating something and you knew exactly what it was. You preferred not to focus on it and straightened up, trying to play it cool.

"I don't get it." you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky heaved out sigh, "Come take a look. I'll show you where you went wrong." he said, raising his eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

Oh no. Oh fucking no. He was giving you the look. You tried not to falter and maintained your professional behavior. Slowly, you walked around his desk until you stood beside him.

"See this part? Too detailed, I don't need to know about this. I just want to see the results." Bucky explained casually.

"Another thing is the graph you made. It's good, but again, too many details. You see this?" Bucky asked, glancing up at you.

You squinted your eyes, not wanting to stand too close to Bucky. Even from where you were, his perfume was invading your senses. It reminded you of all the times that scent was all that you could smell, especially whenever Bucky was on top of you, fucking your brains out. Or whenever he took you from behind, his face buried into your neck and—

"Are you listening?" Bucky asked.

You cleared your throat, "Yes." you immediately responded.

"Here, take a look at what I'm talking about." Bucky said, casually placing a hand on the small of your back as you bent down to look at your report closely.

It's as if everything happened so fast. You were trying to see what Bucky was talking about when you heard his chair screech against the floor, followed by his strong hands gripping your waist, pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You gasped out loud when you felt his hard cock against your ass. A slight whimper slipped past your lips when Bucky slightly moved, thrusting his hips upward while his hands on your waist kept you still.

"Bucky, fuck I..." you panted.

And then suddenly, the contact was gone and Bucky was pulling you away from him as he stood up. A shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he feigned innocence.

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot. We're supposed to be professional now. That's what you wanted, right?" he asked mockingly, shaking his head and then fixing his suit.

You stood there, gawking at him incredulously at the stunt that he just pulled on you. Did he really just...?

What the fuck?

"Anyway, I want the revised report by my table end of the day tomorrow." he said oh so casually, as if he didn't just pull you down to sit on his fucking lap while he had a damn erection.

He sat back down and continued with his shit as you stood there, disappointed (at yourself actually) and just feeling like a fucking fool.

"I can't believe you just did that." you softly said, turning around to leave.

"Just say you want me and this will all be over." Bucky said.

You looked back at him with a scowl and saw how smug he was staring at you. His lips curled up into a grin, eyes glinting with mischief. You wanted to kiss that fucking smirk off his face, maybe sit on it and ride it until he's out breath, until the skin on your inner thighs burned from how his scruff was scratching against it.

But again, you were too proud to do that.

"Thank you, Mister Barnes. I'll see you tomorrow."

-

What do you call it when a girl is left high and dry? Is there a female version for having blue balls? You needed to know because that was something you've been going through for two weeks now.

Two fucking weeks.

Since that night in Bucky's office, things have gotten worse for you. Bucky wanted you to give in first and damn, he was giving it his fucking all when it comes to making you cave. The man even texted you a shirtless photo of him at the gym. By accident, he said.

And here you thought that the both of you were going to be professional moving forward.

Bucky always teased you whenever he could, made sure that you'd be reminded of the times you spent together. Whether it was with how he spoke or looked at you, he was subtle but he went all out. One time during a meeting, Bucky started to play with his fucking mouse. His middle finger doing things to his scroll wheel, moving back and forth all the while he was staring at you with a sleazy grin.

As if you needed any more reminder how much his fingers felt so much better against your cunt as compared to your own.

-

Friday came quickly and you couldn't be more grateful for it. It had been very busy at the office and Bucky was edging you even without having the need to touch you. You needed a break from him, needed some time to yourself and rethink about the certain decisions you made.

You stood by the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor when Mark approached you.

"Been a hectic week huh?" he asked, adjusting the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder.

You sighed, "Very hectic, thank goodness the week is over." you said with a chuckle.

"Any plans for the night?" Mark asked, turning to you.

You shook your head, "Not really. You?"

Mark smiled widely at you, "No plans either. But I do remember you owe me a night at the bar." he reminded you.

You mentally facepalmed because fuck, you totally forgot about that. Mark wasn't so bad actually, he was kind and seemed like a lot of fun to hang out with. You just...you just weren't attractive to him.

Maybe you should give it a try? Just to keep your mind off of Bucky even for a while. That man was driving you insane, honestly.

"Of course, yeah. I remember." you said with an awkward laugh.

"Do you want to go tonight?" he asked at the same time the elevator doors opened.

Lo and behold, Bucky Barnes was inside as well. Fucking hell.

"Mister Barnes." Mark greeted him before gesturing for you to step inside first.

You saw the look that Bucky gave both you and Mark. Suddenly, hanging out with Mark didn't seem like a good idea anymore. You prayed that Mark wouldn't bring it up anymore, at least, while Bucky was inside the elevator.

It felt like you were being ushered into the pits of hell when you stepped inside. Even with Mark's presence, you felt nervous being around Bucky. God knows what this man could do when provoked.

"Anyway, how about tonight?" Mark repeated his question, much to your dismay.

Bucky was standing behind the both of you and yet you could feel his eyes digging holes against the back of your head. He was waiting for your response.

"Come on, you promised me a date." Mark just had to imply.

Bucky coughed and Mark turned to him all of a sudden, "You ever been to the bar down the block, Mister Barnes?" he asked.

"Yes." Bucky curtly responded.

"They serve the best drinks, right? So come on, let me take you there. You won't regret it. What do you think, Mister Barnes?"

Mister Barnes will fucking whoop your ass, Mark, you thought to yourself. You suddenly started sweating bullets, feeling your armpits dampen beneath your blouse because jesus christ, was this really happening? You just wanted for the ground to swallow you up. Should you pretend to faint instead? Just to get out of this awkward situation?

"Yeah, a promise is a promise. Why don't you let Mike take you out tonight?" Bucky said, stepping in between you and Mark.

Mark made a face, "It's actually Mark, Mister Barnes."

Bucky though, kept his attention on you. His expression unreadable but his jaw was tensed. You were so fucked. And not in a good way. He was trying so hard to stay calm but when you glanced down, his hands were balled into fists.

"What do you say to that date with Martin?" Bucky asked again.

Mark lifted a finger, "Mark." he chimed in again.

"Yeah, whatever Michael." Bucky waved him off with his hand before turning back to you. "So, what do you say?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked past Bucky's shoulder to check on Mark, he didn't seem suspicious though. He looked hopeful, actually. But you pitied him because he just made it to Bucky's list of employees to keep an eye on. Aside from Janet, of course.

"I...um..." Fuck it.

"Yeah, okay. A date it is then." you awkwardly said, forcing out the driest laugh you ever produced in your entire life.

Mark excitedly pumped his fist in the air, "Great! Thank you, Mister Barnes. Guess she just needed a little push." he said.

Bucky feigned a smile and nodded, taking a step back from you. "A little push. Yeah, I guess so."

Finally, the elevators reached the ground floor and you were ready to sprint out of it when Bucky said his parting words.

"You enjoy your date with Marty now. Totally nothing unprofessional about dating a co-worker." Bucky told you and before the elevator doors closed, you saw the scowl that appeared on his face.

Shit.

"Mister Barnes is acting weird, don't you think?" Mark asked as the both of you walked out of the building.

You forced a smile and walked ahead of Mark, "Definitely not weird. You know what? I badly need a drink or two, an entire bottle of tequila maybe so let's just go now."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed and the message that showed up made you want to stop in the middle of the street, lay down on your back and await your demise.

You're playing a dangerous game. Well, two can play at that.

-

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii​ @jessou893​ @stealapizzamyheart​ @bagelofthelord​ @mxnt​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky​ @ohladymacbeth​ @wildflowergubler​ @supraveng​ @twinerd14​ @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3​ @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm​ @charminivy​ @amelia-song-pond​ @iamvalentinaconstanza​ @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine​ @sipsteacasually​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin​ @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @thatfangirl42​ @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24​ @sugarpunch-princess​ @enlyume​ @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp​ @lyoongx​ @just-deka​ @nobody-will​ @jaziona92 @elisebuitron​ @dpaccione​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x​ @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts​ @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (2)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SMUT FOR THIS CHAPTER. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, mentions of illnesses, momentary fluff, bit of angst care of Bucky, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, character death

A/N: I couldn’t resist not posting this early. Here you go. Next ones will probably take a while coz I have to be an actual adult for a bit. 

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:2 Dark Chocolate

A few days of rest was required to recover from a super soldier's punch. The doctors had said that you were lucky Steve hadn't punched you with full strength or else you would probably have a whole cracked rib cage. You were anxious to jump back in to training, not used to being idle for very long.

You were given some painkillers at the clinic and ordered to stay there for the rest of the afternoon for monitoring. When you woke up, it was early evening and a blonde super soldier was napping on a steel chair next to your bed. He jumped when you moved to sit up, his heightened senses alarmed and disoriented for a second before he quickly switched to repeatedly apologizing to you. You laughed out loud. It was just a little ridiculous to you to see such a commanding presence in the field so charmingly boyish and adorably embarrassed.

Steve was a comforting presence but to be honest you were hoping to see Bucky. You didn't get a chance to thank him since he left immediately after the doctors had ushered you into the examination room. Once you were cleared to return to training, you caught sight of his long brunette hair and the bright smile on your face couldn't be stopped. It was the glare he pinned you with that made you halt your approach.

He was back to his disapproval of your very existence.

You had to admit that it stung. You thought that you were getting somewhere with him after he helped you. At least somewhere outside of the realm of outward disdain. And maybe you were hoping just a little bit that it could lead down the road to him feeling the same about you.

The timing was perfect when you were assigned to your first official mission with the Avengers. It was a chance to prove your worth to the team and to Bucky in particular. A chance to maybe make him see you as more than just a troublesome recruit.

You came back from the mission with your head held high and absolutely glowing with confidence at the kudos from Sam and Natasha. The great Natasha Romanoff had complimented your sniping skills, picking off enemies in her area even before she could aim her own gun at them.

The first thing you wanted to do after getting back to the Compound was to tell Bucky. You wanted to brag a little bit and maybe even thank him for the mentoring. If he hadn’t been so hard on you then you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to be at this level. You were skipping down the halls of the Compound in search for him, clutching the bullet casing from your first official Avenger kill.

FRIDAY had informed you that he was in the training area and you were bouncing on your feet with excitement. As you entered though the place was empty, the rest of the agents having retired to the mess halls. You ventured further in, trusting FRIDAY’s intel until you heard some noises coming from the adjacent armory. You smiled, he must be cleaning his guns again.

As you got closer, the noise began to get louder until you could make out what was undeniably pleasured moaning, one low and gravelly while the other more high pitched. You should have turned away, if only for the privacy of the couple who was wrapped up in their passion, but your curiosity pushed you to come closer and peak through the small crack in the door.

The brief image that you saw made you instantly draw back, a shaking hand pressed to your mouth to silence the shocked gasp. You backed away slowly, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen, then your flight response kicked in and you ran like hell out of there. The scene was burning a hole in your brain and caused your skin to grow cold. Sergeant Barnes rutting hard against a woman wrapped around his waist, his glinting eyes locked with yours, and a cocky sneer on his face.

You didn’t go to dinner that night or to the team celebration for a successful first mission. You chose instead to lay in your bunk with tears burning in your eyes and trying to erase the memory of your discovery. Of course he was already dating someone. A man of his caliber was sure to have a line-up of gorgeous eager women at his disposal. He probably had no interest in boring recruits like yourself. The woman he was throwing into bliss must be some supermodel or high ranking spy. How did you even end up deluding yourself that you could possibly catch his eye?

The rest of your roommates filtered in after a few hours, chatting away noisily about the party. Anna had come to sit on the edge of your bed and ran a comforting hand along your arm, concern clearly etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The mission really wore me out,” you muttered with a small smile. You weren't ready to talk about it yet.

“Personally I think I had better success today than all of you,” Kim’s shrill voice cut through the good natured conversations in the room.

She wasn’t part of the group taken on the mission, claiming beforehand that she was ill. A chorus of curious why’s rang out through the group and she preened at once again being the center of attention.

“Well I just had the fuck of a lifetime from none other than Sergeant James Barnes.”

The room of women burst into chaos; squeals of disbelief, rapid fire questions on how big he was and how good of a lay was he, were they dating now or was this a fuck buddy situation. Of course Kim was more than happy to entertain each question.

You tuned all of it out, the noise turning into an annoying ringing in your ear. You turned around to face the wall as the silent tears that refused to be contained any longer fell to wet your pillow. You barely registered Anna squeezing your shoulder or the words that Kim threw your way.

“Sorry, Y/N. I guess I was just more Bucky’s type.”

You curled yourself into a tighter ball as the pain in your chest radiated across your whole body. You had assumed wrong about Bucky. It seemed that he wasn’t opposed to dating new recruits.

He was just opposed to you.

The taunting from Kim continued on and you just couldn't take it any longer. You brushed the tears away, grabbed your sweater, and marched yourself to the door. You needed to get some air. You needed to get away. Anywhere but there. You wrenched open the door and almost came crashing straight toward a solid chest. Your eyes travelled up to lock with the kind blue gaze of Captain America. You wondered why Steve was standing at the doors of your bunkers holding a pack of beer in his hand.

"Good evening, ladies," he said to the room of now suddenly speechless females. "I'm just going to borrow Y/N for a bit."

The crowd remained in shocked silence while you stared at him in confusion as he smiled sweetly down at you. He had gone looking for you when he didn't see you at the celebration after Natasha and Sam had sang your praises to him at your performance. He wanted to congratulate you and bring you a drink for a job well done.

"Come on. I know a good spot," he said, placing a hand on your back and guiding you out.

Steve brought you to the top of an observatory in the Compound. It was quiet, peaceful, and offered a great view. He cracked open a bottle for you and the conversation just flowed naturally. He kept making you laugh until your sides hurt with stories about his time as a performer in the military and all the unfortunate videos that came with it. You were crying with pure joy when he relented and re-enacted his buy military bonds act, your earlier darkened mood forgotten for the moment.

Steve felt like he did something right when your glassy eyes and defeated expression was replaced with clear amusement. Even if it was at his expense. He wouldn't ask what the reason was, but he felt happy he made you feel better.

"Thank you, Steve," you muttered before you parted ways. Somehow both of you understood that it was more than just for the drink.

You promised yourself then that you would give yourself tonight to weep over your unfortunate romantic feelings. Only for tonight. Come morning you would focus all your energy on what you actually came here to do; become an Avenger. You slept fitfully that night, the shell casing from your first mission still gripped in your hand.

You made a conscious effort after that day to limit your interactions with Bucky and Kim to polite clipped conversations. At first Bucky had been surprised at your change in attitude, your blank expression and sparse words causing a momentary guilt to flash in his eyes. You had chosen instead to spend more time with Steve and the twins, your mood obviously brighter around them.

You were sitting now in a large conference room for a briefing on the next mission with a handful of other recruits when Sam Wilson sent you out to fetch the rest of the Avengers who were running late and not responding.

"Can you get them for me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, knowing that you blushed uncontrollably each time he used a nickname on you.

FRIDAY had directed you to the private common room exclusive for their use. You were about to knock on the door when you heard your name in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument. Against your better judgement, you leaned in closer.

"I don't think Y/N's cut out to be part of this team."

Your heart dropped. The conviction in Bucky's voice was clear. It was one thing for your infatuation with him to be forcefully thrown back at your face, but for him to explicitly state to a set of people that you held at such high esteem that you were not good enough was a whole other vicious heartbreak.

Lily was wrong. This time you should have known when to quit.

You forced yourself to crack the door wider and step inside, clearing your throat to announce your presence. You didn't see the startled look on their faces or the guilty one that followed when they realized that you had heard. One look at your sad glistening eyes that refused to look up confirmed it. Natasha and Steve both threw Bucky a deadly glare.

"Sam wants you all at a briefing. I was sent to come get you."

Your voice was so small and unsteady, none of the easy happiness and optimistic determination that it usually carried. Bucky felt the shame burn through him, the guilt drowning him in an instant. You weren't supposed to hear that. He took a step towards you, instinct driving him to do anything to wipe that defeated look off your face, but a threatening look from the twins pinned him in place.

"We'll walk back with you, little star," Pietro said softly, appearing beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Wanda came on the other side, looping your arm with hers.

For the rest of the briefing, you strained with the effort of focusing on Sam while blatantly ignoring Bucky. You knew he was staring a hole at the back of your head, but you couldn't allow yourself to give him any satisfaction by looking back. You were soon assigned your tasks, you being placed on sniper duty again having performed well the last time.

It was supposed to be a run of the mill mission for intel and taking out a criminal base, but with the expectation of more hostiles so a slightly bigger team was necessary. You practically flew out of the room when you were dismissed, not giving anyone a chance to talk to you. A decision was solid in your mind now for when you got back.

This would be your last mission.

The ride on the jet to the location was spent with you cleaning your gear and checking your weapons. You were sliding a few knives in place when Bucky came in front of you holding out another set of knives for you to take.

"You know if you tilt the hilt to the left you can fit more in one holster," he said.

It was odd hearing him with almost warmth in his tone toward you. If it had happened yesterday, you probably would be celebrating this fact. You nodded at him, but didn't say a word.

"Remember to keep your head low and stay on your post. Okay, doll?"

You nodded wordlessly again. Because you made a point not to look at his face, you missed the way he was struggling to say more to you and the disheartened look when you obviously weren't going to answer him. You ignored him for the rest of the ride, choosing to focus on reviewing the intel.

As far as bad intel could go, this had to be the worst. You were perched up on a densely covered hill a good distance away from the base that the rest of the team were storming. You were picking off as many hostiles coming out of the base as quick as your hands would allow. Your fingers were starting to ache from the constant reloading, your eyes stung from the gunpowder, and your lip was already bleeding from biting down on it.

The noise in the comms was pure mayhem. Each team member trying to ask for help, for backup, for a plan. You had all come expecting a fight but not an army prepared to defend. You were certainly not expecting HYDRA.

"They have Bucky."

Three words spoken that sent a cold dread to wash over all of you. HYDRA couldn't be allowed to take Bucky. You abandoned your post without a second thought and sprinted down toward the base, pistols at the ready for anyone coming your way.

"Last location," you asked urgently as you slipped into the building shooting down two agents immediately.

"West wing. Near the last corridor," Steve grunted, clearly having a hard time on his end. "Y/N, do not engage!"

"I'm the closest one, Cap."

"I'm close too. Just a little busy," Natasha huffed. "I'll follow, Y/N. Steve, we need to get the hell out of here."

Steve had reluctantly agreed, seeing that there was no other choice. He quickly barked orders and commanded you to keep safe. You nodded although he couldn't see it as you wove through the corridors at full speed in search of your teammate. The moment you barged into that last room, your eyes found an unconscious Bucky immediately.

Seeing him in that chair horrified you; shirt ripped, bleeding in several areas, skin pale and cold with sweat, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and eyes that were unresponsive. You were so distracted by the jarring image that you failed to notice the operatives across the room until the bullets were burning through your soft flesh.

You screamed from the pain, but raised your gun and fired back until you heard their bodies thud heavily on the floor. You clutched at your side, the amount of wet blood pouring out was alarming. You pushed your own welfare aside and hurriedly undid Bucky's restraints. It was a struggle to sit up a semi-conscious super soldier and when you took his weight on your shoulders, you collapsed to the floor at the intense pain in your arm. You hadn't realized that you had multiple shots there too.

You gritted your teeth and groaned at the effort of lifting you both up, your blood soaking through your gear as well as Bucky's. You huffed painfully with each step but you just had to get him out of there. You could have kissed Natasha square in the mouth when you saw her come barreling towards you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!" she winced at your state before taking Bucky's other side. Apparently you looked as bad as you felt. "We gotta move fast. I hear more of them coming up this way. This path is clear."

Having Natasha's help in carrying Bucky alleviated some of the burden from you and made you all move faster, but the blood loss was already starting to make your vision blurry and the adrenaline was wearing off. Through the haze, you could also hear the rapidly approaching footsteps. Soon you would be basically useless and you knew there was no way Natasha could carry you both out while fighting off a hoard of enemies.

"Natasha," you said quietly, your steps faltering.

"No. Keep going goddamn it!" Natasha cried.

She knew what you were thinking. She had assessed the situation too and come to the same miserable conclusion. You smiled sadly at her angry eyes and shaking head as you let go of your hold on Bucky. Her eyes widened further as you limped toward the doors behind you and locked them tight before raising your guns to aim right at anyone who would come through them.

She didn't miss how your hands were shaking and your shot arm could barely hold up, the way you scowled deeper in pain with each movement, or how your uniform was soaked in your own blood and slowly forming a pool at your feet. Ghastly as you looked, you turned your head and tossed her another gentle smile. You were basically going to use yourself as a human shield for them and yet you were comforting her. You were reassuring her.

"Check on my sister for me, yeah?"

Natasha wanted to insist on another plan. Anything other than leave you behind to hold off the nearing enemy units. Shouting and gunfire from the other side of the door forced her to make a decision. She cursed sharply under her breath and dragged Bucky away with her, the regret heavy on her heart for having to leave you behind.

You stepped further back and supported your weak body against the wall after Natasha had thankfully left. The enemy was trying their hardest to barge through the door, ramming into it and shooting their guns at the locks. It wouldn't be long now before they manage to breach it.

You took a moment to spare a thought for your sister. A part of you was saddened to think of her grief after she finds out that you had done the most heroic thing anyone could ever do.

Sacrifice.

Another part of you was relieved knowing that she had Jill and she wouldn't be alone in that grief. When you decided this morning that this would be your last mission, you didn't necessarily expect it to be in this way.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Natasha managed to get Bucky back to the jet where the rest of the team were all converging, still fighting off operatives chasing after them. There just didn't seem to be any end to them.

"I'm going back for Y/N!" she yelled to the team as she dropped Bucky on the floor of the jet. There was no time to be gentle, she had to hurry back to help you out.

"What do you mean? Where the hell is Y/N, Nat?" Steve shouted as he grabbed her arm.

"She stayed behind to hold off the ones chasing us so we could get out. I have to go back!"

"I will go. I can get her out," Pietro volunteered at once but he doubled over immediately from the extensive wounds on his torso.

Natasha was already sprinting back into the compound, not willing to waste another minute. She made it only a few feet before the entire facility exploded into a fiery inferno that quickly ravaged it and threw her farther back.

The entire team watched in horror as the explosions continued on several parts of the structure. The area was quickly getting engulfed by the flames and smoke. Steve had to force everyone onto the jet and bodily carry a shell shocked Natasha.

No one could have possibly survived that.

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

Natasha steadied her breath as she quietly landed on a perch high above in the rafters of a seedy warehouse. Wanda joined her seconds later, weaving her magic to better cloak them. The other twin was running a lap around the perimeter and would join them later.

She was assigned weird missions all the time. Missions that had very little to doubtful intel was common. This mission though was by far the strangest she's ever gotten. There was a very small list of vague things that were told to them; the time and location, not to intervene, to remain unseen until the target was ready, bring the target to the Compound.

She was slightly annoyed, but she complied anyway. She was curious too as the mission was given in secret to only the three of them. A million questions was speeding through her mind as she observed the activity below. It looked like a regular run of the mill drug den filled with busy workers and roving guards.

"How many, Wanda?" Natasha whispered.

"I sense more than 25 of them. All armed, but with much fear."

A gust of wind signaled the return of the other twin. He had a frown on his face and a concerned look in his eyes. "There is another one, but this one does not seem to be with them."

Natasha was starting to sincerely doubt this mission when a fast movement from the shadows caught her eye. By the way the twins perked up too, they surely had seen it. They followed the figure as it slipped through the darkness, almost losing track if they hadn't noticed that the guards were quickly dwindling in number. Natasha was growing worried, this was surely a highly skilled group of assassins. Pietro must have been mistaken. They were clean and efficient too.

All of a sudden a gunfight broke out below them. A figure completely clad in black, strolled casually out from the shadows with a pistol in each hand firing precisely at their targets. They confidently charged closer, unfazed as they greeted the gunfire. They continued to tear viciously through the crowd with a deadly mix of combat, bullets, and blades. 

The workers had drawn their weapons by now as well, but they were quickly killed off with barbaric aggression. It did not take long for the floor below to become a sea of blood and lifeless bodies. One person remained barely alive, hanging on to his middle to keep his internal organs from spilling out from the wide gash. The attacker came to him, nonchalantly stepping over decimated bodies. They couldn't hear what was exchanged from this distance, only the choked scream that followed as he was stabbed straight through the throat. His blood spurting out like a broken faucet.

Natasha had been in this profession for a while, but she has never seen this level of unrestrained violence.

One person.

One single person had cleared out a base of approximately 30 people. Natasha was growing more and more worried. Clearly this person was at the very least an enhanced and even with the twins with her, they were not prepared to face someone powered.

What kind of bloodthirsty lunatic does this?

"You can come down now."

All three of them froze in place. Looking down, the attacker was staring right at them with cloaked eyes. Reluctantly and very slowly, Wanda used her powers to float them down carefully keeping a good distance from this murderer.

From this close they could now see that they were in full military tactical gear in what was originally all matte black, but now had an explosion of dripping red. Combat boots, fitted cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt underneath a tight bulletproof vest, gloves, a loose hood over their head, and a cloth mask around the lower half of their face.

"Should have known something was up when my team mentioned seeing a really fast man."

The shivers that travelled through every expanse of skin on Natasha, was a reaction to that voice. It sounded strangely familiar yet unknown, but something in her mind was denying her from piecing it together. The moment the hood was dropped to reveal their eyes was when she spiraled into a complete icy shock. They were eyes that had haunted her for the past ten years. Haunted all of them. The only difference was that the eyes in her memories were smiling warmly.

The bloodied face mask was lowered to reveal a face they mourned, unmistakable and yet completely different. White raised scars branched out like weaving vines from the right side of the neck to just above the jaw and the ears. They were obviously old and healed but still raised and prominent, adding an even more dangerous edge to the menacing look on their face.

Your face.

"Hello, Natasha. Pietro. Wanda."

10 years after they had watched you tragically perish in a burning HYDRA facility, you stood before three of a group of people you had unknowingly tormented all these years.

The earpiece you wore crackled to life. "Blackbird to Hedwig. I have a visual. Should I shoot them?"

You smirked. There was no need for that. At least not right now.

"Hey, Blackbird. Tell Raven I'll be late for dinner. I have a reunion to get to."

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

A/N: Tell me which pairing or combination in this harem you’re most looking forward to. Smut or otherwise. I’m still rearranging scenes and working out smut. There is a long list of kinks. I need help.

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[angryschnauzer]

Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare​

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites​ or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

-

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

-

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in. 

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

[matsbarzal]

Can you do 2 from the soul mate list with Josh Anderson please? He seems like a guy who has a never ending inner thoughts

au #2. you can hear your soulmate in your head... and god is he annoying

word count: 1.1k pairing: Josh anderson x reader

The voice inside of your head had been there for years, constantly chirping around in the background, dropping its input when it believed it was relevant, constantly chatting away, whether it was meant to be to itself or to you, who knows. It took a few years for the voice to really be able to articulate itself, remaining as just background noise inside your head for so many years before.

As the owner of the voice grew older, so did its prominence inside of your head. It was easy to put a name to the voice, Josh, as he called himself so often, constantly berating himself for things that made no sense to you.

Could’ve hit him harder, should’ve skated faster, do you even know how to hit the net? God, what a shit pass. Who even is this kid? I’m going to rip this guy’s head off soon.

The thoughts weren’t always violent, but it was a daily occurrence, usually an hour or two of insane thoughts that pushed you to wonder whether the owner of the voice was entirely sane.

You knew the stories, had heard it from all your friends, every soulmate pair was found differently. Some had matching marks, some were able to escape in each other’s dreams, and some were able to hear each other’s thoughts.

It didn’t take you long to realize you and your soulmate fit the latter of all the options. Josh’s thoughts inside of your head slowly began coming through more and more throughout the years, probably around the same time that yours start floating through his brain more and more.

Josh was… if you were to try and put it into words, Josh was something else. He obviously didn’t talk aloud to himself much, as everything he wanted to say was a passing thought that found itself swirling through your own brain.

The first day you met him, you were able to pinpoint the voice almost immediately. It wasn’t that it was an easily distinctive voice, similar to so many other men, but when you hear his thoughts on a daily basis, constantly swimming through your mind and annoying you, it was easy to pinpoint.

“You know, for the fact you complain that I think so much, you’re just as bad. Oh, should I buy this pink towel? Or this blue towel? Oh, but that lamp is so cute, maybe I should buy it instead. You’re the worst. I love you, but you’re the worst.”

It was something he said to you constantly, every time you mentioned that maybe he should think… a little less, or at least try to guard his thoughts from swimming into your brain.

The worst was when he realized he could cater his thoughts specifically so that you’d be able to hear what he chose. It was like he was constantly going out of his way to be the most annoying person he could be, even when he was thousands of kilometres away.

I swear to God if this motherfucker comes near me one more time, I’m going to enjoy taking the fucking penalty when I slash him in his ugly face.

Big Rig? Didn’t know Oleksiak played for the fuckin’ Bolts, news to me. Stupid fuck, two Stanley Cups my ass.

No fucking way! That was a goal? No fucking way. This kid.

Josh was always extra active during games, his thoughts, and the voice inside of your head going a mile per second, constantly chatting away to himself as he made split-second decisions. It was something that surprised you so much when you finally met Josh, because the personality he showed on the outside was not even close to the personality you constantly heard shouting through your head.

He was chatty, lively, and rarely shut up inside of your head, but yet, he was quiet, a bit more reserved in person.

Guys may see me cry if I don’t sink this puck.

Y/N do you hear me? I’m thinkin’ ‘bout you right now. When I get home can we go to a café? I wanna try this new coffee Eddy told me about, it’s like… frothy and shit.

Why are you ignoring me?

Are you asleep?

Sometimes your thoughts wake me up when I’m sleeping. Not all the time. Are you ignoring me? Do you hate me? Is that it? Our souls are connected you can’t hate me.

You’re the worst. I know you’re awake, you’re thinking about the coffee I was just talking about.

You visibly groaned as the sounds continued through your head, Josh’s voice rampaging through your thoughts, distracting you from the screen in front of you, the conference call a mere distraction to the sound of his voice. He always did this, ignored your thoughts in favour of his own, not paying attention to the fact you were just as busy, if not more, than he was.

Joshua, I’m in the middle of a work call. Please stop driving me nuts on purpose.

You hate me, it’s fine. I get it. I’ll just go to the café with Eddy.

Hearing the joking tone in his voice, you tried to tune him out and focus on the sound of your coworkers talking through the call. This was one of the things people with your soulmate abilities failed to mention, once the both of you were able to realize you could cater specific thoughts to the other, it was no holds bar. Josh always had an amazing time doing everything in his power to drive you nuts.

Not realizing how much time had passed, you heard the office door open, Josh pressing himself against the doorframe as he grinned at you. Turning your camera off, you swivelled your chair around, so you were staring directly at him.

“Oh, look who’s happy to see me for once,” rolling your eyes at his words, he moved forward so he could bend down and press a kiss to the corner of your lip as he eyed the computer screen in front of you in disdain.

“You were ignoring me for this? It’s a Saturday morning, babe.”

“Josh, you genuinely think so much. Even on Monday mornings, it’s like you never shut up. Does your brain ever stop? Like, how are your inner thoughts more annoying than you are?”

Pouting at you, Josh crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled incoherently, forgetting the fact that you could hear the words almost crystal clear in your head.

Sorry that I love talking to you.

Rolling your eyes again, you stood up and moved his arms away from his chest, pushing yourself against his body and wrapping your arms around his back.

“I love talking to you too, baby. But sometimes… you just gotta tone down the inner thoughts. Can’t focus on anything when I have your voice in my head.”

“Perfect, I’ll talk more then. Should be the focus of all your attention anyways.”

note: i truly never thought about it... but josh really does seem like the type of guy who just has the most annoying inner monologue. i hope this fit your request. thank you for sending one in!! <3

[reidyoulikeabook]

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know the Answer

4 times you don’t know the answer, and the 1 time you do

This is the 2nd part to Personal Google! (You don’t have to read it to understand this, but it exists if you want to).

Ship: BAU!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: You’d call yourself a pretty educated individual, and most people wouldn’t argue with that, given that you’re a member of the BAU at Quantico. There’s just something about your best friend Spencer Reid that gets you all tongue tied.

Warnings: Mentions of cases and case-typical violence, mentions of alcohol, Spencer and Reader being idiots again.

Word count: 3k

A/N: The feedback (in asks and the tag reblogs) for Personal Google was so lovely and encouraging and I am very grateful for it! I only made this account a few days ago and I’m already so glad I did :) I hope this is a satisfactory second part and, requests are open!

(This is the Reid I’m imagining here)

“What is up with you and Reid?” Emily’s volume is unmoderated at the best of times but right now it’s like she’s trying to alert the entirety of Virginia to your dating woes.

Dating woes might be a stretch, actually. Somehow, just her implication that something is happening between you and Spencer (even though it isn’t, unless you count two exhausted idiots falling asleep on each other and being too bashful to ever mention it again), is enough to get you feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “Well. I don’t know, honestly, nothing I guess? We haven’t spoken about that night.”

Emily’s eyes rake over you, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue.

“There’s nothing!” you object, “We just, it was accidental, we fell asleep because we were watching a documentary and we were tired and neither of us fell asleep on purpose.”

She laughs, dry and amused, “At this rate, you’ll be lucky to have sorted things out before you’re 50.”

You scowl, but it’s only because you know she’s right.

***

You don’t have much time to think about your situation with Spencer for a few weeks, considering the rate at which the cases come rolling in. This newest one arrives within about two days of the last one you’d just wrapped up. It’s actually kind of rude, you’ve decided, that the serial killers of America have decided to deny you two weekends in a row.

You’re briefed on the case quickly: four women have gone missing over the past 7 months from a small town in Ohio. There’s no distinct pattern that can be discerned among the victims, the oldest is 60 and white, the youngest is 23 and Asian-American. However, the first three have been found dead in the past two weeks, all within a mile of each other and all killed with the same MO: ligature strangulation.

“So we have no idea how he’s choosing them,” you say.

“No,” Hotch replies, with a sigh.

Meaning that this is probably going to take a while. Spencer senses the way you tense up a little as you absorb that fact. So he goes out of his way to sit next to you on the plane. Once the discussion about the case is done, he nudges you gently, “Did you bring a book?”

You shake your head, “I finished the one in my go-bag. Didn’t have a chance to replace it.”

“Would you like to read this with me?”

You place your hand on his wrist, gently turning it so you can see the cover, “Spencer this is written in Greek.”

“I can translate,” he says.

You move closer to him then, your head resting just against his plane seat and your chin almost jutting against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He nods. The remaining 45 minutes of the flight are spent with him reading to you softly, adding in his own thoughts as he translates and sometimes going off on little tangents. By the time you land you’ve entirely forgotten about your ire with the case. You’re focused only on the characters he introduces you to, who are clearly in love even if they’re too stupid to see it, and the way his nose crinkles a little when he reaches a word with no direct English translation.

Whhat you don’t realise, is that you end up folding into him: head pressed against his chest. Somehow, neither of you notice how you naturally gravitate towards each other. Some pair of profilers.

--

Hotch sends you in different cars to the precinct, and you’re soon reminded of your frustration as you’re caught up in the hub-a-bub of the case. It’s not until you’re leaving the station, after a long and relatively fruitless briefing with the medical examiners and local PD, that you even have time to acknowledge Spencer properly again.

And even then, it’s only when Hotch says.

"You'll be sharing a room with Reid, alright?"

He’s only really asking as a formality. Nobody questions Hotch’s assignments for them. So why, then, do you feel yourself flush a little.

Why then, do you feel so embarassed replying, “Alright.”

***

There was nothing much to be nervous about with sharing a room, as it so happened. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind since the unsub had snatched a fifth victim. You’d been sleeping in shifts, making sure that some of you were awake at all times to keep working.

You were working on the geographical profile with Spencer, and had taken to driving around to look for landmarks at night, when there was nothing much else to do. There were maps but sometimes it helped just to get things embedded in your brain. And now, at 4am, you’re bursting into the conference room occupied by Spencer and Rossi, because you might just have got something.

"I have an idea,” you say, and before anybody can even respond you’re scribbling hurriedly on the whiteboard.

“Slow down kiddo,” Rossi laughs.

“Sorry I’m just,” you cut yourself off, slightly flustered and tapping your foot with frustration as you try to put the last pieces of it together, “Diana Matthews.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds.

“She was the one who lived on Lakefield right?” Rossi asks.

Annoyingly, you can’t remember off rote. Spencer sees the pinch of frustration in your brow. He senses that you’re heading for the case file.

So, he answers, “Yeah 38 Lakefield Drive.”

Smiling gratefully at him, you breathe a sigh of relief, “There’s three different stores in the area for this local electronic repair company, Gladston Digital, in this area. Two of them aren’t accounted for on the maps because these are from last year, and one of the ones on Google is pinned to the wrong street, there are two Minister Avenues and one’s on the complete opposite side of town.”

Denoting the map with annotations as you go, you continue, “All of the victims had residences within a mile of one of the three stores. And we interviewed the area manager, Paul something, he manages all three stores. He came to speak to me and Hotch while we were scoping the area.”

“Inserting himself into the investigation,” Rossi notes, “Fits the profile. A stalker like that would want to remain an illusion of control.”

“I just need to get Garcia on the phone to see if it checks out.”

Spencer just watches, slightly in awe, as you make the phone call to Garcia. She manages to cross-reference bank statements and emails, showing that all five of the victims had taken something of theirs in for repair sometime in the year before their disappearance. And he feels something in his gut. Pride? Maybe. That’s certainly a part of it.

But there’s something else in there too. Your eyes meet his, with a flicker of recognition. He realises what it is then: marvel. Your brain works so fast, and that’s not novel to him, he knows you’re intelligent but there’s just something about how fast you manage to put it all together. You conjure something out of nothing, a link that he’d missed. And he’s reminded, again, that he has to try and keep up with you sometimes. He wonders if you know that.

Probably not, he thinks. You’re rambling down the phone and gesturing with your hands, in a way you may or may not have picked up from him, and all he can think is how you look so in your element. And beautiful.

He’s a little embarassed about how normal it feels for that last observation to pop into his head.

***

“To _____!” Prentiss cheers.

8pm has rolled around. Since your revelation 16 hours earlier, you managed to confirm your thinking, apprehend Paul Bader, and save the fifth victim. All in all, a pretty good days work. It’s not just down to you, but everyone’s singing your praises so loudly it’s making you a little embarassed.

Even Hotch sets a drink down in front of you, squeezing your shoulder, “Really good work today ____.”

Fair to say you’ve probably peaked there.

Spencer is sat to your left, sipping at a Mai Tai that you know is going to have him giggly in about an hours time.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you out before,” you tell him, “I was going to come and wake you up when I got back but you were in the conference room.”

He smiles, “I know. It was my shift to sleep.”

“Bet you’re paying for that now.”

“A little,” he chuckles, “It’s worth it.”

"I just didn’t want you to think I was hanging you out to dry. You know, to make myself look good,” you decide to press further: mostly just because the team has sung your praises and that kind of attention makes you shirk at the best of times. Let alone when you’re sat with the guy responsible for creating half the damn profile.

His eyebrows furrow. You worry for a minute about what he’s going to say, but then, “I would never think that about you. We’re a team.”

He squeezes your hand. Maybe that’s your favourite thing about Spencer, really. More than the fact he remembers to get your caffeine just how you like it, more than how gentle he is with just about everybody he encounters, more than his relentless enthusiasm for your questions about whatever pops into your mind. No, it’s his modesty. The way he doesn’t even think for a moment to be prideful or arrogant about his intelligence. He genuinely roots for you in every moment, you think.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You seem a little..quiet.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realise you’d let your thoughts run away with you, “No. I’m good. Just thinking about how good of a teacher you are.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I think so. You’ve taught me. I didn’t know the first thing about geographical profiling when I got here two years ago. I could barely read a map,” you laugh, keeping your tone sincere, “You’re a really good teacher Spence. I feel like I learn so much from just being around you.”

“I often don’t give you much choice.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t want you to. Really. I’m always interested in everything you have to say. I think you know that. But I wanted to tell you anyway. So you’re sure.”

He’s incredibly grateful you get pulled into a conversation by Morgan, giving him a moment to process.

A lifetime of being insecure. Of feeling like nobody was interested in what he had to say but not being able to really control whether he said it anyway. All this time being insecure in himself, and you liked it. Complimented him on it, even. Considered him a teacher. He doesn’t think he could articulate, in any of the languages he speaks, the sense of peace that brings him.

-----

The Mai Tai’s do make him sleepy. Buzzed, but sleepy. After being bought rounds by Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer, you’re feeling exactly the same. It’s only 10:30pm by the time you decide to make your departure for the night. This is much to the chagrin of Emily, who lolls against Rossi’s side demanding that you stay.

“Some of us have been up since 4 this morning, breaking their backs to keep this country safe,” You tease, putting on a melodramatic air just for affect, “Besides, you’re going to regret this when you have to be up and back on the jet in the morning.”

“You will, especially since you still owe me that report,” Hotch teases, with a smile.

Emily rolls her eyes, “You two are no fun.”

She’s joking, goading you, but unfortunately for her you have a sleepy Spencer nuzzling against you which is a far more pressing matter to deal with.

“Come on Spence, let’s get you to bed,” You say, gently wiggling out from under him and offering him your hand.

He pouts at the momentary loss of contact. It’s subtle. You catch it though. He links his fingers through your own, holding your hand properly, and you try not to read into it too much. He’s tipsy. He’s tired.

Ignoring the deliberately obvious eyebrow-wiggling from Morgan, you make for the lift.

“You didn’t have to come to bed just for me,” Spencer says, “I feel bad for taking you away from the others. I’m not that drunk, I could get myself to bed.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

His eyes snap to you, a grin playing on his lips.

“I mean, I wanted to go to bed. And we’re sharing a room. So I’m going to bed with you. As in we’re going to the place where bed is, together.”

He’s just enough tipsy to be confident enough to jest, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Morgan.”

“What did Morgan say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what Morgan always says whenever anybody goes off together.”

“That they’re having sex,” He giggles, tipsiness shining through again.

“Yes, Spence, that they’re having sex.”

“But we’re not.”

The elevator dings as you arrive at your floor, saving your brain from delving into the implications of what he’s just said. And whether that was a disappointed or netural tone.

He hasn’t let go of your hand. He walks to the door with you, still keeping your hand in his. It’s hard not to let yourself read into it now. How holding hands with him could be such a casual thing. Hard not to imagine walking through bookshops with him, one hand in yours and the other picking books off the shelf he thought you’d like. The domesticity of it sickens you.

Then he lets go to cross to the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna put your pyjama’s on?” You ask.

“I wasn’t gonna sleep yet,” he says, “I was gonna...”

He looks bashful, suddenly, self-consciously licking his lower lip, “I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to watch something with me. You can pick. I always pick.”

“This an excuse to get me in bed with you again, Spence?” You tease, just past tipsy enough not to care that this is the first time you’ve even acknowledged that night.

"Yeah, the Pearl Harbour ruse doesn’t work twice,” he jokes.

You wish you could find the courage to tease him more. Unfortunately, the liquid courage seems to have run out, and the topic somehow feels too delicate to touch.. Instead, you change quickly into your pyjama’s. Together, you pick something to watch, settling down. You’re suddenly thankful for the single bed, the necessity to be cozied up against him as you watch. To feel his chest, every beat of his heart. You swear it’s beating fast. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

***

Just like last time, you wake up huddled against Spencer. Unlike last time, there’s no Emily banging the door down to drag you to the police station. No, it’s quiet.

You can’t see what time it is because there’s a Spencer between you and the clock. Your phone is in your back pocket but it’s hard to find any motivation whatsoever to move when you’re like this: face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop of yours so a single curl of his hair tickles your nose, his hand on your hip holding you against him.  

His eyelashes flutter, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

He smiles, “Me too.”

“Looks like we did it again.”

“Looks like we did,” his voice is quiet.

“Do you want me to move? If I’m...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His free hand comes up to your chin, tipping it so you’re looking him directly in the eyes. His pupils are dilated. In the dim light it’s hard to place the look on his face exactly. But it’s soft.

"C-Can I kiss you?” the question spills quickly from his lips, like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind if he doesn’t get it out fast, “I just. I don’t know if that’s what you want too, I’ve just really-”

"Kiss me, Spence. Please kiss me.”

The smile on his face would have made you fall in love with him, if you weren’t already. And then he kisses you. Barely. Your lips are just grazing against one anothers. You tilt yourself upwards, towards him, giving him a better angle. Then he really kisses you, capturing your lips in his. It’s sweet, it’s soft, it’s...it’s everything. It’s everything, how his hands tangle themselves tentatively in your hair, how he kisses you so deeply, drinking you in.

His hand cups your cheek, then he’s pulling back, just a tiny bit, to mumble against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The only appropriate way you can think to verbalise your agreement, is closing the gap between your lips again. There’s an urgency to it this time. Your lips move quickly, passionately. He swipes his tongue across your lower lip and you let him in, your tongues delicately dancing together. He’s good. He’s good and you don’t even notice the morning breath or faint taste of rum, it’s just Spencer.

When you finally come apart, you’re out of breath.

“I didn’t think you’d ever do that,” you say, “I was worried I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

He frowns then, that little nose crinkle appearing again, “I thought I was too obvious.”

“So did I. Maybe it’s best if we don’t tell Hotch how bad we are at profiling each other. He might rethink his decision to take us on.”

He laughs, “Not being able to profile when somebody’s in love with you might be a cause for concern. There are several obvious phyical signs of love, including dilation of pupils when looking at the object of your affection, heart rate synchronisation.”

“How am I supposed to know if our heart rates have synchronised?”

He smiles. Pressing a finger to your lips, he dips his head in the small chasm between your two chests. In the silence, in the early morning quiet, in the absence of all distraction you can hear it. The steady thrum of your hearts, pounding away at identical paces. The sound that told you that some part of you had always known.

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

Tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith​​ @sassiest-politician​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from this list)

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[cacoetheswriting]

chasing a feeling - spencer reid

Warnings: angsty, a lot of cursing, smut (nothing too explicit; just a pretty heated make-out session) Word Count: 4.3k Summary: You and the young doctor used to date. Now, years later, you were back in Spencer’s life - much to his dismay. A/N: it kinda takes a bit to get into so i’m thinking maybe of making a part two cause there was soo much more i wanted to write?? // PART TWO IS UP NOW, link at the bottom

- 

“There has to be some mistake.” Spencer exclaimed, an irritated expression now outlined his facial features. “It’s not a mistake.” Emily stated calmly as she sat back down in her chair, eyeing the doctor in front of her with caution almost as if she was waiting for him to blow. But he didn't say anything. 

Instead, he was looking down at this hands. Rather at the brown folder she handed him just minutes ago. A folder containing information about the BAU’s new team member. Your information.

He reread your name over and over again. Praying this wasn't actually happening. Hoping this was a dream, a hallucination. 

“Spencer, the decision has been made. She starts today.” His eyes darted up instantly to meet Emily’s. His jaw locked. Yes, he was angry. Of course he was angry; as she suspected he would be once the news broke. And in his own mind, he had every right to be. 

“I hope you don’t think that because we know each other I’ll be the one showing her around.” He spat flinging the folder onto the desk in front of him. It landed with a soft thud. Emily sighed slightly taken aback by his attitude. She’s never seen him act this way. This wasn’t the Spencer Reid she’s worked with all these years. 

“I’ve already asked JJ to take Y/N under her wing.” Spencer flinched at the sound of your name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. No. He shook the thought away. To him, at this moment in time, you were anything but. Evil incarnate. Better. 

There was a brief moment of silence. 

“Spencer, if you want to talk-” “I’m fine.” He interrupted and hurried out of the room. Emily watched him cross the bullpen and disappear behind the glass door. She let out a deep breath while glancing at the clock on her wall. You should be arriving any minute now. 

The elevator door opened with a quiet ‘ding’. Taking a deep breath you stepped out where Emily was waiting with a smile on her face. She immediately reached out and shook your hand. “Hi again Y/N, welcome to the BAU.” You squeezed her hand gently - hoping she wouldn't sense your nervousness. “It’s definitely good to be here. Thank you for this opportunity.” 

Emily let your hand fall. Still smiling she said; “No need to thank me. Your professional reputation precedes you, I would be a fool not to hire you.” "Still, it’s an honour.” 

You followed her through the bullpen. She showed you your desk, pointed to where her office is: “I’ll have JJ give you a more detailed tour later on but right now we have a case.”. You nodded in understanding. “Yes, I packed a go-back when you rang me this morning. It’s in my car.” “Perfect.” 

Emily led you to a conference room where you were greeted by the rest of the team. There wasn’t time for deep introductions, just quick shakes off the hand in between a ‘nice to meet you’ or ‘good to have you on the team’.  Although one person was missing from the welcome wagon. And you weren't the only one to notice. 

“Where’s Reid?” Emily asked glancing around the table. She motioned for you to sit down in one of the empty chairs, which you did. “Spence said he’ll meet us on the jet.” It was the petite blonde who spoke, JJ. “Apparently he had something he needed to do before we left.” Emily nodded. She glanced at you with an apologetic look before turning her attention to the screen at the top of the room.

“Let’s get started.” 

As the team discussed details of the case, you stayed silent. You should be paying attention. Your first case with the BAU, your first day. Concentrate. Yet instead your gaze still wondered to the empty seat. 

You shouldn't be surprised that he didn't want to be here. A part of you was relieved, however, another part of you was quite hurt. You thought maybe after all these years he wouldn't have cared anymore. Clearly you were wrong. He’s not worth it. And he wasn't. So you shook the weird feeling away and turned your attention to the screen. 

Later on the jet, you didn't want to cause a scene once the young doctor finally showed himself therefore you settled into a seat as far away from the rest of the group as possible. You looked out the window, onto the grey tarmac and waited. What you were waiting for exactly you had no idea. If he didn't want to see you earlier, he definitely wouldn't want to see you now. Except now he had no choice.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your thoughts were interrupted and you looked up to find Luke smiling down at you. “First day jitters.” You lied smoothly. He grinned. “Definitely know how that feels. You’re doing great so far.” You smiled as he plopped herself down on the empty armchair in-front of you. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you looked back outside. “So a little birdie told me you knew Reid before his time at the BAU. What was he like?” Luke inquired, making conversation. Your palms began to sweat. How would you even begin to tell him what Spencer was like? Did you even remember correctly? Or was the image you had imbedded in your brain a figment of your imagination; what you wanted to remember.

“Uhm. He was shy.” You smiled to yourself at the thought of the young doctor always tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt. “Well he’s definitely far from that now.” Luke chuckled and added: “Yeah he’s eh, he’s been through a lot in the last year alone. This job squeezes the shyness right out of you.” 

And like a ghost from your past he appeared. Almost as if he heard you talking about him. Spencer Reid. He looked different than you remembered. More grown up, older, tired. Handsome. You sat up straight in your seat; your eyes glued to the boy you were in love with all those years ago. The brown haired doctor stood at the top of the plane, a stern look on his face. He scanned the plane looking for a place to sit. That’s when his eyes landed on you. 

The air caught in your throat as your eyes locked. Should you wave? No. Smile? Definitely not. Your mind raced a million miles per second wondering what the appropriate thing to do would be while Spencer simply turned away; his attention no longer on you. 

“Do you want to go say hello?” Luke asked following your gaze. “Maybe later.” You replied, focused Spencer. From the corner of your eye you could see him nod. He wanted to say something else but he held himself back. “If you don’t mind I’m gonna catch up on some sleep.” He made himself comfortable and without waiting for you to respond dozed off.  

Spencer sensed you still looking at him. Why were you looking at him? He wanted nothing more than to scream, tell you to stop, but he was a professional. Spencer Reid was a professional and he wasn't going to let you ruin- ruin- ruin what exactly? He shook the thought away. You were bound to ruin something. 

He knew deep down he was being irrational. It has been years since the two of you last saw each other. A lot has happened since then, a lot has changed. Spencer wondered if you changed. He found himself secretly hoping you didn't; you were perfect. No, no. He gritted his teeth causing his jaw to clench. 

He glanced in the direction of your seat - why, he did not know. Curiosity maybe. Or did he just want to look at you again. But your seat was empty. 

Instead you were stood by the coffee machine, trying to figure out how the pesky thing worked. He couldn't help but snicker under his breath amused. If he was to state the obvious physically you hadn't aged a day. Your hair was different, longer and a slightly lighter colour. He wondered if it still smelled the same. Coconut. Damn it. How could you still have such an effect on him? 

In that moment he decided to bite the bullet. Better to get it over with and this was his chance. Suddenly feeling nervous Spencer took a step forward and began to approach you. 

“Hi there.” The words came out croaky. No response. You didn't even look up from the machine. Spencer cleared his throat. “You need to turn it off and back on. It’s pretty old so often it needs an additional nudge before it starts working.” 

He pressed the button restarting the coffeemaker. Spencer relaxed beside you; he was so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating to say the least. The blood in your veins was pumping faster than it has been all day. 

And as if his sudden closeness wasn't bad enough, he reached over to grab the mug you were gripping tightly in your hands. His fingers brushed against yours in the process sending an immense tingle down your spine. He froze for a moment and you couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too. 

Eventually, you let out a breath you didn't even realise you were holding. “I thought maybe you would pretend I don't exist.” Spencer huffed at your comment rolling his eyes. The machine began to purr and a black liquid slowly poured into your cup. “I can't ignore you forever. We work together now.”

That last sentence came out harsh. You noticed immediately and your gaze darted up to meet his. The look in his eyes was one you haven't seen before. Dark, hateful even. “If you have something to say just say it. If not, leave me alone.” You hissed as you stared up at him. The coffee machine beeped. 

You began to reach for your beverage but Spencer grabbed you by the arm, intercepting, and pulled you in closer to him. His grip strong. A gasp escaped your lips at the sudden movement. 

“Let me go.” You hissed as you stared back up at him. His clutch on your arm tightened - it was starting to become uncomfortable but you weren't going to let him know that. You only hoped the rest of the team couldn't sense the rising tension and weren't paying attention to this cumbersome reunion. 

“Why are you here? Why are you back Y/N?” Spencer finally asked in an ominous tone. “I’m here to work.” You replied confidently. He scoffed pressing your arm harder into his chest. You could feel his anger spike. His body heat radiating against you due to the proximity of your stance. 

“What, Los Angeles wasn't big enough for your ego?” He jeered. “Gee Spencer, I didn't think you were keeping tabs on me. Careful or I might start to think you still care.” You sneered in a mocking tone. It was the wrong thing to say, you knew that. You knew it would only get him angrier. And he did. 

His blood boiled like lava. You could see the hatred smouldering across his facial features, eyes narrowed. He wanted to explode. If it wasn't for where the two of you currently stood he would allowed for the darkness to swallow him whole. You sensed it. He was aware you sensed it. Even after all this time no-one knew him better than you. Perhaps that’s why he was so bitter. 

“Quite frankly Y/N, I don't give a fuck about you.” He spat letting your arm fall. 

The words stung. Your face fell and for a split second his demeanour changed. A glimmer of sorrow in his eyes. His lips parted almost as if to say something - apologise maybe. But the moment passed quickly and within seconds he was cold again. “Enjoy your coffee.” He muttered before turning on his heel and walking away. 

A lone tear dripped slowly down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before anyone noticed and grabbed your drink, sulking back in your seat. 

Remainder of the flight was uneventful. The team gathered together once again shortly before landing for a quick briefing. Together you went through any last minute developments in the case. This time you participated, not letting Spencer’s tense poise distract you. Once the meeting concluded Emily divided you into teams of two - thankfully she paired you with JJ meaning you got to avoid Spencer the rest of that afternoon.

You didn't see him again until much later that evening at the local station. He stood by the bulletin board, deep in thought working up the geographical profile. 

JJ asked if you wanted a coffee, you said yes. Spencer’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice but he didn't look away from the map. JJ turned to Spencer with the same question, he simply shook his head and she disappeared leaving you with the young doctor.

Neither of you said a word. He focused on his own work as you reached for the box of the first victims journals you gathered with JJ. Picking up the first one you began to read through it - pacing. Spencer watched you now. Just like he used to all those years ago. He always found it odd that you liked reading while walking around. A small smile circled his lips at the familiarity of it all, but as soon as you glanced up at him the smile faded. 

Soon enough JJ returned with the coffees. You thanked her as she sat down, grabbing a journal from the box. Her presence eased the rising tension you could slowly feel forming. 

“Does ‘blind pig’ mean something other than the animal?” JJ asked taking a sip of her hot beverage. “Yes-” You and Spencer replied simultaneously. You locked eyes for an awkward moment. Spencer cleared his throat, averting his ogling, as you turned to JJ. “A blind pig can also stand for a place where alcoholic drinks are served illegally.” 

“The first victim references that phrase in almost every entry.” JJ said, showing you one of the poorly scribbled annotations. “I’ll ask one of the officers if they know of any restaurants or bars that partake in such activities.” You said placing your coffee and the journal you were reading on the table. “Good luck. They weren't very forthcoming earlier according to Emily.” She smiled encouragingly before turning her attention back to the notebook in her hand. 

Spencer on the other hand found himself following you with his gaze. He watched as you approached one of the policemen. Your hips swaying elegantly from side to side. He watched how you flicked your hair over your shoulder almost in a flirtatious way, a warm full smile appearing on your face. He watched as you laughed at something the officer said, tilting your neck slightly backwards and placing your hand gently on his bicep.

An unfamiliar feeling stirred inside of him. Was it jealousy? No. Spencer Reid wasn't jealous because you were casually seducing some crook of a man. His fists clenched at his side, fingernails digging deep into the palms of his own hands. 

Oblivious to the brown haired doctor staring you down, you continued talking with the officer. “I wouldn't normally ask this, but honestly I’m perplexed and I was hoping you would be able to help me.” You fluttered your eyelashes feeling sick to your stomach that flirting was the only way to get some information. But it worked. Soon enough you were strutting back to where JJ and Spencer where now joined by the rest of your team - a printout of all the places serving alcohol illegally in one hand and the officers number jotted on a napkin in the other. 

“Nice going.” JJ grinned as you handed her the list. “That poor guy didn't stand a chance.” Rossi affirmed with a quiet laugh. Matt and Luke chuckled together soon joined by Emily. The only person that wasn't amused by your theatrics was Spencer. “Yes, whoring yourself out is really a display of skill.” 

The group immediately fell silent. “Reid.” Emily’s tone of voice was far from pleasant as she glared at the young doctor. 

“Spence-” JJ began but you cut her off. “You’d think with an IQ of 187 you would know by now how not to be a fucking prick doctor Reid.” You hissed and tossed the napkin, which was now curled into a tight ball, right at his head - missing only because he ducked. You excused yourself calmly and briskly rushed out of there. 

The cold breeze hit your skin the second you stepped outside. Your break down followed shortly after. Hiding behind one of the pillars to the side of the building you burst into loud sobs - once the floodgates opened they were hard to control. A sweep of tears escaped your eyes, trailing down your face like a waterfall. It was hard to breathe. Your fingers desperately fidgeted with the buttons of your shirt hastily undoing the top few. You placed your hand on your chest, heart thumping. 

Through your heavy cries you didn't hear the door swing open behind. “Y/N?” A familiar voice called out, the cause of your current waterworks.

It didn't take long for him to find you - hunched behind a pillar, one hand on your chest while the other held your head. Cautiously, he ambled towards you leaving only a step between his body and your own. He reached out and gently took your hand away from your face; it was slightly wet from all the tears you caught in it. You didn't look at him so he closed the space between you and placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up. 

“Congratulations, I guess you got what you wanted.” You whimpered, the look in your eyes completely broken. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly confused. “This isn't what I wanted.” He whispered. “Really? Could've fooled me.” You muttered in between your sobs, trying to free yourself from his strong grip. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn't know what to say. Tell you he regretted that sentence the second it escaped his lips? You wouldn't believe him. Apologise? Yes, he should probably apologise. But as he opened his mouth nothing came out. He looked at you with a sense of hopelessness, this was not what he wanted to happen. “You have to believe me Y/N. I didn't mean-” “Forget it Spencer, I don't want to hear it.” You cried attracting unwanted attention from passersby. 

“I knew this would be difficult, seeing you after all this time and having to work together-” You took a deep breath. “-but I thought we’d at least be mature about it!” Your sadness dissolved into anger. You mustered enough strength to free yourself from his embrace, slightly pushing him back. That was enough for Spencer to get angry too - it was unwarranted yes, but he couldn't help it. Fight fire with fire. 

“God Y/N, you are so entitled!” He hissed taking a step forward, once again closing the space between you. “You only look out for yourself!” He jabbed his finger into you; just under your collarbone. “You are the one that left!” Jab. “You are the one that chose to come back!” Jab. “You are the one that fucking ruins everything!” Jab. Jab. Jab. 

“And you are the one acting like a dick about it!” You groaned aggravated. He gritted his teeth - you stroke a nerve. A sense of satisfaction overcame you; so you continued. “The only one with a problem here is you!” It was your turn to poke him and you made sure to do it hard. He didn't like that. He grabbed your finger, pulling it away from himself. His hand then slid until your wrist was wrapped tightly in his hand. 

He had all the power. And he knew it too. 

The two of you continued yelling insults at each other. You called him “irrational”, “immature”, and “a complete asshole” - amongst other curses. He resorted to bringing up your troubled heated past whilst calling you “crazy” and “a bitch”. Tension rose with every spoken sentence - your faces mere inches away from each other. You could feel his hot breath against your skin as he jeered how much he hated you. The look in his eyes was infuriation, but there was something else. Arousal? Impossible. 

“Do you know why you hate me so much?” You provoked. “Because I don’t stroke your ego. Because all those years ago I decided to follow my own path rather than stay and entertain you like everyone else in your pathetic life!” His jaw clenched. “And I think you're feeling insecure now that I’m back and working with this team because I know things-” “Shut up.” He whispered but you ignored him. “-I know things that could ruin you.” “SHUT UP!”

The sound of his roar caused a couple of people to stop in their path and look towards the two of you. The door flung open and an officer stepped outside to check whether everything was okay, but Spencer was quick to dismiss him. 

Seconds passed in which Spencer composed himself. Taking a step back he let go of your wrist and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked around, in search of what to say next. You however celebrated this small victory. A smirk appeared on your face and you couldn't help but let out a satisfied laugh.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna head back inside.” You said coyly. He didn't protest. He didn't even look at you. The smirk on your face faded. The anger began to dissipate. “For what it’s worth if I knew things would be this hostile between us, I wouldn't have taken the job.” 

With that being said, you were about to walk around the pillar when he grabbed you again. Your back pressed to the cold brick and Spencer’s assailed against you. No escape. He leaned down, tilting his head slightly, and you felt your body give way to his unspoken suggestion.

His mouth slanted over yours - all options to deny him taken away. His hands flew to your face cupping it hastily as his fingers buried in your hair, tangling themselves in the thickness. Your arms slid around his waist, trailing upwards, and feeling the hard muscles of his back. Both your heads rotated back and forth to vary pressure. His mouth was possessive and it didn't take long for his tongue to breach your lips. 

All of the emotions that had been churning rose to the surface and exploded all at once - your heart felt like it was on a rampage. The kiss now deeper than ever. Your tongues dancing together, each trying to assert dominance. Spencer bit down on your bottom lip vigorously causing a velvety moan to escape your mouth. The smooth sound of pleasure only fuelled the doctor more as he pushed himself into you more and you felt his member twitch in his pants.  

After what seemed like forever, he pulled away. The pause was brief allowing you to only to catch a quick breath, and in the space of a heartbeat Spencer lowered his mouth back down to yours with immense passion and desire. Your legs felt like rubber as you leaned into him completely. He explored your mouth as his hands nonchalantly made their way from your face down to your collar. 

Now that he’s tasted your lips, after all this time apart, he found himself only wanting more. 

Spencer grazed you roughly with his nails before binding one hand steadily around your neck - giving it a soft squeeze. The other hand continued down your chest, his fingers making their way inside your half-opened blouse. Your whole body was on fire. As was his. 

Slowly, he broke the kiss. Both of you breathless. A hungry look spread across his facial features; now you definitely saw arousal in his eyes. He let his hands fall down by his sides, but his body weight was still pressed into you. He tried to organise his thoughts. Which was impossible to do with you standing right there - your eyes wide open, hair ruffled, mouth slightly parted swollen and red from the kiss. Fuckable. 

He moved away from you because he knew if he didn't his lips would once again find yours. He watched you collect yourself. Fix your blouse, wipe the corners of your mouth with your fingers, adjust your skirt, flatten your hair. None of that helped however; he still wanted to devour you. 

When you finally met his gaze there was a hint of regret in your eyes. All the dirty thoughts and scenarios he had piling in his brain disappeared momentarily because Spencer knew that look all too well - there was an invisible line you had drawn and the two of you crossed it. 

“Tell Emily she’ll have my resignation letter in the morning.” Your voice a bare whisper. 

He opened his mouth to say something, to tell you he was sorry for everything. Sorry for the arguments, the name calling, for ruining your first day, sorry for the kiss. He wanted to take your hand, and tell you that there was a way the two of you could work together after all. That you didn't need to do this. That he was glad you were back. 

But no words came out. His throat locked up. He stood frozen like a deer in headlights and simply followed you with his gaze as you hailed a taxi and disappeared into the night. 

-

| PART TWO | PART THREE |

masterlist

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 5

Word Count: 6,353

POV: Reader

Warning: Language, Smut, NSFW, Pregnancy stuff

Notes: Sorry I meant to post this last night, but that game left me barely able to function. As such, you are getting this today. This fic takes place during the 2018-2019 season and during that season Jacob’s dad was still with him, so I will be mentioning him in this and the next chapter, along with his cancer. If that bothers you, please skip this and the next chapter. I just felt that it needed to be written into the story. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It took three weeks back in LA to get everything taken care of before the move to Vancouver. Work thankfully wasn't a problem. With more and more movies and television shows being filmed in Canada, the firm liked the idea of having someone closer. Most of your work could be done remotely anyhow and you could just video chat conference calls or anything else you needed. It ended up being a win for everyone.

 By the time you could actually move in, Jacob was on the tail end of a ten-day road trip. He'd insisted on hiring you a moving company, even though you said you could handle it, not that he thought you couldn't; he just felt you didn't need the added stress. Though packing wasn't the stressful part. It was the unpacking and not knowing where to put things with Jacob not being there that was causing your anxiety to rise. You felt like you were invading his home. Most of your furniture you kept in storage, but you still had a few things you wanted to take with you, yet you didn't know where to have the movers place it. Then there were your clothes. Jacob had a gorgeous master bedroom, with a closet to die for, but all his things were in it. You were unsure if you should move them to make room for yours or just take up the closet in the spare room. Which while spacious, was nowhere near as nice as the one in Jacob's room. Everything would've been much easier had he been here.

 In the end, you split everything up, putting half your stuff in his closet and half in the other room. You figured the two of you would be doing a lot of compromising and this would just be one of them. You had his office moved around to accommodate your work desk, since you'd be working a lot from home, and you had to wonder how often he came in here, as the pile of papers on his desk looked like the size of Mount Fuji, volcanic eruption and all. You were tempted to straighten it out for him, but opted not to, not wanting to invade his privacy.

 You were just putting away the last of your stuff when you heard Jacob walk through the door. "Prinsessa, I'm home." He'd taken to calling you his Swedish princess lately and you had to admit you didn't hate it.

 "In the bedroom," you hollered back. It was late in the evening, too late for you to be up, but you wanted to see Jacob and make sure everything you'd done so far was fine with him.

 "I was surprised to see all the lights on when I pulled up. Couldn't you sleep?"

 "I just wanted to finish putting away a few things." He dropped his bag on the floor and came over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and dropping a few kisses to your lips.

 "I missed you these last couple of weeks." It was weird but you'd missed him as well. You had talked every day, sometimes several times, but those few days that you'd spent in Vancouver, had just brought a new closeness to this relationship. If a relationship was what you could call it. He did refer to you as his girlfriend, but the way you two had gotten here was definitely the road less traveled.

 You slid your arms up his chest, savoring the feel of his well-toned muscles there. "Funny...I didn't miss you at all." You had a hard time keeping a straight face.

 "Really?" Jacob asked. There was this twinkle in his eyes, right before his hands slid under your ass and he lifted you on him. You didn't even have a chance to wrap your legs around him, though he held you with ease. "Maybe I need to do a better job at leaving you some reminders for next time." His mouth went to the crook of your neck where he sucked on you and gave you little love bites. You were pretty sure there were going to be marks there.

 "And here this whole time I thought they called you Marky because of your last name," you teased, yet moved your head to the side to give him greater access.

 "Oh, I plan on leaving more than just this one." He carried you over to the bed, where he gingerly lowered you down. You loved how he could be slightly rough with you one minute and then next so gentle.  Admittedly, you'd like to see a little bit of his rough side, but hopefully, that would come with time.

 His hands slid under your shirt, along your sides; the callousness of them rough yet the touch tender, making you shiver. "No bra?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up with delight as he skimmed along the undersides, before cupping each breast.

 "I opted out of it a while ago." Though your body hadn't changed much in these last ten weeks, you did notice your breasts were more sensitive and sometimes you just couldn't stand having them confined longer than necessary. Tonight happened to be one of those times.

 "Well if it's an option, you don't ever have to wear it again." There was a devilish look in his eyes. "I like this ease of access." He was rolling your nipples between his thumb and index finger, eliciting moans out of you so that you had no chance to answer. Scrunching your shirt up, he dipped his head down to lavish attention on those same nipples he had been tweaking. Your body squirmed, as he swirled his tongue around it before sucking on it gently. He wedged his thigh between your legs and you found your body grinding against it while he played with first one nipple and then the other. "Oh prinsessa, I think you did miss me."

 There was no denying that your body missed this. Craved was more like it. You had a feeling there would never be a time that you didn't want him. What was surprising was the sense of loss that came with just simple day-to-day actions, like brushing your teeth together and sharing a meal. Those were the things you'd found yourself longing for these last few weeks.

 Jacob started to travel down your body. Trailing kisses as he went, yet stopping to whisper something in Swedish to the baby. He didn't spend long there, and before you could ask what he said; he was pulling your sweats and panties down. "Du gor mig galen med hur vat du ar." (you drive me crazy with how wet you are) You were going to have to start picking up Swedish or something in your spare time, as he seemed to always revert to his native language in the heat of the moment. There was no time to ask what he said, as he dove right into your pussy. Licking a stripe right up to your clit causing your hips to lift off the bed.

 You sucked in a breath when he repeated the action again, your body on fire like never before. When he flicked his tongue over your clit, you were gone. The orgasm hitting you hard and fast like never before. "Fuck," you screamed out, as your body trembled and spasmed.

 Jacob worked you through it, somewhat astonished with how little he had done to make you cum so quickly. Once, you finally stopped shaking he picked his head up from between your legs. "Are you alright, prinsessa?"

 "Yes," you sighed in a state of bliss, not knowing if it was the pregnancy or the fact that you hadn't seen Jacob in three weeks that made you climax like that.

 You lay there panting, still catching your breath. "Shall we do that again?" The smirk on Jacob's face had you laughing, but after a long day of unpacking, you knew your body wouldn't last long.

 "Do that and I may be done for the rest of the night." You were only half teasing but he chuckled and made his way back up your body, taking the hint.

 "Rather have this," Jacob flexed his hips into you and moaned out into the room again. He was out of his boxers in no time. Cupping his cock in his hand, then guiding it into you. "God, prinsessa, you always feel like heaven."

 "Mmm," was all you could answer back as he was buried deep in you, for he felt like heaven as well. When he finally started to move it felt like every nerve in your body was alive and tingling. With each thrust he took you to new heights you never knew were possible. "Oh Jacob," you moaned. "Don't stop...please...yes...oh god..."

 "Yeah, you like that prinsessa?" A smirk of satisfaction crossing his lips at knowing he was bringing you such exquisite pleasure. "Does my cock make you feel good?" He was pounding into you and you didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to hold on for. He must have felt the small flutter your pussy gave, as the first tremors of orgasm began. "Cum for me (Y/N)." You shattered at his words, climaxing once again with a force you never felt but just minutes ago. "Fuck, ya." He groaned out, spilling inside you as his orgasm hit as well.

 Your body was still quaking as he rolled you both onto your sides. His cock going flaccid yet still inside you. "God, you're beautiful," Jacob whispered those words, as he pushed strands of hair out of your face, before dropping kisses to your nose and lips. "If this is what happens when I get home from a road trip, I can't wait to go on another one."

 "Stop," you said playfully swatting at his chest.

 "I'm just teasing, prinsessa, though I do like coming home to you here. I think this will be good for us." You hoped it would, considering that you both had a lot banking on this working out. If this were to go south, then what would you do? Move back to LA with the baby? Stay here so that Jacob could be a part-time dad? There were so many questions swirling around in your brain, but when Jacob softly took his thumb to rub your cheek they all seemed to evaporate. "I didn't get to ask how you're feeling today?"

 "I'm good, well, we're good. That's three whole days without morning sickness." It was small, but it was progress. Hopefully, you were on the upswing of that as you went into your eleventh week.

 "Good, I can't see how that's good for either one of you." You couldn't either, even though everything you read and everyone you talked to, said it was normal. "When you were moving in did you figure out which room you wanted for the baby?"

 "I thought the smart thing would be to keep it next to our room. Oh, I mean your room."

 "No, you were right the first time. This is our room." He kissed you quickly before adding, "If we're going to make this work then everything is ours."

 You yawned, completely exhausted from the babe and moving in. "Ok," you somehow managed to get out, agreeing with Jacob.

 "Sleep, (Y/N). It's late." You weren't sure if it was the combination of his soft whispered words while he rubbed your back or sheer exhaustion, but the minute you closed your eyes you were out.

 Jacob just chuckled to himself as he watched you fall asleep. He was fighting the feeling himself, though he just wanted to steal a few more glances as you slept on peacefully in his arms. It was strange to him, someone who wasn't ready to settle down, how much he loved this. Just holding you in his arms and watching you sleep. Ever since he'd met you, something inside him had changed. You made him want more than just random hookup after random hookup, and now he had that something more with you. Though pretty soon there would be a little one as well. His hand stole down to your belly. He thought for sure there would be a bump there, after not seeing you for three weeks. The little blueberry inside you had grown to a strawberry now. He knew this because of course, he had to google it, along with so many other things. Like how to change a diaper, and what he should expect at each week of your pregnancy. He knew that right now you could start with mood swings, and be crying one minute and happy the next. He was just waiting for that to happen. He was trying to be prepared as best he could to help you out with the baby growing inside you. His baby. God, it sounded weird, yet so good at the same time. It was thoughts of his little one that had him drifting off to sleep.

 Jacob was home for the next five days before off on a short road trip before Thanksgiving. It was after a one point loss that he brought up finally being able to tell people about your pregnancy. The two of you were driving home after the game and you could tell his mind was preoccupied, you just assumed it was about the game. That was until he spoke. "I think we should tell everyone." It was sort of out of the blue and you had to admit you weren't sure if you were ready.

 "I don't know Jacob."

 Before you could say more, he looked over at you saying, "why?"

 "It's just...I'm the new person here. I've only been to three games counting tonight." He looked over again when you came to a stoplight, confused by what you were saying. "They're going to judge me." When he still didn't understand, you added, "They're all going to think I baby trapped you."

 "No, they won't."

 "Please, I know women, and you said it yourself; they're a family. I'll be looked at as the outsider that wanted to get her claws into a famous athlete."

 "I don't know about famous," he joked and you noticed that he tended to do that a lot. When you just gave him a look, he reached over and squeezed your thigh, letting his hand rest there after doing so. "I'm teasing (Y/N). I know these guys, they aren't going to think that way once we tell them. Hell, I'll take full blame. I mean I should've worn a condom, but if I'm being honest...I'm glad I didn't."

 You were shocked at his words, to the point that you had none yourself. "Don't look so shocked," Jacob said breaking the silence. "I'll admit, that kids weren't in my plans right now, but they were in them. And I have to say now, once I saw blueberry, who's now strawberry; I'm kind of excited to be a dad. I guess that's why I want to tell everyone."

 Well, shit, now he had you all weepy. You understood where he was coming from, there was something about seeing the baby on the ultrasound, even though you had no clue what you were looking at, and then hearing the heartbeat, well it made you feel the exact same way as he did. "Ok."

 "Ok?"

 "Ok, we can tell people."

 "Really? I didn't say that to make you change your mind or anything." His hand was running up and down your thigh now, more in an excited manner than seductive, yet it still sent tingles through your body.

 "I know, but I'll be twelve weeks in a couple days and then we're pretty much out of the woods according to the doctor." That had been your main concern, having a miscarriage. It would be hard enough on you let alone having to tell everyone who was sharing in your happiness.

 "Oh," Jacob exclaimed and you could tell that was something that hadn't really crossed his mind. "Well, we can wait then."

 "What if we compromise." After all, the two of you had been doing that a lot recently, no reason to stop now. "You're only gone a couple short days. We can tell everyone when you get back, at Thanksgiving." When you were with the other wives and girlfriends tonight they had mentioned that they were going to be doing a group thanksgiving dinner for those who wished to celebrate and didn't have family in town. It was a no-brainer to say yes, though you probably should've talked to Jacob first. It was too late for that now, as you were already down for bringing a couple pies for dessert.

 "That actually sounds like a good plan. Even if I didn't know we were officially going." There was that damn squeeze of your thigh again to let you know he was teasing. This time you played along.

 "Hmm, I don't remember you being mentioned in the invite, but I'm sure I can bring a plus one." You were half tempted to reach over to grasp his thigh, but you settled for just linking your fingers together with his, liking the fact that you two had this easiness with each other.

 "I'm fine with being your plus one anytime, prinsessa."

 Once the matter was settled the two of you concentrated on other things until you got home and he whisked you up to the bedroom. You had read that your sex drive might decrease some during these weeks of pregnancy but you were not finding that to be the fact. If anything, you were constantly, well the only word for it was, horny. Just being in Jacob's presence drove you wild, and it seemed to be the same for him. Though the two of you did have your tender moments, where you cuddled up on the couch to watch hockey; Jacob explaining the premises of the game better to you. There were also nights you would just lie in bed and talk about the baby. Jacob gently caressing the small bump on your belly that wasn't even noticeable unless you were naked, which around him seemed to be often.

 Before you knew it, he was off on another road trip. Immersing yourself in work during the day was easy, it was the nights that were long. Game nights, you found yourself at one of the other ladies houses watching the game together or just laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but then you would head home to an empty house and an even more vacant bed. It wasn’t lost on you that just a few short months ago, this was the life you wanted. No craved. Now here you were wishing that Jacob was home with you, preferably in bed, but just being in the house would be enough for you. Though you couldn’t complain too much as Jacob would call and facetime you several times each night.

 It wasn’t too long of a roadie, and before you knew it, he was back in Vancouver and you were getting ready for Thanksgiving. With each pie you baked, you had to admit you were getting more and more nervous at the idea of telling Jacob’s teammates. You’d taken the morning to tell his parents, who while not exactly thrilled about the way it happened, were happy for the both of you and excited about having a grandchild. Yours were pretty much the same, now understanding that your move to Canada was more than just business.

 Hours later, you were in the car headed to Chris Tanev’s place, where he and his girlfriend Kendra were hosting. You couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing as you went past neighborhood after neighborhood. “I’m telling you there’s nothing to be worried about,” Jacob insisted, placing his hand over your knee in an effort to get you to stop.

 “Yeah, well I’ll be better when it’s over and I don’t have to see the disapproving stares.”

 “You weren’t this nervous telling our families.”

 “I was for yours. I just wasn’t showing it on the outside.” Admittedly, you had been scared about telling them, but Jacob’s parents were just so kind. There were also words exchanged in Swedish which you had no clue as to their meaning, but Jacob assured you it was nothing bad at all. “Besides our parents aren’t going to judge us at the end of the day. Family kind of has to love you, even when you make mistakes.”

 “Mistakes, huh?”

 “That’s not what I meant.”

 “I know, just trying to take your mind off of everything. So, you’re cool with my parents coming over for a bit. I mean dad and I will be on the road a couple of days, so it’ll just be you and my mom, but I know she’s really excited about meeting you.”

 “Yeah, I’m actually looking forward to it.” Which was the honest to god’s truth. You wanted to learn all about Jacob and his family, for no matter what happened between the two of you, they would always be a part of the baby’s life. “I’m sure she’s got some good stories about you growing up. You know the ones that are way too embarrassing to tell, but mom’s do anyhow.” He groaned and you laughed. There were obviously some he didn’t want to be told and you were looking forward to hearing about those the most.

 “Maybe I should be rethinking this.”

 “Don’t you dare.” As the words rolled off your tongue, you realized you were pulling up to the Tanev residence.

 “Ready?” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the next few hours. You planned on just following Jacob’s lead. It wasn’t like you were going to walk in and simply announce that you were pregnant; however, and whenever, he wanted to tell them, was his choice.

 He squeezed your hand one last time before the two of you exited the car. You grabbed the desserts, tossing two pies at Jacob before taking the last two, and heading to the door. “Welcome, guys,” Chris said as he opened the door, then took one of the pies off your hands. “Come on in.” Not everyone was there yet, which was rather nice. There were a few of the single players there, along with Sarah and Erik. You knew for sure Holly and Bo were coming as well and a few more of the couples, that you weren’t extremely close to yet, they just hadn’t arrived yet.

 Mike Del Zotto was quick to come up and throw an arm around you. “Hey (Y/N), it’s good to see you. Glad you two decided to join us. I thought maybe this guy would keep you all to himself. I know I would.” He gave you a quick wink, but it was the look on Jacob’s face that had you laughing. He was not happy with DZ flirting with you by any means.

 “Keep it up and we may just have to head home,” Jacob countered, though in a joking manner.

 “Men,” Sarah said, grabbing you from Michael’s hold so that she could hug you. “Why don’t you boys run along and watch football or something. Let’s go put these in the kitchen.” She took the pies from Jacob and headed off.

 Jacob came over and pecked you on the lips, before slyly asking, “You good?”

 “Yeah,” with that he gave your hip a final squeeze then went with the other guys to the movie room.

 “These look amazing,” Kendra told you, checking out the baked goods. “Where did you get them from?”

 “Oh, I made them. I hope that’s ok.”

 “Ok? Oh my god, of course, they’re probably way better than store-bought. Though you have me feeling guilty now because I did not make any of the food.” It was then that you noticed large tinfoil pans here and there in the kitchen with a couple in the oven. “I like to cook, but not for this herd. I don’t have enough oven space for the number of turkeys we’d need.”

 “Well, I’m still amazed at you having everyone,” you told her, for it had to be a feat hosting this many hockey players along with their significant others. “Everything looks amazing and your house is gorgeous by the way.”

 “Thank you. Would you like a glass?” Kendra held out a bottle of red wine, literally your weakness any other time than right now. “I was just pouring us a second.”

 “Yeah, join us,” Sarah added. “We’re going to need it with all this male testosterone today.”

 Somehow at the last couple of get-togethers, you’d managed to get out of drinking simply by saying that you had work the next day, but that would not be the case tomorrow. “I really shouldn’t, but a bottle of water would be great.”

 “One water coming up.” Kendra headed over to the fridge when you saw Sarah eyeing you funny.

 “Ok, so I have to ask.” This from Sarah as she still had that look on her face. It was the one Kennedy always made when she knew something. Nine times out of ten your best friend was always right, but then this was Sarah, someone who you considered a friend but didn’t know near as well. “You haven’t been drinking at any games and you’re not today. Are you….?” She paused letting the word pregnant just hang in the air, for you to fill in the blank.

 “Are you?” Kendra asked now fully into the conversation, yet still, neither said the word.

 All you could do was take a deep breath and say, “Yeah, I am.” Still not saying the P-word as if that would change the circumstance of your situation.

 “Oh my god, congratulations.” Sarah came running around the island to hug you. "That's amazing." You were stunned there wasn't a hint of disapproval on her face. And when you looked back at Kendra who was waiting her turn to hug you, all you could see was happiness as well.

 "Jacob is going to be a great father," Kendra told you when she wrapped you up in an embrace. "How far along are you?"

 "How far along is what?" Chris asked.

 "I hope you mean dinner because I'm starving," Del Zotto added.

 Bringing up the rear of the trio was Jacob and all you could do was give him a sheepish grin as Kendra broke the news. "Congratulations, Daddy."

 Both Michael and Chris turned to him, with shocked looks on their faces. "Why didn't you tell us, man?" Chris spoke first, as he clapped Jacob on the back then gave him the standard bro hug.

 "I planned on it today," Jacob answered while giving you a look both shocked and thrilled that you were the one spilling the beans. "Just hadn't found the right time."

 Del Zotto came up and hugged you first, followed by Chris, and the next thing you knew the whole place was congratulating the two of you. It was nothing like you thought, not one person questioned the fact that you'd just moved in together or started to see one another. Jacob had been right all along. They were just like your family, supportive of the decision the two of you had made. You were beginning to believe that this may work out. Especially, as your relationship with Jacob only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

 After Thanksgiving, things seemed to be moving in fast forward. You hit the twelve-week mark in your pregnancy, which meant another ultrasound and another chance for you and Jacob to further bond over the baby. It went from being a strawberry to being the size of a lime, according to the chart, and this time you could both see it was an actual baby growing inside of you. There was a distinct shape to its little arms and legs, which made the whole thing that much more real and exciting. Which is how you found yourself asking the girls how you would go about getting a little Canucks jersey with Jacob’s number and Daddy written on the back as a Christmas gift for Jacob. It was the first baby item that you bought and it felt so perfect.

 As Christmas drew near, you found yourself decorating Jacob’s house for the holiday season. Even though you’d been living in the house for several weeks, it still didn’t feel like your home quite yet. Jacob had few holiday decorations, so you found yourself shopping more than you cared to admit. By the time he arrived home, you had the house transformed into something worthy of a Hallmark movie. It wasn’t what Jacob was used to by any means considering the Swedes are more classic and subtle when it came to holiday décor, but he loved it all the same.

 Christmas was a quiet affair. You opted to stay in Canada with Jacob, figuring that you might as well start making some new traditions, like celebrating on Christmas Eve as is done in Sweden. The two of you tried to mesh your holiday traditions as much as possible, so you agreed to open one present Christmas Eve after you had eaten some classic holiday dishes from Jacob’s homeland, then opting to open the rest Christmas morning as your family had always done. Jacob bought you a beautiful charm bracelet. There was a Welcome to Vegas charm, as well as a hockey stick, and Canucks one, but the one you loved the most was the one that had Mom to be written on a heart.

 “This is beautiful,” you said leaning over to give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

 You handed over your gift to him, which he took with a silly grin on his face. Tearing through the paper, he unwrapped the box in no time, then pulled out the tiny hockey sweater. “This is great (Y/N). I can’t wait to see him or her in it at the game.”

 “There’s more.” He looked at you curiously then peered back inside the box, seeing the gold chain lying inside. You’d seen him wear one on a few occasions but this had a little charm on the end. He looked at it several times before you finally gave in. “It’s the doppler sound of the baby’s heartbeat. I had told you I’d record it for you before we did the ultrasound here in Vancouver, but I still wanted you to have something to remember that moment.”

 His eyes started to well up, just like they had that day when you heard the heartbeat. “This is…wow…I love it.” It was Jacob’s turn to plant a kiss on your lips, only this one became a little more heated. He finally pulled away, but only to say, “Can you put it on me?”

 Thankfully he was seated on the couch, so you got up and placed the chain around his neck. The moment it was secure, he looked down at the charm and smiled, before reaching to grab you and pull you close again. This time speaking hushed words to the baby in Swedish as he always did.

 “I think for my New Year’s resolution, I’m going to learn Swedish. I’m dying to know what you tell the baby.”

 “That time, I said that they are so lucky to have the most wonderful mom in the world.” Well, if that didn’t make the heat rise to your cheeks. “There might have been a few other things as well. I’m more than happy to teach you though if you’d like to learn.”

 “I think I would. It would be nice to teach our child your native tongue, and they say to start as early as possible. Which it seems that you are.” He just grinned then hauled you down on his lap, cradling your small little bump once you were seated.

 “Well here’s your first lesson. You say God Jul for Merry Christmas in Swedish.”

 You repeated the words, butchering them a bit, then repeated it again much better. “Very good, prinsessa. Obviously, you know that one as well.”

 “I do. Though I wonder if I shall still get that title if we have a girl.”

 “Hmm, might have to change it to Drottning.”

 “I have no clue what that means, but it’s not nearly as romantic.” Jacob let out a bark of laughter.

 “No, I don’t suppose queen sounds as good in Swedish as it does English. I guess I will just have to think about it.”

 “Which makes me wonder, do you want a boy or a girl?” Everyone knew that all you both wanted was a healthy baby, but you wouldn’t lie and say that you’d love to see Jacob with a son. One he could teach all his hockey moves to, though he could just as easily do that with a girl. Maybe it was that you wanted a boy just so that you could see Jacob through him. One that had his sense of humor and good looks. Though your child would probably never be in trouble if he could replicate his father’s grin. It melted your heart every time you saw it. You had to shake yourself from where your thoughts were leading for you never saw yourself as this person; the kind that wanted to see the man that they loved reflected in their children.

 Did you literally just think that you loved Jacob? Certainly, you had feelings for him, but love; no, it couldn’t be that. You hadn’t known Jacob long enough to say you were in love with him. Hell, the two of you were in the process of getting a divorce. Weren’t people falling out of love when that happened and not into it?

 “Either will be fine, just healthy.” Jacob's voice brought you back to reality and where your train of thoughts was leading. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to explore those feelings; now was just not the right moment for it. Later, you thought, when you weren’t wrapped up in his arms with this warm fuzzy feeling from the holiday season already bubbling inside you.

 “Well, we both want that, but isn’t there one you want a little bit more than the other?” You probed further, ignoring those earlier thoughts.

 “Not really prinsessa.” He had to have some preference just as you did.

 “So, then you don’t want to know what we’re having?”

 “Not if you don’t.” He was too damn accommodating at times or was that he was disinterested. He was always talking to the baby, so you didn’t think that it was the latter.

 “We have a few more weeks to think about it.” No point in making the decision right now, maybe he would change his mind. “I made the next appointment for when you’re back, on the fifteenth. We’ll have to know by then.”

 He kissed your temple, hands running under your shirt so that he could caress the tiny baby bump. “We will, for now though, we better get to bed before Santa comes.”

 “Is Santa coming the reason you want to go?” you teased as you could feel his erection growing against you.

 “Well, if you let me, prinsessa, Santa won’t be the only one cuming.” God, you loved his sense of humor. There was that word again. It had you jumping off his lap in order for your mind to not wander down that path again.

 “Guess we better head to bed then.” He was swift to follow you, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to the bedroom, where he definitely kept his word.

 It was two days later that he was headed off on a ten-day road trip. You were definitely not looking forward to it, as the house always seemed empty without him in it.

 The team played on New Year’s Eve and had it been anywhere else than New Jersey you would’ve gone to watch only so you could ring in the new year together. Instead, you spent that night with all the Canuck ladies, facetiming Jacob as the new year approached. Jacob was still going to be on the road for another five days, so you busied yourself by taking down all the holiday decorations. You decided to make the place a bit homier, adding pictures and artwork here and there. The place was really starting to feel more like home.

 The only room that still needed work, was the office. While your desk was neat and organized, Jacob’s was a disaster. Had been since the day you moved in. You were seriously starting to wonder how things got done with the mountain of papers on his desk. All those papers had been driving you crazy every day you came in to work. Jacob needed someone to organize him, or at least that’s what you told yourself as you sat in his chair and started to sift through piece after piece of mail and documents.

 There was a pile for bills, all of which somehow got paid, though you didn’t know how. A pile for legal documents and a miscellaneous pile that you needed to figure out where to put. Once you organized the first two, you moved on to the random ones that you weren’t one hundred percent sure of. You were halfway through when you came across a familiar envelope; the same one you’d sent the divorce papers back in. Why it hadn’t caught your attention when you first separated it, you weren’t sure?

 You opened it up, assuming it was a copy of the document you’d signed. What you found inside shocked you. It was the original paperwork. The blue ink you signed it in staring back at you, but that wasn’t the part that told you it was a copy. It was the fact that Jacob’s signature was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t signed it. Why? You’d both agreed to the divorce, it was practically a done deal, only now it wasn't.

taglist: @iculyrea​  @fiveholegoal​  @raysofcrosby @leafs-lover​ @sexysidney87​ @lovethepreds​  @miranda0102​  @stbluesbrat21  @perrieeloise  @mandypants95​  @hockeyunits​  @liz96893  @golfergirl1982​  @princessphilly​  @ajstylesworld​  @zinka8  @dontworrybeekappy​  @hiimana  @meishaabae​ @heatherawoowoo @beauvibaby @hockeybabe87 @leafs-forever @dancingonmyown87​ @himbos-on-ice

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Wormhole | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 10k

A/N: This is a comfort fic disguised as a CM episode. Also, I had a lot of fun writing this.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, murder, general CM things, hospitals, mentions of blood, psychopaths

You weren’t normally nervous to talk to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Sure, he was your boss, but he had also been leading the BAU for so long that you always trusted his reactions and motives. Still, the reason you had asked him to meet was so far out of left field that you were nervous he would tell you you were insane.

You were the first one in the office for the morning, perching on your desk in the empty bullpen while you waited for Hotch to arrive. You stood up when he entered the office, but waited to move until he made it to his office door and beckoned you to follow him inside.

“Good morning, (y/n).”

“Morning, Hotch,” you stood awkwardly in front of his desk, clutching the file in your hands.

“Please, sit. Is everything ok?” As soon as you made eye contact with him, your nerves settled. Everything about his behavior showed that he was genuinely concerned for you and interested in what you had to say. You took a deep breath, sliding the file onto his desk.

“I was looking into this cold case from the eighties, in Illinois. Mia-Rose Horn, 16, found murdered under a bridge. I have a theory, and I was hoping I could take a couple of days to go check it out.” You bit your lip while he picked up the file, thumbing through it.

“What’s your theory?”

“The only suspects considered were older transients in the area because the town was so biased against migrant workers. My preliminary research shows that the unsub profiles as younger, someone who knew the victim and her family personally. It feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and I think victimology can really help this case. I’d like to visit the dumpsite and walk the crime scene. I’d also like to go through the evidence to see if I can narrow it down a little more, and possibly do updated DNA analysis. I’ve already contacted the lead detective, he said it would be fine if I went out there.”

Hotch was quiet for a minute, reading the case information from the file. The longer you sat in silence, the more you feared he would say no. Finally, he closed the file and handed it back to you, “the FBI wasn’t invited in on this case when it was active, how did you find it?”

You blushed, hard. “I was watching a cold case documentary and when they talked about this one it just didn’t feel right, so I asked Garcia to pull the file. Once I looked it over more I realized my hunch was correct. They barely built a profile and the one they did make was wrong.”

“Do you work on cold cases often?”

“I’ve only worked on it when we don’t have an active case and I’m caught up on my paperwork, it makes me feel like I’m still making a difference when things are slow here.”

Hotch nodded, “you’re a good agent, (y/n). I trust that you’ll represent the BAU well. I can’t let you take the jet but you’re welcome to an SUV. However, as soon as we get an active case it takes priority. Do you understand?”

You stood up quickly, excitedly gripping at the file, “Yes sir, of course. Thank you so much. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think I could do something. I won’t let you down, sir.” Hotch smiled softly at your energy. You had reached for the door handle before he spoke again, calling after you.

“(y/n),” you turned, hand still on the doorknob, “take Reid with you, I assume he knows the details of this case, too?” You nodded quickly, practically bouncing back to your desk with excitement. You checked the clock, Spencer would probably arrive in the next ten minutes or so, giving you time to arrange everything you’d need for the trip.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, you were waiting for him, go bag in hand.

“Hotch said you could go?”

“Not only that, he said you could come with me,” you smirked, falling in step next to him as he walked to his desk.

“Really?”

“We’re leaving now, so get your go bag.” You did a little happy dance as he started to gather his things.

“Ooh! Where are you going?” Penelope joined you at Spencer’s desk, hot cup of coffee in her hands.

“(y/n) is solving a cold case, we’re going out to Illinois to get more information.”

“The one I pulled for you? You actually solved it? Is there anything you can’t do?” Penelope asked in disbelief. Just last week she had explained to you why she was convinced you were a superhero.

You laughed brightly, “I don’t know if I can solve it yet, that’s why I need to go check it out for myself. Yes, I’ll call you if I need anything,” you answered when she opened her mouth to speak again. She hugged both you and Spencer before you left, making you promise you’d call her with updates and letting you know she’d call the detective to let him know you were on your way.

In true Spencer fashion, he had brought enough audiobooks to last the whole drive. You didn’t mind, your brain was more focused on driving. You didn’t talk about the case until you were nearing the end of the twelve hour road trip. Spencer was the one to bring it up, turning down the volume knob on the console.

“How are you feeling about this?”

“To be honest, Spence, I haven’t really been listening.”

“I meant about the case,” he chuckled.

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. It’s been a cold case for over three decades for a reason, you know?”

“We wouldn’t be in Illinois right now if you weren’t on to something. Instincts exist for a reason, and your instincts are usually right.”

You fiddled with the air conditioning vents absentmindedly, “I don’t want to dredge up old wounds for the family and the town unless I’m absolutely certain I can bring some closure to them as well. The detective is the only person who knows we’re coming. I don’t want to start interviewing witnesses until I know I can do something to help.”

Spencer nodded, “I’ll follow your lead, you just tell me what you need.”

You spent the rest of the time discussing the details of the case, Spencer looking over the file again while you navigated to the police office. Having Spencer with you made you feel a lot better. You knew the case front to back, but this was your first time leading an investigation and you didn’t want to accidentally miss something in the file out of nervousness. Spencer’s eidetic memory and genius brain would keep you on track and ask you questions you knew would only help you in the grand scheme of things. Spencer was also your best friend, your biggest supporter. Any considerations he had would always come from a place of love and mutual respect.

When you arrived at the police station it was late in the evening, but the detective was waiting for you. He was an older man, tall and mostly bald.

“Hi, you must be Agent (y/l/n). Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Detective Reeves, nice to finally meet you, too. This is my partner, Doctor Reid.” Spencer brought a hand up to wave. “Thanks for letting us take a look at this.”

“Thanks for making the drive out here. This case…” he sighed, “Mia-Rose went missing two months after I started this job and I’ve been hunting her killer ever since. It’s been thirty two years, a fresh pair of eyes will do this case good. It’ll do the whole town good if you can see somethin’ I haven’t.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” you said, not wanting to promise any results to him. “Is there a room we can set up in?”

“I’ve brought all of the evidence to our conference room. Use it for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” you took off to the door that he had pointed at, Spencer on your heels. He shut the door behind you, dropping his bag on a chair while you picked up examination gloves.

The next few hours were spent meticulously going over the evidence that had been collected. You occasionally made comments to Spencer about where the item had come from and any notes that had already been documented about it.

The clock had just passed midnight when you were ready to move on to the next part of your investigation. You wanted to walk the dumpsite, but it would be useless to go while it was still dark. Instead, you retreated to a small motel at Spencer’s insistence that you needed sleep.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to shut my brain off enough to actually sleep,” you confessed once you were wearing sweatpants and leaning up against the headboard of the bed.

Spencer wandered out of the bathroom, giving you the softest look as he sat down next to you.

“What are you thinking about the most?”

“The evidence told me exactly what I thought it would, but I can’t build a decent mental picture of what happened until I see the dump site. What if I get there and it still doesn’t make sense? What if I’m in too deep on this one, Spence?”

“This case has been cold for thirty years, it can wait one more night. You are an incredible FBI agent. You’re an incredible human, at that. I know you can handle this, and Hotch knows you can handle this, too. If you aren’t able to solve it, you’re not letting anyone down. It’s been a cold case for a reason, I’m sure you’ll solve the next one.”

“Logically I know you’re right, but that isn’t making sleep happen any easier,” you sighed, sinking down onto a pillow. You could tell from Spencer’s expression that he had an idea when he reached up, turning off the lamp beside him and laying down next to you in the dark.

“This is called Image Distraction, all you have to do is close your eyes, try to relax, and listen to my voice.”

“Are you hypnotizing me?” you giggled into the darkness, feeling like a small kid at a sleepover with their best friend.

“No, it’s just a strategy to help you fall asleep. I’m going to describe a scene to you and the idea is that it takes up enough space in your brain to prevent you from re-engaging with other thoughts. Hypnosis doesn’t actually put you to sleep, just in a trance that seems like you’re sleeping. It’s been proven to help change habits and thoughts around sleeping though. There was a study done in 2010-”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be picturing? I’m seeing dudes in lab coats and creepy hospital walls.”

You felt the mattress shake next to you as Spencer laughed.

“No, that wasn’t it. I’m going to start now, picture a waterfall. As you walk closer it gets louder, pounding onto the rocks below it and spraying a mist into the air. The droplets of water stick to your face. You can see a rainbow that touches the pool at the base of the waterfall. The plants growing around the pool of water are greener than emeralds, bright and shining in the sun…”

That was the last thing you remembered him saying before succumbing to sleep. You had a very vivid dream while you were sleeping, not uncommon for someone in your field, but it wasn’t one you had had before.

There was a teenage girl walking in front of you down a long hallway. You instantly recognized her as Mia-Rose. She turned around every so often, beckoning you to come closer, but no matter how fast you tried to move your feet it was impossible for you to catch up. The hallway was familiar, you realized it was one in Quantico that you walked down every day to get to the elevator. It took longer than normal to reach the end, and just when you thought you could catch up to Mia-Rose, Hotch stepped out in front of you, holding Spencer with one arm and holding his gun to your best friend’s temple with the other.

“You have to choose, (y/n).”

“Choose what?”

“One of them has to die. Him or her?” he moved his gun to point the barrel at Mia-Rose.

“I don’t understand, why can’t I save them both?”

“One of them has to die.”

It only took you a moment to consider, “me. Shoot me. Let them live.”

“Brave choice,” Hotch’s gun came to point at you and his finger squeezed the trigger.

You woke up.

Soft morning light was coming in through the window and Spencer was already awake, quietly tying his tie while perched on the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” he grinned when he noticed you watching him.

“Morning,” you panted, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You were dreaming.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hotch made me choose between him shooting Mia-Rose or shooting you.”

“What did you choose?”

“I made him shoot me instead.”

You expected Spencer to launch into an analysis of your dream and what it meant, but instead he asked another question, changing the subject.

“Can we stop for coffee before we walk the dumpsite?” he pulled a blue cardigan out from his go bag and stuck his arms through the sleeves.

“Sure,” you said, stretching as you stood up. While you got ready, Spencer found the nearest place to get coffee, and you stopped there before continuing on to the bridge where Mia-Rose’s body had been found thirty years ago.

“I’m too used to walking active crime scenes,” you murmured when you pulled over to the empty dumpsite. Normally dumpsites like this were taped off with officers present, as well as some news reporters and civilian gawkers. You were sure that it had looked like that when the crime had first happened, but now it was just a bridge that nobody thought about.

When you stepped out of the SUV you noticed a small memorial for Mia-Rose nailed to a tree, wilted and weathered flowers around it. You stopped for a minute to look at it, then continued through the brush to the overpass.

Mia-Rose had fallen off of the bridge onto the ground beneath, where you were standing now. Her death was originally ruled a suicide, which had slowed the investigation until her parents insisted she wasn’t suicidal and had her autopsied, revealing ligature marks and evidence of assault. Just from reading the file, you knew that her parents were right. She didn’t profile as suicidal, and if she was she could have jumped from further down the bridge into the flowing river to your right, not onto the ground where she likely would have survived.

“Mia-Rose was found right here,” you pointed, “and her belongings…” you turned to your left, Spencer moving from behind you to stand where the girl’s school backpack and shoes had been found, a handful of yards away.

“They were found next to this rock.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, facing him from where you stood, “the ME found traces of motor oil on her skin, so she must have been transported in a car. That means the unsub was driving on this road, stopped here by the bridge, then tossed her over the side. Why not just toss her stuff after her?” After thinking in silence for a minute, you started moving. “Stay where you are,” you instructed Spencer as you climbed the embankment. Once you reached the bridge, you stood on the edge so you could see both locations of dump sites.

“Spence,” you called to him, “how long is the average car?”

“Anywhere between 10 and 18 feet, depending on the size of the vehicle,” he answered quickly. You positioned yourself in line with where Mia-Rose’s body was found, then paced out roughly fifteen feet, landing you almost squarely in line with where Spencer was standing down the hill.

“What are you thinking?”

“This might sound kind of out there, but what if there was a partner?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out how you had gotten there. He climbed up to where you were standing before asking you about it, “what makes you think that?”

“Eyewitness accounts said they saw Mia-Rose in a car with a man the night she went missing, and they were both sitting in the front of the car, but that’s about all anyone can agree on. What if there was a second unsub sitting in the back? If I’m the unsub getting Mia-Rose out of the front, you’re taking her stuff out of the trunk and tossing it over the side,” you acted out.

“Which means my DNA should be on her belongings,” Spencer concluded, finishing your thought, “I’ll call the lab and start getting things processed.”

“Good idea, I’m going to call Garcia and then we can head back to the station,” you said, pulling out your own phone as Spencer took a step away to make his call.

“Crimefighter! What have you’ve got?” Garcia answered her phone quickly.

“Hey Penelope, can you go through the list of Mia-Rose’s family members and get me some updated contact info?”

“Of course! Did you get a lead? I knew you could solve this,” she rambled. You could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she multitasked.

“Not quite, just a better understanding of the situation. I want to start interviewing family members to really nail down victimology and see if they know of anyone who fits my profile. Spencer’s calling the lab to get some evidence re-examined. When they send you results can you run them through CODIS?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now, thanks Garcia.”

“Anytime, my love. I just sent the updated contacts to your tablet. Garcia out!”

Spencer was waiting for you in the SUV, once you finished your call with Garcia you drove back to the station. Detective Reeves assigned an officer to help you call the family members and invite them in for interviews.

“Mrs. Horn, thank you for coming in to talk with us,” you said gently to the elderly woman sitting across from you.

“Anything to help you find my little girl’s killer. Do you really think you can solve it?”

“We’re trying our best. Any information you can give us will make our job easier. Mia-Rose was walking home from school when she went missing, and was later seen getting into a blue car. Is there anyone she would have willingly accepted a ride home from?”

“No, she always walked, rain or shine so she could say hello to the neighbors on her way home. Except for Tuesdays, my brother Dylan would drive her home from band practice on Tuesdays because it was after dark.”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, silently acknowledging that Mia-Rose was abducted on a Friday.

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her, bullies or friends she might have had a falling out with?”

“No, she was sweet to everyone. That’s why it was such a shock to the town when she was killed. There wasn’t a soul who hadn’t been touched by her kindness.” Mrs. Horn spoke so highly of her daughter, further validating your theory.

“Let’s take a break,” you said, noting the way she was tearing up, “excuse us.” You stepped out of the room with Spencer.

“We should talk to Dylan,” he said once you were out of earshot of Mrs. Horn.

“I agree. He was interrogated by police when Mia-Rose first went missing, but I don’t think he’s a suspect. His alibi was rock solid, but he might know something about what happened.”

You had the detective bring in Mrs. Horn’s brother, Dylan Godfrey. While he agreed to an interview, he was much less cooperative than Mrs. Horn.

“I told the police thirty years ago, I had nothing to do with it,” he drawled, “I was at home with my wife, God rest her soul. I didn’t even have my car to kidnap Mia if I wanted to.”

“Where was your car?” Spencer asked quickly.

“My boy had it, out with his friends. He had just gotten his driver’s license. You know how kids are, impossible to control.”

This was the first you were hearing of his son. Nowhere in the records from the original investigation did it say Dylan Godfrey had a son, let alone a son who’s whereabouts were unknown on the night of the crime.

“Mr. Godfrey, let me ask you this. How old was your son the year Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“Eighteen.”

“Do you know where he was that night?”

“Out, like I said. He didn’t come home until after two o’clock in the morning.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Last I knew he was working on a farm just out of town, the McGilroy’s place.”

As soon as Spencer had gotten the information out of him, you were firing off texts to Garcia. She sent you the address of the farm, and you called her once you were en route.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia. What have you found about this guy and why didn’t we know about him before?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. He wasn’t included in any of the original witness statements. I’ve barely been able to find information about him online. I know he’s still alive because I don’t have a death certificate, but other than that no home address, no phone number, no nothing. Everything I know about him is from his childhood, before Mia-Rose went missing.”

“Something is better than nothing, what did you find?”

“Daniel Godfrey, born in 1965 to Mary and Dylan Godfrey. He was a decent kid from what I can tell. He got good grades in school, even got a scholarship to a college in Chicago but he turned it down at the last minute. I’ll hit you back if I figure out why.”

“Thanks Garcia,” you chirped before she hung up. You pulled up the long dirt drive of the McGilroy’s farm, putting the SUV in park and getting out. Spencer was by your side in an instant, you noticed the way his hand rested on his revolver.

“My goal is to get him in for a voluntary interview. If we can get him talking, we can figure out what happened that night and why his known locations on that night fit our timeline. Best case, we get a confession and the name of his partner, worst case, he had nothing to do with it and we’re back where we started.”

Spencer nodded, so you reached up to knock on the door. After a moment, a blonde woman opened the door.

You flashed your credentials, “hi, I’m SSA (y/l/n) with the FBI, we’re looking for Daniel Godfrey and we were told he might be here.”

“He’s out back in the barn,” she said, pointing down a gravel path.

“Thanks so much,” Spencer said as you stepped off the porch. You reached the barn and pushed open the large door, revealing a man inside. He was carrying a bucket of water that he poured into a trough for a horse before acknowledging you.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Are you Daniel Godfrey?” you asked.

“Depend’s who’s asking,” he chuffed, wiping his hands on his dirty coveralls. You held up your credentials.

“I’m Agent (y/l/n) and this is Doctor Reid. We’re with the FBI investigating the murder of your cousin, Mia-Rose Horn. We were hoping you’d come in to the station so we could get some more information about her.”

“What kinda information? Mia’s been dead a long time now.”

You had to play this carefully, one wrong word and he wouldn’t voluntarily interview with you, “your father told us you were out with friends the night she disappeared. We were hoping you could tell us what town was like that night and if you saw anything unusual.”

“You talked to my father? I can tell ya right now, it was quiet. Just like any other night in this town.”

“Great, that’s exactly the kind of information we’re looking for. Would you be able to come with us to the station so we can get that statement through the official channels? While we’re there I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s ok.”

“Are ya saying I’m being arrested?”

“No, not at all. This is completely voluntary.”

Daniel fell silent, considering your offer. When he finally spoke again it was gruff and hostile, “will my old man still be there?”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, hoping he had a better read on what answer would be your best choice. Spencer’s tongue flickered over his lips, then he cautioned a response, “he’s there right now, will that be a problem?”

Daniel looked dejected, scuffing his feet in the hay below his boots, “not unless he makes it a problem.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Our car is out front, is there anything you need to do before we go?”

Daniel shook his head and quietly followed you and Spencer back to the SUV. He didn’t say much while you were driving back to the police station, and neither did you. You escorted Daniel inside the station, walking quickly past where his father was sitting, still talking to the officer Reeves had assigned to your case. Dylan stood up when he noticed his son, but Daniel just kept his head down and quickened his pace. You brought him to an interrogation room, a small space with just a table and a couple of chairs.

“You can wait here, we just have to go collect some materials and then we’ll be back, alright?”

“Whatever,” Daniel said, taking the seat closest to the door. You stepped out, shutting the door behind you.

“Did you see the way Dylan reacted when he saw Daniel?” you asked Spencer quietly. He nodded.

“Did you see the way Daniel reacted when he saw Dylan?”

“Do you think it’s relevant to this case? I don’t want to waste time asking about it if it’s just some squabble they had once. Hotch said I could only work this case until we got an active one back at Quantico, and you and I both know serial killers don’t take extended vacations.”

Spencer considered the situation, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind, “it might be a way we can get him comfortable talking to us, irrelevant or not. This is the best lead we have. Just like you said earlier, you have to get him talking.”

You trusted Spencer’s opinion, not just because he was your best friend, but because he had led his fair share of interrogations during his time in the FBI. He was really good at it, his accelerated mind picking up patterns of words and behaviors that you could only be envious of.

“What do you mean ‘I’ have to get him talking? I thought this was a team effort.”

“It is, but you have to lead this interrogation.”

You weren’t surprised at his statement, but you resented the fact that he was right. Your favorite part of your job was the quick thinking, the on-the-fly deductions you had to make in the field that helped you put all of the clues together. You liked helping people and actively putting bad guys away for the greater good of the country you served. You were good at your job, too, having spent so much time developing your skills with arguably some of the best agents in the Bureau. You couldn’t not be good at your job surrounded by minds like the ones at the BAU.

Like everyone though, there were some aspects of your career that you were better at than others. You usually excelled in the takedown and arrests of suspects and left the mind games to your colleagues that were much better equipped to handle them. Sure, you could talk a suspect into putting their weapon down instead of pointing it at you or a victim, but that was a heat of the moment interaction. Cool, collected interrogation rooms just weren’t your strong suit, and nothing during your time at the BAU so far had changed it.

“You really think I can do this?”

“Absolutely. You have the skills, knowledge, and rapport to conduct this interview,” Spencer showed no hesitation in his answer.

“Promise to let me know if I’m going down the wrong rabbit hole?”

Spencer smiled, “of course. Let’s go solve this case.” He handed you a sheet of paper, a form for Daniel to sign with his Miranda rights on it.

Once you were seated across from Daniel, you handed him the paper and read him his rights.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Daniel, what happened between you and your father?”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Spencer, “what kind of FBI agents are you?”

“We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. We use psychology to solve crimes. I hope my question wasn’t intrusive, Doctor Reid and I both just noticed the way your behavior changed when you saw your father. He’s been helpful in our investigation and I don’t want any family conflicts to interfere if you’re going to help us too.”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Just a disagreement?” you pressed carefully.

“Just a disagreement.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding to leave it at that and move on. He was giving you too much resistance for the direction you had wanted to take the conversation, so you changed the subject. If his disagreement with his father was relevant to the case, you’d have to get that information out of him another way.

You started off by asking about Mia-Rose and gathering any information Daniel had about her. At first he was reluctant, just explaining that they saw each other during family gatherings and when his father would drive them both home from band practice.

“You went to the same high school then, if you were in band together?”

“Uh huh. It’s a small town, everyone goes to the same school.”

“Can you tell us about who Mia-Rose spent time with? Who were her friends?”

“Everyone was her friend. She was the friendliest kid in school.”

“Who were your friends?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. It wasn’t a question you had thought to ask, but as soon as he did you saw where he was going.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” Spencer answered.

“Alec Krause, Markus Sparrow, Nicolas Rush,” Daniel listed.

“Where are they now?” you asked while Spencer pulled out his phone, presumably to text Garcia for a background check, “are you still in contact with them?”

“They all moved out of town for college. Haven’t seen or talked to ‘em since,” Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“You were supposed to go to college, in Chicago, right?” you prompted. Daniel’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, probably wondering how much about him you knew.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Got a job at the farm,” he shrugged.

“Daniel, I’m going to be real with you,” you squared up, “I’ve seen plenty of small towns in this job. I’ve talked to many people from small towns just like this one, and almost all of them in your position would have taken the out. They would have moved to the city as soon as they got the chance, so why didn’t you? Why did you choose to stay in this town?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Daniel was quick to correct you.

“You didn’t?” Now you were on to something.

“The disagreement I had with my father was about me leaving. He wouldn’t let me leave, so he got me the job at the farm.”

“Alright, let’s take a break,” you said, standing up and stepping out of the room. Spencer exchanged a few words with Daniel, then followed you out.

“That was big,” you panted, trying to shake out the jump of adrenaline that you were feeling.

“You’re doing great,” Spencer confirmed.

“When Dylan was talking about his son earlier, during his interview, it seemed like he didn’t have control over Daniel. What was it he said, ‘you know how kids are’? Something must have changed to make Daniel listen to his father telling him to stay, something that changed after Mia-Rose was murdered.”

Right before you were going to go back into the interrogation room, your phone rang. Hotch’s name lit up the screen.

“Hold on, Spence. (y/l/n),” you answered, praying that Hotch wasn’t going to tell you to abandon the case and get back to Quantico right when you were making strides.

“I’m just checking in to see how things are going.”

“We’re talking to a person of interest right now, it’s just very slow going. We think he had been working with a partner when the murder took place, but he’s not giving up names,” you explained, “please don’t tell me we have a case that we have to come back for, we just got a break that might open this case up for us.”

Hotch chuckled on the other end of the line, “no, we don’t have a case. Garcia told me you had a lead and I was curious.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you were a prosecutor before joining the BAU. This is exhausting, and every time I say something I feel like he’s going to invoke.”

“You’re doing fine,” Spencer whispered reassuringly.

“Spencer says I’m doing fine,” you relayed to Hotch.

“I’m sure you are. Sometimes unsubs like this take time to crack,” he reminded you.

“It’s already been thirty years, I’d like to close it now,” you decided, squaring your shoulders. “I’m going to go back in there and wrap this up. I’ll call you back when we’re done.” You hung up with Hotch, then turned to Spencer. “Let’s do this.”

Daniel seemed to tense up when you walked back in, sitting down across the table from him once again.

“Thanks for being patient, Daniel. I’d like to know why your father wouldn’t let you leave town. From what he told us, he gave you a lot of freedom in high school. What happened?”

“We had a disagreement, like I said.”

“Right, we’ve covered that. It must have been hard going from being able to do whatever you wanted to working a farm job under your father’s thumb. I was hoping you could tell us exactly what kind of disagreement. Was it because Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel nodded, “ok, that’s a start. Was there a specific reason beyond Mia-Rose’s murder?”

Your tactic was deliberate, validating his feelings before pressing harder in hopes that he would give something up.

“He didn’t want me getting into more trouble.”

“More trouble? As in, you got into trouble here first?”

“Correct.”

“We don’t have any police records for you, Mr. Godfrey. Usually that’s the kind of ‘trouble’ that stops kids from going to college,” Spencer chimed in.

“The police don’t know I was there.”

“Where?” Your question was burning hot, and you watched Daniel squirm as he realized he had dug himself into a hole.

“I was in the car.”

“Which car?” you hoped he meant the car you thought he did, but you needed a true confession.

“My father’s car…” you chose not to say anything and instead let him sit in uncomfortable silence, “the night Mia was killed.”

“With her? Was Mia in the car with you?”

“Yes, she was.”

You had to maintain your composure, even though your insides were doing cartwheels out of excitement. This was exactly the kind of lead you were looking for, you couldn’t blow it now.

“Your father said you were out with friends, were any of the people you mentioned earlier with you? Alec, Markus, and Nicholas?”

“No, it wasn’t with them.”

“Who else was in the car then, Daniel? It wasn’t just you and Mia-Rose.”

“I don’t remember,” he started backpedaling, a clear sign that you were closing in.

“We’re going to step out and give you some time to think about it, see if you can try to remember,” Spencer interrupted before you could say anything, nodding towards the door when you made eye contact with him. You followed him out, turning to him abruptly once the door was shut behind you.

“I was getting somewhere with him.” You were fired up, to say the least. Now that you were in the comfortable privacy of Spencer’s company, you could let your emotions come forward.

“I know, I know,” Spencer smirked, “Garcia got a hit with Daniel’s friends, we should call and see what she has so we have more leverage when we go back in there.”

You took a deep breath, pulling out your phone and calling Garcia.

“Boy Wonder got my text!” she answered after the first ring.

“What did you find, Garcia? We’re really making strides here and anything you’ve got could really close this for us.”

“I ran the names of Daniel’s friends, like you asked. Almost all of them checked out, normal guys with normal lives.”

“Almost all of them?” you caught the specificity of her words.

“Right. One of them, Markus, he checks out too… but his brother, oh my his brother has done some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Spencer asked, brows furrowed in thought.

“Kyle Sparrow. When he was 11 he attempted to rob a bank, and not just as a joke. When he was 14 he was suspended from school after locking students in storage closets. He’s been in and out of jail his whole adult life. He got out a year ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“That fits our profile. How old was he when Mia-Rose was killed?” Spencer followed up.

“That’s where things get weird, I was hoping you guys would have a good explanation because this really doesn’t make sense.”

“Garcia,” you called, refocusing her.

“Right. Kyle Sparrow was 10 years old when Mia-Rose was murdered.”

“What?” you whipped around to look at Spencer incredulously, hoping he would have some kind of information about child serial killers that would clarify the situation. Instead, he just frowned and shook his head. You had to decide if it was worth bringing up to Daniel and risk wasting precious time. You considered for a moment, then spoke. “Send us his address, we’re going to ask Daniel about him. If he seems like a viable lead then we’ll head out there. Thanks Garcia.”

“Done and done. You’ve got this, crimefighters!”

“Are you ready to go back in there?” Spencer asked when you reached for the interrogation room door handle.

“Do I have a choice? This case just took a turn that I wasn’t expecting.”

“It’s been four hours and thirty six minutes. We can take another minute to get coffee if you need a longer break,” he suggested.

“I’m too close to cracking this. I can feel it,” you confessed. Spencer nodded, acknowledging that your gut feelings were usually right. You opened the door, sitting back down across from Daniel. Spencer stood in the corner behind you, hands in his pockets.

“Did you remember who was in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel shook his head. “Ok, that’s fine. I have some names that we’ve collected as people of interest for this case. I’m going to read them off and you tell me if one sounds familiar, ok?” Daniel nodded, so you opened your file and pulled out a blank piece of paper, holding it so Daniel couldn’t see the lack of information on your side.

“Emily Prentiss.”

He shook his head.

“Derek Morgan.”

Again, nothing.

“Penelope Garcia.”

Your list was intentional, listing people you were certain Daniel wouldn’t know so you could get a baseline for his behavior. It paid off when you listed the next name, “Kyle Sparrow.”

You could practically see Daniel tense up. Though he shook his head, his leg started bouncing nervously and his eyes were flickering frantically around the room, looking anywhere but at you and Spencer.

“Daniel,” you started, keeping your voice low, “remember when I told you Doctor Reid and I use psychology and behavior to solve crimes? You may not have noticed it, but your behavior shifted when you heard Kyle’s name. You know something about him, don’t you? Was he in the car with you that night?”

Daniel finally looked up at you, eyes watering, “I’m not a criminal.”

“I didn’t say you were. Was Kyle in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“He was just a kid, my best friend’s little brother. We were out in my dad’s car, I had just gotten my license so I skipped class and took Markus and Alec for a spin around town. When I dropped them off back home Kyle said he was lookin’ to go across town to the library so I offered him a ride. I even made him sit in the back because he was still just a small kid. Then we saw Mia walking home. It always took her longer because she stopped to say hi to everyone she passed. Kyle suggested we offer her a ride too, so I did.

“It all happened so fast, first she was getting into the car and then Kyle had a knife at her throat. He told me he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me drive out of town to the woods and watch as he tied her up and did horrible, horrible things to her. I didn’t even know a kid was capable of doing those things. When he was done with her he made me help put her back in the car and drive to the bridge. She wasn’t dead when he made me push her over the edge, that’s why I didn’t throw her in the river. I thought she’d survive it without Kyle knowing because he was too busy getting rid of her stuff in the trunk. He still made me drop him off at the library after, even though it was closed on account of it being real late at night, and swear that I’d never tell anyone what we did or he’d kill me too.”

“How did your father find out?” you asked.

“He found blood in the car the next morning. I told him it was from Markus, that he had gotten scratched up while we were messing around in the afternoon. He made me clean it out with bleach, told me I’d have to learn responsibility if I wanted to move out. When my auntie called him later and told him about Mia being missing, he connected the dots. He told me he didn’t want to know what I had been doing the night before, but if I tried to move away it would make me a suspect. He got me the job at the farm and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Daniel. We’ll tell the court how cooperative you’ve been, they might ease your sentence because of it.”

“The court? What?” Pure fear crossed Daniel’s face. It didn’t sit right with you that he had to be arrested, knowing he had been coerced into helping murder his cousin, but he had still committed a felony. You had to let the court decide his fate.

“Daniel Godfrey, you’re under arrest for accessory to the murder of Mia-Rose Horn,” Spencer moved behind Daniel, taking his hands to cuff them. As soon as he was done Daniel was passed off to an officer and you and Spencer took off, SUV keys in hand.

You sped towards the home address Garcia had sent you for Kyle Sparrow, wishing the rest of the team was there so you could split up in case he was at work. This part of your job was where you felt the most comfortable, the tactical side of an arrest that was more physical than the mind games you had just played in the interrogation room. It was just starting to rain, a light drizzle that darkened the skies as you drove to what you hoped was your final location for this case.

“Is there Kevlar in the back?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t gotten vests from the police station before you had left. Spencer turned around in his seat, checking around the vehicle.

“Nope.”

“Great,” you sighed, “let’s try not to get shot at then, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer agreed.

You pulled up to Kyle’s house, which was more of a rundown shack on the outskirts of town. You drew your weapon as soon as your boots were on the ground, approaching the door cautiously.

“Where’s Morgan when you need him,” you mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t have to kick the door down, “Kyle Sparrow, FBI,” you announced, knocking on the door. A gunshot flew through the window next to you, shattering the glass. That was all the invitation you needed to bust open the door, but Kyle wasn’t in the room inside. You moved quickly through the maze of rooms, taking one side while Spencer took the other.

“Clear,” you called every time you ensured a room was empty. You heard Spencer clear a couple of spaces, then fall silent. You worked your way to the kitchen, finding him in a standoff with Kyle.

“I’m not going to jail again. You can’t make me,” Kyle seemed unreasonably calm, grinning slightly to himself while he pointed a pistol at Spencer.

“You’re wanted for the murder of Mia-Rose, Kyle. There’s no way to get out of this one,” you had to keep things simple for him and talk him down as quickly as possible before he shot at you again, “let’s just talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to jail for a person I killed thirty years ago.”

“There’s no other option. We know it was you, this ends here.”

“If I have to go back, it has to be for something better. You’re right, this ends here, but not because I killed Mia-Rose Horn.”

“How does it end, Kyle?” Spencer asked. You noticed the glint in Kyle’s eye, giving you a split second to push Spencer out of the way and get hit with a searing pain in your side. You heard Spencer’s revolver fire as you hit the floor.

“Get him first,” you grunted, putting a hand on your side to try to stem the bleeding. Spencer crouched next to you, worried eyes looking you over before he pulled your handcuffs out of your pocket. Your ears were ringing, but you could just make out the sounds of Spencer talking before you blacked out.

You woke up in the hospital, an all too familiar experience. Spencer was beside you, nose in a book. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention to it though, considering the way his brows were furrowed and his fingers were tapping against the cover. He was lost in thought somewhere, you just didn’t know where.

“Spence,” you managed to croak through your dry throat. His eyes shot up from the page, lips turning up in a small smile when his gaze met yours.

“Hi,” he practically whispered.

“Is Kyle dead?”

Spencer hesitated, no doubt weighing the value of telling you the outcome now or waiting until you were better rested. He chose the former, shaking his head.

“I did what you would have done and shot him in the hip. He’s not dead, and once he’s healed he’ll go to trial. You did it, (y/n). You solved the case.”

“We solved the case. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You also wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“So?” you shrugged, “I lived. Where’s Garcia? Usually she’s the first one at the hospital.”

Spencer’s smile returned, “she wanted to but a case came in right right after you went into surgery. She sends her love and said she’d make up for not being here when we get back to Quantico.”

“A case? We should get back to help,” though you were exhausted, you brain immediately went into profiling mode.

“No, you’re going to stay here and rest. You should be staying for longer than you’re going to, but I was able to convince your doctor that I was more than capable of making sure you got home safely.”

“I didn’t realize you were a rule-breaker,” you teased, feeling your eyelids droop.

“I’m not, I just thought you would want to go home as soon as possible. You’re not the kind of person who likes being away from their family, and we’ve already been gone three days. Staying here doing nothing, although it would be good for you, would just torment you more.”

“Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, falling back to sleep. You dozed on and off for the better part of the day, Spencer staying by your side the whole time. Towards the end of the afternoon, you woke up to his seat vacant. The immediate panic you felt was squashed by calculated thoughts, he’s probably getting food or in the bathroom. You fought to stay awake while you waited for him to come back. He surprised you by returning with someone behind him.

“Mrs. Horn wanted to talk to you, if you’re feeling up for it,” he said, resuming his position in the chair next to you. You nodded, watching the older woman enter the room from where she had been standing in the doorway.

“I wanted to thank you for finding my daughter’s killer, even though it put you in the line of danger.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” you reassured her, sitting up a little against your pillows.

“I wish her father could have been here to see it solved. He always told me not to lose faith, that a blessing would come our way. You were our blessing,” she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I was just doing my job, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to figure this out.”

Mrs. Horn tutted, telling you she was just glad that her daughter could rest in peace now. Before she left, she made sure to tell you that if you were ever in Illinois you and Spencer were welcome to come over for dinner, and that she hoped you got better quickly so you could go help other victims.

Once she was gone, your doctor came in to follow up with you. You had been shot in the side, the bullet passing through and exiting out of your back without hitting any major organs. Spencer did most of the talking for you, asking questions you couldn’t make sense of and checking over your chart for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

“You seem to be healing well and have a… knowledgable… support system, so I’m going to clear you for discharge. If anything changes you’ll need to go into the nearest hospital, ok?”

“Yes ma’am,” you answered. A nurse came in later with your discharge papers, which you signed before Spencer helped you in a wheelchair and out to where the SUV was parked.

“Are you sure you want to drive in this rain? I can-“ you winced in pain, hand flying to your side, “I can do it if you don’t feel comfortable.” Spencer stifled a laugh, reaching his hands out to give you something to brace yourself against as you moved from the wheelchair the SUV.

“I don’t mind driving,” he said simply.

“Yes you do,” you quipped quickly, exhaling as you settled into the passenger seat.

“Ok, yes. Under normal circumstances, I do mind driving, but I think I can make an exception when my favorite driver has been shot.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” you smirked, still struggling to breathe in a way that would make your side hurt less.

“Are you warm enough?” Spencer fiddled with the heating knobs once he was settled behind the wheel. You nodded, but the shiver that ran down your body betrayed you.

“You’re the one driving. I want you to be comfortable,” you mumbled.

“You’re the one who just got shot. Here,” he reached behind him into the back where both of your go bags were stored. He unzipped his own and pulled out a cardigan, then leaned over the console to drape it across you. “The wool will help you retain heat.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, relishing in the comfort of his gesture.

“You didn’t have to take that bullet for me.”

“I did. I pulled you into this mess, I wasn’t going to let you get hurt because of it.”

“Hotch sent me with you so that you wouldn’t get yourself hurt,” he rebutted.

You brushed him off, “I’ve been shot before, I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ve also been shot before, you didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

You were quick to counter, “you didn’t have to push Blake out of the way either.”

It was an unnecessary squabble, a fact you both caught onto quickly once you realized the direction the conversation was going. Instead, Spencer changed the subject to explain the history of the small towns you were passing through on your way to the interstate.

Miraculously, once the car was comfortably cruising on the highway, Spencer fell silent. You suspected it had to do with his intense concentration on driving in the elements as the rain got harder, though he also could have been giving you the space to sleep if you needed to.

It wasn’t until you were over an hour into your journey that he spoke again, after a quick glance at you revealed fresh tear tracks down your cheeks under the passing street lights.

“(Y/n), are you crying?” His question was so soft you almost missed it, “is it the pain? You’re not due to take your meds for another three hours but I know you have ibuprofen in your bag that would be ok to take now. I can pull over-“ his hand was about to move back to the steering wheel from where it had come to rest on the console, but you reached out to grab it instead.

You and Spencer didn’t really ‘do’ physical contact. You both had reasons not to, instead finding comfort just in proximity. As long as he was around, you were happy. This time, though, it was different. Maybe it was because you were touch starved, or because you had just been poked and prodded at all angles while in the hospital. Whatever the reason, the light grip you had on Spencer’s hand to stop him from pulling over was enough to make you feel the tiniest bit better. He was there with you, he was real.

“It’s not the pain,” you managed to hold your composure, knowing that letting any kind of sob escape the confines of your soul would only physically hurt you more.

“Are you tired? I drank enough coffee to get us home by morning but if you really need to sleep we can find a hotel somewhere. There are three off the next exit.”

“Spencer,” you ran your thumb over the prominent vein in his hand, “it isn’t something you can fix.”

“What do you mean?” He was puzzled, and by the way his hands were twitching you could tell he was deciding whether or not to stop the car anyways.

“There are hundreds of thousands of cold cases. Hundreds of thousands of families that don’t have closure. Hundreds of thousands of victims that haven’t gotten justice.”

“There’s one less because of you. You made a difference to Mia-Rose’s family, you got her the justice she deserves.”

“She deserved justice thirty years ago. I feel like the system failed her, the very system I work for. She was just a kid, and the answer was right there the whole time. Why did I have to be the one to figure it out, thirty years too late?”

Spencer’s response was soft and gentle, “because you’re exceptional, (y/n).”

“I didn’t have to be exceptional to solve this case, though. That’s what I’ve learned from all of the cold case documentaries I’ve watched. The ones that get solved are because someone knew what happened and didn’t come forward about it until years later. There was a psychopathic kid on the streets for thirty years because the police didn’t think to talk to Daniel Godfrey.”

“We can’t change what happened in the past, but we can make a difference in our futures.”

“I’m just so tired, Spence. I chose this job, I love this job, but it’s exhausting.”

“Then rest, (y/n). It’s ok if the only person you save some days is yourself.”

He was right, of course. You wanted to keep saving others, but you couldn’t do that if you didn't make time to save yourself too. You finally closed your eyes and pulled his cardigan up to your chin. Though you were still conscious, limiting your sensory input helped calm you down enough that you found yourself flitting in and out of dissociation. Even when Spencer’s hand gently moved out from under yours to answer his phone, you kept your eyes closed.

“Hey JJ,” his voice was quiet, barely audible over the rain pounding against the windshield, “they’re doing ok.” He paused while he listened to JJ’s response. “No, they keep reminding me that it’s not the first time they’ve been shot. I’m worried about them though.” He trailed off.

“They’ve been shouldering this burden of over 185,000 cold cases since we started working on this one, and now that it’s solved they’re finally feeling the weight of it. I don’t want them to drive themselves crazy trying to solve all of them on their own. We deal with enough active cases as it is.”

Though you were barely in a state of mind to process his words, he had hit the nail right on the head.

“How is the case you’re working on?” You presumed JJ was filling him in on what they knew, “have Garcia look into large purchases of triacetone triperoxide… Call me if anything changes. We should be back by morning.”

“Yes,” his change in tone indicated that JJ had asked him a question, “that would be great, JJ. Thank you so much.”

He must have hung up with JJ because his hand found yours again, fingers just barely touching. It was a simple action, loaded with a lot of meaning. Spencer was your best friend, and would always be your best friend. Bullets, cold cases, marriages, there was nothing that could break the bond you had with him.

You didn’t understand why people called their significant others their “better half”. It insinuated that you weren’t a whole person to begin with, a fractured existence that only found completion by the means of someone else. The idea that your life couldn’t be fulfilling until someone else made it whole was a concept that was set up for failure and self-loathing.

Instead, you believed that you were a whole person who could live a fulfilling life without the necessity of another. Instead, you surrounded yourself with people who lifted you up and helped you achieve your goals without being the direct cause of your success. Instead, you followed your dreams and somehow found Spencer Reid along the way.

Spencer was your best friend, your confidant, the one person who you knew you couldn’t live without, but he was not your other half. He was his own whole person, a mirror image of your own being. You found solace in his companionship, safety in the complexities of his brain. When the stress of your job got to be too much, you could reliably turn to each other and exist in the little slice of the world you called yours for a moment.

No, he was not your other half. He wasn’t even yours, for that matter, but he was there. He was there in a capacity that nobody else could achieve.

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection  @thatsonezesty13  @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett @bone-hurty-bitch @messyacademia

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 9

@pocketramblr

.

Banjo took Hikage to the side while the other ghosts were still wading through their existential crisis.

"Man," he said, "Hikage, bro. You know I love you."

"You do?"

"Like... at least eighty-five percent of the time."

"Ah, continue."

"But next time you think one of us has a secret relative out there, you've got to say something so we don't get blindsided."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright, then. I couldn't help but notice that both Ninth's mother and 'Tomura' share a strong resemblance to Nana."

"... I've changed my mind."

.

Although Midoriya Inko had abandoned the tech conference as soon as she heard about the attack on the USJ, she, unlike the mist villain, could not teleport. Therefore, Izuku was stuck in the nurse's office even after he had woken up and paramedics had confirmed that his injuries began and ended at bruises and quirk exhaustion. (And a potentially fractured bone in his foot, but that wasn't worth mentioning.)

Sitting next to the police officer with nothing to do was... awkward. Very awkward. His hands itched for his notebooks, but everything they brought to the USJ was evidence, and he hadn't been allowed to go back to the classroom. He wanted to know what happened to his classmates and Mr. Aizawa, who he hadn't seen since he ran away from the plaza and left him with the hand villain, and Mr. Yagi, who had really taken a beating from Nomu. Danger Sense was quiet, relatively speaking, but Float was just waiting to be used and tested.

Plus, he really, really had to talk to Mr. Yagi about that. Loads of his classmates had seen him use Float. How was he supposed to explain having Float right after telling them he probably had a sensory quirk?

Plus, if he got Float, it stood to reason that he'd get all the other One for All users' quirks as well. So he had to figure out how to make Danger Sense, Float, Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and a strength enhancement all look like the same quirk. Which, maybe they were, technically, considering that Monoma had sensed One for All as a single quirk but whatever was going on with the mist villain as multiple quirks...

Point was, One for All definitely functioned as multiple quirks.

Would his friends think he was lying? No, he'd definitely proven Danger Sense existed by predicting, however loosely, the attack.

"Hey, Tamakawa."

Izuku and the officer looked up at one of the detectives who had come to take initial statements. His name was... Tsukauchi, Izuku thought. Mr. Yagi (as Mr. Yagi) was standing behind him.

"I can take it from here. I have a few more questions for Midoriya."

"Yes, sir. Midoriya." He nodded at them as he left the room.

"How are you feeling, Young Midoriya?" asked Mr. Yagi, taking the officer's spot with a slight groan.

"Uh, better than this morning, actually," he said. "But, um, but what about you? That Nomu guy kept, um..." His eyes trailed towards the detective.

"Ah, this is Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa. He's an old friend of mine. He knows... well, just about everything about me."

Izuku nodded slowly. "So, he knows about, um..."

"I know about One for All," said Tsukauchi.

"Oh," said Izuku. He rapidly gathered together his thoughts, trying to decide what the most important piece of information he had to impart was. "Do you know what happened to Mr. Aizawa? And Ingenium?"

That was most definitely not a piece of information. Stupid brain.

"The portal villain, Kurogiri, teleported Aizawa off UA grounds, but he was able to get help quickly after that. Ingenium had some injuries that need a specialist, so he went home. They'll be alright, but they'll probably have to take a few days off."

"Yes," said Tsukauchi, giving Mr. Yagi one of the driest looks Izuku had ever seen. "Because you heroes are so good about that."

"Teaching isn't exactly strenuous, Naomasa."

"Remind me again how you got injured this time."

Mr. Yagi made a face Izuku would have found hilarious under other circumstances. "That's different," he said, plaintively.

"Is it though?"

Mr. Yagi coughed. "Now, Midoriya, my boy... I'm sure you have things you want to talk about... I think I glimpsed you soaring through the air, earlier. Did you unlock the enhancement aspect of One for All?"

"No," said Izuku. "Not exactly."

.

"Well," said Mr. Yagi. "That's, hm. Certainly something."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my boy," said Mr. Yagi, patting his knee. "In fact, it's a good thing that you got Float this time. I'd be at a loss about what to do with Smokescreen or Blackwhip. But I'm fairly familiar with my master's quirk, and, well, there's someone else who I should... get back into contact with..." Mr. Yagi force the words out as if they had physically pained him to say.

Which they might have. He did have the whole... coughing... thing. Maybe he was just trying to hold one back?

"Mr. Yagi? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Okay, are you sure?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to bring the next part up if Mr. Yagi wasn't feeling well.

"Yes," said Mr. Yagi. "I just, hm. It's just... history."

Izuku nodded. "So, um. Did you hear Monoma say that the mist guy - Kurogiri? - had multiple quirks, too? Like Nomu?"

The mood plummeted.

"Yes," said Tsukauchi. "He told me, and I told Toshinori. It appears that Kurogiri's warp quirk is actually several different quirks working as one. Merged together, almost."

Izuku nodded. "I was just wondering... One for All can be passed on, so... are there other quirks like that? Like, if the first person with One for All had family members or something? Or..." Izuku trailed off. Mr. Yagi now looked actively ill. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Toshinori," said Tsukauchi, "you mean you didn't tell him already?"

"In my defense, I thought he was extremely dead."

"What- Who are you talking about?"

"My boy... I think it's time to tell you a story of two brothers..."

.

"So, One for All comes with a built in nemesis? Who may be immortal?"

"That- He's not... It would appear so."

"I am somehow both surprised and not."

.

"There's one more thing I wanted to ask you about before your mother arrives," said Mr. Yagi.

"Please tell me it's not something worse, like me being a descendant of the guy," requested Izuku, picking the worst, most ridiculous thing he could think of.

Tsukauchi snorted, then covered the noise up with a cough.

"I seriously doubt that All for One could maintain a romantic relationship of any kind," said Mr. Yagi, "and even if you were, it wouldn't really matter. I mean, his own brother hated his guts."

.

"That's a bit extreme..." murmured Yoichi.

"Considering some of the rants we've gotten you to go on," said En, "it really isn't."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But the rest of it-" Yoichi promptly left to harass Second and Third.

"How can you two be so close and yet so far?" mourned Nana. "How are you so smart and so dumb at the same time?"

"In Ninth's defense," said En, "he doesn't know what All for One looks like."

"Surely he knows what his father looks like. He sees his picture almost every day," said Hikage.

"Admittedly, I could have phrased that better, but are you rubbing that in, or are you serious? I've known you for, like, half a century and I still can't tell."

.

Despite the example being a joke, Izuku felt much better after hearing that.

"But, no, this subject is relatively neutral and nothing so dramatic. I was hoping to get your permission to tell young Aizawa about One for All."

Izuku opened and closed his mouth several times. "H-huh? Why? And why do you want my permission? You don't need my permission."

"One for All is your quirk, now," said Yagi, "and your secret. It's up to you who knows about it. Outside of an emergency, I suppose. As for why in general..." Mr. Yagi sighed. "There are things young Aizawa needs to know about the villains with multiple quirks and All for One. I can't tell you the details right now, but with how One for All is manifesting in you, if he only knows about All for One, it would be very easy for him to make incorrect assumptions."

"Oh," said Izuku. He could certainly see how that could be dangerous. He didn't want his teacher to associate him with a villain like that.

"Also, if he knows what's happening, it will be easier for him to help you," finished Mr. Yagi hopefully.

Izuku thought about it. "I guess that would be alright. But... He's not the only person who'll know about my quirk being weird and All for One, right? I mean, the Hero Commission, at least..."

"To be entirely honest with you, I tell the HPSC as little as possible about All for One and One for All."

"What? Why?" asked Izuku.

"Well-"

"Izuku!"

"Mom!"

"I'll explain later," said All Might quickly.

.

Kurogiri passed a damp washcloth over the burns on his neck. The metal of his collar was a conductor, and the charge the young man with the electricity quirk had sent through it had been significant. It was only natural for it to get hot, for it to burn.

He should go to the Doctor... Some of the collar's functionality seemed to be damaged. He brushed his mist covered fingers over the cool metal.

Tomura wouldn't tell the Doctor. Kurogiri cared deeply for Tomura, but the young man was certainly shallow and unlikely to realize the extent of Kurogiri's injuries. He was more likely to focus on his own, not insignificant, wounds.

In contrast to those, Kurogiri's paled. He wasn't nearly as important as Tomura, after all.

It should be fine to let his wounds and the collar be. It would do what it was supposed to and protect the vulnerable areas of his body, internal damage or no. He just had to be careful of the burns becoming infected, especially since he couldn't see them.

Sometimes, he wished his body was like it was before...

Kurogiri frowned at the thought even as it faded from his consciousness. He had been created by All for One fully formed. His body had always been like this.

Hadn't it?

.

Shouta had been in and out of consciousness the past few hours. Apparently he'd never been in serious danger of dying, except from shock, which was just his body being dramatic and didn't count. All his major organs were free of serious damage. He just had to regain his stamina so that Recovery Girl could heal him up, and then he'd be fine.

Unlike Tensei, apparently, who had cracked one of his engines, which needed specialist help and surgery to realign the pieces. Or All Might, who had taken hits to his old injury, and needed to take time off or lose more time from his hero form. Or his students, who hadn't been seriously injured but who were probably traumatized.

The last time he had woken up, though, Hizashi had been there. Now, All Might, Nezu, and Detective Tsukauchi were there.

"Thought I already gave my statement," said Shouta.

"You did," said Tsukauchi.

"We're here to give you more information about the attack, I'm afraid," said Nezu.

"Information I won't like?"

"It can wait until you feel better, of course."

"That's illogical," said Shouta. "The sooner I get the information, the more time I have to process it."

All Might, Yagi, sighed. "Nomu and the portal-using villain both had multiple quirks."

Shouta frowned. "You mean, they had quirks with multiple aspects?"

"No," said Nezu. "As Yagi said, they had multiple quirks. This was confirmed by both the villains' comments and by Monoma, who made contact with the portal villain and was able to copy multiple quirks."

"Kurogiri," said Shouta. "That's what the other one called him. Shigaraki."

Nezu nodded. "Indeed. We weren't sure you had heard that." He tapped his paws together. "What we are about to tell you is classified. We are only sharing it with you because of your unique position and history."

"In the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of damage," said Yagi.

Only two things kept Shouta from leaping out the window and escaping: the fact that he was basically immobilized in plaster casts and the fact that his students were already involved in whatever this was.

"Great. What is it?"

"To begin," said Tsukauchi, "Monoma said he was able to copy three quirks from Kurogiri."

"That's up from what he could do before," observed Shouta. Stress did push quirks to improve, sometimes, although Shouta hated for the improvement to be associated with trauma.

Tsukauchi nodded. "He made note of that as well. He said he picked up a quirk that allowed him to turn his body parts into portals that led to other body parts, a quirk allowed him to temporarily teleport his body parts, and..." he trailed off.

"And a quirk that at the very least bears a strong resemblance to Shirakumo Oboro's Cloud."

"What are you saying?" asked Shouta, ignoring the way his heart had almost stopped.

"At the moment? Only that it is very strange that Kurogiri had a quirk like that, and sent you to the place where Shirakumo Oboro died."

"Oboro would never-"

"We're not saying that," interrupted Yagi. He coughed into his hand. "There's more context. Have you ever heard of the quirk bogeyman?"

.

"I can't wait to never sleep again I'm my entire life," said Shouta.

"Wait," said Tsukauchi, "it gets worse."

"How could it get worse?"

"Naomasa, you're supposed to be on my side," complained Yagi.

"I am. That's why I'll stop Eraserhead here from trying to kill you after you finish explaining."

"Well, it has to do with young Midoriya's quirk..."

.

"Let me get this straight, you gave the quirk with an immortal supervillain archenemy attached to a child... and didn't tell him that the supervillain existed."

"When you say it like that, it sounds really bad-"

"It is really bad-!"

.

"If I'd known he was still alive-"

"What part of immortal do you not understand?"

"Shouta, I, too, believed that All for One-"

"Shut up, Nezu! I don't have the energy to be mad at both of you right now!"

.

Yagi, Tsukauchi, and Nezu were all shown out by an irate nurse while a different but equally irate nurse replaced the plaster cast on Shouta's arm.

It had definitely been worth it.

.

Just because school was canceled, that didn't mean training was canceled.

... except it did, both because Inko was too stressed to let Izuku out of the house, and because Mr. Yagi had a meeting to go to about the attack.

But the second day after the attack was a different story!

That morning, Mr. Yagi pulled up in front of Izuku's apartment in Hercules (still so cool!) and picked him up.

Izuku bounced enthusiastically into the car and then froze. "Oh my gosh, what happened to your eye? Was it a villain? How hard did they hit you?" his hands fluttered. "I have some cream-"

"Oh," said Mr. Yagi, "no need, young Midoriya! I, er, sort of deserved it. It's a sort of reminder to take it easy, too. People would be disturbed to see All Might with a black eye, after all!" He smiled, then winced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very. You should buckle up, my boy."

"Oh, right," said Izuku. "So, where are we going? You said there was someone you wanted to introduce me to."

"Yes," said Mr. Yagi. "My old teacher. It's been a while since I've seen him. Hopefully he won't make up for lost time with a kick to the face..."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it."

When Mr. Yagi spent most of the way over muttering about kicks to the face and head, Izuku decided that he should, in fact, worry about it.

.

The broken-down building was not what Izuku had been expecting.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked Izuku.

"Absolutely," said Mr. Yagi, who was shaking somewhat. "This Pavlovian response only confirms it."

"Um." The building looked condemned. "Maybe he moved."

"One can only hope," said Mr. Yagi. "Maybe you sh- No. I have to see this through." He steeled himself visibly, squaring shoulders. "Please not a kick to the face," he said, under his breath.

"Is he really that bad?" asked Izuku.

"My boy, I guarantee you that he's worse."

.

"Poor kid has no idea what's coming," said Banjo. "Although we wouldn't have believed it either if we weren't riding along and watching."

"Nana," said En, "I just want to reiterate that I'm very glad you never thought about giving One for All to Gran Torino."

"Come on. Sorahiko isn't that bad," protested Nana.

"We know," said everyone else, "he's worse."

.

They walked up to the apartment building door. Mr. Yagi sighed heavily on seeing the door was hanging open, which was a radically different reaction than what Izuku would have expected.

"Is Danger Sense doing anything?"

"I don't think so?"

"Let me know if that changes."

"R-right," said Izuku. Mr. Yagi pushed the door in, and Izuku followed cautiously after him.

They went down a few hallways, peeking in rooms. Then they got to the kitchen, and Izuku covered his mouth with both hands with a gasp at the grisly, bloody scene. Gran Torino laid on the floor in a pool of red liquid. "Oh my gosh, he's-"

At the same time, Mr. Yagi said, "At least it's not a kic-"

The supposedly dead hero was suddenly airborne, and flying towards Mr. Yagi, foot first. Specifically, at his face. "You thou-"

Danger Sense spiked. It was a tiny spike, but still.

Izuku reacted. Specifically, with nerves shot by the USJ attack, he reacted violently, lashing out with a fist, swatting Gran Torino out of the air and back into the puddle of what was, in retrospect, probably diluted ketchup.

For a moment, everything was silent.

"Oh my gosh," wailed Izuku. "I assaulted a senior citizen!"

Gran Torino bounced back to his feet. "I like this kid, Toshinori!"

"I'm... glad?"

"Now show me what you've g-"

"Gran, please, we're only here for quirk help, not battle training."

"What's the difference? You're going to want to use it in battle eventually, right?"

"I mean," said Izuku, hesitantly, feeling like he had whiplash several times over, "yes?"

"See?"

"Just help with controlling Float. Please." Mr. Yagi pressed his hands together. "Please do not pick a quirk fight with a civilian teenager. Please."

"We are on private property."

"Assault is still illegal on private property."

"He's the one who hit me!"

"I know! I'm so sorry," said Izuku, doing his best to bow in the cramped space. "It was a reflex."

"After you attacked me!"

"Yeah, but you knew I was going to do that!"

"That doesn't make it better!"

Gran Torino turned to Izuku. "Kid, I don't know how you did it, but it looks like you made this big softy grow a backbone. Next step is to see if you can get him to do this with Mirai, too."

"Um," said Izuku. "I think he already had a backbone? He's All Might, after all."

"Nah, he's just a giant spindly amoeba who needs to take better care of himself."

Mr. Yagi slumped.

"But back on topic," said Gran Torino, eyes much sharper than before. "Do you really have Nana's quirk, kid?"

"Y-yeah. I think so. It was only a little bit, during the attack, but... yeah."

"Let's see what you can do with it, then."

"Um," said Izuku.

"Gran, maybe you should get cleaned up first? Young Midoriya and I can take care of the kitchen..."

"You don't know how to turn it on, do you?"

"Not really, no," said Izuku.

"We've got our work for today cut out for us, then, don't we, you zygotes?"

Wow. Gran Torino really did call people zygotes.

Wild.

[maddieinwonder]

A Lesson In Romance #7: False Start

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Just a lot of awkward vibes hahaha

Word Count: 1.7k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they try to confess their feelings.

A/N: I didn’t actually manage to include the definition of a False Start in the chapter itself, so I’ll add it at the end. No spoilers for now!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

-----------

It took you 24 hours to decide that you were going to do something about your feelings for the good doctor. Pretty quick, considering you were a living, breathing rom-com cynic. But as ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once said: "The only constant in life is change".

Specifically, change happened after you woke up in your cute co-worker and dear friend's arms and you wanted nothing more than to get back into them as fast as possible.

But by the universal laws of working in the BAU, catching a break seemed to be the hardest when you actually wanted one.

Firstly, it was like every serial killer in the country decided to cancel their vacations simultaneously, swamping the team with urgent case after case. At this point, you were more familiar with the couch on the jet than your bed at home, and everyone was feeling the strain.

Secondly, if you weren't sleeping, you were usually out in the field chasing unsubs with Derek or Rossi. You had stopped holding out hope for being paired with Spencer — on account of your areas of specialty overlapping too much, and Hotch not being the type of leader to waste his resources — and as a result:

Thirdly, getting even ten minutes alone with the genius became an impossible task, and not for lack of trying either. At the start of the month, the two of you had tried to adapt your breakfast ritual to the road, but it always got interrupted mid-coffee order or even at the ding of the lift. Not that you and Spencer stopped trying, no, but your patience was wearing thin.

So you did something you hadn't done since you submitted your application to join the BAU — you prayed for a chance.

Because every day that you didn't admit your feelings to the doctor was another day fighting the compulsion to tell somebody else about them, and god only knows what a room full of profilers (and one nosy tech analyst) would do with that kind of information.

Then, out of the blue, the door of opportunity opened.

After two weeks of straight travel, the team had earned a well-deserved one night’s rest in your own beds before dealing with a local case, bright and early tomorrow morning. And since your flight landed at 2am and all the trains had stopped by then, this gave you the perfect shot to execute your plan.

Unfortunately, you forgot to take into account the most important factor — your nerves.

It didn't help that Derek had wolf-whistled in the carpark as the two of you walked off in the same direction, nor that Spencer immediately put your favourite album into the CD player out of instinct; an overly domestic action that made your heart beat even faster.

But it was when you arrived in front of his apartment building that you felt the worst of it. As you tried to summon the right words to your lips, your heart hammered in your chest and your thoughts jumbled themselves into nonsense.

"Are you ok?" Spencer asked, snapping you out of your anxious spiral instantly. "You don't look so well."

"I-I'm fine." Your fingers twitched nervously.

"Doesn't seem like it." He looked down at your hands, and you cursed your subconscious brain for giving you away. Then, he placed a hand over yours and your heart stopped.

"You're not alright, that's for sure, but it seems like it's just sleep deprivation." He assessed, bending slightly to look at your face. "You can't drive in this state. Do you want to come in?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, ready to protest, but Spencer beat you to it. "Let’s go. You wanted to talk about something, right?" He called out, already one foot out of the car.

Before you could realise what was happening, you found yourself sitting on Spencer's couch holding a warm cup of tea.

This was the first time you were in his apartment. Yet, it was exactly what you thought it'd be like. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, filled to max capacity with books of every topic imaginable from neuroscience to philosophy. Those that didn't make it to the shelves were found in random stacks around his apartment, standing out against his forest green walls.

"Did you know that chamomile tea is a natural remedy for insomnia? In fact, it is commonly regarded as a mild tranquilizer. It's calming effects may be attributed to the antioxidant apigenin, which binds to specific receptors in your brain that initiate sleep and reduce anxiety." He explained, walking over with his own mug.

"I actually did know that." You smiled. The tea seemed to work its magic because you did feel relaxed, and you must have looked it too, because the worried frown disappeared off Spencer's face.

"Didn't know you were a tea person." You commented lightly, blowing the steam from your mug.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He replied mysteriously, and you raised your eyebrows.

Spencer's apartment was too quiet, no rumbling fridge or quiet radio playing in the background to make your awkward silence any less pronounced. It was then that you noticed he didn't have a TV. Somehow this fact didn't surprise you very much.

"You... you wanted to talk to me about something?" He broke the silence, looking down at the hot tea swirling in his mug.

Right. You were here to talk about your feelings. Your face flushed as you tried to summon your willpower, again.

"I wanted to tell you something—" You began shakily. "But before that, I just want to preface, we can ignore this entire thing if you don't agree. I mean, I really enjoy our friendship as it is, and I wouldn't want to do anything to affect tha—"

"Wait." Spencer interrupted urgently, before catching himself. "Sorry, um, before that, can I say something?"

"Um, ok, shoot." You replied meekly, trying to hide your relief behind a long sip of tea. There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts, and you might have been seeing things, but he looked almost... nervous? 

"The day we met, I calculated the probability of meeting somebody that shared my exact coffee order and the result was almost one in a million.” He finally spoke, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “That probability decreased when I factored in working together, sharing the same interests, and... and how I enjoyed spending time with you more than with anybody else."

Spencer cleared his throat, a blush coming onto his cheeks.

"Ever since then... my life just started making sense. I know I’m a scientist, not a poet, and I could tell you all the statistics about relationships in the world, but when it comes to you...”

His cheeks were crimson now, as he ran his fingers through his hair. You had a feeling yours looked the same.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I think you're beautiful and smart, and I have no idea what you see in me, but I'd really—"

Suddenly, both your phones buzzed violently against his coffee table, jolting you out of the moment. You leaned over in a trained motion, only to see exactly what you expected:

Garcia: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

Penny: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

You let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding, and Spencer looked over at you, doe-eyed and nervous.

“The case?" He asked quietly.

There was a silence filled with words unsaid. "We should go." He said finally. "If we leave now, we can still make it on time."

You only nodded in response, more out of duty than desire, and gulped down the rest of your tea. The thought of what he was about to say burned down your throat.

Driving away from Spencer’s apartment was torturous. The doctor hadn’t said anything to you since he entered the car, only fiddling with his bag as he looked out the window. It was too dark to read his expression, but you wondered if he could still hear the way he called you “beautiful”, or whether the moment had already dissolved into the space between you.

Luckily, you didn’t need to wait long for an answer, as Spencer tugged on your sleeve before you exited the carpark, his face scrunched in worry.

"I really didn't mean for that to be so... weird. Can we talk about this again after the case?" He asked softly, and despite every semblance of logic left in your brain, you couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in your chest and you smiled.

That was when Spencer did something completely uncharacteristic. (You didn't know this at the time, but it was something that you would tease him about for a long time after.)

In one fluid movement, the doctor pulled you into a tight hug that elicited a squeak from you, but it only took a second for the initial shock to wear off before you relaxed completely into his warm touch. He took that as a sign to continue, burying his head into your shoulder and letting out a content sigh.

Unlike waking up to your bodies intertwined, nothing about this was a mistake. Not the way his fingers stroked your back peacefully, nor the way his curly hair tickled your cheek. You felt the stress of the past two weeks melt away in his embrace, and so did any coherent thought, except one: normal friends didn't hug each other like this.

Later when the two of you finally entered the conference room, miraculously still on time, nobody commented on the smiles plastered on your faces but everybody could tell. They were profilers after all.

But for the first time in awhile, you were just too happy to care.

-----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @mellowalieneggsknight || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

Definition of a False Start here

[feliix]

halloween hookup ↠ lee minho

↠ CEO!Minho x Reader

↠ Genre: Smut, fluff(ish), coworkers 2 lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 4.9k

↠ Summary: The details of your company Halloween bash are all a blur once you wake the next morning, well, at least until you notice your boss Lee Minho lying beside you in an unfamiliar bed.

↠ Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex, nudes (but not the kind you think of lmao), dum/sub themes, mentions of alcohol and drinking. (though this fic does not include sexual intercourse following the consumption of alcohol, please remember to drink responsibly and that consent is not consent if you are under the influence!)

↠ A/N: here’s to spooky season and minho day (even though i’m a day late oopsie). and as always thank you to @jinterlude​ for beta reading ily ♡

The bright morning sun creeps through your curtains, scattering light through your bedroom and grazing your bare skin with its rays. A peaceful way to start your Saturday morning, you muse, snuggling deeper into your bed. As you come to your senses, you notice something is quite off. The room smells stale, your sheets feel slightly more scratchy than usual, and something is weighing down over your waist.

Your eyes snap open, realizing that the object weighing down your waist is in fact, someone's arm. The sheets you’re lying over are not yours, and the odd aroma that’s filling the room can not compare to the sweet scent of your own apartment. As if that isn’t bad enough, you’re not able to identify whose arm is slung over your body, pulling your waist backward against their warm bare chest.

Where am I?

Without waking up the unknown man, you carefully shift your weight to release yourself from his grasp. You take your head into your hands, gently massaging your temples trying to relieve the hangover paging through your brain.

The memories from the previous night are stale in your mind. You rack your brain, trying to come up with some reason as to why you’re here and exactly how you yourself got into this position. You sit up in bed, cautiously wrapping the sheets over your body. It seems like a dream or distant illusion, and you can’t quite piece together how it all went down.

You remember being at the company Halloween bash, you remember having useless small talk with a bunch of your coworkers, playing some stupid game that definitely would have been better if it involved some alcohol, and then it got even lamer, so you left with Minho.

Oh my gosh. You left with Minho. As in your boss, Lee Minho.

Your head whips around your body to look at the sleeping body lying next to you as if you’re expecting to see anyone else placed beside you. The memories of what happened last night come flooding back to you, and it went something like this.

The party was held in your office conference room, which was just big enough to squeeze all 20 people in your department into one space, but small enough where you would bump up against the person next to you if you moved too abruptly. Various types of appetizers and finger foods lined the long meeting table which stretched the entire length of the room. There was also a small end table in the corner topped with various types of soda, a bowl of punch, and some booze that George from IT brought. Not that you would ever drink at an office party, that was way too risky.

A few girls from HR had decided to decorate with some cut out pumpkins they printed off some computer paper and orange streamers that were probably leftover from your last boss's going away party.

After your last boss had left, your company hired Lee Minho, a young business professional from a different location that your company owned. Mr. Lee was a pretty laid back guy compared to your last boss. It was pretty weird having a boss as young as Mr. Lee, but he always made sure to bring some fun into the workplace whenever he could, like this Halloween bash for instance. Not to mention, he was the most attractive boss you'd ever had. All the other female employees seemed to agree, swooning over him with every opportunity that they were given.

Mr. Lee also really enjoyed flirting with his employees, male and female. It was hard to tell if he was being nice or just hitting on you the first time he complimented your outfit. The next time he complimented your blouse you noticed his eyes wandering down to your boobs, and you knew it was not just an innocent compliment, but hey, he was attractive so you were definitely not complaining about it.

The feeling of your phone vibrating in your back pocket of your denim skirt startled you, causing you to jump before fumbling your hands back to reach for the device.

Mr. Lee: I like your cat ears ;)

The sides of your lips lifted into a small smirk before picking your head up to look for Minho across the room. He gave you a small smile and finished his gesture off with a wink before you looked back down, sliding open your phone and responding.

Y/N: thanks! where's your costume? corporate won't let you join in on the fun for once :(

Mr. Lee was dressed in his usual attire, some black dress pants, and a black button-down, but accompanied by a very festive orange and black halloween tie. The slender fit of his shirt made his shoulders look especially broad in comparison to his narrow waist.

Before you could even look up from your phone Minho was standing by your side with a cup of punch in each hand, tilting his head towards one of the glasses to offer it up to you. Nodding your head, you smiled a thank you and took the red cup from his grasp.

You coolly leaned your back against the wall behind you, trying to stay out of the way of all the useless chatter going on between the coworkers surrounding you. Mr. Lee was quick to follow suit, sliding his legs down a little further away from the wall so he could match your height.

"This party is kind of lame," he whispered in your ear, earning him a small grin and soft chuckle from you. Most of the employees at your office were much older than you, so it was hard for you to connect with them. They all had their own families and children, where you had just become financially stable enough to move out of your parent’s house.

"You think anyone will notice if we leave?" You said sarcastically, playing along with his charade, just equally bored of the small talk your coworkers were making around you.

"Yeah, but I think I can get us out of it," he replied smoothly, pushing his back off of the wall and walked towards the conference room door, shooting you a quick wink before he made his exit. You had no idea what Minho had in store to get you out of this party but you sure hope it was good.

Not a minute later, the desk phone in the conference room began to ring. Everyone shot each other questioning glares, slightly confused as to who would be calling the office after hours on a Friday. Minho's secretary sauntered over to the phone before holding her index finger over her lips, signaling everyone around her to be quiet.

"Hello this is Amy," she said, cocking her head to the side and furrowing her brows, trying to understand what the caller was saying at the other end of the line. Her expression quickly changed to a small smile as she looked around the room, eyes landing on you before responding to the caller.

"I'll let her know. Thank you, Mr. Lee," Amy replied before hanging up the phone, "Y/N, Mr. Lee needs help with something and would like for you to meet him in his office as soon as possible."

Trying your hardest not to let a smirk creep onto your face, you nodded your head and placed your unfinished drink down on the table. Curious to see what Minho had in-store to get you out of the party, you made your way out of the conference room and to his office.

Peeking through the office window, you saw Minho seated at his desk on his phone. His legs were crossed with his feet placed upon the surface in front of him. The small lamp on his desk dimly illuminated the room, reflecting some light off of his shiny black shoes. He raised his head, eyes wandering away from his phone as you cracked open the door to his office.

"Mr. Lee, you needed help with something?" You inquired sweetly, giving him a grin while making your way into the room.

"Ah, I've been waiting for you." He joked smiling back at you, "Shut the door behind you." You obliged, carefully wrapping your fingers around the handle and closing the door lightly, sure to not make a sound.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, moving closer to Minho as he swung his legs off the desk and placed his feet on the ground.

"Well I figured we could have our own fun, that party was so lame," he said, holding his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, wondering where this was going but you took his hand in yours, curious to find out. He pulled you in closer so your frame stood between his legs, making your heart jump in your chest.

"What did you have in mind?" You smirked, feeling your body beginning to grow warm with anticipation.

"Hmm," he started, patting his thigh for you to take a seat on, "something not so spooky I suppose."

A knot began to form in your throat, causing you to swallow hard before stuttering out the word "Spooky?" and sitting down on his thigh.

Minho softly chuckled, "I've never seen anyone look so sexy in cat ears before, you were driving me insane in there."

Your breathing hitched as he placed a hand on your thigh, gently stroking your skin up to the hem of your skirt. "Is this okay, baby girl?" His eyebrow raised in question, watching your expression shift into a flustered one. You keened at the pet name, feeling heat rush right to your cheeks. Slowly, you nodded your head in response, unable to trust your voice in a time like this.

"Um, I didn't know you thought about me this way Mr. Lee," you stifled out while uncomfortably shifting around on his lap. Minho caught his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a low groan before shifting his body as well, feeling his member harden as he leaned further back into his chair.

"Call me Minho," he smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek and to your hair, sweeping it over your shoulder.

"O-Okay," you stammered, growing flustered from his sweet yet sensual actions.

"Do you think about me this way, baby girl?" He said smugly, almost as if he knew the response you would be giving him in return.

"Yes, Minho," you unknowingly admitted. The words felt foreign coming out of your mouth, it felt odd calling your boss by his first name. But in some weird way, you liked knowing that he felt more turned on by you compared to the other female coworkers that were desperate for his attention.

"What do you think about, hmm?" Minho hummed, a short smirk fixed on his face. Your eyes widened in embarrassment, choking back a whimper as his hand brushed up past the hem of your skirt. Biting your lip in an attempt to control your breath, his hand wandered higher, pushing your skirt further up to expose your panties.

His long fingers grazed the fabric of the underwear over your core. Letting out a short gasp, you quickly brought your hand up to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. Dragging his fingers along the growing wetness on your panties, Minho kept his eyes locked on your expression.

"I, I think about how nice you always look in your dress clothes," you stuttered, "but I really wonder what you look like under them."

Ending the statement confidently, it seemed as if someone else had taken control of your tongue. Minho raised his eyebrows, smirk still plastered on his face from his prior question. As you felt the bulge in his pants begin to protrude under you, he shifted in his chair once again. He cleared his throat, loosening his tie in the process before speaking up.

"We should go somewhere more private." Minho suggested as he moved you off of his lap. "I don't want to be somewhere that anyone could find us," He finished before pacing towards the hall outside of his office. Following behind him you obliged, walking towards the door and into the corridor. Before you could get very far a faint voice sounded off down the hallway.

"Mr. Lee?" Minho's secretary called out from down the hall.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath, grabbing your hand and swiftly pulling you into the nearest room to avoid Amy.

The copy room was dark. The small touchscreen on the copy machine and the light that peeked in through the small, rectangular window on the door barely lit the room enough for you to see what was right in front of you.

Breathing heavily, Minho pushed your back up against the door trying to remain out of sight as he followed suit beside you. The feeling of hiding from your coworker with your boss was thrilling, something that was easily so wrong, and definitely against HR policy, excited you.

"Mr. Lee? Are you still here?" Amy called from the hallway outside the copy room door. Minho's startled eyes wandered out the small window on the top of the door to see where his secretary could be.

"Fuck," he let out a deep breath before ducking away from the window.

Minho flipped his body so that he was facing you, placing his arms on either side of your head and his forehead resting on yours. He slowly brought his index finger to your lips, motioning you to stay quiet so you wouldn't be found.

Minho's warm, deep breaths met the skin of your cheeks, his long arm hovered over you, restricting you between his body and the wooden door behind you. The mere inches between your bodies left you craving for his touch yet again. You bit your lip to try and ease your breathing, looking up at Minho through your long eyelashes.

He placed his palm over your lips, trying to silence your deep breaths from the woman pacing around the corridor only a few feet away. His gaze was deep and sultry, it felt as though he was looking straight through you and directly to your thoughts. If only he knew the types of things going through your mind right now – such inappropriate things for an employee to think about their boss.

Tension grew as you stood there, body pressed against Minho’s as you waited for Amy to pass. Being in such close proximity to him was affecting you in ways you would've never imagined. Heat flooded to your core with each deep breath you took; Minho’s seductive stare only furthered your desire.

Without saying a word, Minho removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his own. The kiss caught you off guard, causing you to let out a small gasp in return. Minho smiled at your reaction, clearly satisfied with how he was taking you by surprise. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip asking for entrance, in which you easily obliged, slowly parting your lips and allowing him to kiss you even more passionately.

Minho’s knee found its place spreading your thighs apart slowly, teasing you as he rubbed it against your throbbing clit in the process. With slight hesitation, he quickly peeked his head up to the window one more time, making sure that the coast was clear before leaning back down to attach his lips to yours. His hands roamed your body down to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer to him.

Pressing your breasts to his chest, you slid your hand between your two bodies. Your hand found its way down to the bulge in his pants, lightly groping it before earning a moan of approval from him. Instinctively he began to grind into your hand, becoming even needier for your touch.

Minho’s breathing became instantly jagged from the moment you first touched his growing member. Perspiration began to gather at the top of Minho's exposed forehead, the small strands of dark hair framing his face hastily became damp. Your callous touch accompanied with sweet kisses to his lips sent Minho into a state of hunger; his demeanor instantly changed, electrifying the mood of the room.

Minho’s fingertips dragged down your body and to the hem of your blouse, tugging on it slightly before seeking approval to remove it from your body. There’s not enough time to respond before you were fiddling with the tie around his neck, loosening it and slipping it over his head to have better access to the buttons that lined his shirt. Your hands moved swiftly trying to undo each one before Minho's hands reached for his belt, causing you to bring your hands back to your own body.

In an unspoken rhythm, you both discarded your bottoms, leaving Minho standing naked as you wore just your silky black bra. A low moan left his lips as his hand cupped your breast, massaging gently before slipping his thumb underneath the thin fabric to play with your nipple. His touch left goosebumps all over your body, taking the sensation of his calloused fingertips against such a sensitive area.

You threw your head back in pleasure giving Minho access to your neck. Hungrily, he attached his lips just above your collarbone, sucking light marks into your skin. His hands moved to your back, unlatching the clasp of your bra and removing it from your body. The stimulation from both his lips and his fingers left your core aching for more, leaving moisture to accumulate between your thighs.

Without a second to spare, Minho’s hand’s were roaming down your body, parting your legs and dragging his finger down your wet slit. You moaned in response, keening into his touch as sweat began to gather on your brow.

With one quick swipe against your clit you were jumping at the contact. “Minho,” you moaned, “need your fingers inside me.”

A stern look crossed his face, making his seductive expression even more dark and lustful than before. “You have to be quiet,” his voice carried a serious tone as he placed a finger to your lips, “we don’t want Amy coming to look for us again, do we?” His question lingered as he leaned in closer to you, whispering the words softly, before leaving with a small nip to your earlobe causing you to shudder.

“Jump,” Minho ordered, grabbing your ass with each hand as you followed his request, jumping as his strong arms secured themselves around you. Each of your legs rested on each side of his body, gripping him tightly so you wouldn't fall. Minho held his body tightly up against you, taking his time by teasing you and dragging his member along your wet slit ever so slowly.

His hard member slid into you carefully, allowing you time to adjust to his size before pushing himself all the way in. You threw your head back against the wall in pleasure, becoming accustomed to the feeling of his hard shaft stretching out your walls. Slowly, Minho began pumping in and out of you at a slow pace. He was careful not to make too much noise, giving you slow and shallow thrusts before working his way to a faster pace.

He soon attached his lips to yours, moaning into the kiss as you basked in the taste of fruity residue left from the punch he was sipping on earlier. The room was becoming hot and stuffy, the window above you becoming cloudy as your bodies perspired. His movements were fluid and intentional, rocking you against the door as he held you tightly in his grip.

"Hold on," Minho whispered, pulling you off of the wall and walking towards the back of the room. His muscular arms held your body tightly against his, making sure no space was left between you.

Minho pulled out slowly, the sensation of your aching pussy berating your thoughts as he and let go of your legs. Your shaky legs were left to steady themselves on the ground, stumbling to hold onto Minho’s firm chest for support.. Grabbing you by your waist, he quickly turned your body to face the copy machine. In one swift motion you watched him lift open up the top of the machine, letting the beam of light underneath the glass panel illuminate your naked figure. His bare chest was placed flush against your back, standing so close that you could feel his racing heartbeat.

"Bend over," Minho ordered as his hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you to push your chest closer to the copy machine. Following his orders, you pressed your body against the machine, shivering from the cold sensation of the glass panel brushing against your sensitive nipples.

Minho grabbed onto your ass, squeezing it gently as he guided himself back into you. You let out a quiet whine, wrapping your fingers onto the sides of the copy machine to try and stabilize yourself. He returned back to a steady pace, rocking into you with ease while his firm hands caressed your back.

"Fuck Y/N," Minho moaned, "you're taking me so well."

His hand grabbed at your hair harshly, making a makeshift ponytail with his fist, as he pulled your head up. Arching your back, you couldn't help but let out a loud moan in reaction to the new depths Minho was reaching in your dripping core.

"I wanna hear you," Minho grunted between thrusts, his strokes becoming faster and harder. Incapable of using your words, you let out another whine squeezing your eyes shut completely, focused on the sensation of his thick member filling you up and the feeling of his hips hitting your ass with each plunge.

"I'm close," your voice was whiny and weak. Minho picked up his pace, snapping his hips harder into you as one hand left its position on your hip. The loss of contact made you whine, but his hand soon found its place between your legs. His fingers lightly brushed against your swollen clit, the sensation making you see stars. Legs beginning to shake, your grip on the copy machine became firmer, needing to hold onto something in order to steady yourself. The added pleasure from his fingers sent you spiraling, choking you up and causing your eyes to water in bliss.

"Come for me Y/N, I wanna feel you cum all over my cock," he grunted, his voice low and sensual. Moving his hand faster, your clit was rolled between his fingertips. Your orgasm was just out of reach. The satisfaction was just out of reach. But Minho’s tender touch sent you over the edge, relying on the copy machine to hold his unstable body up.

"Minho," you mustered out, riding out your high, pussy throbbing around his dick. He hummed in response, too focused on chasing his own high to form any audible words. The low grunts leaving Minho’s lips became more and more frequent as his thrusts slowed, growing sloppier and careless. But his hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you still as he let out a string of profanities before collapsing onto your back.

Minho rested his head between your shoulder blades, chest heaving as he regained his composure before pulling out of you. Slowly, he stood up, taking a deep breath and admiring your exhausted figure before you followed behind him.

"Wow," was the only word that you could manage, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand as you turned to face him. Minho chuckled in response, smiling gingerly as he picked up your clothes, handing them back to you so that you could get dressed.

After pulling your top over your head your eyes did a quick scan around the room, confirming that you weren't leaving anything behind. If someone were to find an undergarment in here, it would be the talk of the office for at least a week. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a sheet of paper resting on the tray of the copy machine. Raising an eyebrow, you paced back over to the machine and lifted up the sheet.

"Oh. My. God."

You were frozen in place, eyes wide with shock as you look at the image before you. Minho soon whipped his body around, finishing off the buckle of his belt before wandering over to the copy machine.

"I'm so keeping that," Minho said, looking over your shoulder at the picture of your bare breasts printed on the paper gripped harshly in your hands. A smug smirk was plastered on his face as he continued to admire the crude photograph.

"Minho, do you know how this happened?" Your voice was filled with concern, turning your head to face him, sure he was up to something. His eyes were glued on the graphic photo you held in your hands, too zoned out to hear you speak.

"Minho," you repeated more firmly this time, finally gaining his attention back to you from the image, "did you do this?"

A small grin formed on his face, one side of his mouth lifted while he raised his eyebrows. He looked smug...too smug.

"Can't have anyone finding this, now can we?" He chuckled, taking this paper in his own hands and taking one last glance before ripping it into small pieces before tossing the pieces into the recycling bin and extending a hand to you. "I say we go celebrate the occasion with a drink, you in?" Taking his hand in yours, you nodded your head in agreement, following Minho out of the copy room.

"How does a some more punch sound? George brought an extra bottle of juice that I can snag and I’ve got a bottle of vodka at my place with our names on it." Minho spoke, earning a smile from you before walking out the office doors.

Suddenly you feel the mattress shift beside you, pulling you out of your daydream. Minho rolls over to face your direction with his eyes still closed, his mouth slowly opening before taking a deep breath.

"Good morning," he speaks, eyes fluttering open and taking in your disheveled appearance.

"Morning," you manage to mutter out, quickly breaking eye contact, unable to face him from the pure embarrassment filling your system.

"Last night was fun, huh?" He asks, the cheerfulness barely peeking through the groggy tone of his voice. "Last night?" You know exactly what he was talking about, but hope he’s referring to anything except what happened in the copy room.

"Yeah, we came back here to have a drink after we–"

"Oh okay yep! I remember. No need to go into any more details!" You cut him off before he can continue any further, covering your eyes to shield you from his gaze. The flesh on your cheeks are scorching hot with embarrassment.

As you go to stand up from the bed, hoping to quickly gather your things and rush out the door before Minho could mention anything else, his hand reaches for yours. He pulls you in closer to him until your face is near enough to touch; grazing the side of your warm cheeks before speaking again. You lower your head in embarrassment, unsure of what Minho is about to say.

"I really enjoyed our time together last night, I wouldn’t mind having you over again." He brushes the stray hairs away from falling into your eyes, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze afterward. Heart fluttering in response, you catch your lip between your teeth in an attempt to hide the large smile that’s threatening to peek through.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Minho stands up, reaching into the pocket of the pants he wore last night and pulling out a small folded up piece of paper.

"I believe this belongs to you," he curls up the ends of his mouth, biting back a smile while handing it to you. Confused, you unfold the paper revealing a picture of your very own breasts. As if the situation could not get any more embarrassing, Minho stares down at the paper in your hands, admiring your bare chest plastered in black and white, letting out a small chuckle.

As mortified as you are, you figure that the natural instinct to never talk to this man again would not work, seeing that Minho is your boss. Taking a deep breath, you try to find any sort of confidence that could still be left inside you. You look back up at him, cocking your head slightly to the side before reaching your arm out and handing him back the photo.

"Keep it, think of it as a Halloween gift." You say shooting him a smirk, internally crossing your fingers hoping for a good reaction. Minho snickers, taking the paper from your hand and looking at it one last time before folding it back up and holding it tightly in his palm.

"I'll keep it somewhere safe," He gives you a wink and shoves the paper deep into the pocket of his pajama pants.

"Happy Halloween, Minho."

‘Halloween Hookup’ is copyright 2020 @chaangbin​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.