#this is what I use my brain cells for yes
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Watcher Update Debrief
I am several days late on posting my full thoughts on Watcher's update regarding their streamer, because each day when I come home from work I feel too tired to do so (and I can't post while I'm at work because my work computer prohibits access to tumblr due to it being a "video streaming website" -- yes, you may laugh). Truth be told, I'm still too tired to do so, but each day that goes by this gets less and less relevant, and after posting so much about the situation over the weekend I don't want to just not post anything about the update video, because I feel I have to give some closure on this. So without further ado, here is that closure. This is going to be pretty long as well (hence not wanting to post it on my cell phone at work), so once again I'm going to put this under a cut to spare everyone's dashboards.
First, I want to address the actions they've announced they're taking regarding the backlash they've received in regards to the streamer, setting aside the actual content of the video itself. (Because there is a lot to dissect in the video itself, both in what they say and how they present what they say, and I want to give full attention to that.)
When Watcher announced the streamer last Friday, they said that they would be virtually quitting YouTube altogether. All they would post on YouTube in the future would be the premiers of each new show, while the seasons themselves would only be released on the streamer, which would require a subscription for the annual price of $60, or the monthly price of $6 (which would total $72 for the year). This of course was only factoring rates for United States residents; the prices would be higher for those internationally. It's also not getting into how the original plan was also to pull all older seasons off YouTube, as evidenced by what the company told Variety, before Ryan backtracked it in response to the initial backlash.
However, in the update, the Watcher team reveals that they are backtracking as much as they can with regards to the streamer. While they are still going to have the streamer for the prices listed, they are going to still upload new seasons of their shows to YouTube, albeit one month later than the shows premier on the streamer. For people who have already subscribed who wouldn't have had they known this was going to happen, they can ask for a refund and they will receive it. Additionally, patrons of the Watcher Patreon will now receive access to the streamer for free, and can also reach out to Watcher for a refund if they've already subscribed to the streamer.
In my opinion, this is the best case scenario. I know there are some people out there who are upset that they haven't canceled the streamer entirely, but for reasons I've spoken about in other posts / comments, I really don't think it's possible. When I wrote my initial debrief post, I thought that they had built their streamer from the ground up, because that was how they made it sound in their initial announcement video. It has since come to light that they're using Vimeo's OTT service. But here is the thing about Vimeo's OTT service: it is not free. And while there is a standard plan that allows a customer to pay $1 per subscriber, the much more likely plan that a company like Watcher is going to use is the Enterprise plan, which would require a contract.
Here are the details of the Enterprise plan:
The expanded bandwidth, upload hours, and 1080p HD streaming are reason enough for Watcher to go with the Enterprise plan over the Standard plan, but any company with half a brain cell would want a dedicated support team in case something happens to go wrong with the streamer at any point. The Standard plan is for individuals who want to get into hosting streaming websites for the first time; the Enterprise plan (as the name suggests) is for companies who want to do so, and Watcher is company.
You'll notice, though, that the Enterprise plan works by a monthly or yearly subscription, and that there is no flat rate available. This means that Watcher would have already negotiated a price, and likely has already paid at least some, if not all money up front (assuming they went yearly instead of monthly, and as Watcher's own plan shows, you normally get discounts for annual plans over monthly ones). What this means is that Watcher has absolutely already put money into the streamer, and that they are in a contract they likely cannot break without incurring more fees / losing money they have spent. So at least for the time being, the streamer has to exist. They can't simply walk away from it completely like some people still want them to.
So with that in mind, deciding to release the new seasons for free a month later on YouTube is the best possible outcome. They're still keeping the streamer for those who have and want to be subscribed to it. Releasing content early on a paid platform (such as, and I am just spitballing wildly here, Patreon) is a practice that many YouTubers have engaged in for a long while now. And I would guess the month delay is because they still really, really want to lure people to the streamer. Depending on how much money they put into that Vimeo OTT contract (and I really have no way of knowing how much money that was), I can understand why. Even so, it is a surprise to me that they are willing to compromise with the fans at all. I really was not expecting them to walk back any part of the decision. So this really is the best possible outcome any of us could have hoped for, in regards to specific actions regarding the decision they made before. The future of Watcher doesn't look as bleak now as it did on Friday.
With that said, let's address the content of the video itself.
Setting aside the "three ex-Buzzfeed employees on a couch" meme quality of the video (especially since the Try Guys on the couch hadn't done anything wrong themselves, whereas the Watcher guys did), here are the specific things I want to address:
1.) They centered Shane in the update video. I believe this was deliberate.
Over the weekend, huge swaths of the fandom blamed Ryan and especially Steven while exonerating Shane. At best, they just ignored Shane. At worst, they insisted that he was secretly against the idea all along and that the other two (especially Steven) had forced him into it / outvoted him. Setting aside the implicit racism in all of this (because although the fandom has had a very hard time admitting it, you don't find the men of color inherently untrustworthy / unlikable / unrelatable and the white man inherently relatable / trustworthy / likable without implicit biases, you just don't), it's unreasonable to think they didn't notice with the flood of hateful comments flooding Steven's and Ryan's socials while Shane got less heat. Not no heat, mind, but considerably less when compared with the other two.
So upon noticing that, they centered Shane -- who was still the most liked by the fandom, the one still seen as a "comrade" by a huge number of the fandom -- in the middle of the couch, to draw the eye, to play to the audience subconscious. The sight of Steven (and to a lesser extent Ryan) makes you angry? Put them to the side, put Shane in the middle. Let his white face calm you down. It absolutely sucks ass that this was needed, but again, there were both explicit racist comments and implicit racism at play all over the place this past weekend. It was disgusting, I'm sure they noticed, and they staged themselves on that couch accordingly.
(And it was staged, as well, because on the podcast they've talked about how Ryan often likes sitting in the center and Shane (and Steven) prefer sitting off to the sides. And in the first video we see this; Ryan is in the middle, with Steven and Shane are on either side of him. But in this one, it's switched. Wonder why? This is why.)
2.) They acknowledge that they messed up, and they apologize.
Now, their bad business decision is their bad business decision. If they wanted to tank their company by moving completely to a paywalled streamer that doesn't have nearly enough content to appease less than the most diehard of fans, much less appeal to potential new customers, that's on them. But in their announcement video, they were obtuse about the financial situations of many of their fans; they were patronizing, they were arrogant . . . they messed up. They messed up, and they say it plainly, and they apologize.
This is the most basic, the lowest of bars to clear. But many YouTubers fail to clear it. It's refreshing to see that they haven't. Personally, I have respect for people who can own their mistakes, apologize, and then resolve to do better in the future. We are all human; we are all going to fuck up at some time or another. The important thing is to acknowledge when we do, apologize for it, and then try not to do it again in the future. The fact that these three acknowledged that they fucked up, apologized for it, and then outlined the actions they're taking to fix the wrong actions they took above are all good things in my eyes.
(On that note, I also appreciate that they specifically address what hurtful things they said, and explain why those things are hurtful. They acknowledge that they blew off all the fans that couldn't afford the streamer, as well as the fans who have supported them via merch sales, Patreon subscriptions, live shows, et cetera for all these years. They acknowledge the comment about "a price anyone and everyone can afford" was insensitive and wrong. Anyone can say "I'm sorry" and have it be meaningless if they don't know why they should be sorry. The Watcher team clearly did listen to the feedback and understands what they did wrong. I appreciate that.)
3.) The one thing in the video I did not appreciate and that I think was a misstep was the part where Ryan tried to once again explain why they thought the streamer was a good idea.
We heard them explain in the announcement video that they need money from the streamer, and that they have a hard time reconciling their content with ads. The problem they face is this: if the audience didn't buy that then, they are not going to buy that now when they've had an entire weekend to be upset. And not only have they had an entire weekend to be upset, but we've also had at least one YouTuber who owns a company that connects YouTubers to advertisers lay out exactly how much money Watcher should be making from their channel and how friendly their channel is to advertisers, so the claims make even less sense now than they did before. Attempting to insist that, "we really do need the streamer money though" is doing little to convince those of us who didn't already believe that. You can say, "we would lose the company if we didn't do it" until you're blue in the face, but you really are wasting that breath.
More importantly, though . . . an apology is not the time for justifications. This video was meant to apologize for your wrongs to your community and announce the actions you are taking moving forward to right those wrongs. Which, to be fair, is what Watcher did. What the video was not for was to say, "But we were right to introduce the streamer because . . ." No one in your audience wants to hear that. Even if it made financial sense (which it did not), this is not the time or place for that, especially when what you are saying now is what you already said in the announcement video. It feels defensive at best. It's simply not the best move. It's not the time or place.
Which is not to say that nothing else should have been addressed here beyond an apology. Had they read a chunk of the fandom the riot act for the racism and other out of pocket comments (e.g. apparently people were posting on Ryan's wedding photos on IG that Mari would leave him when she realized how selfish and greedy he was), I would have supported them in that. Alas, twas not to be.
All in all, my final judgment on the whole situation is this: the response video is the best possible outcome any fans could have hoped for. I will remain subscribed to their YouTube channel, because I am an adult with a full time job and a life and so I don't mind watching the videos a month later if it means watching them for free. I accept the apology that the Watcher team has given, and I appreciate the fact that they got someone with actual public relations experience to assist them in writing and presentation (because they very clearly have a PR person assisting them now -- that was not a Watcher original production).
But just because I accept the apology doesn't mean that I have forgotten, or will forget, what has transpired. I have known for awhile now that Watcher Entertainment is not the tiny underdog they pretend to be. After all, they got DISNEY to sponsor them for an episode of Ghost Files. (The Haunted Mansion episode, to be specific.) When you have Mickelous Fucking Mouse himself opening his checkbook to cut you some cheddar for advertising, you have hit the big time. You can no longer claim to be a small, pitiable underdog at that point. Previously, I was happy for them that they were hitting the big time. I remember messaging a good friend of mine so excited that they were getting paid by The Mouse. After this debacle, though? Seeing them pretend to be starving to death while still getting cut checks by huge corporations for ad revenue? That sweet taste has turned rather bitter, especially when their merch -- multiple items of which I have purchased -- is so overpriced as well. (I paid over $80 for that Mystery Files jacket. It's just a regular denim jacket with the logos stenciled on . . . I was glad to support them and to have a jacket featured on the show, but now . . . smh.)
All of this is to say: I will still watch their shows for free on YouTube. I'll listen to their podcast when I need background noise. But I'll never again buy a piece of merch. And I'll regard them as I do the owners of any other company: businessmen who are, at the end of the day, there to make money. They are company owners, they are actors, and they are nothing more than that. And that's fine. They don't have to be.
That's where I stand, anyway. Everyone else is free to reach their own conclusions on the matter.
#don't bother trying to argue that ''people weren't racist''#or ''it was ok to be vile to Steven bc [reasons ppl dug up to justify their racism]'' or i'll just block you tho#watcher#watcher entertainment#shane madej#steven lim#ryan bergara
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Wish we got to see more of Major Reed especially in MACO uniform
#i cannot even describe how feral he makes my brain cells feel#the fact this was one of his first scenes and i was supposed to pay attention to the rest of the episode??#that scene where he grins and his eyes literally light up as he's given permission to use the booth should not be...“interesting”#plot? what plot? major reed is the plot#ugh he's gorgeous#step on me. break my bones. i beg you#this post is going to come back to haunt me isn't it#i disappear for a month and this is what i come back with i am so sorry yes i will continue this nonsense#malcolm reed#enterprise
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behold, another thing no one will understand except the stringly mold sillies in my mind.....tis an enigma....
#hand jumper#webtoon#juni chang#sayeon lee#min woo#ryujin kang#cell 3 ig#ishaan cha#if hj tumblr bros even exist consider the wild west of the hj discord server as well i swear it gets silly in there sometimes#moreso when there's actual episodes#ok now i will give SLIGHT context on this cancerous meme since it was a fic idea originally because believe it or not i used to have a brai#but the thoughts won#YES ISHAAN CAN BAKE#YES HE WAS BAKING WITH TSUBAKI AND DAHEE BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO HELP OUT#YES TAEHO AND JUNGWOO ARE THOSE MFS WHO WAIT IN THE LIVING ROOM UNTIL IT'S DONE TO EAT THEM#THEY ARE THOSE LITTLE ASSHOLES TO *ME*#and every time they win i make a shitty shitpost instead to compromise for the lack of comprehensive ideas in my brain#and idk how to format hcs tbh#and i'd take a bullet to the head than let them leak from my brain#it's chrisler man idk what to say#cell 4 gets to hype up christmas and go shopping on a budget or window shopping#but since juni's that good at finding those obscure gift stores that have almost anything for dirt cheap you BET she got cell 4 silly stuff#and she got one for ishaan but she'll tell cell 4 she gets 2 because she's the one with the card#no one questions this#peace and love#good day ig??#until again????#idk what else to tag#inconsistency is my specialty and i'm one to live up to it so forgive me on that one
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everyone always talks about how mike has rocks in his head and to be clear - we are all so, SO correct!! but i would also like to acknowledge that will is also pulling up with pebbles where his brain is supposed to be. i could go on and on about how he doesn't notice that his boy best friend mike flirts with him at every given opportunity and looks at him like he hand painted every single star in the sky, but like, he can get away with that ig cause he's gay in the 80s, selfless, kind, beautiful perfect etc etc etc. 🙄
i am actually bringing up will's rock for a brain because i need to remind everyone that will and lucas have an actual conversation - this is real! this is canon! - about how the only purpose a bowl has is for cereal. they genuinely cannot think of a single other use! as if will is not having this conversation after joyce cut around the rim of a bowl ON HIS HEAD earlier that week!!! as if she's not been doing this for his entire life!!!! stupid bitch 😭🙏
#will byers#byler#WILL IS A DUMB FUCKING BITCH!!!!! i love him for it!!!!!!!#when you are soooo smart and also soooo stupid. the duality of man!#also? do lucas and will not enjoy a nice bowl of soup on occasion?? perhaps a chowder??? this seems out of character for both of them.#i think will is maybe smart independently but put him in a room w his friends and he's like brain cells? i don't need these!#like girl yes you do 💀 your friends don't got 'em either 😹😹😹#will: uses a bowl more often and more creatively than any other party member#also will: literally what else would you use a bowl for other than cereal 🤕#god. i'm ordering cfa#DKWKSKSKW i am kidding about that last part.#mine#this is a mess! don't ever ask me to explain my posts or my tags.
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THE LAD CAME!!💖💖🎉🎉 (Now to keep hoarding for Masquerade Malleus.)
#TWST#Twisted Wonderland#TWST Grim#Storm yells about TWST.#At first I was like 'okay I'll pull once' which is how it usually starts.🥲#Then two pulls later ('cause I told myself the third pull would be my last one) I got him!#So yes I was very lucky and very much expecting not to get him with my last pull.#I MEAN WHAT IF THEY NEVER BRING THIS CARD BACK?!?!#Now I'm just agonizing over me not spending the coins for Grim's candy and using them for furniture instead.🥲#I got excited and my brain cells left me.😂#Anyway HIM.💖💖
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any quotes from ivy alexandria my beloved? also your fic series is one of my favorites of all time <3
Glad to hear you've been enjoying it! And yes, definitely, I can find an Ivy quote. Let's see. . . don't think I've given this one before! If I have, feel free to ask for another.
"Brian was nodding, too, when Ivy looked over. “Besides,” he added, “there were other things to worry about. Keeping as many people out of the loop as possible. Do you know how impossible it is to keep a secret like this on Aurora? Marius must have accidentally met Michael at least three times.”
Raphaella abruptly began to look nervous. “That was why we erased his memory, right?” When her question was answered with general nodding, she sighed. “He’s going to kill me, then.”
“Why?” Ivy asked, looking up from her examination of the blood. “It might have saved the time stream.”
“It means I erased a memory he had with Lyf, multiple times. And if Lyf’s really— you know, I’m still not sure what’s going on with all of this. Are they dead, or not?”
Ivy finally put down the blood. “It depends on where you are in the time stream,” she said finally. “You all remember my presentation on temporal paradoxes for Fun Fact Friday, correct?”
Every person in the room began to groan."
#don't think I've given this quote before at least#I actually really love this chapter#current title in my drafts is a placeholder: 'Click Clack The Brain Cell's Back'#I'll come up with a better title eventually#now we are derailed#the stars claim them#and yes Liz and I both used fun fact friday#that's what happens when siblings brainstorm together#we share brain cells#no context quotes time!
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I don't know how much longer I can work at a Christian university before I lose my fucking mind completely I have got to get the FUCK out of here bro
#The academic culture here is atrocious and the way they want me to teach is so not my style#ENG comp one classes with 100 kids should be illegal#I get graders and assistants but it's still hard to give good feedback and help any of them on a personal level#Also my classroom style is not lecture heavy but I've had to adapt bc of the class size#Some students and staff are sweet and not hateful zealots but others are evangelicals with 0 brain cells#Like. I shouldn't have to tell a student that yes they can use the Bible as a source if it's relevant but it cannot be their only source#You need. Peer reviewed research.#The approach I usually take is 'hey so it's called faith because you don't need proof to be devoted to God. But in this paper I need you#To rely on what you can see and provide evidence for' and that usually works but I am so tired. Of even having to address it#I've been applying for jobs at local community colleges but I keep getting turned down#Maybe it's because I don't have enough professional development in my resume I don't fucking know#I just think I will snap someday if I keep working here#I've already located the like. Three gay people in the department and made friends thank God#Keeps me sane#But fuck bro#I'm so depressed#I don't feel like I'm doing good by the students#I don't feel like I'm intellectually stimulated. Or using my talents#I don't feel good about this job#And they pay like garbage#Some of the students are sweet and want to learn and clearly get something out of my class but many do not.#Woof
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anyway i love kojirou he just went ahead and introduced himself. does he give a fuck about anything ?
#myposts#and then saber was 'well. on my honour i have to introduce myself too now'#and he went 'oh sorry. i didn't intend to /actually/ corner you. our swords will do the talking; that's enough introduction for us'#mq's fsn 2023 lb#like he make it clear that yes he introduced himself as a power move#'i don't give a fuck if you know my true name' and#'lol i'm going to make you uncomfortable bc you can't do the same'#but at the same time he's also 'eh no. if you do introduce yourself then it was underhanded of me. sorry. don't.'#and make it gracious by 'we do not need an exchange of name to know each other. a fight will make things clearer'#there's not a single brain cell in the entire cast#i love them all they're moved by so much more than just 'what would be the most convenient/rational action to take right now'
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List of random dialogue prompts
“I was never a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and you know… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.”
“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”
“I fucking hate you.” “No you don’t. Take that back right now.”
“You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”
“Oh, fuck. Do that again.”
“You look stupid as all hell right now.”
“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can.”
“You’ve given me so many reasons to walk away.” “Then why don’t you walk away? It’s not like I’m keeping you hostage here.” “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s because I love you.”
“…Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get to have you tonight then I’m never going to be able to have you.”
“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”
“I think you and I make an amazingly stupid pair.” “I know! Our two brain cells combined together make for quality entertainment and a unique kind of stupidity.”
“I’m going to have so much fun with you.”
“Oh God, yes, right there— oh my God, just like that, please don’t stop.” “…Can you stop that? You’re making it sound like we’re in a porno and now I’m highly uncomfortable.”
“Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?”
“Fuck, you’re such a wreck, and because of me, too.”
“Can you stop moaning? I’m trying to help you relax but you’re making it hard for me to concentrate.” “Sorry, your hands just work a little too good.” “I’m going to pay for a masseuse next time if you keep doing this.”
“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”
“Is hating me your only personality trait?”
“Never scare me like that again!”
“Oh, don’t worry. I have every plan to make you submit to me.”
“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.”
“That could be us.” “That is us.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you— slow down, you’ll get what you want soon enough.”
“I want you to remember every single second of this.”
“Bet you they can’t make you feel the way I do.” “Bet’s on.” “Wait, what? That was not my intention—”
“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.”
“Come and get your fix.”
“…You’re an addiction I never want to quit.”
“I had nothing to live for, but then you came into my life. So thank you.”
“Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.”
“You think I wanted this to happen?!”
“Just when I was about to give up…”
“I trusted you with my life.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.”
“You know, maybe you should bet on something else the next time instead of betting on someone’s fucking feelings.”
“You’re such a dork.” “Yeah, no wonder you’re so in love with me.”
“Does me doing all these things not account for anything?” “I never asked you to do those things for me, though, did I?”
“You nearly foiled our plan, you idiot!”
“I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?”
“Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”
“I’m tired of being on the sidelines.”
“You actually came back.”
“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”
“That was a bold move.”
“We’re going to be late, all because you couldn’t stop scrolling through that damn phone of yours while taking your damn sweet time to shit!”
“Kinda sucks that I can only have you like this.”
“I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.”
“Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”
(pt. 2) | (pt. 3)
#long post#dialogue prompts#random dialogue prompts#otp prompts#fluff prompts#angst prompts#smut prompts#prompts#romantic prompts#romance prompts#47 is PERSONAL HAHA (it’s me lmfao I’m the shitter 🫡🫡)#suggestive prompts#writing prompts#i had this list in the drafts for sooooo long lmfao
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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]
Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)
word count: 7.9k
trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.
authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.
previous chpt | next chpt
'Doctor, look into my eyes.
I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'
The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.
Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.
Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.
Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.
Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.
They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.
Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.
Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.
Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.
But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.
He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.
So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.
Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.
“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”
“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.
“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”
“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”
“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.
He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.
Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.
She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.
“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”
She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.
“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”
“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”
Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.
“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”
He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.
The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.
“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.
A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.
“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.
She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.
The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.
“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.
Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.
The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.
“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.
She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.
But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.
He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.
And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.
Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.
It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.
It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.
JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.
Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.
So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.
JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.
So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.
So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.
It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.
“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”
She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.
“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”
“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.
“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.
She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.
She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.
So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.
JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.
Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.
Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.
Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.
He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”
Nothing.
And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.
“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.
He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.
He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.
“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”
“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”
“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.
“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”
“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.
She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.
“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.
“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.
“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”
“No body needs me,�� She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.
“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”
And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.
He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.
And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.
If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.
Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.
It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.
So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).
“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”
“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”
“Do you mean julienne?”
“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.
“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.
“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”
David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.
Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.
“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”
David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.
“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”
“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"
“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.
She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.
Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.
“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.
She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.
“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”
“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.
“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”
And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.
While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.
She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.
It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.
He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.
“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.
“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.
She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.
But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.
Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.
It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.
But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.
“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.
She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.
It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.
“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.
“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”
Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.
“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.
“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”
“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”
They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.
Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.
This never happened.
Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.
That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.
So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.
Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.
He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.
“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”
And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.
She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.
It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.
“Bug, I’m getting you-”
“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.
Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.
“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.
“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”
His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”
“Hm?”
“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.
“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”
His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.
He felt like a fool.
“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”
“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”
It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.
He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.
“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”
He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.
“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.
Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.
She kissed him. She had kissed him.
And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.
“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.
Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.
But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.
He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.
–
taglist:
@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33
#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#matthew grey gubler x reader
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Morning After
Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^
Capitano.
-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.
-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.
-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.
-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.
-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.
-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”
-At least he's handsome under that helmet.
Childe.
-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.
-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.
-”Are you always such a drama queen?”
-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”
-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?
-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.
-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.
-”So where do you come from?”
-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”
Dottore.
-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?
-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)
-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..
-Maybe not this time.
-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.
-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.
- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.
-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.
-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.
Pantalone.
-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.
-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.
-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’
-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.
-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.
-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.
Pierro.
-He's confused.
-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.
-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.
-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.
-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.
-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).
-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.
-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.
Scaramouche.
-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.
-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.
-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.
-A human isn't a threat after all.
-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.
-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”
-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#hoyoverse#x reader#capitano x reader#capitano#childe x reader#dottore x reader#Pantalone x reader#pierro x reader#scaramouche x reader#dottore#pantalone#childe#tartaglia x reader#gn reader#headcanons
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dj got us falling in love | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x dj!reader
a new hobby can sometimes open many new avenues, sometimes even lead to love
landonorris
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 604,446 others
landonorris: the morning after the night before
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user1 lando really be on his hobby game rn
maxverstappen1 so that's where you were the entire night?
landonorris i saw you dancing your heart out so don't complain
maxverstappen1 you are overestimating just how much of last night i remember
user2 dj!lando unlocked ... does this mean photographer!lando is dead?
user3 he's so so sexy oh my
user4 the backwards cap is WORKING
danielricciardo so how long is this one gonna last?
landonorris i swear this is the one for me
yourusername
liked by landonorris, arianagrande and 1,204,556 others
yourusername: life recently... check out my boiler room set in the link in my bio it was super fun xxx
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user5 eating up the dj game i am obsessed with her
user6 i need to be at her next set or i'll become a threat to national security
landonorris sick set y/n !!
user7 bro what are you doing here? GET OUT OF HERE
danielricciardo ah i now see where the new inspiration came from ...
landonorris i need you to shut the fuck up
yourusername awww thanks lando, send me some of ur stuff we can compare x
landonorris on it 🫡
maxverstappen1 i don't know how you've pulled this off but i am impressed
user8 what actually is going on in this comment section
landonorris added to their story
[caption: bestest teacher in the world]
yourusername
liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,437,892 others
yourusername: life recently
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user6 ALERT ALERT MALE ALERT
user7 heavy emphasis on the mug rn
danielricciardo @maxverstappen1 whoa that hand looks super familiar
maxverstappen1 you're right daniel that hand does look familiar ....
yourusername yall crack me up
user8 lando you gonna let them do you like that?
landonorris my pr officier said not to reply
carlossainz55 bro...
landonorris oh shit
user9 mclaren really keep all his brain cells i can't
silverstone
liked by yourusername, landonorris and 55,128 others
tagged: yourusername, f1
silverstone: big announcement coming in fast ! y/n y/ln will be headlining the silverstone main stage for this year's british grand prix - the dj will take the stage for the sunday evening slot. see you all there!
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user10 idc this is fuelling my lando x y/n agenda
user11 i'm so fucking excited
landonorris i'll be there
oscarpiastri you are contractually obligated to be there mate
landonorris let me be supportive !!!
user12 oscar is done with the pining
yourusername thank you so much for having me !! i won't let you down
carlossainz55 by all accounts you're too good to do that
user13 have they all just collectively given up on the secret?
maxverstappen1 yes too much effort
landonorris
liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 1,209,677 others
landonorris: P2 in quali at home !! super, super happy, lets see what we can do on sunday
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user14 I AM LOSING MY MIND
user15 this is crazy i'm so proud
yourusername lets go landoooooooooooooooooooooooooo so sick
landonorris blah blah blah something about a certain someone being a lucky charm ;)
yourusername does this mean paddock passes for life?
landonorris it might have to
user16 they're so cute
user17 the crowd cheered when they showed her in the garage silverstone is ROOTING for this relationship
oscarpiastri let's get this bro
mclaren
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 663,201 others
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mclaren: LANDO TAKES HOME P2 AT HIS HOME RACE
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user20 OMG THAT OVERTTAKE AT THE START I AM GAGGED
yourusername unbelievably proud of you lando
landonorris love you too babe
user21 BABE?
user22 LOVE YOU TOO?
danielricciardo i saw that shoey man i'm so proud 🥲
landonorris miss you danny
danielricciardo i miss you more
yourusername am i a joke to you?
landonorris i'm sorry i love you
yourusername love you too ❤️
user23 why is danny always at the scene of the crime?
yourusername
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yourusername: best weekend ever!! silverstone you're the best, my favourite crowd ever !! p.s. lando i am so so so so proud, though if you try to kiss me after a shoey again we're breaking up.
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user24 CONFIRMATION CONFIRMATION OMG
user25 them saying i love you under mclaren's post wasn't enough for you?
landonorris noted.
landonorris ALSO YOU WERE SO SO GOOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
yourusername i love you more, thanks for the gig baby xx
maxverstappen1 do you take bookings? my birthday is in october
martingarrix i see how it is
yourusername i'm not getting involved in this domestic you're on your own max
user26 god when is it my turn
landonorris
liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,774,871 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: dj got us falling in love or something like that, love you baby.
comments are disabled on this post.
note: I'M BACK - so my absence was a lot longer than expected, i graduated uni (with a first, i'm so stoked) and my housing has been a whole mess. i worked at silverstone, hence the inspo for this imagine... ENJOY !!!
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#lando norris insta au#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris
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Tattoos for troubled minds | n romanoff
Summary: Natasha struggles to trust anyone when it comes to touching her body. But that becomes rather difficult when a tattoo idea comes into her mind that she just can’t shake
Warnings: mentions of scars, tattoo needles, slight internalised homophobia
wc: 3.6k
note: I don’t actually have tattoos (despite wanting one so badly) so this is probably really inaccurate. I do apologise if this doesn’t make sense. also, I hate this so much but the guilt of not posting is eating me alive so I’m sorry
-⧗-
Natasha was a quiet soul. She kept to herself, usually sitting at her own table in the Shield cafeteria, eyes focused on her plate of food as she ate quickly, just wanting to get out of there. None of the other agents dared make conversation with her, too spooked by her fighting skills to approach. But that didn’t bother her. Her hyper independence made her hesitant to trust people.
Clint was the only one she spoke to outside of working hours. They weren’t exactly friends, but she tolerated him enough to flash a small smile if she saw him in the hallways or feel slightly relaxed if they were paired for missions together.
And he liked her too, especially since her first words had been a jab at his choice of weapon.
“Bow and arrow? What did you do, get your training in a forest?”
But he didn’t take offense to it. After all, he’d made the call to save her and she owed him her life. Which is how, two years later, she was sprawled on his couch, chewing on take out pizza for the second time that week with a scowl.
“I think I want a tattoo.”
Clint frowned at her, wondering where her brain cells had disappeared to. “What?”
“You know, the permanent drawing-“
“Yes I know what a tattoo is Tasha,” he rolled his eyes at her teasing smirk, already over her sarcasm. “But you know it’s a bad idea for spies to have unique markings like that.”
Natasha shrugged, tugging up her sleeve to reveal a strange shaped scar across her bicep. “I’d say I’ve got enough of those naturally. And it would be hidden on my ribs or something.”
Clint just shook his head and turned back to his food. He was used to Natasha’s odd comments and her tattoo phase probably wouldn’t last in his eyes. Just like her ‘wanting to be blonde’ phase didn’t.
But it didn’t end. A month later and Natasha had fallen down the rabbit hole that was tattoo designs on pinterest, courtesy of a fellow agent who introduced her to the app. She didn’t understand it at first, but now it was 3am and her tablet screen was still glaring bright in her face, a plethora of images scattered across her screen.
She saved a couple to a board, now set on design and placement, before placing it to one side with a grin on her face. Natasha climbed out of bed and padded over to her mirror, pulling up her shirt and smiling softly to herself. But the dim lamplight made her scars glisten and she caught herself, a sudden feeling of repulsion shuddering through her body. She looked like a freak and no tattoo artist would want to go near that. Her scars weren’t normal and she wasn’t ready for the questions yet.
Tears glazed her eyes over and her arms snaked across her stomach, her reflection in the mirror now blurry. Even as the salty tears dripped down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her shirt, she didn’t step away, too engrossed with how disgusting she felt in her body.
That stubborn hope that the redroom failed to squash out had ignited inside her once more, except this time she just wanted to laugh at it. Natasha would never be normal. She was what they’d made her into, and a tattoo was never going to change that.
Clint noticed the change in her demeanor when she sat down at breakfast. Natasha barely engaged in her usual small talk, more focused on her food in front of her.
“Did you do anymore tattoo research yesterday?” He asked, knowing that would catch her attention. But instead of the usual spark, she remained dejected, stirring her yogurt half heartedly.
“Yeah,” came her response, albeit rather forced.
“There’s probably a lot of places in DC that would kill to tattoo a shield agent.” Nat shot him a look. “Just saying!”
“Sure. But I don’t think I can anymore.”
Clint looked at her with a frown. “Why not?”
Natasha just looked down and tugged at her sleeve, suddenly feeling exposed in her tight fitting suit. The image in the mirror from last night came into her mind and she pushed her food away, no longer hoodie. And beside that, she didn’t trust people she worked with, so how would she trust a complete stranger to add something permanent on her body? Getting a tattoo would be nothing but a dream for her, she knew that, but it still crushed her.
Clint studied his best friend for a moment in thought, before he placed his hand gently on her arm. “I might know someone who can help.” Natasha looked up, now interested. Her face was still stony but Clint knew she was excited. “A friend of Laura’s, we helped her out even before you came here.”
“An agent?” Clint hadn’t mentioned anyone like that before and it confused Natasha.
But Clint shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She came to Laura and I when she was a teenager and had nowhere else to go. And you know my wife-“
“Can’t let anyone suffer,” Natasha finished for him, warmth spreading in her stomach at the thought of the soft woman she’d grown to adore. Laura really did have the biggest heart out of everyone.
“Exactly that. Y/n was fourteen, I think, parents kicked her out of the house. How she got to ours, I’ll never know, but she just appeared on the doorstep one night and Laura melted at the sight of her.” Clint’s expression softened at the memory. “But anyway, what I’m saying is that she’s a tattoo artist. She’s got trust issues just like you and I think she’ll help.”
Natasha scowled at the last part, wanting to protest his comment. But she knew he was right; her trust issues were what got her into this mess in the first place.
“But she’s a kid?”
“No, almost the same age as you,” Clint said with a laugh. “You’ll like her, but she can be a little scary.”
“Scarier than me?”
Clint smirked. “Oh, you’d be surprised. That glare of hers rivals yours.” This vague description intrigued Natasha and Clint could see the cogs turning in her mind. “She knows what we do and she’s seen my scars. Trust me, they won’t put her off.”
Natasha’s head shot up, staring at her best friend with confusion. Was she that easy to read? Or did he just know her too well?
~~~
With the news of her favourite girls coming back home, Laura had been in a frenzy of cleaning and preparing. Clint had texted to say he was only minutes away so she left the dishes to soak and headed to the porch, anxiously staring at the track beside their house as she waited.
Anyone would have thought she was married to Natasha over Clint by the difference in reactions she gave them. Sure, Clint got a kiss and a hug, but Natasha truly got the special treatment, with Laura scanning her to make sure she wasn’t injured and quizzing her about how she was. Poor Clint was left to grab their bags as the women disappeared into the farmhouse.
Tea was poured and snacks were eaten in the cosy kitchen before the doorbell rang and Laura excused herself, leaving an anxious Natasha on her own for a moment. Muffled voices could be heard but she tried to go against her instincts of listening in and instead busied herself with a loose thread on the tablecloth. She heard footsteps approaching and turned in her chair, ignoring the way her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
The woman who walked in the kitchen doorway was stunning, Natasha couldn’t deny it, and her eyes darted to the patchwork of tattoos that littered her exposed arms. Their eyes met, and Natasha swore she could see the walls up in the other woman’s mind. But it didn’t scare her off. No. It brought her a weird sense of comfort and her body started to relax.
Clad in a black cropped tank and black cargo pants, Y/n hesitated in the doorway, duffle bag slung over her shoulder hitting the wall gently. Laura appeared behind her, gentle hands falling to her shoulders.
“Y/n, this is Natasha, the one I told you about.” The y/h/c girl made no effort to move. “She’s Clint’s partner.” Clearly not much of a talker, Y/n just nodded, not hiding the fact she was scanning Natasha from head to toe. She didn’t trust strangers, but she trusted Laura and Clint who seemed to love Natasha. So maybe she wasn’t a threat.
“Hi, you can call me Nat if you want.” No one called her Nat except Laura, but it was a feeble attempt to make the atmosphere more comfortable. Another nod came but Laura smiled.
“Do you want to go set up? All of your stuff is still exactly where you left it,” Laura addressed Y/n who adjusted the grip on her bag and disappeared down the hall without a word. Natasha’s eyebrows raised at Laura who watched her go, a fond look in her eyes. “She does speak, I promise.”
Natasha shook her head, brushing her off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I can tell you care about her a lot.”
“She’s like a daughter to me, kind of like you are.” Natasha’s cheeks flushed at that. “She doesn’t have anyone except us, so I worry. She’s a real sweetheart though, she’s just been through a lot. Kind of like someone else I know.”
“I’ll be kind, don’t worry.”
Laura couldn’t help but smile as she stirred her tea. “Oh I know. She already likes you, you don’t need to worry about that.”
Natasha let out a sigh and started to play with the hem of her zip up jacket. It suddenly felt real, the whole tattoo thing. And whilst she weirdly trusted Y/n, it didn’t help ease her nerves any less.
The redhead sensed a new presence before she spotted her, standing in the doorway just like she was before.
“Ready when you are, Nat.” Her voice was slightly raspy from lack of use and she spoke quietly, almost as if she was scared she’d get into trouble. Natasha smiled softly at the sound of her nickname and squeezed Laura’s hand before she followed the y/h/c girl down the hallway of the house she considered her second home.
Clint’s office had been turned into a makeshift tattoo studio with all new equipment and furniture decorating the small space. The tattoo bed had a fresh paper layer on top and Y/n gestured for Natasha to take a seat.
“Ok, do you have an idea of what you want? And where?” Y/n sat down at a small table and picked up her pen before looking at Natasha expectantly.
“I’ve got a couple of reference pictures on my phone.” The small device was handed over and Y/n swiped between them, nodding in approval before setting it down. “The last one is just for placement ideas.”
“I’ll work up a sketch and you can tell me what needs changing.” Luckily Natasha’s design was incredibly simple and it didn’t take long for Y/n to hold up her page.
Natasha slid off the bed and slowly walked over, not wanting to startle the skittish girl. But Y/n just moved over, clearly welcoming the redhead into her space.
“I love that a lot,” Natasha praised, studying the simple lines. “But maybe it could be a bit smaller.”
“I can scale it down when I make the stencil, no problem. But is the design alright? Remember, it is permanent so I want you to be completely happy with it.”
Natasha studied it for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined it on her body. Y/n had talent, anyone could see that even from such a simple drawing, and Natasha nodded before she slid the notebook back to her.
“I love it, I really do.”
Y/n nodded, grabbing her stencil paper from a drawer by her leg. She wordlessly began making the stencil and Natasha took this as her cue to return to her seat. She peered around the room, admiring a few pictures that were on the walls. Incredibly complicated tattoos which she guessed Y/n had done.
The young girl sketching away in the corner thoroughly interested her and something inside Natasha was drawn in. She wanted to get to know her because aside from the shy and hesitant exterior she was effortlessly cool and seemed sweet. Maybe Y/n could be the start of Natasha’s project to make friends.
“If you lie back on the seat and lift your shirt, we can make sure this is exactly how you want it before I start.”
Natasha took a deep breath and slowly lifted her shirt and lowered the waistband of her sweatpants so her hip bone was exposed. She shivered despite the room being warm, fully aware that her nastiest scar was on full display on her lower stomach.
But Y/n didn’t care. Or at least she didn’t make it obvious if it bothered her. “Is it ok if I touch your hip?” She asked, looking Natasha straight in the eyes. The redhead almost melted at her words, not used to ever being asked that question.
“Of course, do what you need.” Y/n’s fingers were soft and delicate as she placed the stencil on Natasha’s skin. She didn’t touch anywhere she didn’t need to and worked quickly, making sure it was fully stuck down before stepping back to allow Natasha to step over to the mirror.
Although it wasn’t permanent, Natasha’s heart was racing as she saw the way the black ink stood out against her pale skin. The symbol was small but perfect in her eyes, and she turned back to Y/n with a grin.
“It’s perfect!”
“Then I’ll get started.”
Due to the design being so small, it took no more than fifteen minutes for Y/n to complete. Her hand was incredibly steady and Natasha’s pain tolerance was so high she barely felt it. The room was silent aside from the faint buzzing, no conversation stemming from either woman. Questions spiralled around Natasha’s head but she knew this wasn’t the place to ask them.
Completely lost in her head, Natasha failed to notice the silence or the fact that her hip bone was no longer burning. Y/n kept working, wiping away the excess ink and making sure she hadn’t missed a spot. But it was perfect, as usual, and she gently tapped Nat on the thigh to snap her out of her head.
“You’re now free to look.”
Natasha grinned and hopped off the bed, holding up her shirt again as she looked in the mirror. Tears almost sprung to her eyes as she admired the finished product, and they probably would have tumbled down her cheeks if she had been alone.
A small spider sat on the front of her hip, legs slightly bent. It looked so delicate on her skin and for the first time in her entire life, Natasha actually liked looking at herself in the mirror.
“It’s so beautiful,” she began to ramble, unable to tear her eyes away. “You’ve got real talent Y/n, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so perfect.”
Y/n blushed and couldn’t stop the smile that graced her lips, catching Natasha’s eyes in the mirror and making the redhead freeze.
Her smile.
The young woman hadn’t smiled the entire time she’d arrived, but seeing her now was like a breath of fresh air. Smiling looked so good on her and Natash couldn’t get enough.
“If you want to show Laura, you can, but you’ll need to come back so I can wrap it safely.” Natasha glanced at her new addition and nodded, but hesitated once she was by the door.
“I think you should come too. The artist and her artwork.” Natasha spoke with a smirk and Y/n couldn’t ever imagine saying no to that woman. So she nodded again, her usual response, and meekly followed her back down the hall, pulling off her gloves as she walked.
Laura was already waiting for them in the kitchen and she placed her reading glasses in her hair to get a good look at Natasha who still hadn’t dropped her shirt down. She’d never seen the Russian with such a wide grin before, her usual collected expression completely out of the window.
“It looks beautiful, Nat, truly. You did such a good job Y/n.”
“You never told me how talented she is!” Natasha stepped to the side to allow Y/n to come forward, but the humble woman stayed where she was, already hating the attention. She didn’t see her art as talent, more like a form of escapism. But it made people happy and that was all she wanted.
“I wanted you to see for yourself,” Laura replied. “And besides, she never believes me when I tell her how good she is.”
“You’re really easy to tattoo. You don’t squirm or cry like other people do, so really I should be thanking you.” Laura was taken aback by Y/n’s comment, not used to more than three words coming out of the girl’s mouth. But the more she observed her, the more she saw her change. The darkness she’d noticed since Y/n was a teenager had lifted a little and she seemed a lot less guarded, looking over at Natasha with a soft expression.
And Natasha looked back at her just the same, purely in awe of how gentle she was. As Y/n gestured for them to return to the office and offered to hold Nat’s shirt, Laura felt like squealing like a child.
Two of her favourite people in the world had found each other and, despite both being so broken and fragile, fit together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other.
Natasha was strong enough and sure of herself enough for the both of them, and Y/n treated her with such delicacy and care that it slowly broke away Natasha’s trust issues and allowed her to open up. And Natasha’s protective nature came out around the other woman, wanting to keep her safe from the world.
With a quick word about going to show Clint, Natasha disappeared into the front yard with her newly wrapped hip, leaving Y/n to find Laura again. The older woman welcomed her with a hug and pulled a chair close to her own.
“You like her, don’t you?”
Y/n kept her gaze on the crossword Laura was doing, not wanting her eyes to give her away if she looked up. “She’s nice.”
“Hey,” Laura said softly, carefully taking Y/n’s hand in her own. She didn’t miss the way she flinched but unfortunately she was used to that by now. “You’re not back there. You’re allowed to like her if that’s what you want and feel. She’s a good person, but so are you, you don’t need to be scared.”
Y/n’s eyes followed where their hands were clasped up to Laura’s face, trying to find any hints that showed she was lying. But all that came back was the soft and caring face she’d grown to love, one that didn’t lie to her and didn’t hate her for who she was.
“I don’t like her like that.” Call her a hypocrite for lying, but Y/n had her reasons. Loving a woman was still unnatural in her eyes, despite her contrasting feelings that longed for it.
“Y/n…” Laura’s ‘mom’ tone was one she was used to and she knew she was caught out. “I’m not asking you to tell me now, but you deserve happiness, as does she. And I haven’t seen either of you that relaxed in a really long time. So please don’t push her away.”
Y/n didn’t know what to think. How could she? Her whole life had centred around hating who she was, so how could anyone ever like her like that? It messed with her head and Laura could see that.
But what was Natasha if not a life saver. She came strolling into the kitchen, her tshirt now tucked up into the band of her sports bra to allow her tattoo to be on full display. Y/n smiled slightly at the sight.
Sinking down into the chair beside her, Natasha noticed the clasped hands of the women and wondered what she’d interrupted. But that wasn’t her place to ask, so she turned to Y/n.
“How can I pay you? How much do you charge?”
Y/n shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Laura. “Nothing, honestly. You’re a friend, it’s no big deal.”
“Absolutely not. If you won’t take money, at least let me repay you another way.”
“Nat-“
“Dinner? How about you let me take you to dinner next week. You’re from the city, right?” Y/n nodded, her brows creasing. She turned to Laura for help but the older woman just smiled widely and nodded, giving her as much non verbal encouragement as she could. “Please, Y/n?”
She’d said yes before she could even process what was going on. After all, they were just friends going to dinner. People in the movies that she’d seen did it, so she could too.
What was so wrong with that?
#natasha romanoff#fanfic#marvel#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha romanoff fluff#tattoos#clint barton
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Sebek: HUMAN! YOU ARE REALLY! AN IDIOT!!!
MC: Haha... I'm fine... It's just an allergic reaction. I won't die.
Sebek: YOUR FACE IS SWELLING AND YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT YOU'RE FINE?!
MC: I have my EpiPen here for this kind of emergency.
Silver: MC, we could've avoided this if you'd told us that you're allergic to peanuts and dairy.
MC: That sounds like a bother, haha...
Sebek: IT ISN'T! I'M TAKING YOU TO THE CLINIC!
MC: But I'm fine now-
Sebek: QUIET! *carries them and rushes to leave*
MC: *after Professor Crewel treated them* Whew! I feel better now!
Sebek: Hmph! *still glaring angrily at them*
MC: Haha... Okay, I'm sorry.
Sebek: You should be! You got me worried sick, human!
MC: ...
MC: You were?
Sebek: ...
Sebek: NO! I MEAN EVERYONE EARLIER!
Sebek: You should tell us beforehand about the food you can and cannot eat for your own safety!
MC: ...
MC: *smiles* Okay.
Sebek: Hmph.
Jamil: I'm afraid no one really knows MC has a food allergy.
Sebek: Not even the two humans who share the same brain cell?
Jamil: Yes. They didn't know either.
Sebek: ...
Sebek: Human, can I ask you to investigate the reason for me?
Jamil: Well, sure. I'll tell you when I find something.
Sebek: *reading Jamil's message*
Sebek: ...
MC: Sebek? What are you doing here?
Sebek: You can trust me to care for you.
Sebek: So next time! Don't put yourself in danger! And you shouldn't care about others' opinions!
MC: Sebek...
Sebek: I'LL MAKE YOU FEEL SAFE ABOUT FOOD!
MC: ...
MC: *nods* *ends up crying*
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Sunscreen & Statistics (S.R.)
Summary: Reader asks for Spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).
Request: Spencer lecturing Reader on the statistics of wearing sunscreen, but his mind going blank when reader needs him to help put it on.
A/N: This is my (first) entry to my Summer Sunshine Challenge!
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Spencer POV, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, heavy petting, fingering, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex, coworker relationship, so many statistics (showers, skin cancer, sunscreen, sex), schizophrenia mention, Reader wears a bikini
Word Count: 5.6k
MASTERLIST
It was a beautiful day—the kind that artists had attempted to capture through many mediums. The summer sun was relentless, stretching its rays across every inch of the region. Even the shade hardly seemed spared, with bits of bright light slipping between green rustling leaves.
This seemingly idyllic set of circumstances offered the BAU a wonderful excuse to stay behind on the sunnier coast. Everyone was quick to buy new bathing suits and Rossi had already begrudgingly extended an invitation for everyone to stay at his favorite luxury hotel (on his dime, of course, or none of us would’ve made it).
The celebrations were already in full swing, and everyone was blissfully happy. It was, after all, the perfect day to hang out by the pool. So, they did. Each and every one…
Except for me. I stayed inside.
I wasn’t trying to ruin the fun. I had my reasons. Some were more reasonable than others.
Others were scary and slightly embarrassing. They wore a smile so bright it would rival the sun and managed to make me turn red even quicker than the star could. The kind of reason that turned me to nothing but a blubbering mess of a man.
I should’ve known better than to try to avoid her, though. Because that reason, that very important and tempting enchantress of a reason, always seemed to find me at the most inopportune time.
“Are you still hiding in here?”
I nearly jumped through my skin at the sound.
“No!”
I turned to find her staring back with an entertained, albeit disbelieving stare.
“Sort of. Maybe,” I felt compelled to continue.
When she still didn’t believe me—for obvious reasons—I finally conceded, “Yes.”
To my joy and eternal shame, she laughed like it had been an intentional joke.
“Well, I got banished back inside because I forgot sunscreen, so I’m trying to figure out where JJ left her bag,” she sighed.
Thankfully, that had been something I could help with. Despite everyone’s enthusiasm when they’d tossed the bags into the center of the suite lobby, I had managed to determine who owned which brightly colored pattern.
From my seat in the center, I reached over to pull JJ’s bag from the fray.
As soon as (y/n) spotted the motion, she was quick to exclaim, “My hero!”
Immediately, I felt the blood rush to my face.
I suppose there were worse places it could have gone.
“How did you forget sunscreen?” I asked.
“I hate the way it feels, so I almost never wear it unless forced,” she shrugged. Then, she turned to me, pointing the bottle like a weapon as she explained, “Plus, it always feels like they’re trying to trick me with all the numbers. I don’t know what SPF is. They could just be lying to me.”
“Well, the good news is that even a weak sunscreen is helpful,” I tried to reassure her. “Regular daily use of at least 15 SPF can reduce your risk of squamous cell carcinoma and melanoma by up to 50%.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. I can tell you more about this product specifically, if you want.”
When I held out my hand, she was quick to hand me the bottle. I was, in turn, very happy to have an excuse to look at something other than her before all the blood left my brain.
“Okay, so, this one is an interesting formula. It offers a decent coverage and—,” I started, but my voice died just as soon as I looked up.
Because there she was, pulling her top over her head to reveal the barely-there bikini beneath it.
I knew I only had a few seconds to shamelessly ogle her before she would find out, and I greedily accepted the sight of soft curves that all consisted of and led to her.
My eyes traversed her body the way I wished my hands could until I was left practically trembling.
The blood wasn’t in my face anymore. It wasn’t even anywhere near my brain. To the point I’d barely even noticed she’d already taken her pants off until her voice snapped me back to reality.
“And what?” she said.
“What?”
“… You stopped talking.”
“I did?”
She reached forward and grabbed the bottle from my hand. If she’d noticed the way I had been looking at her, she didn’t say anything about it. She just sort of… smiled.
“Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied.
I might’ve been able to answer honestly if it hadn’t been for the way she dumped the contents of the bottle into her hand and began lathering it over her legs.
“A-Anyways,” I tried to continue. With a wavering voice and wandering eyes, I rambled, “to maximize protection you should really use about an ounce of sunscreen with an SPF of 30. Anything over 30 is, well, like you suggested, sort of a scam.”
All the while, there she was, smoothing over slick skin that smelled like summer.
“An ounce, huh?” she hummed as her hands traveled between pillowy thighs to coat skin the sun could rarely reach. “Feels like you could make it a drinking game with enough motivation.”
“Drinking alcohol actually dramatically increases your risk of sunburn, so you should definitely wear more sunscreen if you’re drinking,” I muttered absently while my eyes stayed firmly fixed between her thighs long after her hands had abandoned the area.
“Noted,” she said, the end of the word tinged with a little bit of amusement.
I looked up at her to try to understand what had excited her, or perhaps annoyed her.
Or at least, I tried to look at her face. My eyes made a few involuntarily stops along the way. Once they settled safely back on her smile, however, she was quick to get my blood pumping in a different way.
“So, will you help me?” she asked.
“With what?”
She scoffed, then laughed.
“… the sunscreen? Duh.”
Despite my best efforts to make any sense of the request, I was, once again, a hopeless, lovesick idiot.
“W-What?” I babbled, “You… You want me to put it on? You?”
“I can ask JJ if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No!” I blurted out with both hands raised in opposition or surrender.
Didn’t seem to matter which.
I tried to explain it away, but my attempts to bolster my good character seemed even less convincing than the sudden outburst.
“N-No, no it’s fine. I-It’s… why would that make me… uncomfortable? I’m fine. I can do it.”
“Wow. Convincing,” she teased.
And that is what it was. There was no anger in her tone; not even a hint of resentment. She laughed, and I did, too.
“Okay, I admit that wasn’t very convincing. But seriously, I can do it. Promise.”
She spoke through her teeth when she muttered, “Whatever you say.”
When she tossed me the bottle back, we were both surprised to find that I’d caught it.
My hands, still shaky, were quick to close the gap between our bodies. The sunscreen felt nearly frigid compared to our skin, but she didn’t seem to mind.
In fact, she rewarded the sensation with a dreamy sigh and a slight arching of her back.
That motion, however small, felt like fire to an already ruined man. I tried to stay focused on more innocent areas. I worked my hands over knotted muscles in her shoulder and tried to free her of those burdens, too. With each swipe of my thumbs, she would let out the most delicious rumble that made me want to do it again.
Each time that I pulled away to add more, I came back a few inches lower until my fingers nearly slipped beneath the top of her bikini bottoms.
At that moment, with her arched lower back pressed against my palms and my fingers brushing against the little fabric between us, she shivered. Silently, I watched as the goosebumps covered her skin like a sheet.
Reaching forward to grab hold of the couch in front of her, she arched her back once more. The movement seemed intentional, closing a couple inches of the distance between us until there was almost nothing.
With more speed than I’d intended, I stepped back and nearly fell.
“O-Okay, I-I think that’s it!” I said with a squeak.
To my dismay, she stayed exactly where she was for a long moment. In fact, she deepened the stretch and fell forward with a sigh before she whined, “Shame.”
I tried to calm my fast beating heart while simultaneously trying to run from the thoughts that continued to chase me the longer she stayed bent over. My hands were still buzzing from the contact, and I felt almost lightheaded from the strength of the unrelenting erection still struggling against compression shorts underneath my pants.
(I had been right that I would need them if she was going to be there.)
And there she was, finally standing and stretching her arms over her head. They dropped back down and I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the effect of physics on her chest.
“It felt nice to be touched like that,” she sighed.
I couldn’t respond to that without making a complete fool of myself, so I tried to distance myself from the moment, instead.
“You’re actually supposed to wait 30 minutes after application to go into the sun, but, y-you can probably just sit in the shade and wait.”
“Did you already apply yours?”
“I’m not taking off my clothes so I could do it myself,” I explained.
I should’ve known better than to doubt her ability to get whatever she wanted—which, at the moment seemed to be my catastrophic defeat.
“Well, that’s not fair,” she whined, “I want to return the favor!”
“I-I mean… I’ll probably have to reapply it to my face soon, but I doubt you want to—.”
“Awe! Fun!” she cried before I could finish the thought, “Gimme!”
“Oh… um, okay.”
I handed her the bottle and whatever I still had of my heart. With expert fingers, she spread the chilly contents over my cheeks. We were both smiling, the expressions growing wider and more genuine as she started to play with pliable skin.
I involuntarily joined in on her laughter. Her hands and eyes were so warm, I couldn’t help but melt into a puddle in her palms.
The moment ended far too quickly. I missed her immediately, but she made sure that my smile didn’t fade.
“There. You’re only sort of pasty now,” she sighed contentedly before adding, “Mostly red, actually.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” I grumbled back. The sarcastic tilt to the sound wasn’t lost on her.
I realized in that awkward, somehow lonely quiet that I loved her more than I’d thought.
I almost wanted to tell her. I’d even opened my mouth, ready to spill the contents of my soul and hope for the best.
I never got a chance, though. Because before I’d uttered a single syllable, she jumped with her own realization.
“Oh, I forgot the most important part!”
“What?”
She turned away from me and dove her attention into the pile of bags without further explanation. I watched as she dug through clothing and whatever else she’d stuffed into her tote until she stood triumphantly with a closed fist.
“What?” I asked again.
She held up a single finger in reply.
I followed her instruction, waiting patiently as I watched her uncap a small tube of chapstick and use it to thoroughly coat her lips. Once again, I was left to shamelessly stare at a beautiful woman as she dutifully cared for herself in a way I’d wished I could.
Swallowing the lump in my throat that carried heartfelt confessions, I spoke again.
“What am I waiting for, exactly?” I teased.
Her eyes narrowed with what seemed to be a playful warning.
“Sunscreen application,” she explained flatly, “Duh.”
I paused. My head cocked to the side and my face twisted as I struggled to find any explanation for why she’d needed me for this part.
“Wha—?”
Then, just when I’d started to speak, it hit me all at once.
And by that, I mean she kissed me.
With both hands cupping already-reddened cheeks, she pulled me forward until I could taste flavored lip balm and her.
Her lips opened, sliding against mine with an undeniable affection that made my whole body tense. I tried to hold her, but it all happened so quickly that by the time I raised my hands to her arms, she was almost gone.
“There!” she said happily, “Now we’re ready.”
For what? I wanted to ask.
But before I could make myself speak, she was already gone.
I spent the next several hours outside.
The rest of the team seemed both surprised and not surprised about my decision to join them. After all, everyone knew I didn’t particularly enjoy pools or any body of water, and, despite my Vegas origins, the sun and I didn’t quite get along.
But they also knew I liked her.
It had never been more obvious than it was that day, when I emerged from the safety of darkness with freshly kissed lips and an expression filled with utter confusion.
(Y/n) was quick to greet me in her usual manner. She said nothing about the kiss.
Part of me had even started to wonder if I’d hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe the doctors had all been wrong, and I was already waist-deep in psychosis that manifested purely through happy memories of her.
It would be an odd presentation, sure, but at the time it somehow felt more likely than her returning my affections. But as soon as I started to convince myself, she would flash me a glance that set my already overheated body on fire. Even as she peered up at me from the edge, I could still see her smile under the water.
She wore that same look in her eye she always did when we were alone. It was a slightly unnerving but mostly flattering feeling. It felt like being wanted by a beautiful woman.
I’m definitely losing it.
That was the only reasonable conclusion to reach. Because when she emerged from the pool, I could’ve sworn she paused before to make sure I was watching.
Of course, I was watching. I made sure that my flawless memory captured damn near every droplet as it caressed her curves. I stared, practically worshipped the sight of her lips parted with a relieved exhale that I could see leave her chest.
The blood was gone again. I was doomed.
“You’re still hiding, huh?”
I was too afraid to answer until she took the seat closest to me.
“No, not hiding, just… staying safe,” I explained through my typical awkward smile.
I pointed up to the umbrella above me, but she didn’t look. Her eyes stayed glued to me.
“It’s probably time for me to reapply, huh?” she laughed.
I liked the way it sounded, so, I laughed, too.
“Yeah, to be honest, you really should’ve done it a couple hours ago, but I didn’t want you to think I was… a wet blanket or a pervert.”
She snorted at the suggestion. Her eyes squinted, playful as always and carrying some meaning that evaded me.
“It’s very interesting that those were the two options that came to your mind,” she said.
I panicked.
“I don’t know, it’s weird, isn’t it? Me insisting you should let me touch you?” I rushed, “I’m not crazy, right? It’s… weird! It’s…!”
She sighed.
At first, I mistook the sound for annoyance. But when I looked into her eyes, I knew that wasn’t right.
Because she looked… like she had been caught in a dream. A melancholy fantasy of something she felt was just beyond her reach.
She was looking at me, I realized, exactly the same way I looked at her.
“You’re not crazy, Spencer,” she said with a smile, “Just a little oblivious.”
My lips twitched as I fought a smirk that came through, anyway.
“I can accept that.”
She seemed pleased, as if I’d given the right answer.
“Well, the good news is I’m done with the sun for the day,” she announced.
Her eyes finally left me as she once again stretched her arms over her head and left me to ogle her like an idiot. Then, when I was thoroughly distracted, she glanced around like she was checking to see if anyone could hear her.
“They don’t seem to be calming down, so…” she said, much quieter now, “any statistics on what I should do with sunscreen when I’m finished with it?”
“No statistics, per se, but you definitely should wash it off. It can be pretty irritating for skin,” I answered matter-of-factly. “Not to mention the salts and chemicals from the pool.”
“I see,” she laughed.
Then, when she realized that I was, in fact, a hopeless, perverted fool with no blood in his brain, she made her intentions much clearer.
“Will you help me with that?”
Not clear enough for me, though.
“What?” I asked.
“With the sunscreen,” she answered simply.
“Uh—.”
Even that eloquent thought couldn’t make it through a parched, tightening throat. With each passing second and every syllable uttered, my voice got higher and even more unstable.
“I’m sorry, are you—what—w-what are you asking me?”
That’s when she took my hand, bursting with laughter as she dragged me from me seat with the most terrifying, alluring, and magical answer.
“Come on, pretty boy.”
I followed her without question but many concerns—the largest of which was the fear that she was actually leading me to my demise by humiliation.
Those worries grew tenfold when she yanked me over the threshold into her private room.
I stumbled forward and practically fell into her arms. But she was waiting for me, seemingly anticipating the clumsiness. Her hands were still soft, still soothing on boiling skin as she guided my lips to hers for the second time that day.
That time, I was prepared.
My hands covered her sun-kissed cheeks and pulled her even closer than she’d done to me before.
She tasted like salt and sugar from summer fresh fruit. I gave her every breath that I had, panting hopelessly against her lips each time that we broke apart.
Her hands were gentle when they found mine. I was reluctant to leave her until I realized that she was simply repositioning them to less innocent areas.
Still, I hesitated to go any further. I let my hands rest softly against her hips while I struggled to express my relief.
“Thank god,” I laughed, “I was sort of worried you were going to beat me up for staring at you all day.”
Her eyes locked onto mine with a hunger that seemed almost insatiable.
“No, I like it when you look at me like that,” she stated so simply it hurt. “In fact, I think I want to thank you.”
Before I could ask her how she intended to that, she made her intentions very clear by grabbing my dick through the fabric of my pants.
“So, tell me… any statistics on why we shouldn’t have sex in the shower?” she asked.
I don’t know how she’d expected me to think clearly. It actually seemed like she was purposefully trying to make it harder for me to form any words at all.
“It’s actually—,” I started just to stop when she started stroking the full length of me with devilish fingers.
“It’s actually really dangerous to try to have sex in the shower,” I tried again.
That time, she began applying a cascading pressure through playful fingertips. I spoke faster, trying to finish any thought before I truly lost my mind.
“There is a—fuck—a 44% chance of injury,” I forced out.
Her hand stopped. She cocked her head to the side with a brilliant smile and asked, “Is that right?”
I was almost relieved. Almost.
“Yeah, and…”
Then she started taking off my pants.
“A-and it can be quite uncomfortable for a woman without additional lubrication,” I said while shaking my head.
Even my subconscious knew I was speaking against my own self-interest, that I could’ve just accepted her question as rhetorical. I could’ve just shut up and go along with whatever she wanted because I would always be happy so long as she was happy.
She dropped down as she pulled my pants to the ground and revealed a second set of bottoms. I couldn’t be sure of it, but she seemed vindicated when she realized how hard my body was struggling against the compression shorts.
“The movies make it look so fun, don’t they?” she hummed as she stood back up. “I guess it is pretty dangerous. And inconvenient.”
“Yeah, but also, I sort of wish I hadn’t said any of that,” I responded immediately, “Let’s do it anyway.”
Thankfully, she found my eagerness charming and not pathetic (or perhaps those were the same to her). Her fingers sneaked past the band of the compression shorts, but she didn’t make the move to remove them yet.
Instead, she used her free hand to lead mine straight to the knot holding her bikini bottoms together.
My fingers twitched. She leaned closer, her cheek pressed against mine and her breath hot on my ear as she said the most beautiful words.
“We can shower after, then.”
“Thank you god,” I cried.
Practiced fingers untangled the knots within seconds, and I fought the urge to stare at her newly exposed skin by kissing her instead.
Her skin, still wet, was chilled enough from the cooler air that she barely reacted when I backed her against the ceramic countertop in the bathroom.
She leaned back, groaning with relief when I finally undid the knots of her top.
Again, I shamelessly admired the wonderful world of physics as it was displayed before me. With each breath, her chest lifted and came closer to my own.
Seemingly sharing the same thoughts, she reached forward and practically tugged my shirt off of me.
As soon as I could, I held her naked body as close to me as I could. My hands covered her lower back and drifted further down her hips, seeking every inch of cold skin that remained.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered. I couldn’t see most of her, but the memory from mere seconds ago was as vivid as it would ever be. “Words don’t exist that would ever do it justice.”
She pulled back, still toying with the tops of my shorts with that insatiable look in her eyes.
“I’d say take a picture, but I think your memory might rival a camera,” she giggled.
“I’ll never forget this,” I promised her, “I’ll never forget you.”
But there were so many other ways I’d yet to see her. So, after carefully loving each inch of her hips, I turned my attention to the burning heat between her thighs.
At the same time my finger slid through slick folds, my lips found hers once more.
“I wanna make you feel good,” I slurred.
Her lips parted in a broken gasp as I tried to do just that. I inched eager fingers between tight muscles and didn’t even bother fighting the urge to moan into her mouth.
She swallowed that desire and returned her own with a growing enthusiasm. My fingers grew faster, sloppier in their gentle beckoning for her to fall apart.
“That’s it. Good girl,” I reassured her when her breathy moans became pitchy. “Oh, you deserve to feel so good, sweetheart.”
That spark in her eyes had turned into a wildfire further stoked by my praise. I leaned into it; I became more confident in my loving her. Her walls were tense and insistent, seeking something more than what my hand could give them.
I withdrew them despite her immediate protests. She recanted any complaint as soon as I moved drenched fingers to the small pearl at her center.
Her moans became shameless, and I accepted them as an imminent victory. She rocked her hips against my hand, riding it to find her elusive end.
All the while, her eyes were locked onto mine. She refused to look away, forced us both to acknowledge that I was the one who brought her here. To the edge of the abyss, to the ultimate euphoria.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” I said through a smirk, “Come for me.”
She followed the direction with the utmost enthusiasm. She fell forward, favoring me to the cold countertop. I caught her but continued my relentless efforts to please her.
I kept going, kept cherishing her until she whimpered from my touch. Then I held her. I pet her damp hair and laid a gentle kiss atop the crown of her head.
“Good girl,” I assured her.
But I wasn’t finished yet.
“Now turn around.”
She perked up the second she’d heard the order. Although she’d barely caught her breath, she turned on shaky legs without question.
My hands found her hips just like they had before. Except this time, there were no bikini bottoms. There was only pillowy flesh and the strong muscles of her backside pressed firmly against my dick.
Barely moving away from her, I finally freed myself from the confines of compression shorts. I groaned with relief and noticed how the sound made her back arch further.
When I lined myself up at her entrance, she rewarded the action with a dreamy sigh.
It wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to see the look on her face, to hear the desperation in her voice before I gave her what I’d fantasized of from the moment I met her.
My hand knotted in her hair. I pulled her back from her comfortable position braced against the countertop. I held her up so that I could whisper in her ear the same as she’d done to me earlier.
“This is what you wanted, right?” I asked, as if her whimpers hadn’t been answer enough.
“Yes,” she moaned, “please.”
The sound of debauchery on her tongue sent shockwaves through me. My cock twitched involuntarily, bumping against satin skin now dripping with desire.
I barely resisted the urge to slam into her with full force. Instead, I stayed there, with just the tip of me inside of her as I groaned.
“Oh, I’d give you the whole world if you asked me like that.”
“This’ll do for now,” she giggled.
Her hips began to sway as she rocked on her toes. She chased even just a half inch more of me and rewarded me with beautiful sounds when I finally started to sink into her.
“That’s it…” I sighed.
Her confidence was quickly shaken, though, as my pursuit continued. Not even half of my dick was inside her when I felt her start to tremble.
“You can take it,” I assured her.
She responded by tightening her muscles even further, resisting the gentle stretch of her body as it accommodated my own.
“That’s my girl,” I groaned. The blinding heat of her demanded my full attention to the point that I was barely coherent as I slurred, “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.”
But all it took was one word to unravel my best efforts.
“Spencer,” she whimpered.
Any hesitance I had vanished without a trace. I thrust my hips forward to the hilt with so much force that she scrambled to stay on her feet. Manicured nails struggled to find a grip the ceramic before my next motion.
I took my time pulling back, and I watched her struggle with the fullness that was our bodies come together. I reveled in the sight of her heaving chest and clouded eyes.
That time, I didn’t fight the urge to slam into her. I even pulled her back as I did it, bringing our bodies together over and over again with a blissful type of violence.
With each thrust, I watched her reaction in the mirror. I made sure that my mind captured each second of her pleasure. Each time her jaw dropped open with whines and praise in the shape of my name.
“Please, Spencer,” she keened with a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter.
I hadn’t been sure what she was asking for, so I continued to love her the same as I always had.
But she only became more frustrated, sobbing with pleasure the next time my hips crashed into hers.
“Harder,” she cried out.
And I tried. I tried to follow her instruction, to grant her the release that could only be found in the fullest expression of years of repressed passion.
The problem wasn’t my unwillingness to give my everything to her. Rather, it was the siren’s call of resistant, relentlessly desperate muscles.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I ground through clenched jaw.
Then, with a small and wavering voice, she insisted, “I can take it.”
Every atom of my being burned with a suffocating desire. It felt nearly feral; fully free to show her just how badly my body ached to be with her.
She began slamming back against me with a similar fervor and I almost made myself stop.
“Fuck, I’m so close, but I don’t want it to end,” I begged her.
But that beautiful, evasive, brilliant star of a woman just giggled. I could practically feel myself leaving bruises in the shape of my fingertips and she couldn’t have been happier.
Through the mirror, she looked at me and reminded me of the full, unrelenting power of the sun.
“Don’t worry,” she purred, “we can do it again later.”
That was all it took. With just a look, she practically brought me to my knees.
“Fuck!” I choked as I slammed into her with my full force. We both nearly collapsed against the counter, but I managed to pull her hips down harder against me just as I found my release.
The blissful heat of her grew to new heights as I filled her. Each wave of pleasure caused her to shiver with sheets of goosebumps.
I watched through half-lidded, lust-clouded vision as she accepted every inch and every drop of my desire with a euphoric smile.
“Sorry,” I said while trying to catch my breath. Even when I managed to capture some breath, it escaped me with a laugh as I explained, “I… I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Don’t apologize,” she slurred.
I might’ve thought she was just being merciful if she hadn’t immediately followed, “That was fun.”
It was so obviously sincere, but I was so ridiculously stupid that I had to be sure, anyway.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she laughed.
The sound was even more beautiful when I could feel the vibrations from within. I groaned from the thought of how it might feel for her lips to be wrapped around my cock. It twitched inside her, and she responded with a small whimper.
My hips bucked one more time, forcing me to the hilt before I withdrew in one quick motion.
I stood there for a moment, holding her hips steady as I watched the evidence of what we’d just done drip down her thighs.
My stomach was filled with butterflies doing flips and there was no accounting for the blood that still hadn’t made its way back to my brain.
(Y/n) was patient as ever with a pitiful man.
“Come on, pretty boy,” she chuckled as she took my hand, “help me get clean.”
Despite my best efforts, there were significantly less attempts to get clean in the shower than I’d expected. It was only thanks to her self-preservation that we didn’t end up having sex in the shower, although we came pretty close.
I could never tire of kissing her, but I realized I could love her just as much with lather as I could with my lips. My worship shifted as I dutifully cared for her the way I’d always wished I could.
When it was over, I didn’t give up. I followed her into her bed and she made no attempt to stop me.
In fact, she moved closer to me until my arm could reach around her waist and her head rested on my chest.
“Any other statistics you want to share?” she mumbled, now sleepy from the sun and… other activities.
“Always,” I answered. “Like, did you know, I have now joined the 54% of people who have slept with a coworker?”
“Fascinating. Was it worth it?” she chuckled, having already known my answer.
“Yes,” I told her, anyway. But the way I always did when it came to sharing statistics, I couldn’t stop myself. “Although, there is a smaller subset of that group that’s even more interesting.”
She gasped, quickly pressing her fingers to my lips to stop me from ruining her moment.
“Let me guess—at least half of them fucked in the office,” she said.
And in that quiet, private moment, the only thing more beautiful than her hopeful smile was the fact she’d gotten it right.
“You are, without a doubt, the most attractive woman I’ve ever met in my life,” I confessed.
She gave her wholehearted admission that she felt the same in the best way she could.
With a cheeky smile and the utmost sincerity, she asked, “What are the odds of that?”
(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)
Looking for another mutual pining summer-themed fic? Check out my 11.2k oneshot Lost Time, where Reader and Spencer spend their mandatory leave taking the Spring Break Spencer never got to have.
Reid Taglist: @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife , @conniesanchor , @trippol-threat , @will-byers-needs-a-hug , @poo-tay-toot , @bookobsessedfreak
Complete Taglist: @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme , @pepperthealien
Thanks for reading!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds smut#spencer reid self insert#imaginingafterdark
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YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS FATE
note; yes i somehow got into poppy playtime fandom and here a little treat.
-
You were exhausted, scared yet you continue to push foward. Shaky hands gripped onto your shirt, wrinkles formed on the battered dirty used to be white fabric.
you wanted to leave the moment you step into this place, your very gut screamed to get out while your logical side of your brain begged you to leave and don't go further.
but you didn't, you ignored every red signal that was present to you. you continue foward like it was nothing, it was your own action and you once questioned yourself.
do you regret being here?
the answer was, ...Maybe
one side of you regret setting a single foot here yet the guilt consumed your very being, it haunt you to the bones. you hated it, you want to get rid of it, to relief it, to ...
Focus! you thought, shaking your head. you are getting distracted from your main task, the longer you take. the more time you are forced to stay at this damn wretched place.
you came across an area, an area that look like a prison cell judging by the numerous cell that was littered and sat beside each other.
as you look around the place, a voice spoke. scaring the shit out of you, "you... you're poppy's angel" the voice was raspy yet sounded so tired, you turn around to look for the voice, only to be horrified to see who's belong to.
it was a smiling dog mascot, hanging, you guess it was dogday due to you encountering his cardboard. "come to save us" the mascot wheezed out, it sound like it was taking a toll on him heavily just to speak.
well... he only has half of his body afterall, dear god. it must be so painful for him just do the simplest thing.
"nothing left to save,..."
"not here"
you furrowed your brows, progressing the dog mascot's word. before you could let out any words, dogday continued. "you're in catnap's home, angel... their home"
their home? is he referring to the little smiling critter version of them? you guessed so.
"a million pairs of eyes are on you, now" dogday lifted his head up trying to meet your gaze, gosh. you will never get over how some mascot are just giving you creepy vibes.
"watching, waiting, hungry. they want nothing more then just to crawl beneath your skin, and eat away at you bit by little bit..."
now that's just... you shudder unintentionally at his word, well. your not letting yourself to become food or basically fresh meat to them also not him aswell.
dogday took a short intake of breath before he continue "and fill what empty inside themselves." he then fully face you, "that ...thing... catnap" you take notice of his change of tone when he mentioned catnap, a lingering of fondness yet so distant.
"the prototype is his god"
"and this is what he does to heretics, these little toys... they followed catnap to avoid that very fate...- and in return, they are fed"
"we tried to fight it, the prototype control."
"i'm... the last of the smiling critters" he then look at you, despite his endless depth of darkness eyes and the never ending wide smile, you could tell he was desperate.
"listen to me angel, you need to get out of this place" this time you spoke up, "without you? i don't think i can do that" you huffed, crossing your arms.
"angel... you don't have to, i will only slow you down-"
"Dogday, i'm not leaving you, not on my watch." you stubbornly stated, even he was half of catnap's size without legs, you don't want to leave him, to die in an endless painful toture. you wanted to save him, it was the least thing you can do after defeating huggy wuggy and mommy long legs.
you shakily curled your fists up, you didn't mean to kill them but can they blame you? you did it out of self defense yet you still feel terrible. you wish you can save all the toys.
from this mess.
from this toture.
from this pain.
"you can say all you wanted but i will state firmly that i won't leave you behind." after saying that, you went to set him free. it took some time as well firing some flare to keep those nasty little smiling critters away from attacking.
although you doubt you can carry him but you still tried it away, oddly successful and huffed as you stood up with dogday wrapping himself around your form.
"angel... are you sure this is not heavy for you? i can-"
"i am doing very wonderfully, dogday. don't mind it" it was a flat lie, he was heavy by dear lord. but you endure it for him.
"thank you, you're ...really are a angel in disguise."
"you're welcome, now Off we go!"
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