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slifarianhawk · 1 year

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Chapter 12: looking upon a monster

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDED MENTIONS OF SELF HARM, ABANDONMENT, SELF LOATHING, AND INCLUDES A MENTAL BREAK DOWN THAT LEADS TO VIOLENCE.

[Normal pov]

Shortly after landing I called Archer and arranged a black S.U.V. arranged to pick up Steve, Irving and I. Archer advised me that given the location it would be about thirty minutes to pick us up from the private airstrip.

"So where are we staying Ms. Lancaster?" Irving asked holding a black and silver case with a Tricell logo on it.

"Oh, my apologies Mr. Irving I forgot to inform you of the arrangements. We will be staying at the Pheonix Core hunting lodge. It's a four-star lodge with full accommodations and to mention it is the location of one of my contacts." I spoke with sincerity.

"Wow, that is better than what Excella normally arranges." He states excitedly.

"I had hoped so. The lodge is a remnant of my teacher's legacy. It should be more homely than a Holiday or Hilton inn." I spoke exhausted from the plane ride and sat on the blacktop.

"Alistar are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yea just a mix of jet lag and exhaustion. I hate planes." I said shaking my head, " I know they're safe but I never feel right after getting off one.".

"Where are we anyway?" Irving asked starting out at the trees in a distance.

"A forest in the southeast part of Ohio, just over two hours from our transaction location. The lodge is tucked away in the forest. This is a private airstrip from the days the Umbrella facility was active." I spoke pointing out the lights in the distance, "That area is the biohazard zone."

Steve looked very concerned, "Why is the lodge so close to it?"

"Who better to keep it on lockdown than the people my teacher trained to handle B.O.Ws and outbreak situations. If a biohazard were to happen the Pheonix Corps would mobilize." I said.

At that point, everyone went quiet as a loud howl pierced the silence.

"It seems I may need to have Archer started on that. After all the Ohio base is the one Wesker sent us to, maybe he knows something they don't." I stared out into the forest.

"You keep bringing up Pheonix core and Pheonix corps. Just who the Hell are they?" Irving asked, "I've never heard of them."

"That's by choice." A thickly accented voice said stepping from black Escalade, "Ms. Tabitha wanted to be sure we weren't found by the Connections, the Simmons family, anyone who would want to harm her. She gave her self up to Umbrella by returning to Raccoon city after the mansion incident. She had us up and running after using the money she saved to open a chain of pastry shops and a motel. We were privately funded by a trust she set up without Sergei's knowledge and our profits.

An Indian man in a dark blue collar shirt with swept-back black hair with matching blue lowlights now stood in the headlights. This made me smile in relief. The person who stood there was Archer.

"Archer! You startled me." I smiled pushing myself up and dusting my ass off.

"Ms. Lancaster, I'm relieved to see you unharmed. Is the Angelis stable or do I need to escort you to the lab when we arrive at our destination." Archer look concerned seeing me exhausted.

"No, no I'm alright. I just need some food and some rest. I FUCKING HATE FLYING." I said exhausted, "Sigh, Archer please assist Mr. Burnside and Mr. Irving with loading the cargo. I need a quick rest. We can address your concerns once we arrive, I promise."

"Alistar are you sure you are ok?" Steve asked lifting a large cache case.

"I'm sure, it's just jet lag." I said walking over to the S.U.V. and hoping in the driver's seat.

Steve and Archer looked at each other clearly concerned for me. I was anxious about the state of the nearby forests. Those howls were of Cerberus without a doubt there was activity from the base.

While Archer helped out Mr. Irving and Steve, I decided to make a call to Wesker.

Ring...Ring, "Wesker here." He spoke.

"Agent Lancaster, reporting in sir. We have landed and are heading to the lodgings." I spoke direct and pointed. I was letting my training I received from Sergei show.

"Ah good, Ms. Lancaster I was expecting your report. Ms. Gionne told me she had arranged two suites at a Hilton inn near Pittsburgh is that your destination." He inquired.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Ms. Excella never told Irving, Steve or me about this. Mr. Irving even said that he was told and I quote "That filthy mutt doesn't deserve to use my connections." Do what you will with that, it's not my place to say my thoughts on the matter." I stated as the trunk opened.

"Then where are you located?" He sounded furious.

"Sir calm yourself, we are about two hours and eleven minutes from the deal location and we have full accommodations. Two suites and a personal room for myself, at no charge and off of the books for them." I stated point blankly.

He stopped himself and breathed deeply, "How did you manage..."

"My teacher had deep ties and even deeper pockets. It's the hunting lodge she opened just after the mansion incident. It's her staff that run the place. It's in a forest in Ohio near an old Umbrella lab." I spoke, "Pheonix Core Lodge, location of the Pheonix Corps."

Dead silence from the other end of the line. I had a feeling dropping Pheonix Corps in the conversation peak his interest. The name was bare known of and even more sparsely discussed. What Archer had said was mostly accurate. Ever since Sergei died I mentioned it to a lady named Jessica who I had cornered after Chris told me of her.

"Seems she still manages to still remain prevalent after all these years." He sounded very contemplative over what he just heard.

"Is there something wrong sir?" I asked switching my tone to a more soft pitch.

That shook him out of it, "No I was just thinking that other connections she has. Report before the deal the equipment I've provided Steven with will allow me to view the mission through a point of view camera in the headset. I want to make sure I haven't made a mistake by not just killing you two months ago."

He hung up after saying that and it made me go numb. That tone was terrifying and I had heard it before. When he shot me in Russia. I must work harder to gaining his trust. If I didn't everything will fall from underneath me not him.

"Hey Alistar you're looking very pale are you sure you're ok?" Steve got in the passenger seat behind the driver's side.

"Huh oh, yea I'm fine just reported into Wesker. Hell has no fury like a superhumans scorn." I chuckled wiping the newly formed sweat from my brow.

Irving soon got in and Archer followed suit. He started the engine and drove off. He offered a couple of water bottles to us. We declined and the rest on the ride was silent. Steve was reading a book and Irving was on his PDA.

The drive was relatively short thirty minutes max since we used the private route. One of my orders for Juna was to make sure we had private access to this strip. As much as I hate Umbrella, the funds that came from Albert's life insurance is what started this. A benefit from Umbrella...I'm such a fucking hypocrite sometimes and It sickens me. Archer makes it seem like it was money I earned by saving and giving up on my dreams to save the world. When in all honesty what I wanted to have a place to heal and the money from my husband's supposed death made me feel sick.

Looking off into the forest I shivered at a passing thought. This forest reminds me of the Arkley forest, where it all began. Juna looked over to me. I must off been wearing my heart on my sleeve because he grimaced as he did.

"We can talk in my room later Archer. I can tell something is on your mind, but this isn't the place." I said staring straight ahead.

"Understood Ms. Lancaster, I'll speak with you later then." Archer stated and refocused on driving.

The rest of the drive was silent.

-------------MEANWHILE (Wesker's P.o.V) -----------

I was sitting at my desk reviewing some files Ms. Lancaster brought. It was regarding Tabitha and how her mental state was affecting the Angelis Virus. The correlation between the mutations and her anxiety levels were fascinating.

The notes that were there explained Sergei had obtained her and infected her during a psychotic breakdown. The date that was notated for her capture was September 20th, 1998. Which didn't quite match with what Tabitha said in her first log. This made me want to dig deeper. There was a file attached to the notes. It was called NEST CCTV footage 748 before exposure.

"Might as well," I muttered to myself clicking on to the link. It took a few moments for it to load when it loaded it showed Tabitha walking out of the NEST main elevator and being surrounded by an armed forces team. She was wearing a large jacket and was armed to the teeth; however, blood was dripping off her hand.

"Mrs. Wesker, why are you returning? You were instructed never to return unless called upon by Colonel Sergei!" an armed man shouted pointing his assault rifle at her.

She laughed, "Why I'm here to see Dr. Birkin, He has some explaining to do regarding my deceased husband. Now let me through or else."

She stepped forward and the team trained the sights on her chest, "That's not happening now turn around!" the man shouted.

"That is how you want to handle this? That's fine. JUST DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YA FOOLS." she shouted flicking her thumb over a small black plastic item.

She rolled past them and the screen flashed. Shortly after that, it was clear she rigged C4 to the elevator and used the blast to take out the team. When the screen went back to normal it showed four armored bodies scattered and strewn about.

The film switched to show her storming down a hallway the jacket now completely gone more than likely destroyed in the blast. What she was wearing underneath was her U.B.C.S gear and bandages around her wrists which was the source of the dripping blood. The feeds changed again showing her approaching Willam and Annettes lab.

"Tabitha, What are you doing here? I checked on you a few days ago." Annette said walking out and looking concerned.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY ANETTE! I AM NOT HERE TO TALK TO YOU! WHERE IS WILLIAM!?!" she shouted.

"Then why are you here?" she stepped backed looking terrified, "And why do you need William?".

"DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME! DO YOU ALL THINK I AM A MORON!?!" Tabitha shrieked lividly clawing at her left eye, "I'll only ask one last time. Where is Willam?".

"Anette, What's going out here? What's with all the shouting?" William walked into view of the camera probably walking out of his lab, "Oh, hey T how are you? You seem more well kept today are you finally starting to get.."

Tabitha pulled her Samurai Edge out, quickly fired a round at Willam and pointed the gun at his head, "That was a warning shot and it is the only one there will be. NOW, WHERE IS HE WILLIAM? WHERE IS ALBERT?!"

William looked shocked at the way she was acting and went pale, "Anette go, I can handle this. What are you talking about T? He is dead you know that as well as I!".

She walked up to him and kicked him square in the shin as Anette ran off and he fell on to his knees, "DO NOT LIE TO ME, I SAW WHAT YOU AND HE HAD PLANNED. I SAW THE PLANS TO USE AN EXPERIMENTAL VIRUS INCASE SHIT HIT THE FAN. I SAW THE PLANS FOR BOTH TO JOIN THE US GOVERNMENTS B.O.W TEAM. I WILL ONLY ASK ONE MORE TIME!" she cocked her gun, "WHERE THE FUCKING HELL IS ALBERT WESKER!?!".

He looked stared at her feet his hands up, "You looked in our private files from just before the Mansion incident then." William sighed, "Yes that was the plan. Spencer gave me the virus. I was supposed to hear from him by yesterday. I haven't. T stop this, this isn't what Wesker would want! You meant the world to him. He wouldn't want you to do this. He never would intentionally try to hurt you! "

"DO WHAT!?! GO INSANE!? OR MAYBE HURTING MYSELF!? IS THAT WHAT YOU MEAN!! NOT TO MENTION IT DOESN'T MATTER IF HE TRIED TO HURT ME OR NOT!! THE DAMAGE WAS DONE!! I HAVE NO ONE LEFT!! YOU AND ANETTE KEEP YOUR DISTANCE FROM ME!! MY OWN BROTHER AND SISTER BLAME ME FROM THE LOSS OF OUR FRIENDS!!! EVEN I THOUGH I LEFT UMBRELLA IN '93!!! THE REST OF MY FRIENDS THINK I AM A MONSTER AS WELL!! I KNOW I CONTRIBUTED BUT I WAS TRYING TO MAKE THE ANTIVIRUS!!! I DIDN'T MAKE THE B.O.Ws!!" Tabitha cried out dropping to her knees and holstered her gun, "I have nothing left and it's due to my old association with Umbrella."

William stood up and wrapped his arms around her and embraced her in a hug, "I'm sorry we kept our distance we thought to help by separating you from Umbrella more than you were now. I'll keep you safe."

That was when she went limp, "Unfortunately, Dr. Birkin that is not your place." a familiar thick Russian accent was heard. Sergei walked in to frame with Anette as well as an Ivan.

"Colonel Sergei What did you do!?!" William shouted worried holding Tabitha's limp body which now appeared to be foaming at the mouth.

"Taking care of a loose end Dr. Birkin. Just look at what she did to you, to your wife, the facility, even herself." he removed the bandages from her arms revealing deep gashes barely starting to scab traveling up her arm, "It is surprising she even made it this far. Clearly, She was on the warpath and going to bring everything down that she felt was in her way. The medication will make sure she passes from blood loss soon enough."

"But sir!" William shouted.

"No buts Birkin, these were Spencer's orders and nothing you say can change them." Sergei motioned and the tyrant picked up her body and walked out of frame. Tabitha's blood slowly dripping from the wound, "Ivan is taking her body to a gurney over by the medical elevator if you want to go make peace with her I would do it now. It is the last time you will see her.".

The feed ended. That was the last contact Tabitha had with anyone before Sergei had captured her. Vladimir noted he had used a drug to the heartbeat to a near standstill. Which not only slowed her bleed and convinced both Dr. Birkins that she had passed. Sergei had her wheeled to a medical helicopter and placed on life support for transport to the Caucasus facility. Where she was injected with the experimental Angelis virus and kept in a cryo tank until October 5th,1998.

On the day Sergei woke her, her eyes had changed to a striking blue with a bright grey outline and slitted pupils. Her body had accepted the virus. What the Colonel did expect was that was her mental state was the same as it was when she burst into NEST. Her nails turned into claws and her hair turned a ghost white.

Vladimirs last notes made pissed me off, "She is now the monster she always she feared she was and that is never going to change now."

I turned off the monitor and took off my sunglasses. Looking upon my reflection in the computer, I felt my anger rising. These irises nearly matched how Vladimir described Tabitha's eyes, the only difference was that the colors were on the opposite end of the spectrum. While hers were blue and a silverish in color mine were reddish-orange and gold in color.

"Is that what I am looking upon then. Are these the eyes of a monster then?" I let out a chuckle, "For all I see Is a God.".

(chapter endnotes)

Hey everyone Sliva here, If anyone you know or you are going thru a hard time and are considering self-harm or suicide please reach out to someone. I know it sounds repetitive but there are people that care and would miss you. The U.S.A. suicide 24-hour suicide hotline number is 1-800-273-8255 and if you feel you need to go somewhere reach out to your local crisis shelters. These people are here to help. They help me go through a very hard patch in my life which in turn allowed me to write this story for you all. I hope everyone stays strong. My name is Silfarianhawk and I am not so far away. Please take care.

#wesker x reader #re wesker #resident evil #wesker #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x oc #wesker x oc #mental health #tw self harm

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years

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Coffee Shop Kisses

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Request: something soft with Yelena from @bright-molina

Summary: After moving back to her small Ohio hometown, the reader bumps into an old friend at her favorite coffee shop.

Warnings: none ?

A/N: Happy incredibly belated Birthday Bianca!!! Sorry this took so long for me to write but I really hope you like it!! This fic has everything: the gays, some light pinning, and chai lattes !

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t believe you were back in your small Ohio hometown. When you moved away after high school it was never your intention to come back but clearly, fate didn’t have the same plans as you drove through your childhood neighborhood.

It was nostalgic, driving through the familiar streets despite the changes in the neighborhood since your childhood. While the houses had mostly remained the same, you knew many of their occupants had changed. The Browns no longer lived in the house two doors down from yours, having retired to Florida not long after their children had moved out, and many other family’s you’d known growing up had followed suit. Others had downsized to smaller houses in other parts of the city, no longer needing the extra space. Now the neighborhood was filled with new families, young parents taking advantage of the location to raise their children.

Still, the atmosphere was largely the same, and if you let yourself you could almost imagine that the kids playing in the front yards and the street or biking through the neighborhood, calling out to friends as they passed, were the kids you’d grown up with.

It was strange, being back home. It felt stranger still to call it “home.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a routine, despite the lingering nostalgia. You woke up every morning with just enough time to get ready and drive downtown to work, if you were lucky you’d end up with a few extra minutes to stop into your favorite coffee shop from your teenage years, which was conveniently located a couple doors down from your office. It was simple, sure, but it worked for you.

On the weekends you always made a point to walk to that downtown coffee shop with a book or some other activity, preferring the ambiance and the subtle noise of the building and its other patrons over the still silence of your house. Plus they had amazing drinks so you really couldn’t lose.

Normally you enjoyed taking in the hustle and bustle of the small town around you as people completed their weekly errands, but that day you were lost in your head as you walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if you were thinking about anything in particular (when reflecting back later you’d merely blame it on having had a long week at work), but rather than enjoy the people watching as you normally would, you let them all pass you by without a single glance, all the way down the street and into the line at your coffee shop. You ordered your usual without much fanfare, still having the presence of mind to drop your change into the tip jar on the counter. It wasn’t until you had gotten your drink that you were thrust out of your thoughts, quite literally.

You had only just turned around from the counter, about to start scanning the cafe for a seat when you were knocked to the ground, your drink spilling in your hands.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Disoriented and still in a haze, the thick Russian accent of the woman who had spoken caught your attention.

A hand reached down into your line of sight and you took it gratefully, managing to keep the pitiful drops of unspilled chai latte in your cup as you were pulled to your feet.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” she offered though you barely heard her.

Now that you were back on your feet you got a better look at the woman who had bumped into you. She was of average height and had her blonde hair pulled into a double ponytail. You didn’t know any Russians but you could’ve sworn you’d met before.

“Do I know you?” You blurted out before you could think and the other woman blinked at you in surprise, brows lifting slightly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I used to live around here when I was younger.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, certain you would’ve remembered growing up alongside a Russian family, everyone you remembered was as American as they come. It was a small town in Ohio, after all.

“So did I,” you spoke slowly, still trying to ponder it out in your head. “Over on Brown.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, now scrutinizing you as well.

“I grew up on State Street.”

That’s when it clicked for you. You remembered them; family of four, two daughters. Natasha used to ride her bike down your street all the time which meant the woman in front of you must be…

“Yelena?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, holy shit! Your sister rode her bike through my mom’s flowers one time by accident, pissed her off for the whole summer. Plus, we went to preschool together.”

“Wait, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“In the flesh,” you replied, spreading your arms out dramatically.

Yelena took that as an invitation to really study you then, eyes flitting up and down as she fully took you in.

“You grew up quite nicely,” she spoke, tone appreciative and you found yourself blushing.

“I- I could say the same thing about you,” you stumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “I don’t remember you being Russian.”

You mentally cursed yourself for once again blurting something out before you could even think about it.

Yelena laughed at that and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sound. She had a cute laugh. It was fitting.

“Yes, well, my ‘family' and I were actually part of a Russian spy organization, sent to infiltrate a nearby SHIELD facility for some information, so,” she shrugged and you laughed at first, assuming she was joking before you realized she wasn’t laughing along.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?”

You fumbled around with your words at that, unable to come up with a proper response but feeling as though you needed to say something anyway.

“How about I buy you a drink and you tell me about it?” You finally settled on saying and Yelena’s brows lifted again in surprise.

“Sure, but I’m buying the drinks. I owe you for spilling your first one.”

You nodded in agreement, somehow having forgotten all about your spilled drink in the excitement of reconnecting with an old friend. An old friend who was very attractive, if you were being fully honest with yourself.

With new drinks ordered and retrieved, the two of you made your way to a small table by the front window of the cafe. True to your agreement, Yelena explained to you that her “family” when she’d lived in Ohio wasn’t actually her family at all, the entire thing fabricated for their mission, and that after their success she continued to work for the organization before finally getting out as an adult. She skimmed on a lot of the details but you got the sense that the entire ordeal was traumatic for her so you didn’t press. Though, you were quite amazed that the woman across from you (and the tiny blonde girl you’d played dolls with as a kid) was a former spy and assassin. In comparison, your own life story was much less exciting, though you guessed it also held much less trauma as well. Still, Yelena asked and she listened intently as you explained how you’d wound up back in your hometown all these years later.

After that, the conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one topic to another, and it was so nice to talk to a friend and catch up that you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you went to take a sip from your long-forgotten chai and found it ice cold. You checked your phone and were surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed and while you were planning on spending much longer at the cafe anyway, it still caught you off guard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Yelena asked, having noticed you checking the time.

“No!” You rushed to reassure her before flushing slightly at the knee-jerk reaction. “No, I just hadn’t realized how much time has passed. It’s been really nice to see you.”

“It’s been nice to see you too, perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You tried to fight the heat that you felt rushing to your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure if she meant it the same way you did.

“Me too,” she replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was out of view. “I actually do have to get going but maybe we can meet here again next week?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, trying not to seem too eager and failing miserably. “It’s a date.”

Once again the words slipped out on their own accord and you were left scrambling to do damage control.

“I- I mean like, y’know-”

“A date is good,” Yelena cut you off with a smirk, though you could’ve sworn you could see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.

“A date then,” you agreed, flashing a nervous smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” She stood from her chair with a smile, pausing on her way to the door to press a quick peck to your cheek, and then she was gone.

You sat there, still as a statue, for quite some time afterward, your fingertips lightly grazing over where Yelena’s lips had been moments before. You really loved this coffee shop.

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova fic #black widow #mcu #mcu fic #black widow movie #erin takes requests #bianca my love #erin writes

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donald4spiderman · 3 years

Note

Ok hear me out. Spencer is dating Reader and she’s always hated that she’s been more chubby/curvy. And one night in the middle of a case she calls him crying and Spencer just gets really soft and calms her down after a bad nightmare. And his heart breaks cause his loving girlfriend hates her body. So Spencer plans this elaborate date and proposes maybe? You can decide if the team have met her or not. I’d like it to be the original team but if you wanna combine the original and new teams together that’s cool too!

no bc my body image issues have been rampant lately so this is personal as hell to me. I work out a lot and i’m fit but i’ve never been SKINNY like i have thick legs and muscular arms andnnfnfjndjnffn so this is personal.

I modified this a bit but it’s still the same premises hope you like it! ***BTW IN THIS UNIVERSE THE S3-7 CAST EXISTS FOR THE ENTIRE SHOW— SO THE LATER SEASONS HAVE MORGAN AND HOTCH.

also sorry this is a long

TW: body image issues, discussions of food & weight, insecurity, crying, kissing

WC: 1.5k

You know, pragmatically, that you have nothing to worry about. Spencer chose you. And for the past four years, Spencer has worshipped you every day— again and again. He is the most loving, considerate, and tender partner you could ever wish for. He is near perfection.

You’ve met Spencer's friends many times. You’re not close with either of your parents, so the team of profilers welcomed you into their arms with grace and care. Each and every one of them is beautifully amazing and exceptionally brilliant.

Spencer‘s friends are not only badass, but they’re also gorgeous. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are national treasures— so visually stunning it’s almost sickening.

You knew he used to have a crush on JJ way before he met you. You’ve also heard the tale of Lila Archer, the celebrity actress who made out with your boyfriend in a pool. Spencer’s had an eventful life, full of beautiful, sweet, magnificent women— so why does he choose you?

You view yourself as bland in comparison. What do you have to offer Spencer that he can’t find elsewhere? You don’t have toned abs, slim hips, and slender arms. You’re not striking in any way.

Spencer calls you every night when he’s away on a case. He’s never missed a call, even when he got shot in the neck and kidnapped by a murderous cult. He’s reliable and consistent, and that eases your worries a little bit.

It’s eleven pm in D.C. and your phone rings right as your getting in bed.

“Hi, my love,” Spencer says breathily, his voice slightly muffled by the phone. He’s away in Ohio for a case.

“Hey.” You reply, the sweetness in his voice soured by your mood. “How’s the case going?”

“Good. JJ and I are about to pass out in our beds— we’re so tired.”

You can’t help the way your face drops. “Oh. Well, get rest.”

Your about to hang up before he interjects. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” You know better than to lie to your boyfriend, who happens to be an expert on human behavior.

“Okay, I know a lie when I hear one. (Y/N), baby, what’s wrong?” He pleads.

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. You always know what to do when I’m feeling like shit.”

Spencer knows how much you struggle with self and bodily acceptance. He hates the world for making you feel anything less than incredible, both inside and out.

“I miss you too, so much, (Y/N).” His voice is thick as if he’s going to start crying too. “I love you so much, so fucking much. You have no idea how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs through a sob that wrecks his body. “You deserve everything in this world. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You are the love of my life.”

You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be tired.”

“Never, if it means I get to talk to you.”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

Spencer wakes up the next day with a newfound determination. The team solves the case as fast as possible, and by the end of the night, they’ve boarded the jet back home.

Spencer has more than enough hours to think about you and how much you mean to him. Hotch is seated directly across from him, rereading the case files.

“Hotch?” The wiser man looks up from his files, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer pauses for a moment. Maybe he’d be better asking Morgan or JJ for advice, considering Hotch’s tragic circumstances regarding Haley.

But no one loves like Hotch does-- sincerely, passionately-- stronger than anything else in the world. Spencer decides there’s no one better to ask.

“How uh did you know that Haley was the one?”

Hotch’s eyes soften for a bit. He clears his throat. “I knew since the day I met her that I would love her for the rest of my life unconditionally. She makes me complete. Do you feel that (Y/N) makes you complete?”

He already knows why Spencer is asking for his advice, steering the conversation in that direction.

“Yes. She’s my world.” Spencer whispers.

“Then it’s simple, really. Love doesn’t need to be complicated and precise. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

“I want to marry her, Hotch. I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

Hotch smiles, “Then do it.”

Spencer feels the rush of excitement as he gathers everyone on the jet, including the prior sleeping passengers, filling them in on his big plans.

“I need all of your guys’ help.”

There’s a firm knock on your door at four in the morning. You know it isn’t Spencer because he has a key, but who could it be?

You take a cautious look out of your peephole to find Penelope, Emily, and JJ outside.

“What are you guys doing here?” You yawn. “For god's sake, it’s four am.”

“We know, and we’re sorry.” Penelope smiles.

“Is Spencer alright?” You ask, wondering if things suddenly went wrong during the case.

But by the joyous look on their face, you know nothing somber occurred.

“Spencer’s completely fine. But, we need to you to get changed and come with us. FBI’s orders.” JJ chuckles.

You change into warmer clothes in minutes, and the BAU ladies usher you into Emily’s car as fast as possible.

“So, no ones gonna tell me what’s going on?”

They shake their heads, “We’re just... running a quick errand.”

After a few more minutes of driving, Emily parks on the side of a dimly lit street.

“I need you to put this on.” She says, holding up a blindfold.

“Are you guys gonna murder me?” You joke, slipping the fabric over your eyes with little resistance.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You don’t have time to think about what Penelope means before you’re being yanked out of the car.

You walk, guided by JJ, for four minutes. The grass beneath you crushes below your boots, and the hushed whispers of Emily and Penelope behind you do nothing to calm your nerves.

“Okay,” JJ says, halting to a stop. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

You hesitantly slip the blindfold off, revealing a brightly lit table in the middle of a secluded field. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi are standing off to the sides.

Suddenly, Spencer emerges from behind a tree, dusting the leaves and dirt off his adorable sweater.

“Hi?” You laugh, utterly confused by this situation. “What’s going on?”

His hands are shaking, and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “I-I uh got y-you apple pie— uh your favorite.”

Spencer walks you towards the table, where a small slice of warm pie sits lonely on the table.

“Y-you should um... eat it.” He urges, pointing at the knife and fork next to it.

You glance around, trying to gauge the emotions of everyone around you, but fail. Stupid profilers and their poker faces.

Your fork cuts into the heavenly smelling pie, and you scoop up a bite into your mouth.

“It’s... good? I’ll pretty much eat any pie you give me, Spencer.”

He smiles, “I know that. But t-this is a special pie.”

“Okay...”

“You should t-take a closer look— at the pie.”

You inspect the dessert, completely puzzled until a glinting piece of silver catches your eye. Spencer notices the shock in your face and catches the plate that almost falls out of your hand.

Morgan hands him a napkin, and when Spencer pulls an apple-covered ring from the slice of pie, you almost faint.

“No way.” You gasp; tears spring to your eyes as Spencer wipes the ring clean.

He holds it tightly between two fingers, bending to kneel on one knee.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), I knew from the moment I met you that you were the most special woman I’d have the pleasure of meeting. A month later, you asked me out for our first date, and I couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous and amazing as you would settle for someone like me.” You scoff at his humility.

“I spend every moment loving every part of you, (Y/N). None of my love will ever stop— ever. I promise to share my heart with you until the very end. There is absolutely no one I would rather be bonded to for the rest of my life. You are better than my dream girl because you’re real. You’re here, and you chose to love me every day— the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Y/N), will you do me the honor and great privilege of allowing me to become your husband?” You silently sob.

“Please say yes.” Spencer smiles.

“Yes!” You exclaim, pulling him up to hug him. “How could I say anything but!”

The dam breaks, and the entire team begins to cry as you and Spencer share a passionate kiss, almost collapsing down onto the grass from the sheer force of your love. He slips the ring onto your finger; it belongs there.

“I choose you, (Y/N).” He repeats.

“I choose you, Spencer, always.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

Nothing’s ever felt so right.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spence #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic

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gleekto · 2 years

Text

Fic: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You (13/?)

Short Summary: Blaine coming of age in 1969. Columbia University. Hippie!Kurt. Elliott and Sebastian as Blaine’s mentor-friends. Unironic use of ‘groovy’. Coming out and fitting in and falling in love.

Amazing Poster by @caramelcoffeeaddict

For @slayediest who gave an inspired prompt for this way back when.

Full Chapter 2 (up to day 12) is now on AO3! Read it there for easy reading (and commenting!)

Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day 6, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day 10, Day Eleven, Day 12 .

Day Thirteen: Insidious

Blaine is grateful that Elliott invited him to the diner with Sebastian on Sunday morning because his homework is a lost cause. He knows they likely just wanted to hear the scoop from his own mouth, but he'll bite. He can't think about anything else anyways. He's giddy and distracted on no sleep at all once he got back from the dance in the early morning. He half skips, half floats down the street, running only on adrenaline. It was the best night of his life. Holding Kurt, kissing Kurt, Kurt in his arms. He keeps touching his lips, still tingling, still tired, like he finished a workout and he knows it's good for him. He'll have to sleep another time, right now he just wants to bottle up this feeling and savour it.

He sits down at the table, knowing he has to play it way cooler than he feels. Whatever. People hook up at dances. No big deal.

"You look like you didn't sleep much last night?" Elliott muses, clearly waiting for some details. It's not like they don't know already. Nosy.

“So how was your walk of shame this morning?" Sebastian is blunt as always. "I mean I assume it was at Kurt’s because you have a roommate. Or did you put sock on your door and Sam-”

“No Sebastian, we didn’t. You know, I’m from small town Ohio and so is Kurt. I’ve never,” Oh god. He didn't mean to say that. Especially not to Sebastian.

“Was that your first kiss?” Sebastian asks, looking like he's ready to pinch his cheeks again. Ugh.

“Maybe - yes. Whatever. Can you try to remember when you were a freshman?”

“Trust me you don’t want to know Sebastian’s freshman history,” Elliott dismisses.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I was a hot blooded young man.”

"I'm sure I don't want to know it," Blaine shakes his head. "Though he obviously shared it with you."

“Of course. But I only listened out of boyfriend necessity," Elliott says with an impish look. "In retrospect, thinking about it is kind of hot.�� Blaine gets sweaty just thinking about doing anything with Kurt. Even what they did last night, fully clothed. His heart hasn't stopped racing.

"Is he your steady, Blaine?" Sebastian sing songs. Blaine knows there's mockery there but he just doesn't care.

"Slow down, everyone. We just kissed," Though Blaine definitely does not feel like the 'just' belongs in that sentence. For the first time in his life he feels unlocked, desired, allowed to want more. "No going steady, no talks yet, no," Blaine pauses, "sex." He quickly pushes the image away. Now is not the time. "Who knows what Kurt's thinking?"

"Ahhh there's that insidious Blaine cautiousness. Blaine, we are not going through this again," Elliott warns. "I know what he wants. You know what he wants. So do something about it, okay?"

...

Blaine waits until what he deems an appropriate hour - 8pm - to give Kurt a call. He doesn't want to interrupt dinner but doesn't want to call too late. There is so much he wants to say to Kurt.

"So who did you focus on for that jazz assignment?" is the first thing out of his mouth.

Kurt laughs. "Hi Blaine."

"Hi Kurt. It's due tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt says. He sounds amused. But happy. So Blaine will take it. "Bebop and Thelonius Monk," Kurt answers though Blaine had already forgotten the question. "I'm almost done. Didn't get as much done today as I'd hoped."

"Me neither," Blaine says. "I stayed out too late last night."

"Mmmm," He feels like he can hear Kurt smiling his hum on the other end. "Must have been a good time." He wants to kiss him again.

"It was. I hooked up with someone I've noticed for a long time."

"For a long time, huh?" Kurt muses.

"Since I saw him on my first day of class, actually."

"I hope he's good looking."

"Hottest guy I've met this year."

"The hottest?"

"No one compares."

"It's ironic because the same thing happened to me last night. I thought the guy wasn't interested but it turns out he was. He's cost me good work time on my assignment today."

"Better have been worth it."

"He's a pretty good kisser," Kurt is equivocal. The conversation is ridiculous. Blaine loves it.

“Only pretty good?”

“We need to practice.”

"Definitely," Blaine nods though no one can see him. It's a good idea - even if they're naturals. Practice makes perfect.

"Kurt," Blaine breaks first. "I had a really good time last night."

"Me too."

"And in addition to wanting to know your jazz topic, I also was wondering if you'd like to go see Oliver! with me on Saturday night?"

"Just us?"

"Just us."

"A chance to practice?"

"Of course. It's important."

"Very."

#klaine spring fling #can't take my eyes off of you #gleekto writes

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

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)

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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multi-fandom-imagines-stuff · 3 years

Note

could you do one where the reader was natasha and yelena’s “sibling” when they lived in ohio, and reader was taken by the red room with them, and then when reader was a teenager, they managed to escape, leaving natasha and yelena behind, thinking reader was dead. after they take down the red room, they find the reader and have a sibling's reunion? and could you keep it gender-neutral please?

Castle on the Hill

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/sibling!reader, Yelena Belova/sibling!reader

Description: The reader was Natasha and Yelena's "sibling" when they were undercover in Ohio, and gets taken into the Red Room with them. After escaping as a teenager, the reader stays alone, leaving everyone to believe they are dead until one day, they recieve a call from a familiar voice.

Warning: mentions of the Red Room and the torture they caused, i think that's pretty much it

Word count: 2,002

A/N: i had so much fun writing this omg it seriously made me want to cry! i hope you enjoy it!!

✩❀✩❀✩

“Tasha, stop!” I cried, giggling slightly as my sister and her friend chased me through the fields that were located a few blocks away from home.

The fields were my favorite place to play. My older sister Natasha, who was three years older than me, always liked to come to the fields with her friends. A few months ago, I had turned six and mom told me that I was old enough to go play in the fields with Tasha. My younger sister Yelena was only four, so she was still too young to play with us. But that was okay, I still liked to play with her in our backyard. We even had a playground. Tasha had taught me how to do the monkey bars without getting scared, and I passed the skill on to Lena.

Today, I was playing tag with Tasha and her friend. Of course, with them being nine and me only being six, they were a lot faster than me. Being faster than me meant that no matter how fast I ran, they would always catch up to me. Nat reached her hand out and shoved me lightly in the back. However, I wasn’t expecting it, and it caught me off guard, making me stumble a bit. My foot caught on a rock and I went tumbling forward, rolling down a small hill. The smell of grass overcame me as I continued to fall, hearing a sickening crack followed by a blinding pain in my leg. Finally, I came to a stop as I reached the bottom of the hill. I looked down at my leg. It was bent at a weird angle, and the pain was almost unbearable as I started to wail.

“Y/n!” Tasha screamed as she ran down the hill after me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I cried, grabbing her and burying my head in her shoulder. “My leg really hurts.”

“Okay, hold on, we’re gonna get you home to mom, okay? She’ll know how to make it better,” Tasha reassured me.

I nodded feebly as she helped me up, sitting me in the basket of her friend’s bike before riding back home to get help.

——

My eyes shot open, tearing me from my dream. It was rare that I dreamt about my childhood. I had very few memories from that time, and the one I had just dreamt about was one of the most vivid. I broke my leg that day, and it took two months to heal. I remember Yelena being upset because it meant I couldn’t play outside with her for a while. As much as I didn’t like to recall that time in my life, I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Amongst my other memories from my childhood, there were things like my first crush—a kid in my kindergarten class—when I was five, the friends that I had made and had to leave behind, and family dinners every night. But what I remembered more than anything else were the fields we always used to play in. In the distance of those fields, there was a huge mansion made from stone, and Natasha and I always used to imagine it was a castle. Whenever the sun was setting, the orange sky made it look like there was a dragon in the castle blowing fire into the air.

Suddenly, I was pulled from my memories by the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at it sketchily. I never gave my phone number out to anybody, so the odds of getting an actual phone call were extremely rare. Against my better judgment, I picked up my phone and answered the call.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?” I asked, trying my best to sound intimidating.

“Y/n?” A voice came through from the other end.

The voice almost sounded familiar, like I had heard it before, but I couldn’t place it.

“I’m not going to ask again,” I said, my fist balling up at my side. “I am not the kind of person you want to piss off.”

“Oh my god, Yelena, it’s them,” the voice spoke, but it sounded far off like the speaker had brought the phone away from their mouth.

Did she just say Yelena?

“Tasha?” I questioned, my voice cracking ever so slightly as realization set in.

“Yeah, it’s me,” She whispered reassuringly. “It’s me.”

I fell speechless, the phone almost dropping from my hand as I moved to wipe away the tears that were already beginning to roll down my face.

Natasha, Yelena, and I were all brought into the Red Room at the same time. Natasha was eleven, I was eight, and poor little Yelena was only six. What we went through was something that no child—or grown adult for that matter—should ever have to go through. I was there for ten years. Ten years of being held prisoner, of being tortured, of being forced to kill.

I was sixteen when I graduated the Red Room. I thought it meant things were over, that I could run as far away as I could and never look back, but I was wrong. The Red Room continued to control me for two years after that, until one day I faked my own death and got out. It killed me inside to know that Lena and Tasha thought I was dead, but I knew I had no future if I stayed. My only regret was that I couldn’t save everyone else.

I distanced myself from the world, afraid of what I had become, what I had done, and what I was capable of. I escaped eleven years ago, and I’ve been alone ever since.

“Y/n, are you there?” Natasha’s voice came through the phone again, drawing me back to reality.

“How did you find me? I’m supposed to be dead.”

“I know a guy,” She responded, and I could practically hear her smirking.

Right. She’s friends with the Stark guy who owns practically the best technology on earth.

“Listen, there’s a lot we need to tell you about, and I think a reunion is in order,” Natasha explained. “We have your location and we’ll be there in an hour. Be ready.”

With that, Natasha ended the call, leaving me alone in silence. Half of my brain told me this wasn’t happening. That wasn’t really Natasha on the phone, it was just some cruel way for the Red Room to find me. But the other half of my brain believed that everything that just happened was real. As much as I wanted to err on the side of caution, the thought of seeing my sisters again made me the happiest I’ve felt since I was a child.

I glanced down at my phone to check the time. Ten minutes had passed since the phone call, giving me about fifty minutes to pack up my things and get ready.

Packing wasn’t hard. I lived a very minimalistic lifestyle, mainly due to the fact that I didn’t have a proper job, and I was always ready to run at a moment’s notice if I ever caught wind of the Red Room near me.

I finished packing and proceeded to pace the floor until the hour was up and I heard a knock at my door. Deciding that I could never be too cautious, I grabbed my handgun and checked that it was loaded before pointing it at the ground and approaching the door.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“It’s us. It’s Natasha and Yelena,” A voice with a thick Russian accent called back.

Yelena.

“Prove it,” I said again, still keeping my guard up. “Tell me something that only you two would know.”

There was a moment of silence before someone spoke up. This time, it was Nat.

“When we were little, you would spend almost every summer night catching fireflies because I told you they could grant wishes. When you found out they couldn’t, you were so mad, you didn’t talk to me for a week.”

I smiled slightly at the memory. Turning the gun’s safety on, I tucked it into my waistband and opened the door, staring face-to-face with my sisters for the first time in over two decades. Almost immediately, the two of them embraced me in a tight hug, and I never wanted to let go.

“So, what did you need to tell me?” I asked once we all pulled away from the hug.

“We’ll tell you in the car. We have to get going though, we have a long journey ahead of us,” Nat told me.

“Where are we going?” I questioned.

“Home.”

——

Natasha and Yelena explained everything to me. About how they teamed up, about how they killed Dreykov, and about how the Red Room was finally gone.

“So, the other widows, are they safe?” I questioned, processing everything they had just told me.

“Yes,” Yelena answered from the passenger seat, turning around to face me in the back. “There is no one controlling them anymore, and we are currently working toward undoing all of the mind control the Red Room created.”

“I can’t believe you guys took down the Red Room without me!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms. “I would’ve loved to help.”

“Y/n, we thought you were dead!” Nat tried to reason, but I wouldn’t listen.

I wasn’t seriously angry with her, and she knew that. Teasing each other was something we did all the time as kids.

“You can’t be mad at us,” Yelena raised her hands in mock defense. “We literally just saved so many lives.”

I continued to cross my arms, ignoring them both.

“C’mon, y/n, talk to us,” Nat glanced back at me through her mirror as she drove.

Still, I said nothing. I was extremely stubborn as a child, and I guess somethings never change.

“I’ve got an idea,” Lena whispered to Nat.

“February made me shiver,” Yelena started singing. “With every paper I’d deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step.”

“I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride,” Nat joined in. “But something touched me deep inside. The day the music died.”

The two of them went quiet and I knew they were expecting me to sing the next part. Yelena looked back at me, and eventually, I caved.

“So bye-bye, Miss American Pie,” I sang slowly, a smile creeping onto my face. “Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. And them good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singin’ ‘this’ll be the day that I die. This’ll be the day that I die…’”

Suddenly, all three of us were singing as loud as we could.

“Did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in god above? If the bible tells you so. Now, do you believe in rock ‘n’ roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

I burst out laughing with glee, causing Yelena and Nat to follow suit. We laughed for what seemed like an eternity, until we were all red in the face and gasping for air.

Trying to catch my breath, I looked out the window just in time to see us speed past a sign that read:

Welcome to Ohio

I continued to stare out the window as I watched the fields fly by. The sun was just beginning to set, and out in the distance, I could see the “castle” that we always used to admire.

Suddenly, I thought back to when we were kids. I was filled with all the memories we made in Ohio, as a family. Even though I knew it was all fake, it was real in my head. Melina and Alexei were my parents, and Tasha and Lena were my sisters. Ohio was my home, and nothing anyone said or did could take that away from me.

#request #mcu oneshot #yelena belova #yelena belova one shot #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff oneshot #mcu x reader #black widow #black widow spoilers #mcu

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Haven Gray

CW: Abducted whumpee, description of missing person, captivity, BBU/WRU

Where Is Haven Gray?

r/FindTheMissing

•Posted by u/bananasare2appealing

3 days ago

In the summer of 20XX, 21-year-old Haven Gray texted family and friends to let them know a second job interview they’d just finished had gone well, and they expected to be offered the job.

They made plans to have dinner with a couple of friends to celebrate, but never showed up to the restaurant. They were reported missing by their parents later that night and have never been seen again.

Hey, everyone, this is my first attempt at a post like this, so I hope you’ll go easy on me! Haven Gray is a kind of a personal case to me, I went to the same high school a few years behind them and there was still a lot of talk about what could have happened and like, their picture is in a memorial frame in the hallway by the principal’s office. It’s just a really important case to me and I hope they figure out what happened to Haven one day.

Haven Gray was the oldest of three children born to Matthew and Maria Gray in the small town of Trenton, Indiana. Tall, with long wavy red hair and gray eyes, they stood out in a crowd in more ways than one.

Haven set records for their high school’s cross-country track team, played well on the school basketball team, and maintained a 3.5 GPA alongside plenty of extracurriculars and an active social life.

They then spent two years attending Trenton Community College, looking to finish out their degree at Indiana State University and go into the human resources field. They kept up a part-time job on the side, but during the summer before they would move to ISU, they decided to look for full-time work to help save up some money.

Haven’s mother Maria was interviewed after their disappearance by local news station INNW as saying that Haven was very excited about finishing up their degree and moving into their first real apartment.

Haven had seen an ad on a job-hunting website for a receptionist for a temp agency that specialized in placing HR professionals in nearby companies. Seeing a way to get some relevant experience before they finished up their degree, they applied and were contacted for a job interview.

Here’s where things get just a little weird, before they get even weirder.

Haven texted a photo of the strip mall where the job interview was, and noted that the company was not located in a well-maintained place, which made Haven very nervous. The signage also seemed brand new, which conflicted with information on the company website suggesting they’d been in that location for years.

They waited in their car and called the company phone. Only when someone came out to greet them did Haven go inside for the interview.

The first interview went smoothly, and Haven excitedly called their friends and family to say a second interview was already scheduled with the owner of the small company. It turned out, they explained, that the creepy location was no longer the company’s main location, and their second interview would be at a different address in a much nicer part of town.

They did not give any explanation, if any was given to them, about the reason for brand new signage if the business was in the process of leaving that address. On the day of the second interview, one week later, Haven’s mother saw them leaving in a deep blue top with satin detailing at the neck and gray slacks.

They exchanged goodbyes, and Haven reminded their mother they would be meeting friends tonight, either to celebrate a good interview or commiserate over a bad one.

“My comfort,” Maria Gray said in her interview with INNW, “is that I said goodbye and I love you. I have that, at least. So many don’t get that final chance. I just wish I had known it was the last time. I would have looked at them a little longer.”

From here, Haven is seen on camera at their ‘regular’ Starbucks a few moments later, ordering a large (venti) iced latte. An automatic speed-checker camera next to the highway captured their car with license plate clearly visible driving in the direction of the interstate a few minutes later.

Two hours after this sighting, they called a friend, Natalie Morales, to tell her that the interview had gone well and they believed they would be offered the job. Dinner that night, Haven said, would definitely be a celebration.

They texted three other friends, Maria, and Matthew - as well as a younger sibling. These are the last direct communications anyone had with Haven Gray.

“They didn’t sound scared,” Natalie said in her own interview with True Crime Podcast Now You See Them, Now You Don’t. "Not at all. I’ve thought about it over and over again, trying to ask myself, was there fear there? Had something already happened? And I just don’t think so. I think whatever happened, happened after they hung up the phone. They were excited, said the pay rate was way more than they expected for a receptionist job. The only thing is that they said the guy who interviewed them kind of... gave them the, you know. Made the hair on their arms stand up. You know what I mean? And I thought of that first, when they never... but he has an alibi.”

The man in question is Ladd Prescott, the stated owner of the temp agency Haven applied to. Ladd gave multiple interviews, off-camera and to law enforcement, but he did not leave the office and is seen on in-office security cameras and he is not considered a person of interest in the case.

The final image of Haven’s whereabouts that day comes from the CCTV camera at an ATM for Haven’s bank one hour after the final text message sent to their father Matthew. They are seen pulling up in their car to the drive-thru ATM, where they withdrew $300.

Notable about this footage is three things:

1. Haven appears to look directly at the camera twice, deliberately holding their gaze maybe

2. Their hair, carefully styled when they left for the interview according to Maria, is noticeably in disarray, and they do not appear to be wearing the same shirt they had on when they left (the footage is super grainy, so this is hard to tell exactly, but if you check here you can see that they appear to be wearing a white t-shirt).

3. A shadow just behind them moves independently of Haven, gestures a few times, and it appears - and police believe - that someone else is in the car with Haven Gray directing their movements.

Haven never arrived at the restaurant. When their friends attempted to contact them, the phone went directly to voicemail. This was very out of the ordinary for Haven, so friends called Maria and Matthew, who became immediately worried and contacted the police.

Haven Gray officially was listed as a missing person the next day.

Four days later, their car - with IDs, debit and credit card, a book they were reading, and their resume and list of questions from the interview all inside - was located at a nearby riverfront, abandoned. The only thing missing was the $300 in cash Haven had taken out of the ATM, and Haven themself.

A witness came forward later stating they had seen a man with ashy blond hair who appeared to be in his 40′s or 50′s smoking next to the car the day Haven was last seen. This man has never come forward or been located and his connection to Haven’s disappearance, if any, is unknown.

Law enforcement believes that Haven was abducted within half an hour of finishing their interview by someone who forced their way into the car, and likely directed to the ATM to take cash out and then met someone else or moved into a different car after parking Haven’s at the riverfront.

Weirdly, the riverfront was checked the day after Haven was declared missing, which suggests someone came back and moved the car after the witness saw the smoking man, then moved it back into place after the initial search of the area was over with.

Cell towers picked up pings from Haven’s phone for four hours afterward, heading due east. The nearest big city would have been Cincinnati, so it’s possible the abductor headed that direction. If they did, though, they took a winding route and Haven’s phone was turned off or discarded before reaching the city.

Look, I know this is a big conspiracy theory and there’s absolutely no proof, but I think Haven was abducted by WRU.

Why?

Three weeks prior to their disappearance, Haven attended a bar’s “singles night”. They mentioned to friends later that they connected with a man who worked for WRU as a handler, but then decided they couldn’t handle the reality of what he did and cut off contact before they could have their first real date.

(The handler in question has been cleared during the investigation, but I still have my suspicions)

I know this seems like the flimsiest reason, but Haven’s friends all say that the man was very upset by Haven’s discomfort with his job, tried to keep contacting them for days. I think the job interview is a red herring and it’s this handler guy who is behind it somehow - maybe him, or his friends.

Also, there’s a WRU Training Facility in Cincinnati, Ohio, only a few hours away... and law enforcement never even tried to get a warrant to search there. Easy way to get rid of someone if you did something to them, right?

(I know, I know, WRU has standards and does checks and all that, but seriously. Think about it.)

A year later, improbably, a farmer working to mow the ditch next to his fields found Haven’s cell phone in a ziploc inside a second plastic bag. The phone had been wiped to factory settings and no new useful information was found.

So, where is Haven Gray?

Were they murdered? Abducted? Will we find their body in a field one day? Were they just dumped in the river next to their abandoned car? Are they part of the WRU system now? No one seems to know, and reported sightings of them in Los Angeles, New York City, and even one mention from Sydney, Australia, seem hard to believe.

Haven’s mother Maria says they have no plans to declare Haven legally dead, and they intend to keep looking “as long as it takes”.

What Are Your Thoughts?

WRU NEW ACQUISITION INTAKE FORM FACILITY 005

SUBJECT: 549065

DATE OF ACQUISITION: 06.06.20XX

TIME OF ACQUISITION: 1:45 PM

LOCATION ASSIGNED: FACILITY 005, CINCINNATI, OHIO

PREVIOUS ALIAS: Haven Finley Gray

AGE: 21

DATE OF BIRTH: 07.19.20XX

HAIR: Red

EYES: Gray

HEIGHT: 6′0″

WEIGHT: 153 lbs

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

DESIGNATION: Romantic

KNOWN SKILLS: Subject in school for business-related major, excellent with typing, record-keeping, work with Excel spreadsheets, etc. Subject reports regular workouts primarily consisting of long-distance cardio. Subject refused to provide details on sex life but is known to have been active in the dating scene of local area. Subject is known to be gregarious and social.

HOBBIES: Subject mentioned reading as a hobby, with primary interest in fantasy and science fiction. Three books located in subject’s car at time of acquisition.

KNOWN CONCERNS: Subject is showing some irregularities in heartrate, likely due to fear. No other known concerns.

KNOWN IMMEDIATE FAMILY: Matthew and Maria Gray, both living, location Trenton, Indiana. Grandparents are deceased.

SIBLINGS: Two younger siblings: Mark, brother, two years younger, and Penny, sister, four years younger.

METHOD OF ACQUISITION: Involuntary.

ACQUISITION DETAILS: Access to subject provided by local business. Subject was apprehended without incident by Handler Benjamin Ralford. Subject was given an injection of sedative and transferred to WRU company vehicle at 3:15 pm. The rest of the acquisition proceeded without incident.

ASSIGNED HANDLERS:

CONTRACT SIGNED: 06.09.20XX 5:55 PM

PRIMARY: Benjamin Ralford, per request, acting as primary. Handler and Processor, Romantic Division.

SECONDARY: Melissa Striker, Senior Handler and Processor, Romantic Division

SIGNATURE PROVIDED VOLUNTARILY, SUBJECT NOT SEDATED FOR SIGNING. SUBJECT SHOWED NO VISIBLE SIGNS OF INJURY AT TIME OF SIGNING. SUBJECT REPORTED FEELINGS OF FEAR AND CONFUSION COMMON TO NEW RECRUITS.

CONTRACT SIGNATURE: Haven Gray, aka 549065

PRESENT AT TIME OF SIGNING: Handler Benjamin Ralford, Badge #3345, WRU Attorney Ryan Alderson.

ESTIMATED COST FOR TRAINING: $125,000 USD

COMPENSATION TO BE PAID BY PROSPECTIVE: $500,000 USD

CURRENT LOCATION: Romantic Division Room #12, post-signing contract

TRAINING PLAN: ALL Positions 1-35, Flexibility, Sensitivity, Endurance, Dance, Socialization

COMMENTS:

I’m going to take every fucking thing out of that head and put back in only what I want to be there. I think they’ll fall in line once the Drip is really working on them. My professional recommendation is total illiteracy should be emphasized before moving on to other training. They’ll do better with focus and commitment on the skills we want to impart that way. I am also recommending absolutely no scarring unless there is no other option. - Benjamin Ralford, Primary Handler

Scribbled at the bottom of the paper and not put in to WRU’s digitized records system is a note in Ralford’s handwriting:

Should’ve gone on that fucking date, asshole

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump

#epistolary #whump #horror fiction #epistolary fiction #going missing #captured #captivity #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #box buddy #nonbinary whumpee #allyn bb #wru intake form #wru intake paperwork #implied noncon #abduction tw #abducted whumpee

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sunlight-moonrise · 4 years

Text

The Price (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader is a technical analyst for the BAU. She did not expect to be smitten by the resident genius.

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic as well as my first time writing smut. I’d like to thank @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for beta reading my work (you’re a gem and I’ll fight for you). Also a quick thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and those in the discord for being so welcoming and helping me with this. The fic is inspired by @erin-bo-berin Sweet Cheeks.

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word Count: 6.0K

Masterlist

There are a lot of things I enjoy about this job. The salary is decent. My coworkers are pretty cool. I get to interact with a sexy genius from time to time- you know, the usual that comes with being employed by the government.

I started as a technical analyst for the BAU a few months prior, working alongside the one and only Penelope Garcia with assisting the rest of the team behind some computer screens. Coding and hacking is second nature to me so the job is not too difficult. It was either this or facing some years in jail because I couldn’t cover my tracks fast enough. Looking at mangled and mutilated bodies on a weekly basis is better than prison.

I get along rather well with the team. I pretty much call everyone by a term of endearment, much to Garcia’s delight. It was one of the things we had in common and helped us get along with one another much faster. I sometimes can get carried away with the innuendos, but Garcia welcomes everything I say with open arms.

I typically save my more sensual remarks for the doctor. I remember the good old days when he used to be so tongue-tied by my actions. Now my words barely surprises him.

A voice broke my concentration. “What got you thinking so hard, angel?” I turn towards the person, a smile already adorning my face. Lo and behold, Dr. Spencer Reid has graced me with his delectable presence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was thinking of you Doc?” He had a small smile on his face. I could pretty much categorize all the smiles he uses because of how often I stare at him. I mean, it is a tragedy to not stare at such beauty. This particular smile means that he is content and comfortable.

“May I ask exactly what it was that you were thinking about?” he asked.

“I cannot share the sordid details of my mind with you just yet darling. You’ll just have to use that beautiful mind of yours and conjure up something imaginative.”

He let out a small laugh and helped me carry the files I was juggling. My eyes immediately went to his hands. The things I’ll let those hands do to me. I bet only one is needed to perfectly wrap around my -- No bitch, focus. We got a case to present in five minutes. Right, right. Work now, daydream later.

We entered the conference room, where the rest of the team was already sitting at the round table, waiting for us. I gave out the files with Spencer’s help while Penelope started up the monitor.

“You guys are staying local but time is of the essence” she informed us. The TV lit up with four pictures of young boys. “We have a kidnapping case at Stafford County.”

“Were they kidnapped at the same time or place?” asked JJ as she skimmed over the report I handed out earlier.

“No” I said as I pointed to the two younger boys on the screen. “Jacob Rivers and David Hall were taken from their respective homes 48 hours ago” I then pointed to the two slightly older boys “Benjamin Harris was taken 12 hours ago at a park and Scott Turner was taken from the mall less than 6 hours ago.”

“Do these boys have anything in common?” Morgan asked out loud.

“Other than physical appearance and age group, these boys don’t have any similarities. They didn’t even go to the same school. As a matter of fact, David Hall was home-schooled.” replied Garcia.

“Garcia and I couldn’t find any common ground in the families’ educational, economic, or social backgrounds either” I added. “Once you guys take off, we’ll do a further dive into their personal histories.”

“The UnSub is already escalating, kidnapping from a private home and kidnapping from a crowded area within hours of each event is fairly drastic” Rossi stated.

“Maybe the Unsub is on a time frame? They could be feeling pressured and desperate” Emily questioned, trying to come up with some kind of initial profile.

Hotch already started standing up. “We’ll know more after analyzing the crime scenes and talking to local PD. Let’s head out.” The rest of the team followed, gathering their files and making an exit towards the door while Garcia headed for our office. Spencer lagged behind a bit and I already knew why. We have a little tradition of bidding farewell to one another before he takes off for a case.

I stood next to him, bumping my shoulder against his upper arm. “Don’t miss me too much while you are out there.”

“The more you remind me I have to leave, the more I want to stay here.” he grinned.

I snorted at his words, knowing that he was full of shit. There is nothing more that Reid loves than being out in the field. “Go be a hero and come back to me in one piece pretty boy.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he replied as he went to follow the team towards the elevator.

I swear that boy is immune to my teasing now. I miss seeing his face become flush, but I also enjoy the playful repartee we have now. I remember the first interaction I had with Spencer quite vividly. It truly was a comical moment.

“Everyone this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She will be working alongside Garcia.” Hotch stated as he introduced me to the team. I have already met him and Penelope prior to being presented to everyone else.

“Derek Morgan, pleasure to meet you.” Whoa. If tall, dark, and handsome was a person, Morgan would be fit for the role. He offered his hand, which I immediately took.

“The pleasure is all mine” I replied with a wide smile.

I directed my attention to a much older gentleman. “David Rossi” said the Italian man who reminded me of a mob boss.

“Charmed to meet you.” I shook his hand, surprised by the strength behind it. Those older bones are still working for him.

Next came the petite blonde, whose figure I was both envious and enamored with. “Jennifer Jareau, but everyone here calls me JJ for short.”

“In that case, please call me (Y/N/N).” I shook her hand, and became even more envious with how soft her skin was. She has got to tell me her secrets.

I focused on the brunette with shoulder-length hair. “Emily Prentiss”. My God, I think being attractive is a requirement for this team. She offered her hand to shake and her grip was firm. Note to self, forget about Rossi; don’t get on Emily’s bad side.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to the final individual and was blown away by his beauty. Yup, my previous thought has been confirmed. Only good-looking people are allowed pass these doors. His bone structure looked like it was sculpted by Roman artists. His body was lean and slender, reminding me of a runner’s physique. My eyes stared up to the softest hazel eyes I have ever seen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” he introduced. I offered my hand immediately, wanting to feel his skin against mine.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you already knew that,” I said softly, my hand still out. He just stared at it as if it was an anomaly.

“Uh-the amount of pathogens passed through a handshake is astounding. A high five transmit half the number. But even then, a kiss is much more safe.” he quickly stated as he nodded his head. I almost didn’t catch any of it. Partially because of the rapid speech, partially because I was staring at his lips.

“Hmm, that’s news to me. However, if a kiss is what you want…” I lowered my hand and took a step closer to him. My eyes slowly moved from his eyes to his mouth and then back up. He took a slight step back.

“N-N-No, that’s not—I-I mean that —uhh...” His face was flushed and his tongue shot out to run against his lips. His eyes quickly darted across the room, seeking some help. I felt a sense of pride knowing I made this man flustered.

“I’m just teasing Doc.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was frightened by me. Maybe he was, but the blush on his face and the way he kept staring gave me further information on him.

“Don’t mind Reid,” Morgan said, coming to the young man’s rescue. “He has a thing with germs.” He finished, a smirk plastered on his face. Well, I hope he soon develops a thing for something else. Or rather someone else.

I was just about to make another sly comment when Hotch interrupted. “Back to the case at hand.” He gave us all a pointed look. Right, I am at my first day at work. I’ll focus on hot doctors with hotter smiles and the hottest face at my own time.

“Yes sir,” Garcia stated, as she started pushing buttons on a remote. The TV turned on and pictures of three different women showed up on the screen. They all looked to be strangled to death. “You guys are needed in Toledo, Ohio.” Garcia goes on to describe the case while the team starts the early stages of conducting a profile.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says and the everyone disperses. Garcia walked up to me and handed me some documents from the case file.

“C’mon cupcake, we gotta do some preliminary work to get the case going much faster.” I followed her to what she called the “bat cave”. I scanned the small room and immediately fell in love. Computers and monitors littered almost every inch of the place. I saw a lot of colorful knickknacks displayed on one side of the desk, knowing already who they belonged to. The area was endearing and had a cozy feel to it.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This place is a dream come true.” I am sure she can hear the awe in my voice.

“I know, right. Wait until you actually use it girlie, the framework on these things is out of this world.” I sat myself on a chair nearby and rolled in front of a screen.

“Alrighty. You can do some background checks on these girls while I gather more information from the police reports. Let me know if there are any commonalities among any of them. We’ll relay that info with the team.”

“Gotcha babe, I’ll have the information ready ASAP.” I responded, already typing away on the computer. I’m already starting to like it here.

*Later that day*

Garcia and I haven’t found much in common between the victims of the crimes, much to our dismay. I was left in the office to continue searching for important information on the girls while she went to fax some data to the precinct when the phone started to ring.

I quickly answered and put it on speaker. “(Y/L/N) at your humble service. How may I serve you?”

“Oh-uh is Garcia around” replied a high-pitched voice, which I immediately recognized as Reid. I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted that he wanted Penelope or pleased that I probably still have him flustered.

“She’s a bit pre-occupied at the moment. But rest assured I can find whatever you need Doc. Especially if you ask nicely.”

“Uh-I need you to pull up information on the mothers. We think they were all in the same sorority, however not necessarily at the same time. We need a list of all the members of the sorority from the time the mothers joined with a 3-year pre- and post-graduation.”

“No problemo sweetness. Anything else I can do for you? I have a lot of other services that can be helpful.” I stated, a teasing tone in my voice as I already set up my search.

“No-no, that’s all. Um thanks.” I can already picture the blush coating his cheeks as he stammered his response.

“Alright love, call me back if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.” I hung up the phone and started organizing the list in front of me.

And from then on, I have enjoyed pretty much all the moments I had with the BAU. It took some time, but Spencer now has accepted and even returned my little flirtations. We often get compared to Garcia and Morgan. But with a lot more sexual tension, at least on my end. I have to remind myself from time to time to calm down before I combust in the middle of a conference room or the bullpen. C'est la vie.

I made my way to the cavern of all things amazing and settled in front of my computers. Pen looked at me with a knowing expression on her face. “You’re gloomy.”

I pouted as I put my earpiece on. “I am not gloomy, I am horny,” I rebuked.

“How long has it been since you got some?”

“I’m not sure but it feels like I have not gotten any since the Stone Age,” I groaned out.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him how you feel,” she pointed her pink glittery pen in my direction, “I bet he would fuck you right here if you let him.”

And there goes my thought process, as always, overtaken by Spencer Reid. “Babe, please. This is not helping my situation.”

“Just telling you how it is.”

●●●

We have been sitting in front of these screens for hours. The team has made some progress but they’re missing an important piece to fit the puzzle. Garcia has been looking into the background of the neighbors when I heard a small stomach grumble coming from her direction. I let out a laugh as she huffed out “I am going to grab a snack from the breakroom, you want anything boo?”

“If it ain’t alcohol or chocolate, I don’t want it.”

“Noted,” she said as she left the room. I really hope she finds a couple of cupcakes or something.

I continued trying to get information on these missing kids when my headpiece played the Doctor Who theme song, informing me that Einstein was calling in. “Goddess of knowledge and wisdom at your disposal.”

“I didn’t know I had Athena at my fingertips.” How is it possible that nine words have short-circuited my brain just now? Is it the voice or the way he basically called me a Greek Deity? Probably both.

Of course I slyly responded, “Oh my Hephaestus, you have all of me at your fingertips.” I heard a chuckle and I immediately knew it belonged to Morgan. A slight blush crept onto my cheeks when I heard a random voice asking why Spencer called his girlfriend in the middle of a case.

“I should have mentioned that you were on speakerphone.”

“Naughty boy, you know I charge extra for groups.” Now this was followed by some choked out noises and a bunch of giggles. I could only assume the whole precinct was amused by my antics at this point.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can, for a price.”

“A price?”

“Yes, a price that I would inform you of in private. Now the reason for your call…” I drew out. Thank goodness Garcia wasn’t here. I don’t need her looking at me as if I am a phone sex operator.

“I need you to check foster children between the ages of four and eight within a 25-mile radius. We are looking for a homosexual couple that were looking to adopt but were rejected. The names should be on multiple applications among different sites. Let me know what you find.”

“I’ll have that information at the palm of your hands soon” Meanwhile, I am over here wishing that I was at the palm of his hands.

“Thank you, my Goddess” I can’t help but smile when he says things like this. Since when were the roles reversed in our friendship?

“Anything for a gorgeous worshipper. TTYL.”

Garcia chose that moment to walk back in while I had this silly grin on my face. She stared at me and I already knew what she was going to say.

“If you don’t have a piece of chocolate or a cocktail on you, I am not talking.”

All she did was laugh at me.

●●●

The team was able to find all four boys safely. The UnSubs were a male couple who wanted to adopt but kept facing discrimination against the agencies. It is a shame that they felt they had to resort to kidnapping in order to have a family.

Now Garcia and I are scanning the notes the team faxed to us earlier today. They informed us that they would be back here in half an hour or so.

“Shoot, I didn’t think it would take this long to scan these damn files.” Garcia murmured. I looked over at her and saw a small stack of documents that still needed to be put into the system.

I walked over and grabbed the pile from her. “Go, I’ll take care of it from here doll.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You did your portion of the work already.”

“Don’t you have to be at the rehearsal in 20 minutes? How is the theater going to operate without their main lead?” I placed the documents on my side of the desk and moved to gather Garcia’s belongings. I picked up her purse and jacket before handing it to her, quickly pushing her towards the door. “I got this, think of it as an IOU.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I owe you big. Thank you sugar, see you tomorrow.” Garcia hurriedly exited the door and headed towards the elevator.

I looked towards the papers, a low groan leaving my mouth. The faster I go through this, the better.

●●●

I was just finished implementing all the documents into the computer when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Spencer’s head peeking through. “Evening handsome, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Garcia passed by me a while ago and informed me you were in here finishing some extra work. I wanted to check on you; see if you needed my help.”

“Thanks Doc, but you’re a few minutes too late. I already finished scanning the files. Besides, you’re not the best with technology, much less these computers.”

“Maybe not. But I am a fast learner and I pay close attention to detail.” Either my ears were playing a trick on me or Spencer’s voice lowered an octave or two.

I remembered what Penelope said earlier today and decided to just go for it. “I could collect on that price from earlier.” I leaned against the desk and stared into his eyes. C’mon Doc, pick up the hint. Rather, pick me up instead.

“Well I was thinking that I can get you dinner.” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

That’s great, but not what I had in mind. “I was hoping for something else” I looked into his eyes, then slowly trailed my eyes downwards. Kiss me. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. Kiss me.

Unfortunately, Spencer is not a mind reader. He lowered his head and looked slightly dejected. “Oh well umm—would you prefer to go to a theater?” Oh Doc, you sexy, naïve, intelligent, innocent man. I guess if you want something you have to do it yourself.

I sat on the edge of my desk. “Come here Spencer.”

His head perked up, slightly intrigued since I rarely call him by his name. He walked to where I was sitting but there was still space between us.

“Closer, I don’t bite.” Unless you want me to.

He moved closer to me and I was able to rest my hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height of the table let us be more at level with one another.

I made sure to look into his eyes as I said “I am going to kiss you. If that isn’t something you want, tell me now.”

He was speechless. His mouth was moving but no sounds came out. If the circumstances were different I would have appreciated seeing his rattled expression once more. I waited a few seconds, but he still has yet to say anything.

“Spen-mmh” before I knew it, his mouth was upon mine. He gently cradled my face as his lips moved against my own. My eyes closed as I felt nothing but bliss. As cliché as it sounds, I was in paradise because of this kiss alone.

His tongue peeked and swiped against my lower lip, trying to have a taste of me. I was more than happy to grant him entrance, a moan leaving my body as his tongue touched mine.

All parts of me were trying to feel him. I had one hand in his hair while the other grabbed onto the back of his shirt. My chest was pressed against his while my legs lazily wrapped around his midsection. His scent was intoxicating to me. It was a coffee-like smell as if he just walked out of a café. He tasted so sweet, all I wanted to do was keep his mouth on mine. But my body needed air so I slowly pulled away.

He tried to catch his breath as his forehead rested against mine. “So you don’t want dinner?”

“Doc the only thing I am hungry for right now is you. We’ll get food afterward, alright?” Spencer nodded his head while licking his lips. My eyes hungrily followed the action and I just had to get another taste. I pulled him towards me, his hands once again holding onto my face. He was much more dominant with this kiss, and I was more than willing to give him the control. His hands then trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to his pelvis. I jerked against him and was rewarded with a groan.

He squeezed me tighter as his lips broke away from mine once more. He placed a peck on my lips, then my cheek before trailing down my neck. I felt my body heat up as I released a small moan. Fucking hell, he is going to be the death of me and we barely did anything.

Spencer started to lightly nibble on my neck when I pulled him back by his hair. “It is summer and I am not wearing a turtleneck in 80° weather. If you’re gonna give me some hickeys, they better be on my chest.” He murmured something that I couldn’t quite comprehend before undoing the buttons of my blouse.

Hell, I am not the only one who is gonna be undressed so I started unbuttoning his dress shirt as well. It was a race to see who would get the other’s shirt off first. Of course I lost because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. But when his warm lips kissed their way towards the middle of my cleavage, I felt like a fucking champion.

I tried my best to shimmy out of the sleeves of my blouse while Spencer attempted to take my bra off, his lips still leaving a love mark against my chest. Once we got rid of the shirt and the bra, his mouth immediately enveloped one of my nipples.

“Fuck” I yelped loudly, “a little warning next time Doc.”

“Sorry” he muttered as he continued to suck on my breast while palming the other between his dexterous fingers. That had to be the most insincere apology I have ever heard from him. An idea came across my head. I slowly removed his shirt, watching it pool on the floor. I then raked the nails of one hand across his chest while the other pulled against his hair. Hard. He retaliated by lightly biting my nipple. Fuck, the plan backfired. Abort mission, abort the damn mission.

Spencer let out a small chuckle as he pulled away from my breast, an audible pop leaving his mouth. My hands went to his face and I moved him up to look at me. His eyes were dilated and his mouth was swollen. His face was flush and he was taking deeper breaths than usual. He looked so beautiful like this.

He had a dorky smile on his face and I realized that I said the words out loud. I felt my face heat up fast and he swiftly commented “I’d never thought I’d see you be so thrown off because of me.”

He rested his hands against either side of the desk and just looked at me. “Shut up and kiss me.” I hissed, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I was about to reply when he interrupted “Do you want me to kiss you on your lips? Or maybe you want me back on those beautiful breasts of yours?”

Have mercy on me, I never believed Spencer Reid could make me so wet just with his words. Sure, I thought of it, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me.

“Maybe you want me to go lower. Should I place my lips on that pussy of yours?” Oh my fuck, I never want this moment to end. I nodded my head so quickly, I could have sworn I given myself whiplash.

“I want to hear you say it,” he breathed out.

“Yes, yes, please. I want you to eat my pussy. Please.” I begged. Dignity be damned.

“That’s my good girl” How is it possible that he went from the dorky adorable doctor to this assertive, stimulating specimen in a matter of minutes? I didn’t think he had a sensual bone in his body. But I am glad to be proven wrong.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees while I clumsily attempted to rid myself of my skirt and panties. I lifted my lower body up as he pulled the clothing off of me. Penelope would have a field day if she knew that I was sitting butt naked on the desk with Spencer Reid between my legs. Hell, I am having a field day knowing this.

Spencer, being the teasing bastard that he has been for the past few minutes, started kissing my legs first. “That’s not where I said I wanted you to kiss me” I huffed out.

“Hush” was all he said as he continued the slow trail up, making sure to alternate between each leg. I was already breathing as if I have ran a marathon, my patience was waning at this point. Finally, he made his way to where I needed him most. He put his hands on my thighs and pushed them further apart.

My hands landed on top of his head, playing with the curls. “You’re comfortable down there Doc?” I snickered, loving the sight of his head between my legs. All he did was nip my inner thigh harshly. I shrieked at the action. I’m starting to think this man has a tiny biting fetish.

I wasn’t ready for when his tongue parted my folds. I squeaked as he teasingly lapped the arousal that had formed the second he walked into the room. I tried rolling my hips but his hands made me stay put on the desk. I never knew he could hold me down like this. I couldn’t even be mad because the pleasure he was giving me was incredible.

Spencer continued to tease me, his tongue never going where I needed it most. He made sure to explore as much as possible as leisurely as possible. “Spencer, please” I cried out. He let out a small hum, the vibration causing a shiver to rack my body.

His tongue finally entered me, much to my delight. No amount of imagination could have ever prepared me for the things this appendage can do to me. He continued this soft, flat movement that was driving me crazy. My hands tightened in his hair, hoping he would go a bit faster.

“You taste so good princess, I don’t want this to end.”

“That’s my Queen to you” I jested. He didn’t like that since he responded with a resounding smack against my outer thigh. Ouch, note to self, Spencer doesn’t like being teased during sexy times. Hmm. On second thought, continue to tease Spencer during sexy times.

I felt his finger probe my entrance, moving up and down before pushing inside of me. I let out a distressing whine as he started slowly moving his finger in and out of me, curling as he did so. His mouth was on my clit, sucking and kissing it as if he has done so all his life.

My body started heating up and trembling. I tried, and failed, to roll my hips against the movement. “Spe-Spencer” I wailed. He didn’t relent.

Spencer entered a second finger into me as his tongue gave small, flickering motions against my bundle of nerves. I had to move one hand to my mouth to prevent any loud noises from being heard outside the room. Shit, did we even lock the door?

That thought immediately left my mind as my core started to tighten. Spencer must have known that I was getting close to my orgasm because he moved his fingers more diligently within me. I felt his fingers curl as they pulled out, I felt his tongue lick thoroughly against my pearl, I felt my ecstasy rising within me. It took one more deep press of his fingers and a harsh suck for me to come all over his face. I bit down on my fingers as I moaned out loud.

“That was so much better then what I imagined” I panted out, the words barely coming out comprehensible. I had a giant smile decorating my face.

He pulled his face up, a smug grin gracing his face. “Is this what you were thinking about earlier this morning?” he taunted. I couldn’t even give him a smartass remark because I was too busy trying to come back to reality. He pulled his fingers out and held them in front of my face.

“Open” he ordered. I complied and he pushed his fingers inside of my mouth. “You look so pretty when you follow instructions well. See how good you taste.”

I pulled my head back, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I bet I taste a lot better on that tongue of yours.”

He tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me to a kiss. I immediately opened and welcomed his tongue against mine. I was right, I do taste better on him. I let out a deep moan and pulled away far enough to gently bite down on his lower lip.

He looks at me, that devilish tongue of his running against his lower lip before entering my mouth once again. With his lips still on mine, he picked me up and move to sit on my desk chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that we managed not to fall on the floor.

I placed my hand on top of his erection through his slacks and he drew a quick intake of breath. I started palming him as I grinded myself against him. I pulled back as I whispered, “I need you, Spencer”.

“Y’know this is the most I have heard you call me by my name in any given moment we have been together.” He unzipped his slacks and pushed down his pants and boxers as much as he could with me on top of him.

I looked down, finally being able to see his cock. Is it possible to get aroused further through sight alone? Because I think I creamed myself again. God, I wish I could show him my oral skills, but we’ll save that for another time.

“Would you rather I call you by something else?” I asked, attempting to move my lower body so that it can align with his cock. I say attempt because Spencer currently had his hands on my thighs again.

“No, I like the way my name sounds as you moan it out. Don’t hide your pleasure from me this time.” He maneuvered my legs to rest upon the armrest on either side of the chair, leaving my pussy wide open for him.

I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you forgetting that we are at work?”

He started rubbing the tip of his cock against my lower lips. “I didn’t forget. I just don’t fucking care.” And with that, he slowly penetrated me.

We both groaned at the intrusion. He gradually started entering me as I adjusted to his size. Inch by inch, he gave me all of him until he was buried to the hilt. I took a moment to savor the feel of Spencer inside of me before I started grinding against him. He took that as a hint to begin thrusting.

He started slow, taking his time and having us enjoy the feeling of one another. “Your cunt is so fucking tight” he hissed into my ear and I gave out a loud whine.

“That’s because you have such a big cock, Doc” I managed to moan out. He smacked my ass before grabbing each cheek tightly in his hands. “I want you to call me by my name” he grits out.

“Spencer, baby please give it to me. I’ve been waiting for this Spencer, I’ve been waiting for you.” He started kissing my neck once more and my eyes started to closed. I wanted to focus on the pleasure he was giving me.

He tightly grabbed me, moving my hips along with his thrusts. I was close to being pushed over the edge once more. The only sounds occupying the room were our moans and skin smacking against skin as we chased our pleasure.

“Open your mouth” I heard him say. I opened my eyes to see his thumb positioned over my lips. I let out a small whimper as I sucked his digit earnestly. I made sure to coat his finger with a lot of saliva, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it when it was out of my mouth.

He pulled his thumb out and immediately placed it on my clit. I gave out an embarrassingly loud sob as he started moving his finger against me in soft circular motions. I placed my lips on his neck, trying to muffle the noise coming out of my throat.

Spencer quickly grabbed my hair and pulled my head away as he started to slow down. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to hear your pleasure?” In that moment, Spencer controlled my mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sorry Spencer. I’ll be your good girl, please don’t stop.” He returned back to the previous pace and thrust into me even harder. We both started chasing our orgasms, not being able to hold back any longer. He was pounding into me relentlessly and I was loving it. I am sure that I am going to be sore after this.

“Come for me (Y/N), I want to feel this tight cunt squeeze around my cock.” Say less, I am already ahead of you. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt my pussy pulsate around him. With one last motion against his thumb, I cried out his name multiple times as I climaxed.

Spencer whispered my name as he continued pushing into me, chasing his own orgasm. He thrust a couple more times before quickly pulling out, spilling himself over my stomach. I panted as I laid my head against the crook of his neck. His fingers thrummed a slow rhythm upon my lower back.

“So about that dinner... do you want to get Indian food?”

“Yeah, I can go for some samosas right now.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #reid smut #mgg

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

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barcelona (ii)

wordcount: 2.3k

_______

Sophie introduced him to the whole group, then separately to her roommates all sitting together at the top of the table. “This is Isobel,” she nodded, “this is Andrea,” she waved, “and this is Juliet,” she smiled.

Rafe nodded, smiling at the three of them. “Isabelle -”

“Isobel.” She corrected. “Ee-so-belle.”

“Ee-so-belle.” He repeated slowly, trying with the accent. “Sorry, I’ll remember that. And you’re Andrea, and you’re Juliet.”

“Rafe, do you always show up late to places?” Isobel asked him with a stern look, nudging Sophie under the table. She tried her best to hold back a grin as he shook his head quickly, the tips of his ears turning red. “No, um, sorry, we got held up by the - the subway -”

“The metro.” Sophie corrected calmly.

“Yes! The metro. Sorry, uh, jetlag.” Rafe tried, looking nervous.

“Uh huh.” She nodded, trying to seem unconvinced, and Andrea snorted into her mimosa, making all of them laugh. “Andrea!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it up!”

Rafe glanced between the four girls, confused. “Keep what up?”

Sophie grinned, squeezing his leg under the table. “I told them they could grill you a little. Andrea just has no poker face.”

“We’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we already know each other.” Juliet told him with a welcoming smile.

The girls all nodded in agreement and Sophie beamed at their approval, letting them go on with stories about their antics as roommates, like when Juliet had set off the fire alarm while smoking - three times - and when Andrea brought a boy over and he turned out to be a total bust, so they girls had to make up an excuse to rescue her from the awkward situation. As Isobel reached across the table for the salt, Rafe noticed a small carnation tattooed just below the inside of her elbow, still a little red. “I like that, is it new?”

“It is!” She nodded down the table. “Mateo just did some of them for us last week. Oh my god, Sophie, do you remember like a month ago -”

Sophie shook her head quickly, sending her a pointed glare. “I don’t remember. Anything. Ever.”

Andrea hid a giggle behind her napkin at the way Sophie’s cheeks went red, and Juliet smirked. “The initials R.C. don’t ring a bell?”

“Stoooop.” She whined and Rafe caught on quickly, grinning. “Was that when she tried to get the tattoo on her hip?”

“Yes!” Andrea exclaimed, laughing. “Oh my god, it was like five inches tall and looked like it’d been written by a primary schooler.”

“You were determined.” Isobel grinned, poking Sophie in the side and put on a poorly done American accent to mimic her. “Nooo, guys, I hafta get it!”

Juliet joined in, her American accent even worse. “I’ve only had four drinks, I’m fine! Like, sober!”

“That was with Sebastian’s heavy pour, too.” Andrea added, laughing. “I think we got to know a little too much about you that night.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sophie was bright red now and nudged her elbow into Rafe’s side when he went to ask another question. “I FaceTimed him that night, he saw how bad it was.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t get it.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Besides, she already has the ring, it’s not like she needed that to ward any guys off.” Isobel pointed out nonchalantly and Sophie bit her lip, trying to be subtle as she hid her hand under the table and switched her ring from her ring finger back to her middle, something she’d forgotten to do in her haste to pick him up from the airport.

Rafe noticed immediately, of course, but chose not to comment. “Maybe a temporary tattoo instead.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. When their waiter came back around to take everyone’s real food order instead of just adding to their sangria, most of the table ordered in Spanish with ease, including Sophie.

She looked to him to explain his order but he straightened up a little, clearing his throat. “Uh, hola! Yo comer los huevos con chorizo, por favor.” He gave the waiter a proud smile and Isobel had to hide a snort in her napkin at his horrible pronunciation and grammar - it was as butchered as possible. The waiter furrowed his brow a little and Sophie subtly pointed at his option on the menu. The waiter laughed, clapped Rafe on the shoulder and told him - in a nearly-perfect American accent - “Welcome to Spain, buddy.”

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” Sophie held back a grin, not wanting to burst Rafe’s bubble.

He beamed, taking it as a compliment. “I did a little studying over the summer.”

“It wasn’t horrible!” Juliet chimed in with an encouraging smile, not noticing Rafe’s face drop. Sophie winced and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, we’ll practice. The idea’s there.”

He kept his voice down, turning to her with a curious look. “You mean it? It wasn’t bad?”

“No! Not really. I mean, some things could use some work, but you have like, the basic foundation -”

“Sophie. No lying.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Oh, bullshit - you’ve lied so many times -”

“Pre-relationship does not count!” She exclaimed, grinning as she swatted him with her napkin. “We agreed. No bringing that up.”

He grinned back, poking her side. “What, are you trying to hide our sordid past from your roommates?”

She fixed him with a cross look, shaking her head. “Sordid hardly describes it. Just a few arguments here and there, that was all.”

“Ah, you seem to have a selective memory.” He smirked and squeezed her knee under the table. “You hated me.”

She frowned. “I never hated you. Just, maybe, didn’t like you sometimes.”

“Understatement of the century.” He trailed his hand up her thigh and she pushed his hand away, giving him a warning look. “Rafe Cameron.”

He just gave her a smile and moved his hand back to her knee until their food arrived.

_____

Three packed days later of showing Rafe around, Sophie had to say a tearful goodbye to her roommates. It was hard for her to leave her newfound friends she’d grown so close to, but they promised they’d see her again - they’d all applied early for graduate programs scattered throughout the US, some starting as early as January.

Somehow, after a lot of persuading over the summer, Sophie had convinced Rafe to rent a car and drive to Nice in France. It was a little over six hours of a drive and along the coastline, and he couldn’t say no to her after she’d sent multiple photos of the coast and fancy cars they could rent too. After loading everything into the car and carefully adjusting the short driver’s seat, Rafe grinned over at her. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but I have something for you.” She reached into the backseat and pulled a wrapped box out of her tote bag, practically buzzing with excitement. “I know your birthday won’t be until we’re in Rome, but I think you’d like this now. The rest of your gift is back in Ohio though.”

He took the box, fixing her with a playfully stern look. “I thought I told you no presents? Just being here with you is enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t listen. Open it.”

He opened it curiously, then grinned when he saw the camcorder printed on the box. He’d mentioned earlier in the summer how he’d like to have something that wasn’t just his phone to document senior year, and then to be able to edit the footage together into little montages each month. Of course, she’d listened and found the perfect gift. “You remembered!”

“It’s the right kind, I think, but double check for me?” She asked, urging him to open the box. “I did a lot of research making sure it was the right one.”

He took the camera out and inspected it, nodding. “It’s perfect. I love it, Sophie, thank you.” He turned to her and smacked a kiss to her cheek, grinning when she turned her head and caught his lips with hers.

“You’re welcome. I was going to wait, but figured you could take videos of our trip and everything.” She beamed.

Rafe’s grin morphed into a smirk as he flipped the camera on, pointing it toward her. “Is the rest of the present that we’re making a sex tape?”

She immediately rolled her eyes, huffing as she reached for the camera. “Okay. You just ruined the moment, good job.”

He laughed, pushing her hand away and put it back in the box. “Thank you, for real. It’s awesome.”

She took the box and put it back in the backseat, smiling. “Welcome. Happy early birthday, old man.”

Rafe started up the car and flicked on the radio, handing Sophie his phone loaded up with their directions. “Twenty-two is hardly old.”

“Ancient.” She laughed. “Alright, this says we’ll get there by two, so just in time to check in to the hostel and we can stop to eat halfway. Feel okay about driving? Because I can trade with you -”

“Absolutely not. And, uh, about the hostel.” He kept his eyes on the road as he drove.

“I thought I sent you all the information, you said you’d book it -”

“No, no, not that, I have everything covered. Just.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel.

“Just?” She cocked her head curiously.

“I may have gone a different route for accommodation in Nice.”

“Rafe. I said I’d pay for my things.”

He didn’t need to glance over at her to feel her slow-building annoyance, but did anyways. “I know! I know. I was just thinking, we’re going to the beach and we’ll be all sandy and whatever afterward, it might be nice to have a real hotel and our own bathroom. Just for there, I booked the hostels for Italy.”

“Just for there.” She repeated, skeptical.

He nodded to confirm. “We’ve just been so busy with everyone - which I totally understand - but I thought it’d be nice to have it be just us for a few days.”

She considered it for a moment - he did make a great point. “I can transfer money from my savings to cover my half.”

“No.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m serious, Sophie, no. The hostels, fine, but not for Nice.” He declared. He’d chosen a boutique hotel instead of a big expensive chain hotel in hopes that would hide how much he spent, so she didn’t question it.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I really don’t want to fight over this, baby, but I told you -”

“So don’t fight. I’ve got it.” He reached over and rested his hand on her knee and squeezed it reassuringly. “Ward gave me extra money.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ward gave you extra money to spend on your trip with me? I’m supposed to believe that? I don’t think he even knows my name still.”

“Well.” He paused, nodding. “Not exactly for the trip, he just put double in my account for my birthday month. I think he feels a little guilty, last year he forgot.” Rafe tried to force a laugh, but it came out more pained than he wanted.

She frowned and reached over to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “He forgot your birthday? Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, happens. Anyways, um. I’m not letting you pay for it.”

She could tell he was growing uncomfortable talking more about Ward and nodded. “Okay. Fine, but just this once.” She gave him a small smirk. “You think the walls are thin?”

“I think the building is structurally sound, baby.” He gave her a confused glance.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That is so not what I meant.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think harder.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then shook his head. “I give up.”

“We only had sex once since we’ve been back together.”

“What does that have to do with thin walls - ohhhh. Right. You know, sometimes I forget how dirty you are, I appreciate the reminder.” He grinned and she tugged on the ends of his hair, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off, you are too.”

“Think we could pull over when we make it to France and have a quickie on the side of the road?”

She raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “Do you speak enough French to get us out of trouble if we get caught and arrested?”

“Minor details.” Rafe laughed, nudging his head back into her hand a little so she’d start playing with his hair again. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She responded, scratching his head lightly.

“I love you. So damn much.”

Sophie beamed and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, fool. I’m glad you’re here.”

He grinned widely. “Yeah? Me too. I really hated being away from you.”

She frowned, just a little. “At least you had your internship to distract you though, right?”

“I was too damn nervous about Brooklyn doing something to fuck us up half the time.” He confessed. “I’m really sorry she kissed me, I should have known -”

“Quit.” She cut him off firmly. “I don’t want to hear a single thing about her on this trip, and I especially don’t want to hear apologies for that. Not your fault.”

He bit this inside of his cheek, sparing a glance over at her. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. I’m glad you’re willing to tell me, but it’s over with. Quit stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing -”

“You’re too easy to read, baby.” She flicked the back of his neck and he yelped, laughing. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are, you wear your heart on your sleeve and I love you for that.” Sophie grinned. “No more talking about her.”

“Jealous.” He quipped, smiling over at her.

“Damn straight.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

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anightflower · 3 years

Text

Come and Find Me Chapter 4: The Andrew Curtis Case

Guys I am so sorry this took so long. On top of school kicking my ass, I had to rewrite and reedit this chapter several times until I got to one that I deemed worthy. I am going to try and post Chapter Five early for you guys if I can.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Rape, Abuse

Masterlist

Spencer glanced around the room at all the police officers assembled. He cleared his throat.

“The Unsub is a white male in his late 20s to mid-30s. He is a man with an average build and a friendly face, someone who women would not pose as a threat.”

“Since there were no signs of forced entry, we believe he’s posing as someone who women would let into their house. Classic cases of this include maintenance men there to check up on things, someone who needs help after their car broke down, or a similar case like that.” Emily explained. “This is a man who fakes confidence, but in reality views himself as inadequate in some way, he knows he can’t fight off another man, so he chooses women who live alone and are essentially defenseless.”

“Yet, he hates that they are successful enough to support themselves or that they have any sort of power.” Morgan chimed in.

“He clearly was cheated on or had some sort of marital issue that caused him to spiral into this spree. He is a sexual sadist projecting his partner onto the women he attacks, that’s why he chokes them, watching the life drain from their eyes sparks something in him and gives him a sense of power. That is also why he rapes his victims, he loves the idea that he is all powerful and they are helpless.” Hotch explained.

Spencer swallowed, “Comparing his last four victims it seems his type is 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/C/E).”

Which coincidentally looks like the love of my life. Spencer thought, repressing a shudder.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer starred in shock at the scene around him. He was just finishing up the geographical profile, when they had received a call about yet another body.

Her empty bulking eyes stared up at the ceiling, her body was beaten, cut, and bruised.

“Strangulation marks on her neck, multiple stab wounds and injuries, this looks like our unsub.” Emily resisted the urge to shudder.

“Man, whoever cheated on this guy, must have really broken him.” Morgan mused, looking around at the bloody scribblings on the wall.

Spencer knew that if they tested the blood on the wall, it would match the victims. He looked at the frames on the wall, trying to ignore the blood that seemed to coat everything. The victim had her diploma hung up and multiple pictures of her smiling with family or friends. Spencer stared hard at the name on the diploma; Adria Winston.

It scared Spencer how easily he could see you in this woman’s place. Injured, dying, pleading for him, for anyone to save you-

“Reid. Reid, are you alright?” Morgan clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, drawing him back to the present.

Spencer shook himself out of his dazed state. “Yeah, uh I just need to step out for a second.” He said, pushing past Morgan and making his way outside Adria’s house. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number, it was late, so you would most likely be asleep, but-

You picked up on the third ring. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Spencer bit back a smile at the sleepiness in your voice.

“Not really, but I just really needed to hear your voice. How is Ohio?” Spencer asked, trying to distract himself from what he just saw. You could tell, but you played along with it.

“Not too bad, whoever designed the Google lounge has nothing on me.” You joked.

“Well, we already knew that.” Spencer smiled.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe some of the cool stuff I found, I’m telling you if the employees complain about these amazing comfy chairs I got for their break room, I am totally coming back and stealing all 22 of them for my apartment.” You said enthusiastically. “They're perfect for reading in Spence, I’m telling you, you would love them.”

Spencer let out a little laugh, “I’m sure they are. We will have to see if we can find some, but I don’t think 22 will fit in either of our apartments.”

“I suppose you’re right” You sighed dramatically, but then took a more serious tone of voice. “Are you alright baby?”

Spencer’s chest tightened at your worried tone of voice. “There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, swallowing back tears. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.”

“Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood.

Spencer let out a small laugh and sniffled. “Trust me the team is going to love you. We will have to figure out when you can meet them, but I definitely want to wait until things settle down a bit here.”

There was silence on your end for a second. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.”

Spencer heart skipped a beat, as much as he wanted you safe and sound, he also needed to hold you in his arms to keep his sanity. But ultimately you were the one who should lead your life, not Spencer. “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.”

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.”

Spencer could have sworn his heart stopped. The two of you hadn’t said I love you yet. Part of him wished it was in person, but just hearing you say it, meant the world to him. “I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

So help him god, Spencer would catch whoever this unsub was and put him away, so you could come home to a safer city.

________________________________________________________________

“You know what strikes me as funny?” Emily asked, looking at the crime scene photos.

The room was silent, waiting to hear what she had to say.

“Each of these unsubs reported strange gifts and letters being sent to their home. The police had thought it was nothing, but now I am thinking that maybe this could be a connection. I mean think about it, didn’t you guys notice that each victim received a gift box wrapped the exact same way?”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah they had the white box with the red bow-”

Spencer chimed in, “Red typically symbolizes love and infatuation, but in this case it was the unsub’s warning, red meant war or violence was about to come upon this victim.”

“Reid and JJ I want you to talk to the officers and get the reports these women filed for harassment, I think we are missing a connection.” Hotch ordered.

An hour or so later they had that connection.

“All of the victims received their gifts from a delivery service called ‘Special Delivery.’” JJ explained to everyone.

“Well it seems we have to pay them a visit.” Hotch said.

________________________________________________________________

Special Delivery was a small Ma and Pa store, located just a couple blocks from Ava’s coffee shop. Spencer debated on stopping in to check in with her and maybe grab the team coffee.

Spencer had quickly taken a liking to Ava, not only because he had called him your “sexy superhero boyfriend,” but because she was a reliable friend to you, one who always managed to bring a smile to your face. She reminded Spencer of a more wild Emily, in the best way possible.

Emily stopped outside the storefront window, glancing at the display of chocolates, gift baskets, and jewelry. “Why is it always the cute small places that get ruined? Can’t it be one of those big corporate offices that fuck over their employees instead?”

Spencer huffed a laugh.

As they entered the store, the bell let out a delicate twinkle. Causing a silver-streaked brunette to pop out from the back of the store. Her round face held a warm smile as she approached them.

“Hello dears! What can I do for you?” She asked as she excitedly clasped her hands together.

“Hello Mrs. Ellison, my name is SSA Prentiss and this is Dr. Reid, we had a few questions for you.” Emily said gently, flashing her badge to the woman.

The woman's smile dimmed a bit, “Oh, uh of course, is everything alright?”

“Mrs. Ellison I am sure you’ve heard of the recent tragedies-” Emily began,

“Oh yes, I’ve been keeping up with the news, it’s just dreadful that something so horrible could happen so close to home. You see these things in movies or in other places, but you just never expect them to happen right near you.” Mrs. Ellison said sorrowfully, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Mrs. Ellison, I am afraid everyone of these victims received several deliveries from your shop. Each was wrapped exactly the same, white box, red bow, does this ring any bells for you?” Spencer asked, cutting to the chase.

“Well dear, it is Valentine season, red, pink, and white are the typical go to colors.” She shrugged.

“Do you have any regulars? He would have each gift he bought wrapped the exact same way? He would seem friendly, but would be on the quieter side?” Emily asked, attempting to prod the older woman’s memory.

“I’m afraid none of that is ringing any bells dear, I am so sorry.” Mrs. Ellison said apologetically.

“Do you have any other employees? Or do you run this place all by yourself?” Spencer asked.

Mrs. Ellison, let out a small laugh, “Oh goodness me, no. I get so many orders, I could never do it by myself. I previously had three employees, Jess, Remy, and Andrew, but I had to fire Andrew when I found him stealing from our stock. It was a shame too, he was a hardworking boy, but I’m afraid he just fell apart after his wife left him.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a quick glance. “Do you happen to know why his wife left him?” Spencer asked, his heart picking up speed.

“Oh it's not my business to share-” Mrs. Ellison hesitated.

“Please Mrs. Ellison, this could be crucial information.” Emily urged her.

Mrs. Ellison let out a sigh. “That horrible girl cheated on him. I just couldn’t understand it either, Drew was such a doting gentleman to her, it simply didn’t make sense.”

“Do you still have his contact information? His address?”

“Why of course, but you couldn’t possibly think he has anything to do with this-” Mrs. Ellison began, making her way to behind the counter to grab a binder. She looked up worried when Spencer and Emily didn’t answer right away. “Do you?” She urged.

“It’s quite possible he had nothing to do with it, we just need to follow through with every angle.” Emily quickly explained.

“Of course.” Mrs. Ellison said, but her hands slightly shook as she opened up her binder to get Andrew’s address.

________________________________________________________________

“Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, open up.” Hotch hollered from outside the door. There was no response. Hotch looked to his team to make sure they were ready, then kicked in the door.

As the team checked different rooms, several calls of “Clear!” echoed throughout the house. Curtis was not there.

Morgan made his way to the basement and swallowed back a gag. “Hotch! You better come see this.”

Guns at the ready, Spencer, Hotch, Rossi, and Emily, made their way down to Morgan.

“What the hell.” Emily huffed as they all beheld the horrific sight before them.

It was a girl, for sure. She had the same mutilated marks as far as they could tell, but her body was decently decayed.

“He’s displaying her like a trophy.” Spencer observed. “He props her up naked and makes sure her wounds are fully on display to remind him what he did.”

“There’s more trophies over here.” Rossi said in disgust, gesturing to a shelf full of different valuables.

“He’s sick.” Morgan hissed.

“We need a med team down here to remove a body. As soon as it’s IDed we need to know and alert any next of kin.” Hotch ordered into his earpiece.

Rossi put on a glove and began to go through the other trophies for evidence. “I’ll talk to the victims families and see if any of them recognize these items.”

Morgan dialed up Garcia.

“Speak and be heard, the all-knowing goddess listens.”

“Hey baby girl, I need you to look up any missing person’s reports from around this area. The victim has (y/c/h) and (y/c/e). She fits our victimology to a t, but we need to figure out who she is.”

“I’m on it.” Garcia said.

“And Garcia,” Hotch said, stopping her before she hung up. “I need you to find a license plate for Andrew Curtis. Also check to see if he rents or owns any other property, he’s currently not at his home and it is too close to other buildings for his victims to not be heard.”

“You got it. Talk soon.” She said, hanging up.

About half an hour later Garcia got back to them. “Curtis drives a 2003 silver sedan with the license plate 637-IRT. I also found that he rents a small storage unit that’s a 20 minute drive in a more secluded part of town. I am sending the address to you guys now.”

“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said. He turned to JJ “I need you to get an APB on Curtis. I want you to warn the public to keep an eye out for him.”

JJ nodded and rushed off with her phone. Hotch looked to the rest of the team. “Everyone else, vests on, we are heading to that storage unit.”

________________________________________________________________

“Fuck Drew, what are we going to do?” The boy asked as he looked at the screen projecting a news report on Andrew Curtis.

“Well, it might be the end for me, little brother, but I have you as my legacy. They don’t have a clue that you are even involved, so I need you to get out of here.”

“No, no, no. I am not going to leave you!” The Boy cried, tears streaming down his face.

Drew huffed a laugh. “Now, now, little bro. It isn’t the time for tears. I’ve taught you everything you need to know. You need to get your girl from that Doctor remember?”

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” The Boy asked, fear filled his voice.

“Your time will come. You have to be a man about this. You have the skills now and you have our little videos to watch. Your own little tutorial to pluck that girl right out of Dr. Reid’s hands. You need to hide those and hide them well. Promise me you won’t fuck up your chance.” Drew growled.

The Boy whimpered and Drew smacked him. “Promise me!” He yelled.

“I promise.” The Boy sobbed, grabbing at his pained cheek.

Drew’s face softened and he gave the boy a smile. “Good, now get out of here legacy and make me proud. I expect to see you on the news someday.” He winked. “You remember our code right?”

The boy nodded.

“Then this isn’t the last time we will speak to each other. Now get the fuck out of here, I already fucked with the security footage, so they won’t even know you were here.” Drew explained, pushing the boy out towards the parking lot.

The Boy’s heart broke as he rushed from his mentor, not only because he knew he would never be able to see Drew in person after this, but because he knew that he would never be able to ruin the 6th victim. The sixth whore that was tied up in the trunk of Drew’s car.

________________________________________________________________

The girl sobs were muffled by her gag. Drew pulled on her hair harder as he dragged her to the storage unit. He knew he didn’t have much time left, so he might as well let every moment count huh?

The girl’s sobs turned into terrified screams as she beheld the bloodied storage room and the various knives and devices within it.

“Shut up you stupid bitch.” He growled in her ear.

The girl whimpered something and Drew ripped away her gag.

“Please.” She begged and Drew simply laughed as he lugged her limp body towards the table in the center of the room.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I have a family who cares about me-” She pleaded.

“Whores don’t have families. Whores have nothing. They just cheat and lie and move onto the next guy. Huh Madelyn?” He growled as he threw her up onto the table.

“My name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily-” The girl sobbed.

“Enough of your lies Madelyn. You stupid slut. You couldn’t stay loyal could you?” Drew snarled, hitting the girl’s head hard against the table.

She sobbed harder. “My name is Emily, my name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily.” She babbled.

“SHUT UP.” He said, hitting her again.

Suddenly a shout rose up from outside the storage unit door. “Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, come out with your hands raised.”

The smile that crept across Drew’s face was wicked. He grabbed a knife and pulled Emily against him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He whispered in her ear.

“Andrew Curtis, this is your last warning. We will come in armed and ready.” Hotch’s voice shouted again.

Drew remained where he was, the sick smile on his face, as tears streamed down Emily’s face.

When the door burst open and several agents poured in, he did not flinch or cower away.

“Drop the weapon.” Hotch boomed, his voice echoing in the space.

“Now, now, now, where would the fun be in that?” Drew mocked.

“Put down the weapon, Curtis and let the girl go.” Rossi ordered.

Drew’s eyes looked past all of them and fell on Spencer, he bit back a smile.

“Come any closer and I’ll slice her throat.” Drew threatened, pressing the knife harder to Emily’s throat, a few drops of crimson blossomed and crept down her neck.

“If you don’t let Miss Bloise go, then we will be forced to take action Mr. Curtis.” Rossi explained.

Drew’s hand shook, god he wanted them to come at him, but then he thought of his mentee, how lost he would be without him.

He lowered the knife and let the girl go. She ran towards one of the agents, tears mixing with the blood that ran down her neck. JJ wrapped an arm around the girl and guided her out.

Morgan rushed to Curtis, pinning him down against the floor and putting cuffs around his wrists.

Though they had caught him, Hotch felt uneasy. Curtis had given in too quickly. The greasy smile across Curtis’s face as Morgan led him away only heightened his suspicions.

________________________________________________________________

The team sat outside the interrogation room, watching as Hotch tried to get a rise out of Andrew Curtis. He and JJ had gone in; Hotch to be the intimidator, JJ to be the trigger as she looked a bit similar to the victims. So far the man had just sat in the chair, his arms crossed, silent and smirking. It had been almost an hour and they had gotten nothing out of him.

Spencer felt as though Curtis could see him through the two-way mirror.

“You know Agent,” Curtis began. “I know you’re trying to be the big bad wolf, but it’s not going to work, I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

Morgan looked about ready to kick in the door and beat the confession out of Andrew.

“Send me in, I’ll get an answer out of him” Morgan growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Unfortunately, the confession won’t stand up in court if they found out you beat the shit out of Curtis to get it” Emily smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“The Court doesn’t have to know” Morgan argued, making Emily scoff.

“Focus kids.” Rossi ordered sternly, but Spencer could tell he was fighting back a small smile.

Hotch and JJ came out of the room. Hotch looked to Spencer, his expression grim. “He wants to talk with you.”

Spencer looked at Hotch confused, “Why me?”

“He’s ‘fascinated by you’” Hotch explained. “I know it’s not ideal and you don’t have to go in their Reid, but-”

“But, we could get the confession out of him. We have the charges for Miss Bloise, but we want to pin him for the other girls he attacked. I understand and I will do it.” Spencer said.

“I’ll stick with you Spence” JJ reassured, putting a hand on his arm. “You won’t be alone.”

Spencer nodded, sending a grateful look JJ’s way as they made their way into the interrogation room.

“Ah the elusive doctor. So glad you could join us.” Drew purred.

Spencer said nothing as he moved to sit down across from Curtis.

“-your wife left you Mr. Curtis, is that correct?” JJ asked.

“Please doll, a pretty thing like you can call me Drew” Drew said, looking JJ up and down.

Spencer’s fists clenched in anger as he felt JJ tense next to him.

“The file says she left you after she cheated on you. Did you have medical issues Mr. Curtis?” Reid asked, drawing Curtis’s attention to him. “Did you struggle to please your own wife?”

Curtis growled. “That stupid whore has nothing to do with this.”

“Ah so you couldn’t and when she left you for a man that could, you projected your anger for her onto these women. You were angry at them for being confident and independent, much like your wife who knew what she wanted.” Spencer said, sitting back in his chair with a faint smirk.

“These women were nothing but whores, willing to let men in like me. They wanted someone so badly they let a stranger into their house.” Curtis hissed.

“Mr. Curtis, you were a delivery man. They didn’t let you in, you forced your way into their homes didn’t you?”

“If a man needs a glass of water, can’t he let himself in?” Curtis purred. “They turned their backs on a predator and got what was coming to them.”

“Did you attack them in their homes?” JJ asked.

“Only to make them quiet, couldn’t have the neighbors hear them scream.” Curtis laughed and Spencer resisted the urge to choke out the man across from him.

They placed images of all of his supposed victim’s before him. “Do you recognize these women?” JJ asked, her voice harsh and cold.

Curtis looked over all of them, silent for a couple minutes. Spencer’s patience thinned. “Well?”

Curtis pointed to an image of Lila Jennings, the third victim of this case. “She screamed the loudest.” He pointed to another image. “She was a hot piece of ass, it was fun breaking her.”

“Enough.” Spencer hissed.

“In short Doctor, yes I do recognize these women. Every single one of them and no I do not regret a single one.”

Without saying another word, JJ and Spencer got up, taking the files with them. Curtis’s laughter rang out behind them as they shut the door.

________________________________________________________________

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #Come and Find Me #anightflowerwrites #anightflower writes

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alloftheblackwidowfeelings · 3 years

Note

what do you think about natasha and yelena's relation now that you have seen the movie? Sibling like or something else? I read one of your post about how complicated their relation can be and I'm curious about it. Its kind of spoilery, I know it but still.

It IS spoilery, which is why I held off to answer til now, and I'm sure a lot of other people have covered it better than I can, but what the fuck, I'm gonna give it a go.

I think that everyone- including, to some extent, the movie itself- wants to boil their relationship down to one thing, even if that one thing is a mess of contradictions. And don't get me wrong, I love the contradictions, and I love what we got on screen from them. It feels complex and layered and real, and a thing I liked is that both of them are 100% right; based on their experiences, combined with the bizarre combination of Black Widow talent at reading people but their own inability to gauge for themselves rather than for the cause, Yelena and Natasha both understood the situations on their own terms.

The movie clearly wanted to use the family device, and I think to some extent it worked; that fake family was the only stability any of them had, and the more I watch the more I realize the profound effect those three years had on all four of them. (It's a lot easier to see in Nat and Yelena, but I appreciated how clear it is that none of them got out emotionally unscathed.) The problem for me, though, is that while it's the closest thing any of them had to family, it's still not, in fact, family.

And just so we're clear here, I don't mean "because they weren't blood related." I mean because the movie tries to put "none of it was real" and "it was real to me" in binary opposition and I don't believe that's the case. I believe that the closeness and the intimacy can be completely real without the situation being remotely real, and I think that it's damaging to lean in to the idea that every relationship has to be easily categorized. I think society finds it a lot easier to assume that the only reason for adults to be close- and also capable of being truly hurt by each other's actions- is if they're either related or romantically/sexually involved, and to show how close Nat and Yelena are the movie went all-in with Door Number One.

I think their relationship is not easily defined. I think that three years undercover as a family meant something but not everything and while we know they hadn't heard from Melina or Alexei since Ohio, I think we still don't know how much, if at all, they were able to interact in the subsequent several years in the Red Room, which changes things pretty drastically. I'm also pretty sure we don't know how much the time in Ohio was actually idyllic, or the one least-bad moment in shitty lives. We know Nat had been in the Red Room before she was six; we see Yelena and Natasha doing gymnastics in their backyard, which feels like sisterly fun and games except that we know (both from comics and from the opening credits) that gymnastics is part of Widow training. We see Melina teaching the girls about science and she tells Nat later that she tried to teach them to not fall for traps. That Melina and Alexei were the best family Nat and Yelena knew doesn't mean that they were family family- just that they might be family in the way four broken Russian spies most needed. Or that they're family the way found family is family, rather than people who grew up together. Or that there's not really a word that encompasses the messiness of their closeness, except that to disregard their closeness does a disservice to all of them.

Do I ship it? Not really. Do I see it as sibling-y? Also not really. In my notes from one viewing I have "queerplatonic partnership????" but that doesn't feel exactly right either. I don't think any of these are blanket AGAINST the text and I wouldn't mind reading any of them if done well- which is good cause that's what 90% of the fics are- but mostly what I think Nat and Yelena are is scarred, and codependent, and terrified, and needy but refusing to admit they need, and a lot of other things that don't fall neatly under a label.

I like that for all of them a lot more than I'd like if they were actually familial, and while I understand the necessity for a label like "family" to tell the a blockbuster story in two hours, I feel like every possible label takes away from some of the complexity that meant so much to me.

#allofthereplies #Anonymous #Black Widow movie spoilers #BW spoilers #Natasha & Yelena #Natasha/Yelena #(tagging both to cover my bases in case anyone's triggered by either/or #but mostly I'm talking about how I don't think a single label describes their relationship)#Yelena Belova #Natasha Romanoff

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thepropertylovers · 3 years

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"Do You Do All the Grocery Shopping or Does Your Wife Usually Do It?"

I was in the check out line at the grocery store the other day having a lighthearted conversation with the check out clerk and the woman in line behind me, when suddenly, things to a drastic turn…

I was talking to Pauline, the check out clerk, about these blueberry breakfast bars I buy for PJ. They’re one of the only snacks he actually likes, so I try to remember to buy them whenever I go to the store. Pauline, however, hates them- she tried them once and thought they were gross. I laugh as she tells me this because our family quite enjoys them. I asked her if it was because she thought they tasted too processed since she also just let me know she cooks at home a lot and recently made Easter lunch for her son and his family. She said she doesn’t remember why, she just knows she doesn’t like them. Point made.

Meanwhile, the lady in line behind me points to my Blackbox of Chardonnay and inquisitively asks if that’s wine. I perk up and say yes, yes it is! And it’s so good! I tell her how you get four bottles in one box and it’s delicious and we’ve been doing boxed wine for the last year since it’s such a better buy money-wise. She tells me she has been wanting to try it for a while and she just may get some for herself.

She asks if I have a big family that I’m feeding with all the food and training pants that I’m buying. I proudly say that we have three foster kids at home who, even though they’re only ages five and under, eat so much all day every day, and that it’s been fun and challenging trying to come up with new things to cook when we don’t order takeout (which, sadly, has been more times that not lately). She asks me a bit about the kiddos and I gush to her about them, as anyone would.

Sometime during all of these exchanges I notice two younger girls in the line beside me paying attention to the different conversations we have going on. They’re probably in their late teens or early twenties. They don’t say anything, but I could tell they were interested and listening.

She gets to the end of ringing me up ($400 later), and I jokingly ask Pauline if she could tell I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while and then I dramatically tell her I was grateful just to make it out of the store alive since I was already there for well over an hour. Pauline laughs and the lady behind me who asked about the wine laughs and then, with a smile on her face, she asks me a sincere, seemingly harmless question:

“Do you do all the grocery shopping or does your wife usually do it?”

I don’t know if it was because I had already been at the store for over an hour and was tired and had to pee or if it was because I was only half-listening as I was inserting my card into the chip reader, but for some reason her use of the word “wife” didn’t register to me. I was so confused! My wife? Well, I don’t have a wife? I’m gay.

So, I asked, “My wife?” And she replied, “Yes?” Pauline leaned in. “Oh, I don’t have a wife,” I matter-of-factly explained. “I have a husband, but I am the one who does all the grocery shopping and he will stay home with the kids or I’ll get my mom to watch them if he’s working. Honestly, though, I don’t mind because this is like my me time where I get to relax and be by myself and get away from all the noise for a while and kind of do my own thing, so I actually really enjoy it.” No one said a word.

The atmosphere drastically changed in a matter of seconds and suddenly it was a lot quieter as I took my card out of the chip reader. Pauline finished clearing all the bags and the girls beside us tilted their heads a little as they tried their best not to look like they were still listening. Finally, after a few seconds of silence (which can feel like eternity when it’s just you and a few others standing within a few feet of each other), the lady behind me exclaimed, “Oh okay! My daughter lives in Ohio and she and her husband just bought a million dollar house and I couldn’t believe it because the house they have now is so big that I sometimes get lost in it!”

I wasn’t sure what her daughter in Ohio buying a million dollar house had anything to do with the conversation we were having, but nonetheless, I smiled and said, “Good for her!” I assume she couldn’t find anything else to say after my revelation that she no doubt wasn’t expecting, and said the first thing that came to her mind. Maybe? Who knows. I didn’t mind either way. Pauline handed me my receipt with a smile on her face and we both told each other to have a nice day and that was that.

The thing no one tells you when you come out publicly for the first time is that you’re going to have to keep coming out for the rest of your life; to co-workers, to teachers, to classmates, to neighbors, to random people in line at the grocery store. For some, it never gets easier. It took a while for me to feel secure disclosing that I am gay and that I have a husband, not a wife, to strangers. It’s all about how comfortable and safe you feel in the situation. I now take pride in telling people I have a husband, especially here in the south, because it’s kind of a way for me to say, “Look! I’m an actual person that exists and that you can see and who has a life and who does the same things that everyone else does.”

It’s a fine line deciding who you want to spend your time on explaining you don’t have a wife or a girlfriend when you use the word “we” in a sentence. The exterminator I was talking to on the phone last year, who I had already decided I wasn’t going to use for reasons unrelated to anything other than price, innocently misgendered PJ and said “wife”. I was in such a hurry to get off the phone at that point because the kids were yelling and I had already made up my mind that he was too expensive, that I didn’t even bother correcting him. But the lady in the check out line was different to me because we were already having an honest, fun conversation about nothing, and since she asked, I found no reason to lie to her. I lied about who I was to everyone I loved for half my life until I met PJ; until I came out.

While I don’t think heterosexual should be the assumed default sexual orientation, I understand why people, especially in the area of the country we live in, automatically think your spouse/partner is someone of the opposite sex. It’s just part of life and part of being a member of the LGBTQ+ community, and it’s something we’ll most likely always have to go through.

I’ve found, though, that when I am upfront with someone and confidently tell them I have a husband and/or we have three kiddos, they never say anything negative to me. Maybe it’s because they’re taken off guard or because they want to save face and not come across as rude, but whatever the reason, when I am honest with someone and politely correct them when they misgender my husband, they are respectful and almost always apologize and continue on with the conversation like nothing happened.

Also, a lot of times (again, especially in the area we live in) people don’t talk to an openly gay person, face to face every day, so I like to always think of these moments of “coming out” as education for others who might not be so familiar with the LGBTQ+ community or who might have preconceived ideas about us. When you act like it’s no big deal that you’re gay and married and have kids, then maybe they’ll, too, realize it’s no big deal that you’re gay and married and have kids. Is it our responsibility to educate others who might not accept us? Maybe not, but we have an opportunity to open their eyes and show them we’re here and we’re not going anywhere, nor should we have to.

At the end of the day, I can feel joy and take comfort in knowing that I am gay, that I am happy as an out individual and, of course, that I not only buy those blueberry breakfast bars for my husband since they’re one of the only snacks he actually likes, but that I in fact do all the grocery shopping in our family. Not my husband, and certainly not my wife.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 4 years

Text

~I Let You Down~

Gif found on google and it wouldn’t let me see who the original poster was. So credit to the original poster if this is your gif!

JP ‘Rook’ Cappelletty x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Prompt (also found on google): “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you!”

3rd person POV x Lyric oneshot

Song: Clumsy by All Time Low

‘Some say it’s true, that true love never dies...Even when it’s five years later and you’re still dead set on trying to hate the person who broke your heart and left you behind to pick up the pieces.’

Authors note: It’s been ages since I’ve done a lyric inspired oneshot, or a oneshot, or any writing really for that fact lol But I’m trying to get back into the swing of things, so I hope you guys enjoy it! This is also my first time writing for and actually posting something for Rook. So I hope I did it justice. Let me know if you guys would be interested in reading more, or even possibly reading a part 2 if this one does well enough!

Y/N (Your name) Y/F/N (Your full name)

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

‘I flew too close to the sun Fell back to Earth like a stone I got too high on myself Too young and stupid to tellI was bound to make a mess of things Mixin' fireworks and gasoline Never meant to make you fall with me’

The words blasted from the speakers of her old ‘68 Chevelle as she whipped into a parking spot beside her favorite Cafe. Taking a moment to extinguish what was left of her cigarette before cutting the engine and climbing out into the sweltering LA summer heat. Taking a moment to adjust her aviators and check that she had everything she needed before making her way inside, the door chimed softly as she stepped into the building's relaxing atmosphere, the air condition a welcome feeling as she made her way up to order a much needed coffee.

The line was relatively long, congested by the usual late morning rush, but Y/N was happy to wait as long as it took. It was Friday, and she finally had a day off too herself for the first time in ages, and she would be damned if she let anything as trivial as waiting a few extra minutes in line ruin her good mood. So there she stood, patiently scrolling through some messages on her phone while she waited. Moving slowly with the flow of the line of customers, as she listened to the song that played from the shops speakers overhead; The same radio station she'd been listening to in her car.

‘I let you down I've been clumsy with your heart again I guess you figured me out Now here's a taste of my own medicine (I let you down)’

The door chiming softly behind her was nothing of significance. It had chimed at least four times prior to her arrival as more customers filtered in from the heat. Y/N unfazed by the sound at this point as she closed out an email from one of her clients managers. Making a mental note to herself to write a reply later when she arrived home before she stuffed her phone into her back pocket and looked up. A startled squeak escaping her lungs as she was suddenly rushed by a blur of curly hair.

“Aunt Y/N!”

A smile taking over Y/N’s face as she recognized the girl's voice. It was a voice that she’d recognize anywhere, even if Y/N hadn’t seen in her almost five years. “Hey, Casie.” Y/N smiled brightly as she hugged the girl a little tighter, happy to see such a familiar face.

“Dad! Look who I found!” Casie exclaimed excitedly, both her and Y/N turning at the same time to watch as Colson approached them through the small crowd that had formed inside the small Cafe.

“Hoooooly shit!” Colson chuckled as he approached the pair who were still locked in a tight embrace. One that Colson was quick to join in on. “Now there’s a face I never thought I’d see again. How the hell have you been, Cash?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the silly nickname she had been given ages ago by the man before her himself. A nickname that she hadn’t heard in ages, something that tugged at her heart, sadly, as it brought forth a rush of memories she had long since kept buried...And for good reason.

“I’ve been doin’ alright.” Y/N chuckled softly as they finally broke away from the embrace to move up with the line. “How about you guys? It’s been ages -- When did she get so big?!” The words all came rushing out at once in a wave of excitement that overtook her, making Colson chuckle as he wrapped a long tattooed arm around his daughters shoulders, and pulled in for a tight side hug that had her squirming to escape before she punched his arm playful with a glare.

“I keep askin’ myself the same question.” He answered with a soft rumble of a laugh. Flinching a little as Casie punched his arm a little harder. “Ow.” Colson chuckled as he rubbed his arm lightly, moving to pull his wallet out of his back pocket before handing it to her as the line shortened once more. “Why don’t you grab us all somethin’, Princess, and we’ll grab a table--”

“Already on it!” Casie said excitedly as she rushed off to take Y/N’s spot in line as Colson motioned towards an empty table near the windows.

“I can’t believe how grown up she is...” Y/N admired as they took a seat, a hint of sadness in her eyes as she turned to watch Casie, who had finally reached the counter, place an order. “God, what was she, five, the last time I saw her?”

“Sounds about right.” Colson nodded. “Was right before you left Ohio for LA...”

“Yeah...” Y/N’s brows knit together tightly as she frowned, a wave of guilt crashing into her like a freight train. “Sorry I’ve been so shit at keeping in touch.” She apologized softly.

“Hey--” Colson reached out a hand to give her own a brief, reassuring squeeze. “Don’t do that to yourself. What happened, that wasn’t your fault and you know it. We were all young and stupid. Shit, even Rook knows that and how bad he fucked things up...You made your choice, and clearly it was the right one. I mean look at you--” Colson paused to lean back in his seat as he gestured at her proudly. “Ms. big time music producer over here.”

“Oh stop it.” Y/N waved off the comment playfully with a roll of her eyes. “But really, I mean it Colson. I always meant to come back and see you guys, especially Casie...But I just...I don’t know. I guess I just feel guilty that I disappeared from her life like that with nothing more than a few short video chats here and there, ya’know?”

“I get it.” Colson nodded. “Still not your fault. And if it’s any consolation, Rook still beats himself up for what happened.”

“Good!” Y/N replied harshly, her frown returning at the second mention of that name. “I hope it haunts the bastard for the rest of his life.” She muttered under her breath, though it was still loud enough that Colson heard it and gave a chuckle. About to say something in reply when Casie approached the table, drinks in hand, and took a seat beside Y/N, passing over her favorite drink --an iced chai latte-- before giving Colson his own coffee and returning his wallet.

“I ordered some breakfast sandwiches too.” Casie smiled.

“God I’ve missed you!” Y/N beamed as she hugged her tightly for a moment before letting go. Having to stave off the tears that built in her eyes when Casie refused to let go from the embrace. Torn away only by a sudden idea as she shot up and looked at Colson excitedly.

“Can she come over for the party tonight?!” Casie rushed out, bouncing in her seat a little as she waited for Colson’s reply as he turned to look at Y/N, giving a small shrug.

“I think I’ll leave that one up to Cash, Princess.” Colson chuckled softly as he took a sip of his coffee, thanking the waitress as their food was delivered.

“Please Aunt Y/N?! Please, please, please?!” Casie all but begged, hands clasped together as she gave Y/N that all to familiar puppy face. The same one she used to use on her all those years away when she wanted something. Eyes sparking with a level of adorableness that she knew Y/N would never be able to say no to; No matter how badly she wanted to.

Y/N groaned softly, knowing what this would entail, and exactly who she would be faced with having to avoid. But knowing that it was almost Casie’s birthday, Y/N didn’t have it in her heart to refuse. “I suppose I can’t really say ‘no’ to that face, now can I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, you’re the best Aunt Cash!” Casie exclaimed as she hugged Y/N tightly, melting what was left of her cold, icy heart a little as she hugged the girl back.

“Only cause it’s you.” Y/N chuckled softly with a smile. Even though she was a raging ball of anxiety on the inside now as every single worst case scenario suddenly played through her head as she thought about what the evening would hold in store.

‘Caught at the end of the lifeline The catch of a lifetime (I should've known, should've known, should've known) Oh we were destined for danger Familiar strangers (I should've known, should've known)’

The party had been well under way for more than an hour when the sound of a vehicle nobody recognized was heard pulling into the driveway at Colson’s. A black Chevelle that found it’s parking spot beside the row of motorcycles nearest the front door. Everyone exchanging a few confused glances as Casie made a beeline straight for the door, flinging it open before whoever it was even had the chance to knock...Rook’s heart dropping somewhere into the vicinity of his stomach as she stepped into view, just as Casie flew in for a hug. Almost knocking Y/N over in the process.

“You made it!”

“Of course I made it.” Y/N chuckled softly, that all too familiar smile that haunted every single one of Rooks dreams, curving those beautiful lips of her upwards into a smile. A smile he never thought he could miss more than he did right at this very second.

“Holy shit, is that Cash?” Slim exclaimed as he came around the corner and out of the kitchen, wrapping Y/N in a tight embrace. “I thought Casie was pulling my damn leg when she told us who was comin’.”

“Surprise!” Y/N exclaimed with a nervous laugh as they broke away from the hug to extend the gift bag in her hand out towards Casie. “Happy Birthday, kiddo.”

Casie all but squealed as she moved back in for another hug, barely giving Y/N an chance to wave a hello to everyone as she thanked her for the gift before dragging her through the house for a tour and to catch up. Rook frozen to the same spot, just staring after the two, completely oblivious to Colson’s presence as he leaned up against the counter beside him.

“You alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rook’s head snapped around like it was on a swivel as he faced Colson. His tone sharp, but not one of anger. In fact, it was filled more with hurt than anything. His eyes drifting back towards the stairs where Casie and Y/N had disappeared just moments before. Colson held up his hands in defense as he shook his head lightly.

“We ran into her this morning while we were getting coffee. Case was so stoked to see her, man -- She didn’t wanna risk ruining anything. So she made me swear not to say anything. But I mean look, if you’re not cool with it and wanna take off, I understand--”

“No...It’s alright.” Rook cut Colson off as he shook his head. “It’s Casie’s day and I’m not gonna ruin that. We’re both adults.” He swallowed harshly as his mouth suddenly went dry. “It’ll be fine.” At least he hoped. Colson nodding, remaining silent as he watched Rook’s gaze wander once more as he sipped stiffly at the amber liquid in the glass he held. His grip on the glass was so tight that Colson thought it might shatter.

‘We were bound to make a mess of things Mixin' fireworks and gasoline Never meant to make you fall with me’

Time seemed to slow as the night drug on for what felt like an eternity. An eternity that was filled with awkward avoidance and sour glances that were periodically thrown in Rook’s direction whenever he was caught staring for just a fraction of a second too long. Midnight came and went. The whiskey was going down like water, and there wasn’t a joint strong enough to make this night any easier. The only thing keeping him from disappearing completely, was the constant reminder that this was for Casie, and he’d be damned if he was going to ruin that for her...Not that it made it any easier.

Left to watch from the side lines as Y/N joked and messed around with the rest of the guys, just like old times...Only this time around, Rook wasn’t a part of it. And knowing it was by his own wrong doings was like a dagger straight to the heart. A dagger that was slowly being twisted a little deeper into his chest with each passing hour that he was subject to someone dredging up a memory here and a memory there.

A soft sigh fell from his lips as he rubbed a tired hand over his face before standing, passing the joint he’d forgotten he’d been holding, back to Baze who had been eyeing him with a concerned look. “You alright, man?”

“Fine.” Rook waved a dismissive hand as he headed for the backyard. “I just need some air.” He added quietly. But the change in his demeanor didn’t go unnoticed as Baze gave a sigh of his own as he stood. Watching as Rook pushed through the small crowd of people and disappeared out the back door.

“Hey, Cash.” Baze waved her down as she came out of the kitchen with another beer, offering the joint he held out to her, which she gladly accepted. Taking a hit and holding it for a few seconds before she let the sweet trail from between her lips. “So now that you’ve had a decent hit, I’m gonna go ahead and say something, so don’t fuckin’ hit me, ok?”

Y/N’s gaze narrowed as she stared up at Baze, already knowing where this conversation was about to head. “I don’t wanna hear it, Basil.” She held up a hand. “He made his bed a long time ago, he can fuckin’ lay in it.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Baze held up his hands as he shook his head, not wanting to start an argument. “I agree with you a hundred and ten percent. We all do, Y/N, but you have to understand something--”

“I don’t have to understand shit!” Y/N snapped before she took another puff from the joint she now held. She wanted nothing more than to walk away, yet for some reason, she felt compelled to hear what else Baze had to say.

“You’re right, you don’t.” Baze shrugged. “But Rook’s not the same person he was back then...None of us are; Not even you, Y/N. We were a bunch of stupid kids, despite the fact we were all fucking adults. And I can assure you, that not a day has gone by since then, where that kid hasn’t beat himself up over what happened. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, Cash...But at least let the guy have peace of mind enough to forgive himself.”

“Unlikely.” Y/N scoffed through the exhale of smoke she had been holding in, having finally heard enough as she moved to step around Baze. Pausing only to pass the joint she held back to him before she headed for the back door. “Thanks for the hit though.”

‘I let you down I've been clumsy with your heart again I guess you figured me out Now here's a taste of my own medicine And for all this pain, that I can't explain There's a black flag wavin' tonight You know I let you down I've been clumsy with your heart again’

Y/N all but stumbled through the backdoor as that last hit from Baze’s joint hit her a lot sooner than she had anticipated it would --her tolerance wasn’t shit anymore-- and she suddenly felt like she should probably sit her ass down somewhere before she tipped the fuck over. Making sure that she paid extra close attention to where her feet were going as she made her way over to the edge of the pool and took a seat. Dipping her feet into the water immediately, having ditched her converse hours ago while dancing with Casie; Blissfully unaware of Rook’s presence as she kicked her feet back and forth gently, watching the ripples the movement created on the surface of the water. Rook watching her quietly, remembering how they used to sit and do that together at the hotels on tour. The memory caused the ache inside of his chest to worsen as he tried washing the feelings away with a sip from his drink as he hung his head in his free hand.

The distinct ‘clink’ of ice against glass alerted Y/N that she wasn’t alone, as she tensed up. Turning slowly to glance over her shoulder, only to find Rook sitting no more than a few feet away. A frustrated sigh left her lips as she turned back to stare at the water. Her first instinct to get up and leave, and she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the weed in her system, but she didn’t have it in her to move. She had been running away all night, whenever he would enter a room, Y/N was gone the second he’d notice her. It was tiresome. And truth be told, no matter how much she still wanted to hate him right now, her heart simply wouldn’t let her...And she hated that even more.

She hated the fact that she had never stopped loving him, no matter how hard she tried to deny it and move on with her life, or how many times she had swore up and down to herself that she could never even possibly think about forgiving him...It just simply wasn’t possible. Not too say that it didn’t still hurt after all these years, or that it didn’t mean she wasn’t still angry. Because she was angry, and with every passing second that she thought about it, that anger rose to the surface, bit by bit, until it was too much for her to handle anymore. Y/N pushing herself up to her feet, trying her hardest to maintain her composure as she swayed slightly from the head rush of being inebriated. Her conscious all but screaming at her to keep her mouth shut and not start shit, but it was already too late as the words came pouring out of her mouth like word vomit.

“So that’s it then?” She hiccuped slightly as she stalked over to stand in front of Rook, her arms crossed tightly across her chest in an attempt to make herself appear angrier than really was. “Five fucking years, and all I get is a bunch of stolen glances and some forlorn fucking pouting? You’re not even gonna try--”

“Cash, please don’t...” Rook spoke softly as he tried to defuse the situation.

“Don’t you fucking DARE ‘Cash’ me, JP Cappelletty!” Y/N snapped. “Five fucking years! Five.Fucking.Years, JP, and you never even once tried to reach out, never tried to apologize! You just -- You just let me fucking leave with no more than a shitty ass excuse as to why I caught you sucking face with some random fucking half naked slut--”

“What the hell do you want me to say, Y/N?!” Rook’s head snapped up as he made eye contact and stood. His gaze boring straight into her own as he continued, his voice steadily growing heated, but he never raised it to the point of yelling. Not even once. “You want me to fucking apologize? When you and I both know that sorry doesn’t even begin to fucking fix what I let happen?! I’m sorry! I’m fucking sorry, Y/N! I’m sorry I fucked up so bad! I’m sorry I was a stupid fucking kid who got so wrapped up in all of this,” He paused to gesture around them. “That I didn’t stop to think it would even fucking matter. That there wouldn’t be any fucking consequences to my actions? I fucked up, Y/N, I know that, and I have to live with it every goddamn day! Sorry doesn’t even begin to fucking cut it, but if that’s what you want to hear, then I’m fucking sorry!”

Y/N remained quiet, her arms falling away to her sides as she watched Rook turn away from her. His hands scrubbed over his face and into his hair out of frustration as he tried to reign in every last shred of emotion that was threatening to pour out. “I’m sorry that I lost you...I’m sorry for that everyday that I wake up and remember that you’re not a part of my life anymore.”

“JP, don’t--” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper now, Rook’s back still to her as she spoke, but her words went unnoticed as he continued. Tipping his head back as he looked up at the night sky as the words continued to pour forth from whatever depths of his soul they had long been hidden away in.

“I wish that I could take it back, Y/N, I really do, but I fucking can’t. I’m sorry, and I’m sorry that ‘I’m sorry’ is never gonna be good enough to fix it...But I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you!” Rook sighed as he bowed his head in defeat. The silence between them was heavy, even if only for a moment before it was interrupted by the broken sob that fell from Y/N’s lips, the sound catching Rook’s attention immediately as he turned, watching as her hands flew up to her mouth as she tried to muffle the sound of her own body betraying her, as another sob followed close behind; Tears streaming down her face as her body shook.

“Y/N--” Rook was hesitant as he took a step forward and reached out, almost afraid that if he moved too quickly she might run; Or at the very least try and take a swing at him. Not that he didn’t deserve it. But as his outstretched fingers made contact with Y/N’s skin, it was all he could do to stay standing as she all but collapsed into his arms. Her face buried against his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably. “Hey, shh. It’s ok...I-I got you.” Rook murmured against her hair softly as he held her. Doing everything he could to blink back the tears that formed in his own eyes as every last ounce of pain and regret that flowed through her flowed through him as she cried.

“I-I’m s-sorry...” Y/N sobbed against Rook’s chest, causing him to glance down at her with a confused expression, as he was unsure why she felt the need to apologize, least of all to him. But before he could think to speak up and ask, Y/N continued. “I’m s-sorry that I’ve been a c-cold hearted, i-insufferable bitch! I’m sorry f-for how I’ve treated you. And not j-just in the past, b-but tonight to. I-I’m sorry for trying t-to force myself to h-hate you for the past f-five years--” Y/N paused, pulling away slightly as she tried to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision as she looked up at Rook. “I’m s-sorry that I never stopped loving you...But I’m not sorry for that as much as I try and hate you, that I’m still hopelessly in love with your dumbass!”

Rook was left looking like a slack jawed fish as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right words while simultaneously questioning if he had even heard her correctly to begin with. That she was in fact still in love with him. Reassurance came in the form of her lips crashing into his before he could say anything at all that might possibly ruin the moment, and for that, among other things, he was incredibly grateful for, as he moved his hands to gently caress her face. Her own hands drifted up his chest to find their way around his neck, one settling in his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, as he deepened the kiss.

That familiar spark of electricity igniting between them once more, just as it had with the very kiss they had shared all those years ago. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to break away, but eventually, they had to come up for air, Rook pressing his lips against Y/N forehead gently as he pulled her closer, and made a promise. Afraid that if he let her go now, if he didn’t speak his truth, that he’d wake up from some sick dream and none of this will have been real.

“I swear to you, Y/F/N, I swear to you on my own goddamn life, that if you ever give you me another chance, even though I know I’ve done nothing to deserve it, I promise you that I will spend everyday making it up to you; Even if it’s the last thing I ever fucking do.” Rook’s voice trembled with emotion as he tilted Y/N’s chin so that she was looking up at him. “I love you, Cash. I loved you then, I love you now and I will love you for the rest of eternity; Even if you won’t have me. You will always be my girl, and I will do everything in my power to never let you down like that again. Not ever.”

Y/N pressed her lips back to Rook’s, not knowing how else to reply at that exact moment. Knowing this wasn’t something that could be as easily fixed as they both wanted it to be...But at least for tonight, they could pretend. Knowing that come morning, when they were both sober, this conversation would be a lot harder as they worked on figuring out how to try and make this work again. Rook’s lips were eager against her own in response as his hands drifted down her waist, stopping only when they reached the back of her thighs and he lifted her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Get a room!” Colson hollarded with a chuckle from the back door as the rest of the guys joined in with cheers and whistles, the pair now fully away that they had an audience. Both reaching a hand out to flip them all the bird. Too wrapped up in the moment to be bothered to care. “I love you.” Rook panted out when they finally did manage to break apart sometime later. The love and adoration in his eyes as he gazed up at Y/N, was almost too much for her to handle as she placed her hands against his cheeks and pressed her forehead against his own.

“I love you too, JP.” She whispered, keeping the last part to herself. ‘More than you could ever know.’

‘Turn the desert all to glass Droppin' bombs on future's past Nothing left for us, shadows dancin' in the ash Turn the desert all to glass Droppin' bombs on future's past Nothing left

I let you down I've been clumsy with your heart again I guess you figured me out Now here's a taste of my own medicine And for all this pain, that I can't explain There's a black flag wavin' tonight You know I let you down (let you down) I've been clumsy with your heart again

Turn the desert all to glass Droppin' bombs on future's past Nothing left for us, shadows dancin' in the ash Turn the desert all to glass Droppin' bombs on future's past Nothing left for us, shadows dancin' in the ash’

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

Tagging: @jacksonroseroth

If you would like to be added to any of my future Rook fics, please feel free to let me know! ^-^

#rook cappelletty #jp cappelletty #MGK #fanfiction #Oneshot #Rook Cappelletty x Reader #jp cappelletty x reader #Machine Gun Kelly #Rookie needs more love #JP Cappelletty Oneshot #Rook Cappelletty Oneshot #JP 'Rook' Cappelletty #lyric oneshot #Clumsy by All Time Low

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