#and Emily being 'i can make him worse'
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In Defense of Wuthering Heights
This is not an “I can make him worse” book. It’s a “we can make each other better in the face of tremendous pressure to do otherwise” book. I promise.
I’ve already written extensively about my love for Charlotte Brontë’s Villette and while I love lots of other Brontë books with all my heart, what I really want to do tonight is try to make you fall in love with Emily’s Wuthering Heights (generally the most divisive Brontë novel among modern readers) the way that I did.
The thing that a lot of people don’t know which I really think ought to be printed on all the dust jackets is that the Brontë sisters were the daughters of a revered. They were PKs and it totally shows.
So Wuthering Heights is not a romance; it’s a family tragedy. Specifically, it’s an astonishingly hopeful book about generational trauma.
Heathcliff is Mr. Earnshaw’s bastard son. This is never explicitly stated, but it is implied so heavily that it might as well be. To boot, Mr. Earnshaw favors Heathcliff over his legitimate son, Hindley. When Mr. Earnshaw dies, Heathcliff is immediately and violently cast out of the family and forced into servitude. Mr. Earnshaw’s hidden infidelity is Wuthering Heights’s original sin.
Of course, Cathy and Heathcliff love each other, but it’s a violent and destructive like-recognizes-like kind of love between two people who, on the one hand, absolutely should not be together and, on the other, totally deserve each other. They’re capital T Tragic and capital R romantic: co-dependent, sharp-toothed sibling-lovers who don’t understand their own relationship as kids because their father lied to them. That lack of understanding follows them into adulthood; they don’t really know how to make sense of what they feel for one another, but boy do they feel it.
Cathy tells Nellie “I am Heathcliff” and “He’s more myself than I am” and “whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” and it’s half a reaction to the fact that one of her brothers (Hindley) has cast her other brother (Heathcliff) out of the family with a vengeance and half a statement of the fact that although she doesn’t know what Heathcliff is to her, she doesn’t know how to live without him. And while Cathy’s love for Heathcliff definitely fills romantic roles once they’re adults, it’s doesn’t really read as sexual. To use Lewis’s parlance: it’s not eros/gift-love, but rather need-love in the most emphatic sense. It’s storge. Actually, it’s really posessive storge that thinks it’s eros. Hence the problem.
From the other side, Heathcliff is an outsider from the moment he enters the story. He’s an intruder and a presumed bastard. He’s coded as non-white, maybe Romani or similar. (Probably not actually African-black, but kudos to that one movie for at least making the attempt.) He’s… probably kind of a psychopath in that he displays cruelty to animals and then later on becomes a charismatic, manipulative monster. You can make a nature vs. nurture argument—Heathcliff is definitely on the receiving end of a lot of cruelty—but there’s also something Off about him and that too is othering. And after Mr. Earnshaw dies, Cathy is the one person who still loves him.
But of course, they can’t actually marry. On and off the page, that simply cannot be. Heathcliff runs away, Cathy marries Edgar Linton. They hurt each other badly in the process. Neither Heathcliff nor Cathy can escape the harm that Mr. Earnshaw began and Hindley perpetuated. Cathy dies, Heathcliff marries Isabella, and then things get really interesting.
Because the beating heart of Wuthering Heights, the place where you can profoundly see the fingerprints of the reverend’s daughter, is in the third generation. Cathy and Heathcliff devour each other in life and in death, but the children survive. They forgive. The patriarch died without knowing what he had wrought on his children, the second generation died in anguish, but the third makes it out. Or at least Hareton and Cathy II do.
Cathy’s daughter is named for her mother. Heathcliff’s son by Isabella Linton is named Linton Heathcliff. Heathcliff forces Hareton, Hindley’s son and the only one among the third generation not named for his parents, to live in the same debasement that Hindley once forced on him: he denies Hareton any education and forces him into servitude while simultaneously courting his admiration. In essence, Cathy and Heathcliff implore the next generation to go on living their parents’ tragedy and it. Doesn’t. Work.
Heathcliff tries to force them both into awful situations in which they must act out his trauma, his revenge, to go on perpetuating the pain and bitterness. And at first, it looks like they’re going to play their parts. For a time, they’re as awful to each other as everyone else is.
But then they change. Hareton tries to stand up for Cathy II while she’s essentially being held captive as part of Heathcliff’s 12-Step Revenge Plot. Cathy teaches Hareton to read. She laughs at him, but when she realizes that she’s hurting his pride she apologizes and learns to be patient.
“I didn’t know you took my part,” she answered, drying her eyes; “and I was miserable and bitter at everybody; but now I thank you, and beg you to forgive me: what can I do besides?”
And after this, they both stand up to Heathcliff. They say, “This ends here. This far and no farther.” Heathcliff is their dragon and they face him together. And when everyone else is dead in grand, tragic fashion, Cathy II and Hareton are left living.
But it’s not just that Hareton and Cathy II survive. They specifically un-do the failings of the previous generations. There’s a kind of atonement to it. They’re honest with each other, unlike Mr. Earnshaw. Cathy recognizes Hareton’s humanity, something Hindley never did for Heathcliff. Hareton lets go of his bitterness and resentment, while Heathcliff let his fester into cruelty and Elaborate Revenge. Cathy II is willful, like her mother, but she is also kind. Hareton is proud, like his father, but he is also compassionate. They forgive each other, while Cathy and Heathcliff only ever held grudges.
At the beginning of the book, Cathy is dead and has explicitly not gone to heaven; with the Brontës, you’ve gotta take these things seriously. Cathy is not in heaven and Heathcliff is a monster and they both seem to be damned, but they do not succeed in damning their children. And in that (I would say because of that), even Cathy and Heathcliff find peace after death.
I also do think that the fact that the story is narrated by Lockwood (weirded out by all of this) and Nellie (unreliable, cares deeply about everyone involved) can make it difficult to see the redemptive arc in the story as clearly as we might if it had an omniscient narrator, or if, say Cathy II was narrating. We're presented the Cathy and Heathcliff love story as this great, horrible, compelling saga (and it absolutely is), but then the following generation can almost seem like a footnote. They're adapted out of most of the film adaptations. But they're the whole point!
I do get why Wuthering Heights just isn’t to some people’s taste. Really. Some people just don’t go for Big Romantic Family Tragedy and that’s fine. But too many people come to the Brontës looking for Jane Austen or Elizabeth Gaskell and that’s just. Wrong. You’ve gotta at least read Wuthering Heights on its own terms before deciding that you hate it (not directed at anyone specific on here, but I do know people irl...). And you really ought to read it with an eye towards Emily’s faith. It makes a world of difference.
TL;DR- There’s a beautiful, very Christian center to Wuthering Heights and it’s one of forgiveness instead of revenge and kindness instead of cruelty. It’s a book about people who are destroyed by the sins of their fathers and those that manage not to be. In a way, it’s almost a fairytale.
#this isn't an essay it's just a gush sesh i can write more coherently about this i promise#i have on multiple occasions#but wuthering heights is great and no one can convince me otherwise#the knitting circle is populated with a lot of Austen girlies and while I do love me some Austen it's always gotta be the Brontes for me#all three of them write in ways that cut right to the center of my soul#and while Charlotte is definitely my fave i think if Emily had lived longer and written more she absolutely could have been her sister's eq#equal#as it is Wuthering Heights is awesome any y'all (not anyone specific) need to stop making jokes about Charlotte being 'I can fix him'#and Emily being 'i can make him worse'#because if that's your take you have whizzed right by the point#also i took an austen and bronte class and i rewrote part of persuasion in the style of emily bronte and my prof thought it was awesome#just to toss that little bit in there#but even with that! austen and the brontes only really get grouped together because they're great British female writers#they are Very Different and that's Good#anyway#maybe i'll rant about Jane Eyre next#unquiet souls#literature makes us more human#pontifications and creations
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Something i find fun, if Adrien and Félix are sentimonsters, is Adrien's feather allergy. Aside from the dramatic irony.
An allergy is where the body incorrectly labels an object as a threat, and the immune system reacts, or even dangerously overreacts, in ways which could be threatening to the person it's trying to protect.
If Adrien is a senti, then he's made from a feather, that's his soul. His allergy is targeting something that is already part of his being and biology. That means it's not an allergy, it's an autoimmune disease.
Allergies are genetic, as are predispositions to autoimmune diseases, and Adrien and Félix are genetically identical, though we don't know if Félix shares his allergy. It's possible it hasn't been activated yet. His odds of developing this could be heightened by a bunch of factors; illnesses, food, sunlight.
I'm excited to see if he'll share it or not, if being around duusu will be good for him (someone who understands, to befriend and vent to like Plagg is for Adrien) or bad for him (y'know, a health hazard).
Adrien having an autoimmune disease, maybe he's on immunosuppressants, maybe he's not. I think that could further explain some of Gabriel's actions, not justify them but make them make a little more sense.
After all, the feathers are in the rings, maybe that's a small part of why he hasn't been given his yet. Maybe it's part of why Gabriel has so little physical contact with him, he could give his kid a rash or worse.
If your kid has a weakened immune system and your wife is dying or gone, trying to keep that kid inside, reducing his and your own contact with people, especially other kids - because kids spread diseases like wild fire. I get it. It makes me feel really bad for them. Adrien doesn't even understand what his father's protectiveness is about, besides just losing Emilie. And Gabriel can't even begin to have that conversation with him without everything coming out. About why his feather allergy is such a big deal, about papillon and his wife.
Anyway I'm just thinking about how he ended up letting him go to school. About how he let Nino give him a party but absolutely would've been advising for it to be outside in the open air rather than letting a load of strange children into his clean house.
He really wasn't that bad of a dad at the start. But Nathalie's right, he's getting worse and worse. And I'm worried about how he'll cope and what he'll do without her, now that Adrien is the only close person to him that he has left. Beyond whatevers going on with Tomoe anyway.
#i dont like villains who are evil because theyre evil. theres always logic and understanding behind it#and i like how with miraculous you only need a few hcs for the villains to make sense and be human#chloe and lila are messed up from the absense of their parents. chloes spoilt and lonely#and lilas learnt she can manipulate her way to whatever she wants because her parents dont care enough to check. shes lonely too#and she gets rewarded everytime her manipulation works in her favour. its why she keeps doing it.#she makes friends the only way she knows how when she feels so different being constantly uprooted and neglected#félix has his life and freedom under threat. hes been working from the start to free himself#all while watching lb & cn destroy his kin everyweek. as his uncle controls his brother and keeps making new sentis to be sent to die#and gabriels the kind of person who simply cannot be trusted to hold power alone. and fundementally misunderstands other people#he doesnt know how to empathise and now he wields an emotion detecting miraculous he never needs to try.#its making him more and more self centred as his confidence is continuely knocked by children and time continues to pass without emilie#and hes managed to find a way to become even more alone#and nathalie just wants to do her best by the agrestes because shes come to love this family as if it were her own#and now shes realised enabling gabriel has only made things worse for everyone involved#i just. i like that stuff where theres logic beyond revenge on an accident or just sheer malice#where there isnt one root of all evil character#ml spoilers#ml s5e2 spoilers#ml s5e1 spoilers#evolution spoilers#multiplication spoilers#sentimonster theory#dont come at me to tell me im enabling abusers or being ableist or something okay#i literally have an autoimmune disease. i literally had 5 diseases at once last week.#i hate crowds and im crushingly lonely living in the closet at my parents#i will kin adrien and shove headcanons on him with hope itll end happily when they win as much as i please and you cannot stop me#hes immunosuppressed too i just called it ive manifested it get absolutely fucked#i wanna go to school/work and make friends and gain the courage to slowly claim back my identity for myself#and i will live that through a fictional 15 year old cat boy if i want. fight me.#own post
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I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭
—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k
Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor.
Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch.
They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now.
“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.”
You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere.
“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.”
He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.
He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless.
But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.
“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.
He has to calm you down.
Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it.
He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory.
“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly.
You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.”
“Did you want the straw?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?”
“Yeah.”
You can’t be blamed for short answers.
There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways.
When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods.
Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead.
He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed.
“Lean back, beautiful,” he says.
Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask.
“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.”
Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him.
“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly.
You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes.
You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t.
“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours.
His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand.
“Please don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically.
He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now.
#spencer and bombshell reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Stress Relief
Summary: When Reader complains about back pain, Spencer offers a massage. Things escalate.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a little bit of awkwardness, massages, implied hand kink, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex
Word Count: 3k
Masterlist
It wasn't the first time your team had to double up in a hotel while working on a case but you had never ended up being paired with your favorite coworker before. When you stepped into the room after a long day of trying to save lives, you suddenly realized something.
Spencer was right behind you when he saw it too, mumbling an almost inaudible, "Oh."
Oh.
There was only one bed.
The receptionist had already let you know that they were completely overbooked, so switching to a different room was no option.
Spencer was quick to offer solutions as he started rambling, "I know Morgan said he wouldn't share a room with me but maybe he'll change his mind if I explain this to him?"
"Don't you think it's more likely he'll tease us? Besides, that would leave me with Hotch and I'd rather share a bed with you than with my boss."
Spencer shrugged and mumbled, "I always liked to double up with Emily. I wonder why she insisted on sharing a room with JJ."
You looked at him with raised eyebrows and a smirk on your face. "Yeah, who knows!"
You did know but Spencer was as oblivious as ever. If he was really that bad at seeing what was right in front of him, there was at least a chance that he hadn't yet caught onto your feelings for him either. You really hoped that tonight any improper thoughts you had would be drowned out by the exhaustion slowly taking over your body.
"I can sleep on the floor," Spencer voiced his final offer.
You shook your head in protest. "The bed is big enough for the both of us."
With that it was settled, you were going to share a bed with the man who had been occupying your mind an almost embarrassing amount. Spencer, however, had never once shown any signs that he reciprocated your growing feelings for him. So instead of addressing them, you decided to simply suffer in silence until they'd pass.
When he stepped into the bathroom to get ready for the night, you couldn't stop your mind from racing to fantasies far from being appropriate. It didn't help to hear him turning on the shower because now all you could think about was tearing your own clothes off to join him. Somehow you managed to keep your composure - for now at least.
Spencer looked absolutely adorable with his washed-out Caltech shirt and checkered pajama pants, so much so that you took several seconds to blatantly stare at him when he came back into the room. It caused him to look down at his body to make sure that everything was in place.
“Sorry, you just look really… cute like that,” you muttered to help with his confused look.
A slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks at your compliment and he looked at you as if he wasn’t quite sure if you were making fun of him. But of course your words were genuine.
As you gathered your things to go take a shower yourself, you snickered, “It’s a shame that outfit probably wouldn’t pass the FBI dress code.”
He took a book out of his bag and sat down on one side of the bed, chuckling, “Yeah, it definitely would not pass.”
The shower helped clear your mind and you were positive that you’d be able to go to sleep without any other distractions. As you approached the bed in your usual nightwear - a tanktop and some colorful shorts - it became obvious that Spencer was even worse at hiding his staring than you were.
“It’s weird, right?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. “Seeing each other in casual clothes, I mean.”
Without saying a word he just nodded before focussing back on his book again. As you leaned against the headboard of the bed you noticed something that had been bothering you all day. Your back was aching and your shoulders were painfully tense. You stretched your arms over your shoulders before you reached back to massage some tender spots on your neck.
“You okay?” Spencer asked as he turned his head to watch you.
“Yeah, it’s just my back pain. I slept weird last night and I have been sitting at my desk too much those past few days,” you explained.
To your surprise, he offered, “Maybe I could help?”
Before you could consider what feeling his hands against your body would do to you, you replied, “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.”
You readjusted your position until you sat cross-legged on the bed with your back facing your roommate for the night. Spencer set aside his book and sat behind you, tentatively putting his palms on your shoulders. The heat his body radiated entered your body and lit a spark inside you that you desperately tried to ignore.
When he began pressing his fingertips into the tense muscles of your shoulders and neck, you instantly became pliable under his touch. The places he touched were innocent but that didn’t change the fact that a familiar warmth spread through your body and collected in your center.
There was no way to hold back the shy moan from falling from your lips when he found a particularly tender spot.
He halted his motions to ask, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, it just feels really good,” you breathed.
“That’s nice to hear,” he cooed in the softest tone you’d ever heard from him. “You deserve to feel good.”
Those last couple of words echoed in your mind before you could grasp what they meant. It was that moment that you asked yourself if the innocent and shy Spencer Reid was trying to flirt with you.
To distract yourself, you decided to talk to him - unaware what colossal mistake that was going to be.
“So, where did you learn how to give back rubs?”
Nonchalantly as ever, he responded, “I read a book about it a few years ago.”
“You read a book about massages?”
The breath he let out at your question tickled the skin of your shoulders and you broke out in goosebumps. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice.
“Well, it was about tantric practices and there was a very interesting chapter about… uhm… full-body massages,” he explained, not helping with your current situation at all.
It was getting almost impossible for you to form coherent sentences, even more so when Spencer continued talking.
“Are you interested in that?”
Almost jumping at his words, you blurted out, “In getting a full-body massage?!”
“No!” Spencer laughed. “In reading the book!”
Before you could respond, you felt his hands wander down your back, lightly rubbing over your shirt. It was getting harder to focus with every second passing, too overwhelming became the need to feel more of him.
“I’ll think about it,” you finally responded.
Spencer’s fingertips brushed over your lower back, way too lightly to find any tight spots and you were wondering if he was trying to tease you at this point.
His words brought you back to reality. “I can continue with my massage if you want but uhm.. your shirt is getting in the way.”
Without thinking about it, you stated, “I’m not wearing a bra.”
“I know,” Spencer chuckled. “I won’t look, I promise. Just lay down on your stomach.”
The feeling of his hands on your body had left your skin tingling and you were yearning to feel it again. So without questioning his intentions or making sure his eyes were really closed, you took off your top and lay down on the mattress. Spencer kneeled beside you and began working his skilled fingers over your entire back.
Any tightness from tired muscles slowly left your body but you felt another kind of tension growing in your core. When Spencer grazed the waistband of your shorts with his fingertips, a sigh escaped your throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he kept massaging you until there was no patch of skin on your back left unattended to.
The second time he brushed over your waistband gave away that he was doing it on purpose. For a moment you thought that he might slip his hands right beneath it to descend further down your body. That thought caused you to unwillingly press your thighs tightly together to soothe the aching between your legs.
Spencer must have noticed it, too, because he audibly let out a breath right at that moment. His hands were still on your back when a quiet moan left your mouth and you noticed that your hips had started moving ever so slightly, desperate to find some friction. You weren’t sure if Spencer had been watching you doing that until you halted those tiny motions.
“Don’t stop,” he purred. “You look so pretty like this.”
You turned your head enough to see him from the corners of your eyes. The hardness straining against his pajama pants was impossible to ignore but even more intriguing was the smirk spread over his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark and filled with lust. Seeing him like this suddenly let any restraint you had left vanish.
“Please, Spencer,” you begged him to keep going.
One of his hands found the side of your face to brush a strand of hair aside. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your heated cheek before he whispered, “Tell me exactly what you want.”
Spencer’s hands were all you could think about. Every fiber of your body was longing for him and you felt like you might combust if he didn’t grant you relief anytime soon.
“Please continue and… go lower.”
In an instant his hands were on your backside, greedily grabbing your soft flesh through your shorts.
“Like that?” Spencer groaned.
You tilted your hips to press your butt against his hands and slowly opened your thighs before you whimpered, “Lower.”
As his fingertips wandered over your thighs you felt how your arousal began soaking through the fabric of your panties. His hands dared to move underneath your shorts, grazing along the apex of your thigh. It was not enough to soothe your aching but enough to drive you wild.
You moaned out his name before whining, “Take them off, please.”
“You’re so cute when you get all desperate,” he chuckled in response.
There was no more teasing then. When he finally grabbed the waistband of your shorts, you immediately lifted your hips so he could pull them down together with your panties. He reached between your thighs to finally touch you where you were burning for him.
The realization of how aroused you were let a groan escape his mouth. His fingertips glided through your folds before focussing on your most sensitive spot while he purred, "You're so fucking wet."
It was the first time you had ever heard him use a curse word, the sound of such crude language shooting through you like lightning. All your senses were on edge, you couldn't think about anything else but him.
The sensation of his fingers moving over your sensitive pearl was somehow too much and not enough at the same time. You hadn't realized that you were grinding your hips against his hand until his words brought you back to reality for a moment.
"You deserve to feel so, so good. Let me take care of you."
At that you point you weren't even sure what you were begging for when an almost silent "Please," made it past your lips. Spencer, however, seemed to understand. He let two of his digits enter you, finding no resistance from your body. As soon as you felt him inside you, you couldn't help but clench around him.
Slowly he began working his fingers against tight muscles at an angle that made you almost lose your mind. There was no more holding back the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips, so you buried your face into the pillow to muffle your moans.
You felt Spencer's free hand brushing over your hair while he whispered, "Don't hide those sounds from me. I want to hear you."
With that you turned your head to the side again, just enough to be able to see his beautiful face. His smile was too much for you to handle, so you decided to close your eyes instead.
The room filled with your moans and mewls and the sound of his hand relentlessly moving against your wet center. Within just a few minutes you were dancing along the edge of euphoria. Spencer noticed that, too.
"You're doing so good," he praised you. "Let go for me, sweet girl."
You felt him moving over your swollen nub one more time before your body began to tremble beneath him. He helped you ride out your high with a few more skillful motions before he lay down right beside you.
When he found your eyes, he whispered, "You okay?"
Instead of answering him, you grabbed his wrist to bring his fingers to your lips. They were still coated with your essence when you took them in your mouth to suck them clean. Spencer stared at you in disbelief, almost as if he was witnessing some kind of miracle.
You could still taste yourself on your tongue when you found his lips in a hungry kiss. He didn't waste any time to reciprocate your enthusiasm, his tongue meeting yours as the two of you melted into one another. There was no space allowed between the two of you, with your chest pressed hard enough against his you could feel his accelerated heartbeat.
His palms began wandering over your exposed skin as if he'd never have enough of touching you. Your hand became curious as well, moving underneath the hem of his shirt to finally feel him without any barrier. It wasn't enough though, you needed all of him.
With joined forces you rid him of his clothes and took a moment to take in the beauty of the man in front of you. As your eyes locked once more you found the sweetest smile spread over his face.
"You're so pretty," you breathed before kissing him again.
"And you're so beautiful," he mumbled against your lips.
His hardness was pressed firmly against your thigh and you could already feel the tip leaking onto your skin. A sneaky hand found its way between your bodies to touch him. Your fingertips found soft curls at the base of him before wrapping around his shaft. He felt hot and heavy in your palm and you noticed him twitching when you began moving your hand.
Spencer gasped into your mouth once you reached his tip and his whole body quivered when you let your thumb swipe over it. Your kiss was interrupted by him panting against your face as you sped up your motions.
"Look at who is getting desperate now," you teased him.
He already seemed lost in the pleasure when he whimpered, "Feels so good."
Your hand left his erection to push against his shoulder until he was lying on his back while you snickered, "You know what would feel even better?"
As you began straddling his hips, Spencer's hands flew to your waist.
He still needed reassurance before he let you continue. "Are you sure about this?"
You nodded and promised, “I want you Spencer.”
"I want you, too. More than you can imagine."
With your hand around his cock you lifted your hips to guide him to your entrance. As you sank down on him, Spencer moaned out your name. You took your time, relishing the sensation of him slowly stretching you open. Once he was fully inside, you could feel his heartbeat deep within you.
As you began grinding your hips against him, his hands moved from your waist to your breasts to caress your soft curves.
“You have no idea how long I have wanted you,” Spencer sighed.
You leaned down to find him in a kiss before you whispered against his mouth, "You have me now. I'm yours."
His hips began moving in perfect synchronicity with yours as you chased the sweet relief together. When you began moving faster, Spencer suddenly gripped your hips to halt your motions.
"I'm so close. Slow down," he whined with desperation clearly audible in his voice.
That didn't slow you down, though. Instead you purred, "Me, too," and kept going. Spencer threw his head back into the pillows and sang your praise in the form of his moans. You tried to hold on just a little bit longer, not to torture him but because you didn't want it to end yet.
When one of his hands descended from your hip to where your bodies were joined, you knew that it wouldn't be long now. He began drawing small circles with his thumb around your little bud, throwing you over the edge within a few seconds. Once he felt your walls pulsing around him, he let go himself.
Each of your twitches was answered by him throbbing inside you, sharing his essence with you until he had nothing left to give. Spencer welcomed you inside his arms as you collapsed on top of him with a racing heart and lungs longing for air.
You stayed connected for as long as physically possible but once he was soft, you felt him slowly slipping out of you together with the mixed evidence of your shared desire. Spencer insisted on helping you clean up the mess between your legs and was quick to get a damp towel from the bathroom.
Watching him carefully rid you of any remaining stickiness somehow felt even more intimate than anything you had done before. Neither of you bothered to put clothes back on, instead you cuddled up under the comforter together to savor the sensation of having each other near.
When you thought back to what led you into Spencer's arms earlier tonight, you couldn't hold back your giggles.
"Maybe I should read that book you mentioned."
"You can, if you want," Spencer chuckled before he began kissing along your neck. When he found your ear, he whispered, "I'd much rather show you everything it says, though."
Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds smut
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If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.
A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?
This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.
Part 2
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Spencer's POV
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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them.
It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.
And this time, it's Hotch's fault.
Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.
"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."
No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.
But me? I wasn't excited at all.
Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.
Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.
Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.
But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.
"Boy genius! Over here!"
Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.
"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.
"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.
"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.
"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"
Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.
I wince, remembering the incident in question.
Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.
"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.
I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-
"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.
That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.
Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.
Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.
But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.
"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.
"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.
"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.
"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."
Derek rolls his eyes.
"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.
"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.
"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.
"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"
I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.
"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"
I'm screwed.
I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.
As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.
"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."
How the fuck can he do that?!
The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?
That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.
"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.
"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.
And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.
He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.
"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.
Why is she looking at me from head to toe?
Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.
"I'm Spencer," I wave.
Short and precise.
"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.
As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.
"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.
Oh, Lord. Help me.
I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.
"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.
"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.
Ashley's smile suggests it does.
"It is. Are you having fun?"
No.
"Yes! A lot! Are you?"
"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.
Is she flirting with me?
I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.
A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.
"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.
My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.
"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."
Okay. That sounds very straightforward.
I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.
Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.
I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.
"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"
Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.
As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.
Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.
Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.
When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.
As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.
"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."
Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.
"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."
I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.
Fuck. She is choking.
I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.
At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.
Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.
Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.
A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.
Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.
"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"
Ironically, I'm speechless now.
What is wrong with talking about oysters?
"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.
The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.
"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-"
She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"
"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.
"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.
I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this?
Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.
I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"
The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.
I don't even know how I should feel.
I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.
With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.
"Don't say it," I cut him off.
"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.
Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.
"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.
"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."
I look at him in disbelief.
"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"
"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"
I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.
"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."
It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.
"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.
"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.
Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around.
If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.
My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.
I know her. I've seen her before.
Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.
My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.
Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.
After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.
With that in mind, I approach her.
She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.
She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.
It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago.
And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.
Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.
My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.
"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.
"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."
She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.
"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."
Now, it's my turn to frown.
"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"
Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.
"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.
"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"
Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.
"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"
She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.
"It's just the right thing to do."
She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.
"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."
Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.
"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "
It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.
"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.
"Spencer," I supply. She hums.
"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.
I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.
Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.
"Uh, well. Thank you again..."
I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.
"(Y/N)," she says.
"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."
With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.
"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.
"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."
Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.
"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."
I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.
"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.
"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."
A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers."
I chuckle at her choice of words.
Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.
"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.
"Uh, are you from Quantico?"
"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."
I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"
"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.
"Wow. The one and only BAU."
"You know us?"
"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."
She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.
"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."
(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.
"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.
"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."
"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."
She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.
"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.
Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.
"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"
"Sure."
"Why are you here tonight?"
My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?
"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.
"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."
If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now.
She assumes my awe as discomfort.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."
"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.
"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.
"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"
An amused laugh leaves her lips.
"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing.
I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question."
I didn't, although the answer is simple.
"My boss made me."
(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.
"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"
Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.
"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."
I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.
She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.
"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.
"That's why are you here tonight, too?"
My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.
"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"
(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.
"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."
Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.
"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.
"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."
I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.
"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."
I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.
"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.
"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.
"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.
"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."
"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.
"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.
"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."
Spencer Reid. Is that you?
I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.
"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.
"I won't. I promise."
-
Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.
The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.
She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.
Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.
It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.
We sit on a bench facing each other.
A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.
"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.
"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."
I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.
"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.
"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"
Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.
"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"
I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.
"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"
She chuckles, nodding.
"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.
(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could.
That's how she met her boyfriend.
"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."
I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.
"What happened?"
"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."
A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.
"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."
(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.
"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."
(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.
"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.
"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.
"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."
Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.
"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.
"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."
"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.
"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."
Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.
She bitterly chuckles.
"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."
Spencer, do something.
"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."
And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.
"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.
"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.
"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.
"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.
I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.
"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.
"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.
"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."
I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.
Thank you, BAU.
"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.
"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.
"Non yet," I grin.
Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.
The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.
I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.
When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.
"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.
"Of course. It's the less I could do."
And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.
"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.
I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.
"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.
"You are welcome."
I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.
"See you around?"
(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.
"Yeah, sure. Why not."
I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.
"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.
"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.
I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.
Part 2
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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid#amanda perry williams#aperrywilliams#spencer reid fic#spencer reid one shot
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Please just the team telling r about HOW MUCH OF A SOFT SPOT AARON HAS FOR THEM like god he’s literally such a grouch to Morgan and prentiss but he kisses the ground you walk on and they’re like BESTIE GET A GRIP HES WRAPPED AROJND YOUR FINGER bc reader is convinced he doesn’t share their feelings and he’s just being polite </3
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
“Guys, please stop. You’re giving me false hope,” you sighed, dropping your hands on your lap. “I know you’re only trying to make me feel better, but honestly this is making me feel worse.”
“False hope? Sweetheart, the man is in love with you,” Derek said.
“No, he’s not.” You pouted.
You regretted ever telling your friends about your crush on Hotch. What you expected was them making fun of you for it. What you got were daily lectures on how your boss had the hots for you.
“He makes you coffee every single morning,” Emily pointed out.
“He’s just being polite!” you argued.
“We arrive here at the same time every day and he has never made one for me.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this,” you said. “Maybe he thinks you won’t like it the way he makes it. But he knows I do, so that’s why he only does it for me.”
“Okay…” Derek spoke again. His eyebrow was raised, showing he had a very good point to add. “What about when you got hurt last week? It was only a scratch on your cheek but Hotch was ready to drive you to a hospital.”
“Now you’re exaggerating!”
“I saw him cupping your cheeks, it’s true!” Emily exclaimed.
“I also saw that,” Spencer, who had just been observing the conversation, added.
“You too, Spence?”
“Sorry.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “I’m only pointing out what I saw.”
You crossed your arms against your chest. There was no way you’d let them get to you. If you let your heart believe that Aaron had feelings for you then it would break even harder. “He’s like this with all of us.”
Emily moved close to you and took your hand in hers. “No, he’s not,” she said with a smile. “How can you not see it? He looks at you like you’re his sun and stars.”
“We could have an experiment,” Spencer suggested.
“What kind of experiment?”
“Emily got yelled at yesterday for making a mistake during paperwork,” he explained. “I can see you’re preparing a similar report today so you could make on purpose the same mistake as her. Let’s see if he reacts the same way when he sees it. If he yells at you too then that means he treats you the same way he treats all of us. If he doesn’t…then you’re his soft spot.”
“Fine,” you agreed. “Only so you can all finally stop torturing me with this.”
A few hours later, your report was on Hotch’s desk.
“Y/N?”
You heard your name in that warm voice of his and lifted your head to look at him. He was standing at his office door with a smile, certainly not looking like a man about to start yelling.
“Can you please come to my office for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Walking up the stairs to his office, you could feel the stares of your colleagues. Time to prove them wrong, you thought. Even though, you were secretly praying for the opposite.
“What do you need me for?” you acted naive.
“I was just looking at your report,” he said, sitting down on his chair. “And-”
“Oh no, did I make a mistake?”
“No, it’s nothing important!” he rushed to reassure you. “It’s just some little thing. I only wanted to show you so you know the correct way to do it from now on.”
There was a sweet smile on his face. His voice was soft and not at all angry.
“Come on, let me show you.”
It didn’t feel scary to go close to him. So you did.
It was a bit hard to pay attention to him explaining your mistake, since you were staring at his fingers brushing the paper in front of you. It didn’t matter anyway, your mistake wasn’t an accident at all.
“Okay?” he asked when he was done.
“Okay. I’m really sorry, Hotch,” you said, giving him your best puppy eyes. If you were gonna do this experiment, you were gonna do it right. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“Why don’t you come to my office next time you prepare a report like this one? We can do it together, hm?”
“But you’re so busy, I don’t wanna slow you down,” you argued, your heart beating faster and faster as you realized that Aaron wasn’t angry at all with you.
“Nonsense. We’re doing it together next time.”
“Okay,” you said. “Thank you, Hotch.”
Just before you arrived at the door, you heard him calling your name. “Oh and Y/N?”
“Yeah?” you responded, looking back at him.
“The team is right.”
“Right on what?”
He smirked and dropped his gaze back to his papers. “You know what.”
You turned around to exit his office with a huge grin on your face. Sometimes it feels better when you lose.
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what if I read to you?
[spencer reid x reader]
summary: you take care of your stubborn boyfriend.
pairing: s.reid x gn!reader
w.c: 1K
warnings/content: discussions about migraines and insomnia; taking care of a loved one; some hurt/comfort; forgive me for grammar errors.
navi
masterpost
cm masterlist
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He's been squinting and pressing his thumb against his temple since this morning. No. Not since this morning, actually since the beginning of the week. You keep your thoughts to yourself, you're not one to impose, you've seen how it is to be on the receiving end of his annoyance and you had the advantage of not having that as an experience.
But you're worried.
He has mentioned his migraines once and you tried to speak about it again but he was fast to brush you off. It's not that bad. It's okay. You know it's not. You just wish he could let you take care of him for once.
“You listening to me or am I talking to a wall?”
Your eyes snap to the side, where Derek is giving you a knowing look. You were discussing the blood splatters on the floor from the latest crime scene when Spencer entered your line of sight. He went outside to make a phone call, Hotch probably, to update the new findings and as soon as it finished, he pressed a thumb against the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes.
That's it.
“Sorry, Derek,” you say, forcing yourself to pay attention to your current duty. “What were you saying?”
“Is everything okay?”
You bite the inner part of your cheek, crossing your arms across your chest. “Yes. It's— I mean. No.” He patiently waits for you to elaborate, acknowledging the concern lacing over your features. “Derek, can you handle it? I'll call Emily—”
“It's okay,” he gives your shoulder a soft squeeze. “Go ahead. If you need me, just call, yeah?” You know he decides on letting his worry slide for now but he will be pulling you aside later to talk. It's his thing. At least he doesn't ask you to explain now.
You nod with a smile. You quickly text Emily to back you up on your way downstairs. Spencer is coming up the porch when you step outside, the harsh wind causes his strands to slap his face and you remember when he mentioned he needed a haircut.
You brush his hair behind his ear, smiling up at him.
“Hi, genius. Windy day, huh?”
He mumbles a soft yes while leaning into your touch. You enjoy the feeling while you can before you have to poke the bear.
“Do you have the car keys?”
“Yeah.” He says, stealing a look upstairs. “Are we good to go back to the station? Where's Derek?”
“Still taking a look upstairs.” You withdraw your hands, burying them in your jacket's pocket. “Spencer, they're getting worse, aren't they?” You cut to the chase because you just can't handle anymore.
He blinks up at you, you see a flash of shame travel through his eyes before he can mask it and walk past you, mumbling an excuse of not understanding what you're talking about.
“You're not a very good liar, sweetheart.”
“I'm fine.”
“You can stop convincing yourself of that, Spencer.” You say, rolling your eyes. “Give me the car keys, please.” You outreach your palm, unfazed by the glare he's sending your way. It doesn't affect you. When he doesn't move, you let out a huff. “Do I have to get it out of you? ‘Cause I will.”
“I need to finish the geographical profile.”
“You did that this morning.”
“What if we have a new lead?”
You take the key he's begrudgingly giving you and unlock the car. Spencer is on your tail, listing off disadvantages of going back to the hotel before delivering the profile and how irresponsible it would be. When you cut him off by saying that he's the one being irresponsible for working in the field with a migraine, he enters the car without another word.
He's grumpy when he walks in to your shared hotel room, but you could see how his shoulders relaxed upon seeing a bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, rubbing a hand around his face.
You carefully drop the keys from hotel room on the nightstand as to not bother him with unnecessary noise.
“You should take a nap.” Sleep the rest of the day, you meant. But he was too stubborn to accept otherwise.
“The pain comes back when I try to sleep.”
Your brows furrow as you sat down beside him, rubbing his back. He lowers his cheek to your shoulder with a resigned breath. That's his way of saying he's tired.
“What if I read to you?” Your eyes lit up. It helped you a ton of times. Not that his reading bored you, but his voice was soothing enough that it brought you to sleep. “You did it to me a few times, worked like a charm.”
Spencer offers you a weak nod. The two of you get comfortable in bed, legs intertwined and you wrap your right arm around him so he would be able to lean onto the space between your shoulder and your chest.
Knowing he wouldn't take any painkillers, you tell him you'd make him some tea when you get home, which would probably be tomorrow if the case doesn't turn out to have any surprises.
You pick up the book you always carry with you, The Secret History, and begin reading the first page of the first chapter.
His cold nose is tucked into your neck while his arm is wrapped around your waist when he says, “i love this sentence: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all cost. It has a nice ring to it.”
“It does.” You agree, distractedly playing with the baby hairs in the nape of his neck. “I like the way she plays with words, her writing is almost like music.”
Your boyfriend hums into your skin, and you feel him start to drift off to sleep once his comments have diminished little by little. When you look down, Spencer is peacefully sleeping with none of that crease in the middle of his forehead he's had the entire week. A relief.
You lean down to kiss his temple and go back to reading your book, adjusting it in both hands now as the lamp in the nightstand illuminated the pages. Finally, he was getting some good rest.
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taglist: @lilyviolets
#reader insert#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x gn!reader#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid fluff
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hi red !! i'm sending through a rec for your climacteric event hehehehe <3
spencer reid x fem!reader with the colour prompts red 1 ("You're bleeding."), green 2 ("You're safe here, I promise."), and purple 1 ("You know you're my best friend, right?") please? LOVE YOU LOADS RAHHHH
SCARECROWS [CLIMACTERIC]
1. “You’re bleeding.”
2. “You’re safe here, I promise.”
1. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”
WARNINGS: reader injury, blood duh, mentions of being stabbed <3
spencer reid x reader || hurt/comfort || 1.6k || event page!!
a/n: you adding the direct quotes made my job so much easier in finding them rip 😭 thanks for the request ml <333
main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!
Sometimes you wondered why you joined the FBI.
If by making one different decision you’d be in a completely different career in a different part of the country with a husband and children living in a two story house with a white picket fence.
Spencer would probably fill you in on the butterfly effect, how a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the trajectory of the wind and spin into a tornado, or in your case, leave you stranded and unarmed in an overgrown cornfield with your only company being the crows flying overhead.
It was arguably, definitely, your fault, but what were you supposed to do when the unsub was running off into the night after you’d finally tracked him down.
He’d slipped under the radar for too long, you weren’t going to let it happen again.
Though you weren’t going to lie, you were starting to regret not waiting for the rest of the team.
How were you supposed to know that the welfare check you were sent on would turn into a chase?
They were twelve minutes out last time you checked. You didn’t have signal anymore, who knew how close they were now.
All you knew was that you were a sitting duck with an empty magazine in an unfamiliar location with a light level so low you could barely see your own feet.
You’d lost the unsub a good few minutes ago, and you weren’t about to stand around with nothing to protect yourself with, so you started running back the way you came, hopeful that it would bring you out back at the farmhouse, with floodlights and a phone signal.
You weren’t that lucky.
You never were.
—
“Oh my god—“ Emily sounds like she’s seen a ghost as she cups her left hand over her mouth, her right lowering to her side until her gun is limply resting in her fingers.
Her face is a mix of relief, astonishment and absolute horror, and as the team follow her gaze they mirror one by one until the whole group is frozen in abject shock.
You were alive, thank god, but you were also stumbling backwards out of the corn field like a final girl in a horror movie, completely disheveled and torn up with your attention completely focused on the rows of stalks in front of you like you were afraid something was going to pop out and finish you off.
The sight was enough for Spencer to feel like he was going to throw up his stomach, although whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t exactly sure.
Either way he was pocketing his gun and practically sprinting in your direction the second he got a full view of you, no care for what you were running from in his mind whatsoever.
At least you were okay.
“Hey-” His hand barely grazes over your shoulder before your instincts kick in and you swing your elbow outwards with the intent of sending it straight into his face.
It hits him directly underneath his nose, sending his neck back sharply to stop any worse injury occurring under the force of your arm.
It doesn’t deter him though, and he doesn’t so much as even cover his nose from the pain as he takes your arms in his hands to swivel you in his direction so that you can see that you aren’t in danger.
“Hey- Hey, it’s just me you’re okay, you’re safe here I promise,”
The flicker of absolute terror in your eyes makes him swear his heart is going to shatter, and even as he watches it fizzle out under the realisation that he wasn’t someone to be afraid of that small pit in his stomach didn’t disappear.
You looked bad.
Your hands were grazed and raw, you were covered in mud, half of your shirt had been ripped from the hem and tied around your left thigh — presumably as some sort of makeshift bandage, and you were so much paler than you usually were, all of the colour completely drained from your face until you looked almost translucent under the mix of moonlight and blared foglights.
“You’re bleeding— Did I do that? I’m sorry—” You reach up your hand towards and he swerves to take it in his own with a shake of his head, clasping his fingers gently around your shaking palms, careful not to irritate the angry red covering them.
“Don’t worry about me, are you okay? What happened?” His eyes roam anxiously over your frame, lingering specifically on the torn piece of fabric around your thigh that is slowly but surely turning from a charcoal grey to a dark maroon the longer you stand talking.
“I- He ran and- and I followed him and then I lost him and- I don’t- He doubled back on me and I didn’t-” Half of the words coming out of your mouth were almost completely incoherent, and he could see your pupils refusing to dilate even under the direct beam of one of the SUVs’ headlights.
“Okay okay, calm down, take a breath for a second,” Spencer gives your arms a small squeeze to cut off your attempt at an explanation, glancing over your shoulder where the team is still grouped together, with Morgan and Hotch on the phone — presumably for an ambulance and some backup respectively— and the others watching you cautiously, unsure whether they should join in on Spencer’s examination of your health.
“How did you hurt your leg?” You follow Spencer’s gaze downwards towards your thigh, and it’s like the second your eyes recognise what it is you completely loose control of all of your motor functions from waist down.
“Woah—” Spencer takes the sudden change in your weight distribution in his stride, or at least he tries to, shifting his arms underneath your armpits to stop you from hitting the ground underneath you and supporting your weight with his own as he stumbles a few steps backwards. “Guys—”
Emily is at your side immediately, alleviating some of your weight onto herself so the two of them can hold you upright.
“He had a weapon…” You wince under the searing pain in your leg, the adrenaline wearing off fast and hard now that your body knows it’s no longer in danger.
“What kind of weapon?” The concern seeps from Spencer’s voice to soak into your skin, leaving your heart to accelerate under the knowledge that you were injured bad.
“A uh… fork, like a gardening fork… He stabbed me with it…” Although more coherent now, your voice was slowly fading into small mutters and whispers, like the exhaustion in your body was catching up to your mind and making even your tongue too languished to move. “I’m really tired…”
“Hey no- not yet-” Emily shakes her head with a conviction. “There’s an ambulance on the way, you have to stay awake until then,”
“But…”
“Emily‘s right, stay awake you’ll be fine,” Spencer sounds like he’s more trying to convince himself than you as him and Emily support your weight back towards the cluster of SUVs, and the added weight of your head resting against his shoulder doesn’t help his anxiety whatsoever. “Hey, come on…”
He lifts his shoulder slightly to shift your head and you let out a soft noise of discontentment. “I’m awake I’m awake, just conserving my energy…”
“Just keep your eyes open okay?”
You give him a small hum as the two of them sit you down on the hood of one of the cars, and Emily leaves you in Spencer’s care to check with Morgan on the arrival of the ambulance.
“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” You turn your head a little further into Spencer’s shoulder as he becomes the sole pillar of your support, blinking slowly in an attempt to keep your eyes open.
“Don’t say that to me right now,” He shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, a dark line forming between his eyes as the skin pinches together in his worry.
“But you are though,”
“You can remind me of that after you’re in the hospital,”
“I hate hospitals,” You let out a small, fatigued huff, rolling your eyes at the prospect. “I’m gonna be in there for god knows how long and I just wanna find this guy before he hurts anyone else…”
“Well, he has hurt you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Spencer’s tone contradicts itself between concern and relief. You’re alive, but you’re not in good shape. “We need to make sure that you’re okay before anything else,”
And in an act of holy divination — or just coincidence if Spencer was concerned — right as he mentions making sure that you’re okay the blaring lights of the called ambulance come into view, joined by a shrill, sharp ring that seems to echo over the field.
You all but hobble over to it once it’s parked, successful only in the fact that Spencer is actually supporting more of your weight than you were.
At least he stays by your side the entire time.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#mgg#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#climacteric 🪶
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Favorite | L.M.
summary: Ever since God created Adam and Lilith, Lucifer has been visiting Earth more often. You decided it was time to do something about it.
pairing: Archangel! Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim!Reader
includes: heavy angst, fluff at the end and sprinkled in, cursing, passing out, mentions of some kind of self injury (not necessarily, idk how else to put it), that’s basically it.
a/n: MORE HAZBIN BRAINROT !!!!!
The Father in Heaven seemed to have favorites between his creations and those who rule in Heaven. Lucifer was God’s favorite out of all the angels. But, you just weren’t one of them. Lucifer was beautiful. And while you were made to be an equal of Lucifer, he always was favored over you. The father arranged a marriage between you and Lucifer, hoping something even more beautiful would come from it.
During the relationship, you both learned to love each other, but then God did something terribly cruel to you. He created Adam and Lilith. To humanity, that seemed amazing. But to you? It meant Lucifer would go down to Earth and spend more time with God’s newest creations than you.
While you spent meetings to meetings with the other Archangels about the new creations, Lucifer would speak to Lilith about his own creations, getting closer with each day that passed. Soon enough, there would be days where you wouldn’t see Lucifer and nights spent crying. Eventually, you became numb to the Heavens. You stopped trying to be the best out of the remaining angels created. No, you let yourself do whatever it was to feel numb. Which included getting the fuck away from Lucifer Morningstar.
“Good morning.” Lucifer smiled at you as he entered the kitchen. It was rare to see him home, but who were you to stop him? “Everything smells delicious, my love.”
You hum, feeling him kiss your temple. “There’s a plate ready for you on the counter.”
“Did I tell you about yesterday? Down on Earth?” There it was. You shook your head, sipping on the coffee. “Lilith helped me create one of the animals in the garden, and they are quite adorable! They were—“
“Lucifer, I have to go.” You dump the rest of your coffee out and leave for the door. “You can tell me later, m’kay?”
He nodded, watching you with curiosity. “Are you alright?”
You gave him a strained smile, “I’m fine.”
And with that, you left. You didn’t return for about a month. Lucifer didn’t realize that you were gone until the second night, still spending most of his time down on Earth than his own shared home with you. No one knew where you went or what you did while you were gone, but when you came back, you were… Different, in multiple ways.
“Where have you been?” Emily appeared by your side, holding onto your arms. “The angelic council was worried! Lucifer was worried! Thank the father you’re alright.”
You ran your fingers through her hair, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m just… Working on something.”
“Don’t leave again, please. The council can’t agree on anything with you gone.” Emily squeezed your arms, watching you flinch at the action. “You’re okay, right?”
You nod, separating from the young Seraphim. “Do you know if Lucifer is down on Earth or up here?”
She tilted her head, “I think he’s up here? He heard that you came back today and wanted to check in on you before heading down to Earth.”
Great, you were an afterthought. “Okay, thank you.”
For the first time in your time created, you didn’t want to comply with the father’s commands. No, you wanted to separate yourself from the Heavens and make way for new angels to take over. But you couldn’t. Not while being married to Lucifer.
“Luce?” You enter your home, looking at the framed pictures of your wedding day on the walls. “Emily told me you were home… I just needed to—“
“Where were you?” He came from your shared bedroom, eye bags worse than ever. “I searched the Heavens for you, and you weren’t anywhere.”
His tone sent shivers down your spine, “Lucifer, I was—“
“Do you not realize how horrible it was when Micheal told me you weren’t attending any of the meetings? Or how bad it was when I would come home to find you missing every night?” He spoke with a raised voice, making you flinch at the impact. “I spent nights crying to Lilith over you—“
That. That made you snap. “Shut up about Lilith, Lucifer! All I hear about these days are only about you and Lilith! I don’t fucking care about how she is or what she did that day! You know, she’s the reason I fucking left.”
“How the fuck was it her fault?” He seethed, watching you stand your ground. “Tell me, why did you leave?”
“Because you love her!” You shout as the picture on the wall falls, a crack appearing in between. “You love her, Lucifer. Ever since God created Adam and Lilith, you have spent more time with her than your own wife. I’ve spent nights crying over you! I hate that God favors you! I hate how you can get away with any fucking thing and still be his stupid favorite!” You hold onto the kitchen counter as your mind spins, glaring at the ring adorning your left hand. “You want to know where I’ve been, Lucifer? Ask your father.” You push off and slam the door of your shared bedroom, leaving the Archangel alone.
Lucifer stood stunned at the confession. He never loved Lilith… He only went down to Earth to share what love truly felt like, what he felt with you…
“Y/N!” He knocked on the door rapidly, hearing shuffling coming from the other side. “Listen, I don’t love her! I never did! I—“ He froze when he heard items clutter to the floor. “Y/N?” Lucifer took the handle and jiggled until it popped open, peering inside the room. He looked at the clothing packed in your luggage before finding you passed out on the ground. “Shit, Y/N.”
You groaned when you woke up, the pounding feeling in your head becoming louder with every second passed. You looked over to your right, blinking the sleep away when you saw a figure by your side.
“Luce, what are you— Fuck.” You drop your head back down and shut your eyes, feeling your heartbeat louder than usual.
Lucifer snapped his eyes up at you, the hand rubbing yours coming to rest on your shoulder instead. “Hey, you’re alright. We’re at home. Don’t strain yourself please.”
“What happened?” You murmured, doing your best to not lean into his warmth.
“You passed out, my love.” He gave you a sad smile, sighing at the marks all over your body. “Where were you during that month?”
“Lucifer—“
“No, tell me.” His voice made your eyes open, glancing at his golden eyes with guilt. “I know all these marks on your body weren’t from Heaven.”
Your eyes well up, “I’m sorry. I went down to Earth and—“
“Why?”
“Because I thought if I was like…” You pause. Why did you go down to Earth? You were a Seraphim, you didn’t need to be validated by an Archangel. Yet, you felt like you needed to be. “I thought if I was like Lilith, then you would spend more time with me.”
“Darling,” He cupped your face, brushing off the fallen tears. “You’re the only one I love. You don’t need to change yourself for me.”
You choke back a sob, hands coming up to hold his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I thought you weren’t—“
He hushed you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t make enough time for you. I… I knew I should have explained a bit more as to why I was on Earth more.”
You let more tears fall before subsiding, pushing up from the bed. “Why were you down there for long periods of time?”
“I was asking Lilith for help to make creatures for you.” He held your hands as he sat on the bed with you, watching your curious face. “I’m sorry I kept myself away from you for so long, I just wanted everything to be perfect. I was going to tell you earlier—“
“—But I left.” Your eyes widen, making the guilt settle in your heart again. “I’m so sorry. I was blindsided…”
Lucifer squeezed your hands, “It’s okay, it’s partly my fault as well.” He let you move to his side, pulling you closer. “Do you want to see what I made for you?”
“Of course, Luce.” You sniffle and press a soft kiss to his jaw, watching the golden wisps float onto his hand and form into a fluffy animal. “Oh, they're cute!” The animal fell into your lap as it waddled up your lap, its yellow fluff tickling your skin as you picked it up. The animal flapped its wings which made you giggle. “What are they called?”
“Ducks.” He kissed your cheek, smiling at your enthusiasm. “They remind me of you. They’re very adorable and cute to look at, just like you.”
Your face warms at the compliment, “They remind me of you as well. Very clumsy.”
“Thank you, my love.” He chuckled, resting his hand on your hip. Lucifer kissed you on the head, “I’m sorry for worrying you, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I neglected you or found anything better. I don’t think I can do any better than you.”
You let yourself sink into his warmth, “Stop saying sorry, or else I’ll keep saying sorry, and it’ll never end.” Your eyes light up as the duck nestles into the crook of your arm. “But I’m sorry too.”
Lucifer frowned at the apology before biting back another one of his own, opting to tighten his hold on you instead. “I love you.”
You tilt your head up and meet his golden eyes, peppering his lips with soft kisses as his wings envelop the both of you. “I love you too, Luce.”
©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms
#august’s works 🫧#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer magne#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel writing#hazbin hotel self insert#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel#jeremy jordan#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel brainrot#hazbin hotel blurb#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel lilith#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel drabble#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel insert#hazbin hotel reader insert#hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar x you
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The Incident - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader
A little one shot that I just couldn't stop writing. A good angst to fluff (btw my fics will never be all angst, im too soft). Also do not fear, Im working on a Sam fic and part 3 to not letting you go. But you let ME know what you think of this one ❤️ 2K words
"My SISTER, Paul. She's my fucking SISTER!" you yelled, voice hoarse as your throat cracked.
"I could give a SHIT LESS WHAT SHE IS. YOU'RE. NOT. GOING." He screamed, jaw taut as he tried his best to subside the tremors that were threatening to take over his body.
You ignored the teeth he bared, shaking your head and scoffing.
"Aren't you tired of this?! I'm going over there. I HAVE to know she's safe."
"YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'LL JUST SIT BY AND WATCH MY IMPRINT GO TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN'T PROTECT HER? WHAT ABOUT ME KNOWING THAT YOU'RE SAFE?? HUH?? YOU'RE SICK IF YOU THINK I WOULD BE OKAY WITH THIS!"
"Sick?!? SICK?!? LETS TALK ABOUT HOW 'SICK' IT IS THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO KILL HER AND THE BABY. THATS MY FAMILY PAUL!"
"AND WERE NOT?"
It had been like this for a week straight. Ever since the pack stormed through the door announcing their mission to kill Bella and the unborn child within her.
You felt as though your two families had been pinned against each other. Head spinning at the idea of there being a 'choice' between your sister and imprint.
On one hand you were desperate to make sure she was alright, but also exhausted at the never ending battle with your boyfriend.
Sure you had talked to Bella over the phone, but you didn't buy into the lies like your father had. Even though you knew significantly more than he did, she still attempted to downplay the situation. She had done this numerous times since getting thrown into the vampire world, but she could only keep you in the dark for so long before you unraveled the truth.
You had to see her. Even if it was the last time. By fate, or at the hands of the pack. You had to be there for her, as she would you.
Leaving your imprint though? Was at task challenging at best. On at least four different occasions you fought with Paul for so long that Emily and Sam had to intervene, prying you two apart at the pleads of other pack members.
Emily would console you while you ranted and Sam would make Paul run off his anger in the woods. When you faced him again, it turned into a rerun of the same argument. Nobody in the house had gotten sleep, and the things were progressively getting worse.
Quil came through the door, widening his eyes.
"Just a heads up everyone, a little comedic relief does not go over well. I saw my life flash before Paul's eyes." He huffed before sitting down.
"When is this going to be overrrr?" Embry whined. He shoved his head in his hands on the kitchen table while you and Paul went at it in the front yard.
Emily sighed.
"Unfortunately sooner than you think....Y/N packed her suitcase this morning." She said quietly.
"You're not really going to let her go over there are you?!?" Kim stood up, looking at both Emily and Sam.
"If you would like to stop her, please, be my guest." Sam motioned his hand to outside, where you and Paul could be seen through the window. You were throwing your arms up and pointing fingers at him, while his voice boomed loudly, towering his large frame over yours.
Kim winced.
You had always been the calm to Paul's raging storm. 'Made him all soft' as the guys would tease. None of them had actually seen you two disagree with each other. In the mind link they saw glimpses of minor arguments, most of the time being reconciled in the sheets..
Paul eventually got an order by Sam to think about something else while on patrol. 'Literally, anything else'.
"She's not going anywhere. I can count on my hand how many times they've been apart since he imprinted. They'll work it out eventually." Jared said as he pulled Kim on his lap, taking a hunk out of his apple.
Kim didn't share a look that she believed him, worriedly looking out to where you stood.
A few moments passed when her body stiffened and she gasped, making Jared look where she was.
"SHIT! SHIT!" He said, throwing Kim off his lap.
Sam turned to look out the window in time to see Paul phase, his sharp claw making contact with your skin. Your blood curdling scream instantly had everyone else off their seats, nearly knocking each other over to race outside.
You laid on the ground as your body wracked with sobs, clutching your side. Blood gushed through your hand as you started to panic, scrambling to stand. The large silver wolf only stood for a few moments before Paul shifted back, completely horrified as he frantically tried to reach you.
He felt his heart nearly rip out of his chest as you backpedaled into Emily, who was helping to hold you upright.
"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IM DONE!" You cried.
Sam stood in the middle of the two of you.
Paul could feel his chest caving in, hand out, speaking more gently than he had at all in the past week.
"B-baby. Please. Please, I'm- I'm so sorry baby. Please let me just see-"
"NO! I'm done. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done." You repeated like a mantra, limping to the car.
"Y/N you cannot drive like this..." Emily attempted to say as she stepped in from behind you. She could see your anxiety was heightened, and afraid to set you off further.
"I have to go," you choked, on the verge of tears as you tried to open the drivers side. You had yet to even notice the gash in your side, adrenaline pumping wildly through your body.
Paul made his way around Sam, grabbing your other arm that was holding the door.
"You are crazy if you think I'm letting you leave like this. Please come-"
You yanked your arm from his grasp.
"Don't. Let me go!" You said coldly.
Paul froze. He couldn't move. You never spoke to him like this. Even in the numerous fights you two had this week.
Every single instinct in his body needed to help you. He knew you were downplaying your injuries. He knew he just royally fucked everything up. But the absolute last thing you could do was walk into a house full of vampires dripping in blood. Fucking doctor or not.
"Come inside and let me take a look at you, okay? Please." Emily said to coax you, frantically looking at your wound.
This made Sam follow her gaze, looking down to see the blood pouring from your side hadn't stopped, and you were growing paler by the minute.
"Y/N....you're going to stay here and I'll call Sue." He said in an authoritative voice, leaving no room to argue as he turned to start dialing the number.
You almost argued. You almost fought both of them on the subject. Your stubbornness almost won.
But you felt an immense pain. So strong you don't know how the hell you didn't notice it when you stood up.
That couldn't be good.
"....Y/N?" Paul said, barely above a whisper. Tears were now silently streaming down his face as he held both hands out slightly. Not close enough to touch you but to be prepared in case you fell.
You could feel yourself start to float in and out of consciousness. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on something. You looked at his hands that were outstretched.
Those hands that you held on your first date. The hands that hover your back anywhere you go. The hands that lift you up from the couch on movie nights to bring you to bed. The hands that move in just the right way when making love to you. The hands that were now shaking, not out of anger, but fear. You loved those hands.
"Y/N? Baby?" Paul said louder, more urgently as he could see you fading.
You watched him get blurry as the world started to spin.
"Paul," you murmured, before fading into darkness. The last thing you remember were the hands that caught you before you hit the ground.
"Y/N!!!" Paul screamed as he caught your body falling into him.
Sam ran back, telling him Sue was just up the street. He instructed Paul to carry you inside and onto the bed. The pack dispersed, each trying to find something to help you such as towels, an emergency kit and pillows.
Paul held you close as he lay you down, while repeatedly whispering in your ear.
"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so-so sorry. I cant lose you. Youre everything to me. I'll never yell at you again. I swear on my life. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want. Please, I love you." Paul pressed kisses to your hairline when Sue and her nurse friend entered.
Jared reluctantly came in behind them to lead Paul out of the room as they worked.
"Come on man, she'll wake up soon I promise."
After he was guided out, Paul slid down to sit on the other side of the door, refusing to move. Jared didn't push it, leaning down to sit next to him.
"Sue's seen this kind of stuff before. Just needs stitching up and stuff," Jared reassured as he put his hand on Paul's shoulder.
"It's not the injuries I'm worried about. So much as what she'll think of me when she wakes up. I....I fucked this one up, Jare."
"If Emily can forgive Sam, I think Y/N will forgive you. She's crazy about your ass."
Paul just nodded, praying he was right.
~
Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you woke. You looked around to see that you had been bandaged up along your left side, an IV attached to your arm sat close by. You attempted to sit up, whining when the pain wouldn't allow it. Within a few minutes Emily entered, her face showing relief.
"You're up! How are you feeling?" She checked the IV before sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of your body.
"Sore...where's, where's Paul?" Your heart ached as you started to replay what happened. There was no doubt in your mind what happened was an accident. You had seen the signs he always warned you about, and chose to ignore them in the heat of the argument. Not only that, but the look on his face when you had refused him was too much to bare.
Emily smiled, not expecting you to want to see him so soon.
"He's just outside the door. Hasn't moved. He didn't know if you'd want to see him..."
"I need to talk to him."
It hadn't even been a few seconds when Paul stood at the door. He looked more out of shape than you did. The disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't slept in days.
"I'll give you two some space. Just holler if you need anything," Emily spoke as she stood up, making her way around him and down the stairs.
Paul remained where he stood,
"If you don't want to be with me I understand. I have no words for my actions other than I am so...." he cleared his throat, trying not to cry. "So incredibly sorry I put you through this. I put you in danger when I was trying to keep you out of it. You don't have to stay I-"
"Paul please just kiss me." You interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest as you already made up your mind in forgiving him.
He stood for just a moment longer, trying to comprehend if he heard you correctly. It was when you weakly opened your arms for him that he wasted no time in rushing over to you, cupping your face and gently yet passionately kissed you with everything he had. Tears flowed his cheeks at the relief that you still wanted him. Even after everything he had put you through.
You two pulled back for air after a moment, and you ran your hand through his hair.
"I forgive you, okay? I can't imagine my life without you."
He let out a breath, smiling for the first time in weeks.
"It will never happen again. I swear on my fucking life baby." He caressed your hair, neck, landing his palm on your heart.
You two sat like that for awhile. Almost scared to leave each other's presence. You two talked for hours on the bed. Paul had confessed that the night before, while you were sleeping, the pack had fought with the Cullens. You learned that Paul refused to go, not wanting to leave your side. You were grateful to hear that Sam didn't push on him being there, knowing you were all that mattered to him, and he'd refuse him if he had too. Even if it went against his every instinct as a wolf. Turns out that Jacob had imprinted on your niece, and Bella had survived, now as a vampire.
You weren't particularly thrilled your sister was now a bloodsucker, but as long as she was alive, you were happy.
Paul eventually made his way to the other side of the bed, kissing every exposed inch of you, whispering all the things he loved about you in your ear until you fell asleep.
When your heartbeat slowed down and he was sure you were out, he reached down and felt the velvet box in his pocket. No doubt in his mind about the future you both held.
#paul lahote#sam uley#twilight#bella swan#edward cullen#embry call#imagine#jacob black#new moon#quil ateara#fanfic#fanfiction#paul lahote x reader#paul lahote x you#emily young#jared cameron#wolfpack#eclipse#breaking dawn#charlie swan#vampire
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13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)
13 Eras of us Era 1
This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.
August 2016
And isn’t it just so pretty to think
All along there was some invisible string
While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird.
It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you.
But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice.
Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them.
The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew.
You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves.
You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask.
You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you.
You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight.
It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland.
The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other.
It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction.
You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again.
“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face.
You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”
“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,”
“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows.
“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head.
There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations.
You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been.
If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime.
She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team.
She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,”
You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her.
“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,”
You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,”
“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin.
“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey.
“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes.
You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces.
You didn’t need to see it.
“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,”
She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,”
Your eyebrows furrowed.
Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills.
She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true.
Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you.
It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.
You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help.
“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”
You shook your head along with the group.
It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you.
“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill.
Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path.
“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,”
A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,”
She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.
You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much.
You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby.
Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged.
OoOoOoO
You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal.
You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out.
It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.
You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands.
You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head.
Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner.
It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork.
“Not bad,”
You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT.
“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again.
You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you.
“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”
You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,”
She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,”
You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,”
“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,”
Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that.
“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,”
You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot.
She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back.
You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up.
Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal.
You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel.
Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup.
Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish.
“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net.
“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”
Your nose scrunched at the options.
You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much.
She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio?
When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?
“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot.
“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,”
Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out).
She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics.
You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do.
You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick.
It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look.
If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play.
She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick.
“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot.
She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”
Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips.
It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second.
She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes.
At least someone else saw it too.
“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,”
You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team.
You would take any help you could get.
*****
“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you.
She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower.
“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her.
“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender. “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”
It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…
Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did.
“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley.
Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,”
You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together.
“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone.
“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,”
Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,”
“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,”
Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”
She had never heard of Taylor before.
Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,”
“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table.
Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks.
Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,”
“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,”
“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you.
She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop.
You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,”
“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,”
“She’s my friend,” You muttered.
“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,”
You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,”
“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted.
And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,”
Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again.
The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted.
“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer.
Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York.
“At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”
“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed.
“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her.
She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too.
“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal.
“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,”
A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,”
“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,”
“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter.
“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,”
“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes.
“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her.
“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.
Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down.
“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,”
Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat.
Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair.
“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,”
You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid.
It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it.
You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth.
You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it.
“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness.
“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping.
Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,”
Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite.
Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list.
*****
“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you.
“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,”
You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes.
You couldn’t meet her eyes.
It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced.
It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much.
“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder.
You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you.
“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you.
“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,”
Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,”
While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself.
“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,”
No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,”
Alex nodded.
She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia.
But she could see that you were not fine.
She wished you trusted her enough to admit it.
“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,”
“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand.
Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”
You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot.
“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,”
Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes.
They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to.
They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old.
“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”
Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics.
“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening.
You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,”
Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot.
She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions.
She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest.
You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability.
“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,”
Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,”
“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.
A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.
The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle.
It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work.
She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”
She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help.
All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed.
“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,”
She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer.
The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio.
She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,”
She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that.
“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses.
You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,”
The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time.
You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”
She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,”
You hummed, turning away.
She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal.
But she wished it didn’t sting as much.
******
You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast.
You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying.
It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough.
You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York.
You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip.
You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).
“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”
You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”
She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk.
“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,”
“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,”
She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,”
“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense.
You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove.
You had everything to prove.
“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”
You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,”
“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,”
You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team.
She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset.
You had proven them wrong.
The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone.
Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor.
She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio.
You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team.
You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently.
“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?”
“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,”
She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second.
“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?”
“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”
“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question.
The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started.
It was the nice thing about camp.
You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.
“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you.
“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing.
You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you.
You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was.
“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in?
You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”
You could eat after you were finished with your call.
“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand. “come on,”
“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”
“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen.
“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,”
“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,”
You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought.
You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend.
OoOoOoO
September 2016
Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it too soon to do this yet?
Cause I know that it’s delicate
The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.
With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness.
You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter.
It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal.
What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back.
With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there.
Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue.
Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration.
That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York.
And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable.
Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.
But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor.
You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship.
It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?
You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled.
But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor.
“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder.
Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”
You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease.
You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”
She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,”
You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,”
She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting.
“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,”
She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.
“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”
“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise.
“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”
She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”
“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”
“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,”
“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,”
You didn’t want to be too… forward.
You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same.
“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,”
“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”
She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested.
“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”
“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”
You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably.
You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche.
You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it.
“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,” She said, laying a hand on your shoulder.
“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,”
You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates.
Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…
God you were really starting to lose the plot.
Taylor was your friend.
“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”
“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,”
Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,”
You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye.
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her.
“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.
You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,”
Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching.
So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks.
Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind.
Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass.
“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”
You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”
“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,”
“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar.
It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling.
You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away.
You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship.
You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor.
********
“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,”
It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second.
She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone.
She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles.
Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”
Taylor rolled her eyes.
You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge.
“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said.
Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”
It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips.
That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it.
“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously.
“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”
Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.
“I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip.
“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”
Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,”
“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass.
“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”
“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”
“Yes,” Taylor nodded.
Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18.
“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,”
“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed.
She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects.
You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship.
“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,”
Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,”
She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message.
Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”
Taylor groaned again.
She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head.
But this was different.
You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted.
And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to.
“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly,
“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”
Taylor bit her lip.
Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was.
“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,”
Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,”
“Thanks,”
******
Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading.
There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on.
It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it.
If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans.
You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway.
Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist.
But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest.
She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door.
She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate.
It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls.
But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her.
Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door.
“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”
Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat.
“Is Y/n here?”
Her voice came out shaky, horse.
Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope.
“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively.
“Oh,”
Taylor’s whole being deflated.
If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?
Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,”
Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?”
You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends.
Why had you lied?
Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it.
“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,”
“Oh,” Taylor breathed out.
A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”
Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,”
Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,”
Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed.
What did Christen mean? What did you ruin?
“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting.
Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you.
Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,”
“Thanks,”
Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand.
Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”
“I will,”
Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise.
“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”
“I know,” Taylor matched her grin.
Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.
She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had.
******
Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange.
Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you.
They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show.
How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust.
How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater.
You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt.
Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do.
“Y/n,”
You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater.
You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio.
You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked.
“Y/n, wait!”
You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear.
You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo.
“Y/n,”
The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned.
Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well.
But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you.
“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you,”
“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,”
You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway.
At least the 51st station was heated.
“Y/n wait,”
Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you.
“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her.
How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?
You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young.
“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway.
“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”
Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence.
You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain.
It was like your brain had short-circuited.
You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her.
Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,”
You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes.
Taylor kissed you.
She kissed you in the rain.
Taylor liked you.
But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything.
You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.
Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss.
Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces.
Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck.
It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs.
You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90.
“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again.
“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.
You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows.
It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through.
It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.
Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,”
“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,”
You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket.
Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold.
“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor.
“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,”
Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it.
“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”
“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,”
He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”
Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,”
You raised an eyebrow at her.
Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car.
The thought made your stomach tumble.
Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam.
You shut down that thought.
It didn’t matter.
“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers.
“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper.
You didn’t feel cold.
She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,”
You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,”
She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”
“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll.
“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek.
Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”
“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips.
“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her.
She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head.
You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you
“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again.
She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt.
Maybe Emily was right.
Maybe you should just go with it.
OoOoOoO
You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.
Not yet.
Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender.
Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else.
But she couldn’t want you.
She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice.
You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees.
It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you.
You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint.
But maybe she did want you.
You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking.
You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room.
You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place.
“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”
You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,”
You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?”
Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,”
You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,”
She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,”
Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie.
Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…
She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”
You jerked your head away from her. “No,”
There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you.
Except…
your eyes closed.
Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain.
“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”
You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say.
Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister.
It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it.
“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?”
“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”
Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little.
But it was too late.
You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you.
“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,”
They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget.
The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.
But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong.
“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality.
Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”
She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about.
“What?”
“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.
You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.
But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing.
They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.
You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”
Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,”
You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,”
Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly.
She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior.
The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed.
What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave.
******
November 2016
Windows flung right open, autumn air,
Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours
It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home.
You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east.
There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants.
You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning.
But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood.
You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces.
You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win.
“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you.
You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”
“No,” Emily shrugged.
It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way.
It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots.
“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,”
You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them.
Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it.
No one else had to know that.
“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight.
“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam.
“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”
“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you.
You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off.
You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”
“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats.
“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,”
You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower.
“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,”
You met her eyes, swallowing hard.
“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her.
You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy.
It didn’t have to be complicated.
“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,”
You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair.
You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,”
You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett.
“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door.
You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,”
Before slamming the locker room door shut.
You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you.
Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching.
You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages.
You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to.
They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code.
Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone.
Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?
Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway.
You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her.
Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet.
Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there.
You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized.
“Hey hotshot,”
“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view.
You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants.
But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it.
“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.
“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features.
You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes.
“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,”
The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes.
Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own.
“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you.
You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game.
You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly.
“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,”
You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,”
Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to.
You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours.
Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug.
“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you.
You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,”
It was true.
It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones.
It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.
The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain.
“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.
You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,”
“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach.
You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble.
Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?”
“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,”
It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can.
“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand.
You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks.
Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”
OoOoOoO
Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless.
The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back.
It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway.
Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh.
It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car.
She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity.
Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment.
You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well.
She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door.
That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you.
You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable.
You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain.
“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point.
“What?”
You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.
“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,”
Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”
You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it). “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”
Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster.
You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…
“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern.
You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her.
“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”
The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you.
“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,”
You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker.
***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***
You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,”
You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water.
It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool.
You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings.
Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm.
It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words.
Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom.
You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor.
She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool.
“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”
Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish.
You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes.
You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,”
She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her.
You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there.
All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear.
It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone.
Not even Mal.
“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water.
You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,”
She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,”
You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”
Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?”
“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss.
You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her.
She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor.
It was sweet and spicy and addictive.
And it made you want her.
You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations.
You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin.
You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning.
Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer.
You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you.
You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?”
Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,”
Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,”
*****
Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm.
You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off.
It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer.
You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off.
Except it’s where your mind always went.
Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers.
You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable.
“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin.
“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted.
She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”
You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface.
“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”
She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold.
“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,”
Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,”
You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool.
“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,”
“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”
You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom.
You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets.
It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.
“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.
“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,”
“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,”
Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left).
It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen.
There had to be something fucking wrong with you.
You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach.
You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet.
Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change.
You took another deep breath.
Being weird about any of this would just make it worse.
You could be normal.
You could save your friendship.
You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom.
Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,”
You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,”
She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,”
You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,”
She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water.
You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip.
Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle.
You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,”
She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,”
“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.
She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,”
“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,”
“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”
“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you
“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers.
Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder.
You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs.
Safe territory.
Territory that put you in control of the pace.
“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front.
You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass.
You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time.
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point.
Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”
You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach.
You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff.
“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue.
She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,”
“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple
You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her.
It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line.
It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward.
Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub.
You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down.
Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,”
“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach.
She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,”
“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,”
“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,”
“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek.
She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her.
You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done.
You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask.
“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,”
You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,”
She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?”
You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,”
It was the truth.
It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way.
She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”
“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead.
Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all.
***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***
OoOoOoO
Mornings were always your favorite.
You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.
It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams.
“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”
She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.
It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours.
She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you.
It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for.
You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back.
You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup.
But Taylor wasn’t a hookup.
Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too.
You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-.
You let out a long breath from your nose.
It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that.
You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that.
“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin.
“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,”
She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”
You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,”
She groaned. “Why are you awake?”
“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”
It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces.
You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her.
You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave.
You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return.
You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight.
“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you.
You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?”
“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.
“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.
“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”
You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,”
OoOoOoO
“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign.
You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it.
You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway.
“Is that why you decided to join me?”
“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”
You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you.
You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it.
“And you thought I’d want to talk,”
Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”
“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face.
She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team.
While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that.
You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor.
“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”
Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?”
You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?
“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way.
“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,”
You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her.
You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before.
But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with.
Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head.
It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine.
It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed.
She was still your friend.
You spat the word in your mind.
You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.
You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor.
And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you.
“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer.
“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,”
Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did.
“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?”
You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,”
“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed.
Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,”
Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”
“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“
You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected.
“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.”
Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop.
“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,”
It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off.
“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on.
It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence.
You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish.
What the fuck was wrong with you?
She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”
“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,”
“But the middle?” She asked.
You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck.
Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel.
“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk.
You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut.
It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started.
You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood.
She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running.
“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again.
“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,”
“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind.
“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence.
She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go.
You swallowed hard and matched her nod.
You could do slow steps.
You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street.
“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you.
Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?”
“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,”
Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited.
Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”
You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway.
OoOoOoO
You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you.
She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup.
She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work.
And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver.
Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery.
“Are we dating now?”
Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”
You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no.
“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know how to date,”
Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?”
“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,”
Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?”
“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears.
“Why?”
It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you.
You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,”
It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend.
You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you.
She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that.
Why would you get involved when everyone always left?
“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”
“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm.
“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,”
Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow.
It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened.
“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?”
Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”
“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,”
Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed.
How would things change? What would she expect?
But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest.
If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her.
“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady.
“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,”
“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head.
It didn’t have to be complicated.
#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#woso x reader#taylor swift x reader#taylor swift imagine#13 eras of us
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Thinking about how Charlotte Emily most likely regularly hung out with the Aftons.
William comes downstairs at 9 in the morning to see Charlie and Elizabeth with empty teacups and a teapot, and is just like, ah. Of course. Little girls love tea parties, but indulges them anyway like "what are you two up to?" Elizabeth immediately lights up. "Charlie said that we should play British People 'cause we're British!" William, now a bit more confused, "...ah. I see." Elizabeth, "oh won't you join us? Pretty please?" Charlie then pipes in that she had also asked Mike, but that he had very unfortunately said no, because "Liz plays too mean." Elizabeth, "I do not, you're just too scared to lose!" Michael, "I can't fucking lose at 'British People.'"
Charlie and Elizabeth do atrocious things to their dolls. Drama. Tragedy. They always clash on the endings though, as Charlie wants their dolls fo have a happy end while Elizabeth wants their dolls to have an even worse end
Michael doesn't know Charlie's staying over, and brings home his schoolmates one day. William Frowns TM like "I tried to tell you Henry was dropping off Charlotte today, but you were already halfway out the door." Michael later re-enters the room to find his schoolmates picking on Charlie and pulling at her hair. The closest Michael ever feels to peace is when he's with the Emilys, so he immediately spirals at the sight like, "oh god, if Uncle Henry finds out I brought people over who hurt his daughter, he might not bring her over anymore. What do I do then? What do I do if he stops liking me?" He quickly shoos off his friends, going "dude! She's a guest, leave her be" while Charlie recovers. Before he too can follow after them, Charlie asks Michael if he'll draw with her. He hesitates. The Emilys are the closest he ever gets to peace, so he agrees and sits down to draw. "What are you drawing, Char?" "Marionette!" "'S that the creepy thing that's always watching the guests come and go at Freddy's?" "He's not creepy, he's my friend. Dad made him for me :(" "ahh. You know, my father's been building something for Liz too." "You think that it'll protect her like Marionette protects me?" "Maybe."
Charlie notices how anxious CC always seems to be, and declares one day that she'll keep him safe. She makes him a drawing of them both holding hands, and gives it to him so that he may always look upon it and know that Charlie's rooting for him. He nearly bursts into tears at the kind gesture. The whole household tries to be nicer to each other whenever Charlie's around, but CC tells her about Michael's behaviour to him. Knowing how weak Michael is to her, Charlie gives Michael a look while he's grabbing cereal the next morning like "you should be nicer to your brother. He's just a little kid." Michael immediately pauses, then awkwardly closes the cupboard like "ummm. Okay." Not wanting to use Charlie as a means to make fun of CC, he just never brings the interaction up afterwards
The Emily and Afton families joining together are constantly filled with different forms of jealousy from the Aftons. William, he's jealous of Henry. Michael, he's jealous of Charlie's positive relationship with her father. CC, he's jealous of how Michael seems to like Charlie so much more than him. Elizabeth doesn't even notice her own jealousy, but deep down, Charlie's completely peaceful household... confuses her. She rationalizes the lack of favouritism or hostility as it only stemming from Charlie being an only child, rather than Henry's good parenting. Being so young as well as being the perfect golden child, Elizabeth doesn't know how to express doubt in her father. Clearly, it must be her siblings doing something wrong if Charlie and Uncle Henry are doing so well on their own!
After CC's death, the house is filled with an unbreakable tension. It's grief. It's guilt. Michael and his schoolmates completely cut ties after what happened. And as always, the Emilys feel so separate from the tension of his own home. Michael starts talking to Charlie more frequently, more often at Henry's house rather than his own. He tries not to, or at least usually tries to hide first, but he accidentally has a complete breakdown in the living room one time. Charlie hums a soothing lullaby to him until Henry eventually comes back, notices the state Michael's in, and takes over calming him down while sending Charlie off to do some other seemingly helpful task. After Elizabeth's death, Michael only really has the Emilys left. Charlie stops just being his source of peace, and becomes his best friend. His only friend. Then after Charlie's death...
It's rather lonely all of a sudden.
Later, years later, when Michael's flesh is rotting on his bones and everything is just about to finally be done with, he sits down on the edge of a cheap creaky stage he bought, and lightly knocks his knuckles against Lefty's calf. "Charlie? Can you hear me alright? It's Michael ... I'm sorry. I know I never acted like it, but... for what it's worth... you were my best friend back then. ...Whatever's beyond this, would you like to be friends again there too?"
#i wrote this post at 5-6 in the morning lmao i'm going to bed#ramble#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#cw neglect#cw child neglect#<- to be safe#long post#charlie emily#charlotte emily#michael afton#elizabeth afton#william afton#henry emily#crying child#evan afton#cc afton#how do you tag that character..#ffps#freddy fazbear's pizzeria simulator
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anything bombshell reader I would adore!!!
Oh my god, Spencer thinks desperately, could she give me a break?
You waltz into the conference room wearing a smile (your smile, as heartbreakingly perfect as always) and a motorcycle jacket buttoned to the chin. There's something about it. Spencer doesn't know what it is, just that it makes you even more attractive than usual. He toys with the word sexy, and sure, you are when you want to be, but he thinks about it long and hard. You're a fucking bombshell, and you're going to kill him one day.
“What's with the outfit?” Morgan asks immediately.
“You can't wear that to the precinct,” Hotch says, though he sounds curious rather than annoyed.
“You called us in unexpectedly,” you defend, holding up two perfect hands. Calluses from shooting practice line the palm of your dominant hand and you've a cut down the side of the other, and they're still perfect. Everything about you compliments everything else. “I was out.”
“What, on your motorcycle?” JJ asks.
“Your motorcycle?” Emily asks.
“I didn't know you had a motorcycle,” Garcia says.
“You're ganging up on me. Spencer, honey, would you save me?” you ask, though the tone you use doesn't express much urgency as you unzip your thick jacket and toss it aside, its logos and sponsorships crumpling over the back of your chair. “You're the only one who looks pleased to see me.”
“I am pleased to see you,” he says honestly.
You don't make it to cases every time; you're on a different type of leasing, you always say. He doesn't have the subtlety to pretend he isn't happy you're here. You flirt with him, sure, and he enjoys it even while being out of his depths, but he likes you. You're fun and smart and good to be around. You listen.
“They couldn't keep me away from you if they tried,” you say, head dipped gently to one side, smile far from teasing..
“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Emily asks.
“If we could get back to the case at hand,” Hotch says, and for a moment everyone looks rightly chastised, until he adds, “we can discuss Y/N's choices afterwards.”
What's worse than your jacket is the quickness of your brain, the connections you make, your endless suggestions. You're so good at your job it makes Spencer feel funny. Rossi, who'd been mostly silent during the exchange, sends Spencer a pitying look.
When the case has been introduced and everyone sent to make preparations for another trip, you and Spencer remain in the conference room. You, because your go bag is already here and you don't have much to do, and Spencer, because you're here.
“Do you really have a motorcycle?”
You tap your nose. “Need to know, babe.”
“I sort of do need to know. If you have a motorcycle, I should probably be spending more time worrying about you.”
“Well, it's not mine.”
He feels a crushing wave of rejection descend on him. “Right,” he says. He knew this would happen. He knew you were just being nice—
“I'm borrowing it from a friend. Mostly to see if I still knew how.” You put your chin in your hand, smiling knowingly. “Who's did you think it was, Dr. Reid?”
“Don't do that,” he says.
“Or what?” You ease up anyhow. “If you don't like being flirted with, Spence, I won't do it.”
“I didn't say that, just don't– don't look at me like that.”
You sigh morosely, but your dramatics are unconvincing, and a smile plays on your painted lips. “Alright, I won't. But it's how you were looking at me, you realise? How's that fair?”
Spencer is about to say you know how, but do you really? Why is it fair for him to ogle you (albeit without meaning to) when you walk in, but when you make your soft googly eyes at him, he tells you to stop? Maybe because his are real, and yours are… questionable in authenticity.
You're smart enough to see that debate before it forms. “I have less choice over it all than you think, you know?” you ask, softer than before.
“I know,” he says. He doesn't, obviously, because the idea that you flirt with him accidentally is hard to accept, because who is Spencer to you? Your nerdy, socially clueless coworker who very clearly has a crush on you. Why would you like that? So he doesn't know about that, but he knows about having little choice in the manner; he sees you and he trips over himself trying to get you to see him.
“I say it every time, but I've missed you, handsome. How have you been?” you ask.
Spencer forgets the depth of his crush in the face of a friend. “I'm good, I've been reading all this Russian existentialist literature–”
“Yeah? Anything good?”
Spencer beams. “Actually, yeah. There's this one writer, you've probably read him already, Dostoevsky…”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Now I need this... Pleaseeeeee... What would happen if the reader died at the hands of Adam saving Alastor...
And because of that the reader went to heaven and Alastor's soul was free... I need to know What would happen if our yandere would do in this situation, since he saw the reader die ( but doesn't know that she is in heaven and became an angel, because of her good deed )...
And what do you think the reader would do now if he were an angel? Would she try to contact Alastor? Because she is worried that something happened to him after she died ( Maybe deep down the reader knows that Alastor can be dramatic and psychotic and crazy )...
To those that have no idea what this is talking about, check out {Unwanted Soul}
Huh, so the Sir Pentious route now.
If you haven't read the ask about Reader's afterlife death, make sense why you'd ask for Alastor's reaction. But long story short, Alastor abandons the hotel, including Charlie and the others, to return to your home to guard it. He hallucinates that you are still alive and justifies things that he did to thin air.
Now because this is before you mutually returned Alastor's feelings, so Alastor's state was even worse because he had nothing to hold onto. No one to console him because the hotel members don't even know of your existence and that you were kind enough to send Alastor to the hotel to help. Alastor would have overturned the hotel if it wasn't Charlie's connection with Lucifer, he blames the hotel for taking you away. If Charlie never had that dream, she wouldn't advertise, you wouldn't see it, you wouldn't send him there, he wouldn't have to battle Adam, you wouldn't jump in, and you wouldn't d̷̘͍͈̼̚ị̶̼̄e̸̖̍͂. He sabotages the hotel too, removing Husk and Niffty from their roles in the hotel. Too bad both already took a liking to the members there and stayed. Alastor didn't use the contract thing, because it reminded him of you.
Unknown to Alastor, Lucifer once dropped in on your home, expecting you to welcome him. But he didn't expect Alastor to be there. He didn't make a fuss and watched. He's shocked to learn that Alastor was delusional and you were nowhere in sight, he reached for you in Hell. But you weren't anywhere. Gone. You realized you died and your connection with Alastor, hence solving why Alastor left the hotel too. He left Alastor alone in his sorrows.
On your side. You were turned into an angel. The wings were new and weird for you. When you heard there was another redeemed like you, you looked and saw Sir Pentious, like you, in a white and gold theme. You didn't like it. You didn't like the change. You didn't like Heaven. You didn't care you got redeem. When you don't like it, you don't. You looked for a way back down to Hell. You came to terms that you care for Alastor and now you two were separated? What kind of joke was that?
You forced your way to Hell. You being the first to be redeemed was the talk of all of Heaven. You saw the look on Sera's face, don't worry, you were leaving. Emily was congratulating you and welcoming you to a new home. You didn't want that. You did your worst. Replicating what Alastor would to a T. As easy as pie, you reverted to your demonic self, appearance and all, yet the wings and halo were still hovering over your head. You learned to keep them away, 3 forms, angel, demon, and mixed.
It didn't matter to you, you were heading back home.
During when you were looking for a way to leave, you wondered about Alastor. He's free now that you're in Heaven, no one to hold his soul. Will he be the chaotic and destructive demon he was before your time together? Did he miss you? You shook your head, thinking that Alastor would be happy that you were gone. You never got to say you liked his company.
When you arrive back in Hell, you were pleasantly pleased that there was no holy light or explosion to announce your arrival. So you went back to your home district. You saw the new hotel building and smiled, thinking Alastor's having fun since you spotted the radio tower that's definitely for him. You were, however, confused by the shield around your home's domain. You recognize it as Alastor's, it was the same one as the one used in the battle.
Reappearing in your bedroom, you found the place spotless and everything in its place like no time has passed. At the sound of a plate breaking, you turned around and saw Alastor standing in the doorway. You raised a brow and questioned what he's doing here.
"Darling." Alastor appeared in front of you in the blink of an eye, "You're... You can't..."
Your eyes narrowed, you figured what happened with his reaction to you. He was in denial of your death and treated like you were alive. Now that the real deal was back, he's in disbelief. You raised your hands and cupped his face, your wings appearing to hover yourself over the floor as did your halo though it was dulled.
Alastor cupped your hands, closing his eyes momentarily. The both of you enjoyed the silence.
But Alastor suddenly pushed you onto the bed, your wings ruffling from the sudden action. You shouted at him, trying to get him off of you. He turned you around, having full view of your wings. "You have angel wings... You were redeemed?"
"What else? Adam killed me but I went to Heaven instead of poof." You tried to get up but Alastor was still pushing you down. You told him to get off of you, only to cut off when you felt your wings being pulled harshly. "Alastor!"
"You're staying. You're not leaving. I won't let you leave me again." Alastor muttered, ignoring your cries. "Never."
Yeah, your death and disappearance pushed Alastor off the edge. And because the soul contract was broken, you couldn't fight off Alastor while he's in that state. Normally, he wouldn't dare cause you pain or harm you in any way. But he's going to do anything to keep you close to him. Even when it's forceful. He doesn't need your affection, he just needs you. And he knows all that you like, so you would be fine with it later on. Give it some time.
#Circe's Nighty Writings#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor#hazbin hotel oneshots#yandere alastor#yandere alastor x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel imagines#Unwanted Soul
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Under the Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: Reader is waiting for Spencer in a restaurant to celebrate their 2nd anniversary. What happens when Spencer doesn't show up?
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Spencer fucked up but Reader loves him.
A/N: It's winter on this side of the world, and the rain makes me kind of sad.
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Is there anything worse than your boyfriend standing you up in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary? Yes, being stood up by your boyfriend in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary day while outside it’s raining cats and dogs.
That's worse. And pathetic.
You feel pathetic, sitting in that chair, all dolled up and waiting. You arrived at 19:30, and now your watch reads 20:45. No sight of Spencer.
What the fuck?
He was the one who suggested a romantic dinner in this very restaurant. He was the one who told you to make reservations. How could he forget it? You knew there wasn’t an active case. The very Penelope told you it was paperwork day when you texted her in the afternoon.
In the past hour, you dialed his number several times. You were worried at some point: what if something terrible happened to him? But you know bad news travels fast, so you assumed he didn’t show up just because he forgot. Deep down, you wanted there to be another explanation because if he only forgot, that would strengthen the idea of how little you mean to him.
Sensing the pitiful looks the hostess and the waitress sent you occasionally, you only wanted to dig a hole and disappear.
When the clock marked 21:00, you gave up. You asked the hostess for your coat and left the place completely silent.
The rain pouring outside was the perfect scenario for your current mood. You thought about calling a cab in front of the restaurant, but you only wanted to be far from that place as soon as possible, so you started to walk in the rain.
Goodbye to the stylish hairstyle that took you hours to achieve. Goodbye to the makeup you put so much effort into doing.
Striding along the sidewalk, you made sure to step on each water puddle you found along the way as you recalled every moment in the past months you felt Spencer away from you. And not only physically as when he was in a case. It was more than that. It was each morning he didn’t say I love you before leaving your shared apartment. It was each text he didn’t send telling you he was coming home or leaving for a case. It was each coffee you didn't share in the morning. It was each animated chat in the middle of the night you didn't have.
Were you being dramatic? You knew Spencer’s tendency to distract and engage in whatever his job could present him. In any other circumstances, you could have understood. Not tonight, though. Not when it was supposed to be your night together celebrating this milestone. The two years of love you thought were strengthening your relationship. How blind you have been. How naive.
You kept wandering on the streets with no destination. You didn’t want to come back to the apartment. You didn’t know where else to go either. So you kept walking.
-
Spencer Reid is a man with an eidetic memory. Everybody knows that. He can remember every piece of information people usually wouldn’t recall. He knows almost everything about anything. But even with his big brain, he sometimes has trouble keeping track of his own life. Like today.
Engrossed in a pile of manila folders from old cases, he lost time. A task meant to take just an hour or so kept him occupied and entertained for almost four hours. Emily’s voice was the only thing that brought him back from those files to reality.
“You still here?” Emily asked with a frown. Spencer looked at her oddly.
“Yeah. I was looking for patterns in our last cases in the northwest. What Tara said about the mixed murder weapons sounded familiar to me,” he explained before rubbing his eyes. He didn't notice how tired he felt until Emily interrupted him.
“Spencer, it’s almost 10 pm. And there is no active case. You can resume this tomorrow. I even thought you had plans today?”
‘10 pm’ and ‘plans today’ was enough to bring Spencer to realization.
“Fuck!” He yelped, jumping from his seat and freezing immediately, not knowing what to do.
“What?” Emily asked, seeing the panic in Spencer’s eyes.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he repeated over and over as he reached for his phone in his satchel.
“What is it, Reid?”
“Emily. I was supposed to be in a restaurant with (Y/N) tonight! It’s - uh - it’s our second anniversary,” he, visibly embarrassed, finished the sentence.
Emily shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Reid? How on earth do you forget something like that?”
“I don’t know! I - I don’t really know. Fuck. I’m an asshole!” He checked the phone: twenty missing calls. Why he left it on mute?
“Stop complaining and do something! Come on! Move your ass out of here if you want a chance of not being precisely kicked in the ass by her,” Emily instructed. She knew Spencer needed directions when he was freaking out.
Spencer rechecked his watch. It read 10:05 pm.
Swearing under his breath, he dialed your number, which went straight to voicemail. Putting his coat on, he tried again while rushing to the elevator. Maybe you were still at the restaurant? Getting in the first cab he found, Spencer headed there.
Once he arrived, he asked the hostess about you. The girl told him you left after 9 pm.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He called you again with no success. This time you turned off your phone. Spencer’s stomach was a knot, and his heart hurt imagining you sitting alone, waiting for him.
Were you at home? Spencer guessed you wouldn't want to see him, so it was less probable. Should he go there anyway and wait for you? No. You deserved better than that. He would look for you even if it could take all night. Taking a cab, he decided to check the apartment - just in case - and grab his car keys.
As expected, you weren’t in the apartment. Spencer faced the darkness and coldness of the place, and a chill ran down his spine—the fear of losing you forever.
In the car, he thought, where you could be. It was still raining, and Spencer feared you were getting soaked and frozen, God knows where.
It was at this kind of moment Spencer wanted his eidetic memory, and all the knowledge in his brain could help to compensate for the dose of common sense he lacked.
‘Come on, Spencer. Think. For once in your life, do it for what is really important for you.’
-
Spencer parked and rushed out of the car, hoping his hunch was correct. He was in a park. Not any park, though. It was where he met you three years ago—where his life changed forever and for the better for once.
You were in a swing, moving softly back and forth, your feet touching the ground. Your eyes focused on the rain collecting in the nook you created with your feet in the mud.
“(Y/N)!” Spencer called once he spotted you. The rain muffled the sound of his voice.
Your eyes didn’t leave the ground. At first, you thought you were imagining things. It could have been wishful thinking that your boyfriend really cared about you. He called again, and now your brain obliged your eyes to look toward the voice’s source.
Spencer was in a corner where the park's playground began. He was looking at you and wanted to run to you, but the fear you could run away made him stay there, as the rain dampened him.
The sight of you broke him. You were utterly soaked. Your coat and lovely black dress were ruined, and your face with traces of smeared makeup. He could even spot your bloodshot eyes, swollen from crying.
He caused that. And Spencer hated himself for it.
Seeing you didn't say anything, barely acknowledging his presence, Spencer dared to take some steps forward. Your numb body didn't even flinch.
“(Y/N). I’m sorry,” were his first words. Expectable but useless for you. “I fucked it up. I’m sorry. I should have been there. I wanted to be there with you,” he apologized, giving a few steps closer to you. Not looking at him, you mumbled.
“But you weren’t. And if you really wanted to have been there, you would have.” Your voice was low and husky. You sounded tired and defeated. It was worse for Spencer. For him, you should be yelling. Telling him how hurting you were. How an asshole he was.
“Baby, there is no excuse for what I did. The last thing I want in my life is to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Spencer’s voice broke with each word.
What had he done? Why? How can he be so stupid? He loves you. You’re the most important person in his life, so why did he do that to you? How can he fix it?
Still not looking at him, you spoke again.
“I can’t understand, Spencer. It was our anniversary. You were the one who suggested doing it,” you remind him. He nodded, kneeling in front of you. It didn’t matter the mud, and it didn’t matter the rain still falling. Spencer needed to look at your eyes to explain himself.
“I’m an idiot. I lost track of time and forgot,” he mumbled. You held up your head and finally looked at him.
“You forgot? So it's true I’m not that important to you,” you concluded sadly. Spencer’s eyes widened.
“No! Don’t say that!” he pleaded.
“Am I wrong? I don’t think so.” Your chin wobbled, but you needed to say it. “I know your job is important, Spencer. I do. And I never wanted to compete with that because I thought I didn’t have to. But after these past months, I think I need to get used to the idea I lost you already,” you acknowledged with a pained sob betraying you. It was the pang of the meaning behind your own words.
The memories of the past months flashed before Spencer's eyes. And there he saw it. The kisses he didn't give you, the 'I love you' he didn't tell you. The nights he didn't sleep by your side—all the things he has been missing.
He realized that although he never doubted his love for you, he stopped nurturing it and took it for granted.
Crying, he took your hands, and by divine grace, you didn't push him away.
No words he could say would be enough to convey how sorry he was. But he needed to try because he didn’t want to lose you. You needed to know he loved you and that you owned his heart. You needed to know he just realized he made a mistake, and he wants to fix it.
“The first time I saw you in this very place, you were slowly swaying in this exact spot with your eyes focused on the book in your hands. I was so mesmerized that I never thought I would get the nerve to talk to you, you know? But I did. And when I saw the warm look you gave me when I asked you if you had read the author's biography, I felt my heart warming as never before. And when I heard your laugh after I clumsily tried to flirt with you? I swear it was the sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life,” Spencer confessed, eyes sparkling at the memory. You fondly recalled it too. You never liked to talk with strangers all of a sudden, but with Spencer? It felt natural and right.
“You let me in in your life. You opened your heart to me and taught me how to do that too. You realized I’m not the best student in those matters, though,” he chuckled, seeing your nod.
“Despite that, you believed in me. You gave me a chance to love you, and I swear loving you has been the most natural thing that has ever happened to me. You have made me so happy (Y/N). You have no idea. And that is the problem. I have not known how to love you the way you deserve. I hadn't realized what I was doing. I'm sorry. I spent much of my life fending alone, not walking with anyone by my side. And I know that does not excuse my behavior. Even so, I dare to ask for an opportunity to prove you do not have to compete with my job. Give me a chance to prove to you I can be better. I can be the man who deserves your love. Please let me gain back your love and the privilege to hear you laugh again."
Spencer was almost out of breath when he was done speaking. You mulled in his words as his hands enveloped yours, patiently awaiting your response. Would you give him a chance?
As the rain continued pouring down, your eyes focused on him, still kneeling before you with hopeful eyes.
You know he loves you. Even if he needs to be better at proving it to you. And you love him even if you feel hurt for what he did. You both would have to work to make it work. You both deserved the chance, though.
The answer to his question was clear then.
You hopped off the swing and kneeled, not releasing his hands grasp and pulling him to catch his lips with yours. He kissed you back with everything he had. When both parted, you smiled at him, and Spencer was trying to figure out what that meant. You spoke to make it clear.
“Please, just don't make me regret being in this same place three years ago.”
Spencer earnestly shook his head.
“I won’t. I promise,” he told you before kissing you again under the rain.
------------------
Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#under the rain#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
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Stay With Me Till Morning
hi guys! another fic for you :) i got a little carried away at the end, but you know how it goes. this is for any munch!spencer fans 🤗
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
summary:
Spencer and you are co-workers, strictly co-workers, despite your feelings for him. A few nights sharing a room won’t change that, right?
warnings: mentions of body-specific insecurity, fluff, smut, oral sex (fem receiving)
wc: 3.2k
if i missed anything let me know!
One of the worst things about being a newbie, at any job, is coming into a place where connections have already been made. Working at the FBI, more specifically the BAU, was no different.
Now don’t get the wrong idea, working there was a dream for you, but there was no doubt that you were severely lacking in personal relationships compared to others. Derek and Reid had a sort of brotherly bond, JJ and Emily’s like sisters, and Hotch and Rossi’s went unspoken but still glaringly obvious. You existed in their orbit, and while you had all grown to love each other, you still felt a bit like an outsider sometimes.
Unfortunately for you, this feeling intensified whenever the topic of room sharing came up. Sure there were benefits, like having a room to yourself on occasion, but usually it just served to worsen your imposter syndrome.
The case that you were working currently, sans Rossi (he was on a book tour following his latest release), pushed this feeling to surface even more.
You all were in Upstate New York investigating a series of homicides that seemed to mimic a string of murders that had occurred 20 years ago. The town you were in was on the smaller side, so the only place you could find accommodations was a small bed and breakfast.
Said BnB did not have enough rooms available for anyone to ride solo, and with Rossi gone, Hotch and Morgan were buddied up, leaving Emily and JJ and Reid and you. Naturally, Emily and JJ bunked up together, leaving you to share a room with the boy wonder.
It’s not that you didn’t like Reid, quite the opposite actually, you liked him too much. You’ve always had a propensity for falling incredibly deeply incredibly fast, and when you met Spencer for the first time you proved you reputation correct.
Your first impression probably put him off slightly, but he was gracious enough not to show it. When Hotch introduced you, the first thing you thought was how ridiculous attractive the man in front of you was. His high cheekbones and big, brown eyes drew you in immediately. To make matters worse, he was fucking adorable. After snapping back to reality, you offered Spencer your hand, which he declined citing the pathogens and it being safer to kiss.
In one of your more impressive displays of cluelessness you said, “I think we could make that happen.”
This caused Spencer to flush and a ghost of a smile to grace Hotch’s face. Thankfully, in the last few months you had redeemed yourself slightly, developed a rapport with the doctor, and stood by hopelessly as you crush developed into a nasty little monster.
So, no sharing a room with Spencer wasn’t really an issue, but still, might just be the thing that breaks you.
~
“There’s only one fucking bed?”
You’d spoke far too soon.
After assuring Spencer you were completely fine and not at all uncomfortable with sharing a room with him, you and him walked together to your room, only to find a scene straight out of a shitty romance novel.
When Spencer heard you and noticed that there was in fact, only one bed, he immediately said, “I can sleep on the couch.”
Maybe you should’ve just agreed and saved yourself from a week of sexual frustration, but you couldn’t.
“Spence, that couch is maybe five feet long. I don’t even think I could sleep on it.”
You looked at him then to muster up some courage, “We can share the bed. We’re both adults.”
He looked slightly pained, which panicked you a bit. God, how fucking embarrassing.
“Or I can take the couch. I wont let you, but if you’re uncomfortable I can. I’m a bit shorter.”
Spencer hurried to speak, “No!”
His outburst took you by surprise but he quickly went on.
“I mean, no. I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t want you to be at all or feel like I’m forcing you to sleep with me. Fuck, or I mean next to me-“
You cut him off before he could fall into a tailspin.
“We’ll share then.”
~
Sharing the bed had actually not been that bad for you at first. You were on your third day in New York, and you were making steady progress on the case. Hopefully, it would be wrapped up in a day or two.
Aside from the fact that you barely spent any time in the room, you had managed to stay on your side bed. The only spot of trouble was the dreams you were having, dreams about the person next to you that would turn even the worst sinner’s cheeks red. Still, Reid was acting no different, so at least you were confident you weren’t talking, or, god-forbid, moaning, in your sleep.
It had been an incredibly hard day. Not only was it freezing, but you had been outside and away from temperature controlled environments for far too long. Immediately once you got back to the Inn you were staying at, you asked Spencer if he’d mind you taking the shower first.
“I’m freezing my ass of right now. You don’t mind do you?”
“No, of course not. You know it’s kind of a superstition, but there’s some actual evidence that being cold can make you sick. I just read a study which showed 10% of people exposed to-“
You cut him off before he could finish.
“Spence, I’d love to hear about all that, but please just wait till I’m out of the shower.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry.”
You shook off his apology as it wasn’t needed. That was one thing you didn’t get about the rest of the team; you loved hearing all the little tid bits of information that Reid let out. Yeah, he was like a literal encyclopedia at times, but it was never annoying. If anything it made you like him more. You loved the way he lit up when he told you about something he’d just read about, or read about 15 years ago. It was cute.
Getting into the shower was like a blessing. The water rolled over your cold skin and helped to loosen the muscles you’d been stressing all day. If you were bolder, or clueless to Spencer’s aversion to touch, you’d ask him to give you a shoulder rub. Your mind wondered off to where else he might touch you, but that was just wishful thinking.
After spending a near gratuitous amount of time in the shower, you shut off the water and reached for a towel. Only once you’d started drying off did you realize in you haste to warm up you’d forgotten to bring your sleep clothes into the bathroom with you. Now, you had to walk out in a tiny, hotel towel right in front of Reid. Sure, it was the start of a few of your fantasies, but in real life the idea seemed mortifying.
As quietly as possible, to not draw attention to yourself, you opened the bathroom door. With one hand gripping the point where the towel connected with itself, you tried to tiptoe unnoticed to your suitcase.
“Y/n?”
You looked up to see Spencer watching your frame like a hawk. As he took in your damp, barely covered figure, you wished to yourself that the lights in the room weren’t so fucking bright.
“I, uh, forgot to bring my clothes in,” and with that, you raced back into the bathroom to change.
After taking a minute to collect yourself, you make your way out of the bathroom again. The room is, thankfully, much darker and you see Reid tucked into his side of the bed. You climb in next to him.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was weird. I, I won’t forget my clothes again.”
“It didn’t, Y/n, don’t worry.”
With that, you both tried your best to fall asleep and put the day behind you.
~
When you wake up, it’s decidedly not light out and you are decidedly not alone on your side of the bed. One of Spencer’s arms is over your waist, holding you against his body. Still, you don’t know why you’ve woken up.
You tend to be a pretty heavy sleeper, and you know that some light spooning wasn’t enough to wake you up. As you lay awake, trying to figure out why you are up and what to do next you feel Spencer move behind you.
Now, you definitely know what woke you. Spencer, who could barely look you in the eye after seeing you in a towel, was grinding into while you slept. Obviously, he was asleep too, but that didn’t stop the shock of it all from hitting you like a fucking bus. He was silent aside from the occasional whimper, which sent shockwaves straight to your core each time he let one slip.
Despite this, again, being the start to a few of your own wet dreams, you were pretty literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. You felt like you’d be taking advantage of Reid if you didn’t wake him, but if you did you know he’d just about die from embarrassment. Or, worse, he’d think that you somehow executed all of this in a sick ploy. Not likely, but still a source of anxiety.
It took you a few minutes to get your head on straight, what with the burning feeling brewing in your abdomen, but eventually you realized that waking him up was pretty much the only thing you could do.
“Spence,” you said while gently shaking his shoulder.
��Spence, love, you gotta wake up.”
You were turned toward him now and saw his eyes open a crack, “Y/n? What’s wrong what’s goin-“
The realization of your situation also hit him like a truck, which was sort of comforting because at least you weren’t alone in the feeling.
“Oh my god, Y/n. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Jesus, I, I can’t- Fuck I’m so sorry.”
He went to spring out of bed, but your hand grabbed his arm before he could.
“Spence, it’s okay I promise. Honestly I’m surprised it didn’t happen earlier.”
“No, no it’s not. You don’t even like me that way and I was all over you-“
You cut him off when you heard this, “Spence, what do you mean I don’t like you like that?”
“You heard me right? I said your name?”
The world stops spinning, “What?”
“Oh, oh no. Look, I’m so sorry. I’ll go sleep in one of the cars. Fuck, I’m so-”
“Spencer stop. Please stop apologizing.”
It’s like an old Western showdown for a moment, the two of you staring at each other without making a move.
“Were you dreaming about me?”
He nodded, about to speak and likely offer more apologies. But, before he gets the chance you push your lips to meet his.
The kiss is soft and gentle. At first, his lips don’t move against yours, and you start to pull back, worried you read the situation wrong. Fortunately, before your lips could even part from his, he’s pulled you back in. His hands find the side of your face and his lips pressed into yours with a bruising intensity. Slowly, his hands moved to your waist, holding you in place.
The feeling rushing through you was unlike any you’d ever experienced. His lips molded to yours so perfectly it was almost unbelievable. If you’re hands weren’t so preoccupied by his hair, you’d pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. With a move you didn’t think he’d possibly pull, Spencer bit into your lip, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to press further into the kiss, tracing your tongue with his.
Before you could fall completely into the kiss you pulled away to ask, “Spence, are you sure this is what you want?”
“I’ve been thinking about it since the day we met, Y/n.”
With that, he pulled you back in. His hands moved more surely on you, dipping below your shirt. The feeling of his skin on yours sent shockwaves through your body. You moved to take off his shirt in turn, desperate to feel even more of him. He was relentless, breaking free from your lips to drag his mouth down your neck and over your exposed collar bone.
You felt needier than ever, and evidently so did he. In another move you didn’t expect (maybe you should throw your expectations out the window at this point) he grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap. With you straddling him, he moved to take your shirt off. Insecurity grabbed hold of you before you could push it away.
You stilled his hands in yours, “I haven’t let anyone see me like this in a long time. Just, please don’t be disappointed by what you see.”
His face morphed into one so full of love that it made your teeth ache.
“You’re my dream, Y/n. You’ll never, ever disappoint me.”
You let go of his hands and they resumed their previous journey, pushing up your shirt and letting that part of you be bare to him. Admittedly, you had to fight the urge to cover yourself, but when you saw his face you knew it was pointless. He was ogling you, not offensively, but more like he couldn’t believe you were actually in front of him.
“You’re so, so beautiful.”
His words didn’t erase the thoughts you had, but they certainly made them easier to ignore. Moving up from your waist, he went to cup your breast, fingers playing with your nipple which made your back arch into him. He took the opportunity to flip you over so you were laying underneath him. The weight of his body over you was heavenly. You felt him press himself into your center through his sweatpants. There were just thin layers of clothes between you now.
“Will you let me taste you? I’ve been dying to.”
You’re stunned from words but you manage to nod your head. As he moved down your body, he took your shorts and panties with you, leaving you completely exposed. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel scared of the feeling or his reaction to you. With Spencer, you felt completely at home.
You felt him kiss down your things, teasing you in a way that made you feel completely crazy. His breath ghosted over your core, but he still hadn’t made contact with where you needed him most.
“Spencer, please.”
Hearing your voice must have broken his resolve. He dove in like a man starved. In the past, you hadn’t found yourself enjoying the presence on a man’s head between your legs. Not that you had much experience, but the men who had you in that way always seemed to treat it as a means to an end. One of the two boyfriends you’d had refused to go down on you at all, and the other wouldn’t unless you were completely shaved. Safe to say you didn’t feel like you were missing much.
Everything was different with Spencer. He licked into you there was no place he’d rather be. His tongue over traced over your cunt as he tried to find all the places that drove you wild, and god did he. The noises in the room were obscene, from the moans falling from your lips to the sound of his driving you to an orgasm.
You locked your hands in his hair, grinding into his face without even noticing that you were. You were so close, and you found the final push in his fingers. God, his beautiful fingers.
His mouth was on your clit as he pushed two digits into you, curling in before pulling out, over and over until your legs begin to shake. His unoccupied hand pressed on your lower stomach, building up the feeling until you burst.
You repeated a mantra of his name as you came harder than you can ever remember coming before. The sensation took you out for a minute, but when you came back down and looked down at Spencer, you saw him staring at you in awe and completely soaked.
“Fuck, Y/n. Have you, have you done that before? I think that was the sexist thing I’ve ever seen.”
You were confused for a moment, wondering why he’d think you hadn’t orgasmed before. That was before you felt the damp fabric of the bed beneath you.
“Oh! Oh god, uh, no I haven’t. I’m sorry I didn’t-“
“Don’t apologize for that, Y/n. Fuck, I’d spend the rest of my life between your legs if it meant I could see that again.”
The constat praise falling from him had you noticeably riled up, and you pulled him up, back on top of you.
“Spencer, please. I want you. I want you inside me.”
“Fuck, Y/n.”
He made incredibly quick work of his own pants, freeing himself. Your mouth dropped open as you took him in. He was big, the biggest you’d been with, and he was pretty. You would have drooled if it wasn’t for his lips pressing into yours. He ran his middle finger through your folds before grasping himself. He followed his own path and ran his member through your dripping cunt.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect.”
The pet name made you even more desperate, “Please, Spence. Fuck, please.”
He put you out of your misery, sinking into you in one motion. You had to adjust to his size, but the feeling of him inside you, as close to you as possible had you reeling. You bucked your hips up, urging him to move.
He gave you exactly what you wanted, pushing into you at a perfect pace as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.
You were overcome and all you could mutter was “thank you, thank you, thank you” in time with each of his thrusts. When he started to push into you harder, you couldn’t help but squeeze down on him.
His hips stalled, “You’re gonna make me come, Y/n. You’re so fucking tight”
You let your hands take down his back, “Please, Spence. Want you to, want to feel you come in me.”
His pace picked up, and you could feel how close he was. Still he wasn’t done. His fingers again found your clit and rubbed circles on it.
“Need to feel you come on me first baby. Need you to come.”
His words made your head spin. It only took a few more thrusts before you were coming again, just as intense as the first time. You pulsed around him and it pushed him over the edge. You felt him come inside you, filling you completely.
“I love you.”
You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, but you froze immediately after saying them, worried that you had ruined everything. But, just as he had done before, Spencer quelled your worries.
“I love you too. God, I love you.”
~
The next morning was bliss. You woke in Spencer’s arms, and let him into you again. The sex was slow and you each let the three words spill uninhibited.
When you went downstairs, ready to finish the case, you were met with the sheepish faces of your team.
Derek spoke first, “I’d say congratulations if you both weren’t so loud last night.”
While you were mortified, watching the rest of the team hold back their chuckles, you couldn’t help but agree that this was all a moment to celebrate.
End
let me know what you think!!
#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#there was only one bed#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#fic rec#fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#a bit cliche but here we are#criminal minds smut#spencer reid is a munch
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