What If

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 

-

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

--

The Hot One

You're that one hunk that EVERYONE has a crush on. Your wit and charm is known to make fangirls faint, and half of the entire fandom's thirst posts are about you. You could eat a cookie and everyone would lose their shit. Congrats, dude.

NEW CHALLENGE

1. FIRST, create a picrew using this maker, and then 2. SECOND take this quiz on how fandom would see you if you were a fictional character.  3 (THIRD) POST YOUR PIC AND YOUR DESCRIPTION IN THE REBLOG!

Bastard (Good)

You’re a bastard. A wet cat, if you will. And we love you for it. You’re a little shit, but in the good way. You are the baddest babygirl. You killed a man, but you looked good doing it. You flirted with the hero and the enemy. All of Tumblr is madly in love with you. Congrats, I guess?

Tagging EVERYONE but especially @magicaltear, @the-beeses-kneeses, @wafflesrisa, @mykingdomforapen, @marbat, @scientistsinistral, @halberdierminister​!

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

no he has a point💀🚶‍♀️

Cater: so if ‘k’ is short for ‘ok’ and sometimes you call your grandpa ‘pop,’ then ‘k-pop’ equals ‘ok boomer’.

Everyone in NRC: *crying* please stop it’s 3 am

I CANT PUT THE OTHER IMAGES😭😭

Look at the reblogs to see the kalim, azul, deuce, and jade version<3

The Twisted Wonderland orange peel theory

The orange peel theory: A theory in which one requests their significant other to peel an orange for them. If they say yes, then it means they are willing to do small tasks for their lover. If they say no, it may suggest they are less willing to offer support, the theory says.

featuring: Lilia, Malleus, Trey, Rook, Vil, Leona, Ruggie, Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Jade, Floyd

Sitting around in the presence of your beloved whilst holding an orange, you glance at him contemplating something. You decided to put him to the test! Will he pass?

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Also if you don't like oranges/are allergic to them, just imagine something else! <3

TW: None! Just fluff <3

Lilia

Your fae lover sat at his computer playing away at his video game while you lay upon his bed fiddling with an orange in hand. You glanced over at him, turning around to lay on your stomach and holding out the orange.

"Lilia, love?" You asked.

"Yes, darling?" He replied, eyes glued to his screen

"Will you peel this orange for me please?" He paused his movements and turned his head to look at you with a carefree smile upon his face. Without hesitation, he grabbed the orange out of your hand and began peeling away at the skin and discard it in the garbage that sat next to his gaming desk. You giggled slightly and thanked him with a kiss against his cheek, Lilia removing himself from his computer and engulfing you in a hug tackling you to the bed.

"If you wanted my attention, surely you could have found something more creative than peeling an orange, my little bat~"

verdict: Pass! He had the wrong idea of your intentions, but he still won.

Malleus

"Malleus," You asked the tall male, interrupting his focus in crafting the gargoyle he had been paying attention to, holding out the orange in your hand.

"Yes?" He asked, averting his attention from his craft to attentively look at you. He glanced at the orange and flicked his eyes back to yours, tilting his head in confusion.

"Will you peel this for me, please?" Malleus had furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly- a frown upon his lips as he studied the fruit.

"Are you struggling with peeling it by yourself?" He asked in genuine concern, grasping your hands to study them, "Are you experiencing any pain that is hindering your skills?" You giggled at his strangely focused pout while analyzing your hands, it wasn't even a moment later before he used his magic to lift the orange, peel it, and even take apart each of the slices before grabbing it with his hands and holding one to your mouth.

"Here, I shall feed you. No need to further strain your hands, dearest."

Verdict: Pass...? he has the spirit!!

Trey

The moment you were studying the orange dubiously with an interesting look of focus immediately caught his attention. You didn't even have to ask Trey before he was asking for you!

"Would you like me to peel that for you? You've been staring at it for a while," He chuckled. You smiled up at him and held out the orange with enthusiasm and a nod. He took it gracefully and peeled it perfectly, handing it back and throwing away the peels for you.

"You're the sweetest," You smiled whilst popping a slice into your mouth, Trey responding with a bashful smile and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"There's no need for that...you just seemed deep in thought, so it was more or less an excuse to bring that up. Is something on your mind? You can talk to me about anything."

Verdict: Pass with flying colors!

Rook

"Rooook!" You called out holding an orange to the sky, "Can you peel this orange for me, please!? I don't want my hands to smell like oranges!" You seemed to be calling out into the woods at nothing, but in reality you were sitting against a tree waiting for Rook to finish hunting. You decided to put his loyalty to the test. You heard rustling around before an arrow zoomed past the top of your head, piercing the orange out of your hand and hitting the tree.

Your jaw slacked open, mortified.

You trusted Rook with your life, yes, but he likes to test this sometimes.

"If that is what your heart desires, of course I shall peel this orange for you, my beloved!" He skipped over and took the orange off of the tip of the arrow and began to peel away at it. You stared at him in horror.

"...Rook."

"oui?" An innocent smile as he worked away at the...now miss-shapen fruit.

"Go get me a new orange."

Verdict: ...Questionable pass..? He went and got you a new orange, and peeled it properly for you.

Vil

"Can you peel this for me?" Vil glanced over with furrowed eyebrows and a frown upon his perfect features.

"Why do you require my assistance in peeling an orange? Are you unable to do it yourself?" The question was valid and innocent enough, but you were determined to go through with this challenge.

"Just do it, please?" You gave him puppy eyes, "I don't want to get the peeling under my nails." An excuse you felt he would be able to understand, surely!

"And you believe I do?" He retorted.

Touché...

You flashed him a pout, and he caved. Vil sighed and held out his hand for you to place the orange, slowly and with care removing it's peel. You gave him a bright smile and a little giggle, for you knew he always caves eventually when it comes to you. He loves that part of you though, how you seem to always brighten up at the smallest of things. It's a part of your charm.

"What are you giggling about? It's just an orange, silly potato. You get excited over the most random of things..."

Verdict: Pass with some push

Leona

"No." He was pretty immediate to reject your question. You began to whine and pester him.

"Leona! Please? Will you do just this little thing for me?" You gave him puppy eyes, to which he sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"Because I want you to do it."

"That's not an answer."

"Why do I need to have a reason?"

"You woke me up from my nap to peel an orange."

"And?"

He turned around to fall back asleep, you responded with shaking his body and complaining to your lover. Leona turned his body and used his strong arms to pull you into his chest.

"Stop your whining and take a nap with me, herbivore. The orange can wait."

Verdict: Fail...? but in a weird way. You get it?

Ruggie

"Eh?" Ruggie looked up at you with wide eyes, "Peel an orange? Why?" You pouted at the brown haired heyena and placed your free hand upon your hips.

"Because you're my boyfriend, and i'm asking you oh-so-nicely..." He shrugged and took the orange, peeling it.

And then, when you thought he was being extra nice to you and peeling away the slices for you to eat, he took half of the orange and popped it into his mouth. Much to your dismay.

"My orange!!" You complained. Ruggie handed you the other half and laughed.

"What? There's always a price for labor, even if it's just an orange! Besides, you're my s/o, and I wanted it oh-so-bad...sharing is caring, right?"

Verdict: Pass...and you made him go get you another orange. In which he also ate half of before it got to you.

Ace

"Peel this for me," You said in the middle of watching a movie, holding out the orange. Ace eyed it dubiously before looking back up at you.

"Eh? Why can't you do it yourself?" He whined, "I don't wanna smell like oranges."

"Ace, please? for me?" He gave you a deadpan stare and you spent a solid minute just looking at each other in a silent battle. He then sighed loudly and obviously theatrically, snatching the orange away from you and peeling it (not without some attitude.)

"I don't get it...I've seen you peel oranges so many times. I don't think you actually care about smelling like oranges, somethin' else is definitely going on here!"

Verdict: Lowkey failed, but that's okay. Eventually, it worked!

Deuce

"Deuce, can you peel this for me, please?" You asked the blue eyed male, offering up the orange.

Deuce was pretty fast to jump to the opportunity to peel it for you. He likes when you can depend on him on such tasks that are seemingly mundane, it makes him feel important, that you trust him. Even though it isn't that deep. Grabbing the orange and peeling it with eagerness, you smiled fondly at him.

"Here you go!" He said proudly, handing you a...messily peeled orange. It wasn't very pretty, you could see parts of the orange where he managed to either miss some of the peel or scraped some of the main part with his nail by mistake. But that didn't matter to you.

"Sorry it isn't the best...I should practice peeling oranges so it's perfect next time. Huh? You were just testing me? Don't worry, i'll do anything you ask of me! It's important to work as a team, so you won't have to worry about doing tasks by yourself!"

Verdict: Pass, he's a little angel

Riddle

"Riddle," You said taking him away from his studies, "Will you peel this orange for me?" The red head set down his pen and looked over at you and then the orange, holding out his hand for you to give to him right away.

"Of course. Hand it here." You gladly gave him the orange and he peeled it perfectly, cleanly, and discarding the peels right away and standing up to wash his hands.

"I don't mind doing such things upon your request. It's a healthy snack too, much better than the chips and other things I see Ace and Deuce sneak around...hm? No, I don't mind if you eat your orange while we study. Now... where were we?."

Verdict: passed with flying colors (Already knew about this theory beforehand, but wouldn't let you in on that!)

Jade

It was pretty simple, you handed the orange while he was reading something, and he peeled it without you even asking. He peeled it while reading, handed it back to you, although handing you the peels to throw away yourself. You smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek, Jade chuckling in response.

"Were you testing me with the orange peel theory? What, are you surprised I know of it's existence? I actually anticipated you would attempt it at some point. I see some of the things you like to look up. How do I know what you search online? ...hehe. That's a secret."

Verdict: Pass! ...with a few extra questionable things!

Floyd

"Haahhh?" He looked at you with his signature look of annoyance and dismay. "What'dya mean you can't peel an orange? I don't wanna either," He whined, going back to...whatever weird thing he gets up to in his free time.

"Floydddd," You pouted, "Please? for me?" He looked at you, then the orange. Then you, then the orange. This went on for a minute.

"Fine. I'll go ask Jade." You fled the scene before you could reap the consequences of your statement, hearing his loud protests from afar and the sound of scrambling to catch up to you...

Verdict: Fail. Big big fail. Sorry Floyd lovers.

Re-visited Sunshine After the Rain~

I really wanted to see a back hug ;w; it's too cute

ໃ𑄺. GOOEY C☆CK 𝒻𝓉．𝓋ℯ𝓃ℴ𝓂 𝒸𝒶𝓁ℯ𝒷.

✧ tws : nsfw/smut, fem!reader, multiple of rounds, tentacles, implied dubcon, creampie, spanking, nipple play, monster fūcking, petnames (pipsqueak, baby, etc.), caleb calls himself gege once, spanking, cōckwarming, doggy style and body worship.

✧ synopsis : You always knew something was off about Caleb his eyes bright in the dark, his touch too hot to be normal. After a mission goes wrong and you’re stuck alone with him, the truth comes out. He’s not just Caleb.Something inside him is possessive and starving. You try to escape, but his tentacles wrap around your waist, holding you tight as he finally shows you what he really is. “Don’t be scared,” he says. “He just wants what I want…”

The air inside the ruin was too still. Too quiet. You should’ve known something was wrong the second the scanner shorted out, static hissing into your earpiece before dying completely. You and Caleb were separated from the others, but he didn’t seem worried—just stared ahead, purple eyes glinting in the dark, too calm for comfort.

“Caleb…?” you whispered, clutching your comm. “This place gives me the creeps…”

He didn’t answer right away. Just tilted his head, lips twitching in a way that wasn’t entirely his.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared,” he murmured, voice lower, deeper than usual. Then he looked back at you, eyes narrowing, and for a split second, something moved under his skin. Black tendrils rippled up his neck before disappearing.

Your heart jumped. “C-Caleb—what the hell was that?!”

“...Told you not to follow me this deep,” he muttered. “Should’ve known you’d stick to me like a needy little pipsqueak.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re hiding something. I’m not stupid.”

“No,” he chuckled darkly, stepping toward you. “But you are reckless.” Another step. “And now that you’re here, well…” His voice dropped an octave. “We don’t see a reason to let you go.”

Something lashed out—fast. Slick, inky black. A tentacle coiled around your wrist before you could scream.

“Caleb!” you gasped, stumbling back. “Let me go—what the fuck is that?!”

But Caleb was changing. His pupils stretched into slits, claws forming where fingers had been. More tentacles slid free from his back, writhing like they had a mind of their own. And still—still—he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the universe.

“Shh,” he said softly, reaching out. His clawed fingers tucked your hair behind your ear. “It’s still me, pipsqueak. Still your gege. But… I’m not alone anymore. And he’s just as obsessed with you as I am.”

A low, alien growl rippled from his chest—and then the other voice came.

“So soft… so tiny… we could break you…”

Your legs buckled.

Caleb caught you effortlessly. Smiling. Gentle. Possessive.

“Don’t worry,” he purred. “We won’t hurt you, baby. Not unless you beg us to.”

The tentacles didn’t pull hard. Just enough to guide you. To show you he could. Caleb’s breath warmed your ear as one slick appendage coiled around your waist, sliding beneath your jacket, tracing your bare skin with a teasing, wet touch.

“Such a pretty little pipsqueak,” he whispered, voice trembling between his own and the growl of something deeper—darker. “You don’t even know what you do to me…”

His clawed hands cupped your face gently. Reverently. The monster inside might’ve had a mouth, but Caleb had a heart, and both were laser-focused on you.

You should’ve been afraid.

Instead… you throbbed.

“C-Caleb,” you breathed, thighs clenching. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Didn’t want to scare you,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Didn’t think you could handle how badly I wanted to breed you.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. You whimpered, body trembling as another tentacle slid between your legs—pressing against your clothed heat, circling it slowly.

“So warm…” the parasite hissed. “Let us in.”

You didn’t even fight it.

Your clothes were shredded by claws and tendrils in seconds, left in tatters on the cold stone floor as Caleb laid you down gently, hungrily, like you were a gift he’d been starving for.

His mouth found your breasts first—hot and eager, tongue flicking across your nipples as his hand spanked your ass, hard enough to make you moan.

“Caleb!” you gasped, back arching. “F-fuck—!”

“That’s it,” he growled, licking a swollen bud before sucking it between his lips. “Say it again. Let me hear how needy my little pipsqueak is.”

“Caleb, please,” you whimpered. “Need you inside—need it so bad—”

You didn’t have to beg long. One thick tentacle curled around your ankle, spreading your legs wide as Caleb knelt between them. His cock—larger now, veined and flushed—throbbed, slick with dark fluid and twitching at the sight of your soaked cunt.

“You’re already dripping,” he rasped. “You want it raw, baby? Want me to stuff you full until it leaks out?”

“Y-Yes—yes, please—”

He didn’t just slide in—he invaded you. One long, slow thrust that left you breathless, stretched, filled to the brim as your eyes rolled back and your hips lifted to meet him.

“Fucking tight,” Caleb hissed, gripping your waist as his hips slammed into you, again and again. “This pussy was made for me.”

“Us,” the parasite snarled. “Breed her. Fill her. Use her.”

His thrusts grew savage—deep, precise, obsessed. Your slick echoed off the ruin’s walls, your cries sharp and sweet as your gege took you like an animal.

Spanking your ass with each slap of his hips.

Mouth on your nipples.

Tentacles everywhere—teasing, wrapping, stroking.

You came fast—shaking, screaming, clenching around his cock as he growled in your ear, praising you through clenched teeth.

“Good girl… fuck… such a perfect little pipsqueak. Let it milk me, baby, that’s it—”

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t even try.

Caleb came with a low roar, cock buried deep, thick cum flooding your womb as your legs trembled. One tentacle held you open, letting it drip out slowly, making you squirm as he leaned down to lick your lips.

“I’m not done,” he growled, eyes glowing. “I told you. We want more.”

Round two came before you could speak—Caleb flipping you onto your hands and knees, spanking you again, harder this time.

“You love doggy, don’t you?” he growled. “Letting gege fuck you like the little slut you are…”

You screamed when he pushed back in—so much deeper this way, stretching you wider, one hand fisted in your hair while the other worshipped your body, tracing your curves, massaging your sore, red ass.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Used. Open. Mine.”

“All ours.”

Tentacles wrapped around your tits, squeezing, twisting your nipples while Caleb pounded into you from behind—slamming his hips against your ass until you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cum again.

He didn’t stop.

Three times. Four. He kept going until your pussy was sloppy, filled with so much cum you could feel it dripping down your thighs. Until your legs gave out and you collapsed, shaking, drooling, dumb from pleasure.

And even then… he stayed inside.

Wrapped around you. Holding you. Kissing your shoulders while his cock stayed hard, still twitching.

“You’re gonna cockwarm gege now, pipsqueak,” he whispered sweetly. “Let me feel how warm you are while I take care of you. You were so good…”

You nodded weakly, face buried in your arms, body broken but blissed out.

“Y-your turn next time…” you slurred.

He chuckled darkly, hugging you tighter as another tentacle stroked your cheek lovingly.

“Oh, baby…”

“There is no next time. We’re just getting started.”

Your legs were shaking. Muscles limp. Your cunt still full and stuffed with your gege’s thick cock, twitching deep inside you like it had no intention of leaving.

But even as you whimpered, half-conscious from the last orgasm, Caleb’s hands never stopped moving.

They worshipped. Explored. One palm sliding down your belly, spreading the warmth of your overstretched womb, the other dragging along your thigh, where his cum had trickled down and painted your skin with messy, sticky lines.

“So full…” the parasite hissed approvingly. “Keep her like this. Breed her again. Let her feel us always.”

“Mm, you hear that, pipsqueak?” Caleb murmured, mouth brushing your ear as his hips rolled slowly. “You’re gonna be so stuffed you won’t know where I end and he begins.”

You whimpered, twitching as he slid out just an inch—then slammed back in.

“N-Ngh!—Caleb!”

“Oh, you’re still sensitive, huh?” he cooed mockingly, voice thick with hunger. “That’s too bad. I wanna see you cry this time.”

His hips started moving again—slow and deep, pressing right into the swollen spot that made your vision spark. Tentacles snaked around your thighs to spread you wider, one wrapping lazily around your throat, not choking—just reminding you who owned you now.

“You’re taking it so well,” he growled. “So dumb and full of cock. Just how I like you.”

Your mouth was hanging open, drool on your chin, breasts bouncing as his cock pounded into your soaked hole again—again—again—and his tentacles twisted your nipples, tugging, pulling, flicking them until you were crying from the stimulation.

“C-can’t—Caleb, I can’t—!”

“Yes you can,” he snarled. “You’re my good little cocksleeve, remember? You said so yourself.”

“She belongs to us now.”

“Breed her again. Break her. Mark her inside.”

He spanked you hard—twice—three times, watching your ass jiggle from the force before grabbing both cheeks and spreading them to watch his cock disappear inside you, glistening with your slick and cum.

You came again. Didn’t even realize you had until your body locked up and your vision went white, cunt spasming around him so tight he moaned through his teeth.

“F-fuck—fuck, baby, gonna cum again—”

He slammed in deep—one final thrust—and flooded you all over again. You felt it hot and thick, spurting into your womb as your whole body trembled, clenching down, milking every drop.

But he didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even slow down.

“Caleb—please—too much—” you sobbed, legs kicking weakly as he kept thrusting, slow and heavy.

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing your back. “You said you wanted it all, didn’t you?”

His tentacles wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into a new position—straddling his lap now, his cock still inside, his arms wrapped around you from behind while his mouth suckled on your bruised, sensitive nipples.

“Now you’re gonna ride me,” he growled. “Be a good girl. Bounce on gege’s cock like it’s the only thing keeping your brain from melting.”

Your body obeyed before your brain could even catch up—hips rolling, ass bouncing, cunt squelching with every desperate grind down onto him. You didn’t even care if it hurt anymore. You just needed to feel full.

Needed him.

Needed them.

“Good girl… just like that…”

“You were made for us.”

You were cumming again. Didn’t even say anything—just sobbed and clung to his arms, drool slipping down your chin as your pussy clamped down again.

And then he stopped moving.

Just held you there. Cockwarming you like a living plug, stroking your hair while your body twitched helplessly in his lap.

“You’re gonna fall asleep with my cock inside you tonight,” Caleb whispered against your neck. “And when you wake up…”

He bit down lightly on your skin—then licked the mark.

“…we’re gonna do it all over again.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

not his girlfriend

you’re not his girlfriend, but …

You're not his girlfriend, but you're the first person to listen to his ramblings. The first time he realizes, he notices he's been talking for too long without taking a breath, and you're still paying attention to what he's saying. Microbiology. You know nothing about the subject, asking him to clarify stuff while he talks. He's surprised because everyone always stops him.

You're not his girlfriend, but he knows your coffee orders. They're all disgustingly sweet, as the teams point out, but he knows what to get depending on the day. No matter how urgent the briefing is, he goes out of his way to stop at your favorite coffee shop. Every day, you're greeted with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile.

You're not his girlfriend, but he comforts you after emotionally hard cases. You often find yourself in his arms after wrapping up the cases, resting your head against his chest, allowing him to stroke your hair. He'll spend the flight next to you, his pinky resting on your arm as a way to ground you without the rest of the team exchanging glances.

You're not his girlfriend, but you don't leave his side when he gets shot on the field. You hold his hand as the paramedics carry him in the ambulance, and you only let go when they take him into surgery. He wakes with you by his side, his fingers immediately intertwining with yours before he's even fully awake. You smile and tell him he's an idiot for taking that bullet for you. He replies back with a smile and a, "Better for me to be injured than you."

You're not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you're paired up on cases. He goes to shooting practices to prove to Hotch he can be on the field with you, to prove that he can protect you. He does the stuff you don't want to, mostly readings you don't want to spend hours on or bagging up a used condom from the toilet.

You're not his girlfriend, but you go to every nerdy event with him. Whether it's a Spock convention or some nature documentary showing, you're there by his side. No longer does he find the seats next to him empty. Instead, when he looks over, he sees you and smiles, because now he's not alone.

You're not his girlfriend, but his mom thinks you are. When you spend a few days in Las Vegas for a case, you visit his mom with him, meeting her for the first time. She greets you, smiling coyly at her son, asking you if you like dating her son. He spends the next few minutes trying to convince her you're just friends. And the rest of the month trying to convince himself.

You're not his girlfriend, but he kills the man holding you hostage. He's the first to notice you gone, and he's the first to burst through the door, gun out. He doesn't bother talking to the unsub, doesn't bother descaling the situation, doesn't bother to wait for the rest of the team to enter before delivering a bullet through the man's head. He doesn't bother stepping over the body before he unties you and takes you in his arms.

You're not his girlfriend, but he covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep. He turns the TV off, placing a pillow under your head softly, making sure you don't wake up with a sore neck. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, longing in his eyes as he watches you breathe.

You're not his girlfriend, but he wishes you were.

Onesie Party

SUMMARY: Ace and Deuce, with a hint from Cater and financially support from Kalim, gave you a costume made Grim onesie. And decided to throw a surprise (to only you) onesie party at Ramshackle Dorm and invite all the students you knew. Onesies were the mandatory dress code!

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students. (Leona is mentioned because, let’s face it, he would only wear a onesie if he was forced to)

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader.

WORD COUNT: 3.780

COMMENTS: I'm new at posting here on tumblr. This is the first thing I write as a fan of something. I already read other things like this here and I enjoyed them. One night I was wearing my own onesie and got this idea. I also like to write so, why not?

I hope you enjoy reading. I did enjoy writing it.

BTW: English isn't my first language.

You were on Ramshackle Dorm. It was already late night, and you were getting ready to go to bed when you decided to make one last check at your Magicam.

You had a massage from Cater. He sent to you a post. It was a photo of someone wearing a black cat onesie with red fire in its ears.

Cater: It reminded me of Gri-Chan

Cater: they're making custom onesie!!

Cater: a Grim onesie would be so adorbs!!!!!

Cater: and you'd look so cuuute on one ;)

That made you giggle. You checked the post just to confirm what you´ve already thought.

You: They’re sooo CUTE!!!

You: I would love to have a Grim onesie but…

You: they’re so expensive :(

You: That and Grim would probably tease me about it and his ego would inflate even more -.-

Cater: hahahahaha He would do that because he would love to see you in that too XD

Cater: but yah... it's a shame it's so expensive :(

Cater: Ow... I need to go... Don't want to lose my head to be up past hours

Cater: nighty night~

You: good night ~

Little did you know Cater would tell your two dummy best friends about the onesie thing.

It was a chilly night, some days after that chat, and the sun was just a few seconds of set, when you heard a knock on the front door.

Grim smelled the air. “I smell FOOD!” he said, rushing to the door.

You hear Ace and Deuce's voices. And then you see them appear in the lounge where you were sitting on the sofa. If you were drinking something, you would have spit it out or choked on your laughter.

Besides having some bags with snacks, they were also wearing onesies. Ace had an ace of hearts onesie and Deuce had a two of spades onesie. They say that line of onesies were made based on the Queen of Hearts card soldier.

Ace was loud when he greeted you. Deuce was probably still embarrassed about the situation.

“You look so adorbs!” You said, purposely imitating Cater, and laughing. That made Deuce blush a little.

“HA ha ha. I know right?” Ace said, “But don’t think can escape from join us.”

“I would love to, but unfortunately for you, I don't have a onesie.”

“Are you sure?” Ace took out one of the things Deuce carried in one of the bags.

“OI!” Deuce protested. And Ace threw you a paper bag. Like a package that arrived in the mail. When you picked it up, you realized that by the softness, inside the bag there should be some kind of clothing.

You opened the bag while they took the snacks out of the bags and placed them on the table. And unfurling a gray onesie with a trifurcated tail, blue fire coming out of the cat ears and a black and white striped bow around the neck, which the zipper handle being a pendant.

“Don't just stand there looking at it. Go dress it before the party starts!”

“Party?! What party?!”

Ace had a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Sorry, (Y/N).” Deuce said, “I wanted to tell you, but they wanted it to be a surprise.”

“They? You mean there more people than you two who are involved in this?”

“Of course.” Ace said, “That thing was expensive. Who do you think we tricked to… I mean, who do you think offered to pay for the whole thing when he knew about it?”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. And someone else nocked at the door. Either it was a huge coincidence or a great timing. You put the onesie on the sofa and went to open the door.

Kalim’s greeting was as warm as always. He was wearing a red parrot onesie. He had his signature smile, until he saw your clothes.

“Oh, did we come too soon? Ace and Deuce haven’t arrived yet? I hope I didn't ruin the surprise.”

“Oh no. They are here. I just haven't put on my onesie yet.”

He sighed with relief “I got scared for a second. Then go try it one! I can’t wait to see how it looks on you!”

You smiled “Ok, I’ll go. After you enter.”

Kalim wasn't carrying anything, but the person who came in after him and greeted you had about three boxes stacked in his arms. You controlled your laughter because you knew he wouldn't like that. But Jamil looked so cute in his dark red snake onesie. You felt the need to say something.

“Don't be mad at me, but you look kinda cute on that.”

“D-don’t worry. I’m not mad” and he quickly balanced the boxes on one arm to pull the hood up to cover his blushing face with the other. “Thanks.” He whispered. That just made it worse. He was now even cuter.

You went to one of the empty rooms to change to your new onesie. When you returned to the lounge all the boys ware looking at you the same way, but Kalim was the one saying what probably all of them were thinking.

“Aw! You look so cute (Y/N)!”

“Myahaha. Looks like we find the perfect uniform for my hench-human.”

And before you could say something back, another knocks the door. You were so excited about seeing another NRC student in a cute onesie than you almost rush to the door.

OMG. Now it was Trey and Cater on a three of clubs and four of diamonds onesies. They'll tell you that the four card soldier onesies pack was on discount, so they took it. And of course, Trey brought one of his cakes. Like Deuce, Trey was a little embarrassed. But Cater...

“OGS, you look cuter that I thought! I need a pic of us (Y/N)!”

(OGS = Oh Great Seven)

They entered and after them… surprise of surprises:

“Riddle?!” It was already too late to try to sound less cooked. And he was wearing a red hedgehog onesie. “I-I didn’t thought… um…”

“Think, (Y/N), I didn't think.” He corrected you. maybe because he would anyways, or maybe to try to soften the soft blush that was already starting to form. “Well, since you always go to our unbirthday parties when invited, and sometimes even help preparing them, I thought the minimum I could do to show my appreciation was to attend to one of your parties.”

After he entered, something on the back of the onesie caught your eye. You weren't looking at that, swear! But that little round tail was so cute.

A few minutes later, new knockings on the door.

“Kalim?” You asked, “How many people did you invite?”

“Well, to be honest, I was thinking about inviting all the students at school. But Jamil said that you could not like that especially because it was a surprise party, so he suggested only invited the people you know.”

You smiled at Jamil as saying thank you.

“So I only invited… um, let me see… Jamil, Riddle, Trey, Cater, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Vil, Rook, Epel…”

Another knock interrupted Kalim’s list. Whoever it was from that list, it was better to open the door and fast.

Ruggie was wearing a hyena onesie. You were as happy to see him as he was to see you but... “Isn’t it a little bit… weird for you?” You asked.

“Hey! I'm a very loyal guy to my roots. Shehe.”

“That and Leona-senpai said it was either that or a lion onesie.” Jack said. He will revel to you that Leona was the one paying for Ruggie's onesie. and he wanted to buy the lion one for Ruggie, just to mess with him, but eventually Ruggie convinced him to buy the hyena one. Jack himself was wearing a dark blue onesie with little stars and little moons that glowed in the dark, what made you look confused and with a lot of questions at him.

Jack blushed. “L-listen, it's a long story. It was the only thing I had. I bought this a couple of years ago because of my little sister. I can explain it later...”

You didn’t saw anyone else with them. “Oh, what a shame Leona couldn’t come.” You say to Ruggie with a smirk on your face. Despite you really wanting to see him in a cute onesie, you know he wouldn’t do such thing.

And speaking of him, if you’re questioning why Leona would buy Ruggie a onesie just for that party. They made a deal. And Ruggie’s part of the deal was sneakily snap some pictures of your pretty figure on that cute onesie for Leona. And maybe he would save some copies to himself too.

Them entered and you saw that Ruggie’s onesie covered his entire back. So, his little tail was inside. Unlike Jack's tail, which poked out of his onesie and struggled not to wag like a happy dog’s one.

After the two of them entered the lounge, Ace started messing with Jack, and Ruggie started messing with Riddle because of they’re onesies. Nothing to make neither of them too mad, but it made you star worrying about other possible gests.

Not long after, you open the door again.

“Awww... why an azarashi-chan onesie? You should have got a Shrimp one.” Floyd whined. “Ne Jade?”

“He Floyd.” His Twin agreed “Oh, but you still look adorable on that direbeast onesie.”  After Ruggie, it was no surprise seeing them on eels onesies. The funniest thing about their onesies was the feet getting out of the onesie while the tail continued a little further back.

But honestly, even more funny was Azul in front of them. Was he using an octopus onesie? Unfortunately for you, no. He was wearing a… business onesies! A onesie that looked like a suit. How did he even find one of those? You could have asked if you didn't just start laughing.

Azul looked a little upset about your laugh.

“I told you that one was stupid.” Floyd said. “You should have got a cute one.”

“I didn’t want a cute one.” Azul said back to Floyd, and then asked you: “Is there something wrong about the onesie I chose?”

“No, no.” You assured him, still giggling a little. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that I never saw a onesie liked that. I didn’t even know those existed.”

“I would rather see Azul on an octopus onesie myself as well.” Jade said with his signature smile that only the people who knew him knew it was a mocking smile.

“Absolutely not!” Azul reiterated. And as if trying to change the subject of the conversation. “Though, (Y/N), despite the preferences of my colleagues, I may say that you look wonderful in those clothes.” Oh, he tried to control the blush, but little did he know it was stronger than his wishes.

The Tweels smiled mischievously but didn’t say anything about it. Looking at them and thinking about the people that were already on the lounge, you realised something. You opened your arms in a signal for them not to enter yet.

“Wait, just… Can I please ask you something?” you opened your arms in a signal for them not to enter yet. But you quickly remember when you saw their, let's say, villainous smiles. You wanted a favor from the Fish Mafia, hum?

“Of course, prefect.” Azul said with his charming smile. “Anything you wish. You already should know that.”

There was only one thing you could use to your advantage when dealing with those three. And especially in this situation. They soften when their poor unfortunate souls are cute.

“Can you please not anger anyone? You know, teasing them about the onesies? I wanted everyone to enjoy the party.” You asked with only the necessary amount of puppy eyes.

“Anger anyone?” Floyd repeated, then smiled. “Is kingyo-chan here?”

Time to increase the puppy eyes, directed at both at Floyd and Azul. And while Azul was thinking you thought of a possible offer to Floyd. “I'll buy a shrimp onesie!”

Floyd’s smile softened and warmed. “Really~? And would you visit me with it dressed at Octavinelle whenever I ask you~?”

“Not whenever you ask.” You stood.

“And what if we set a maximum limit?” Jade said, as if that deal was of his interest as well. “Once a week maximum?”

“Once a month.”

“Twice a month” Floyd pouted.

“Fine. Twice a month maximum.”

“Okay~! What do you think Azul?”

“Um… Allow me to be the one selling the onesie to you, and we have a deal.”

You signed. “Fine.”

“It’s a deal then, my dear (Y/N). It’s always a pleasure to do them with you.”

If it makes you feel better, remember that you just made a dela with them while everyone wearing onesies. And little did Azul know he would be teased for his choice of onesie as well. At least Jamil had that to counterattack.

Next knocks on the door.

“Beauté! Oh, Trickster, your onesie is magnifique! Such clothing specially designed based on a close friend! What a wonderful show of beautiful bonds.” And Rook did it again, made you blush with his flourish. “Ah~” he whispered at you with a smile. “And of course, you could get even more beautiful.” He was wearing a light purple bear onesie.

“Rook, don’t spoil (Y/N) already with your complements.” Vil said. He was wearing a peacock onesie. He looked at you and smiled. “But I agree, it is a pretty cosy sight to behold. I even dare say you may look better than Grim himself.”

You smiled, still blushing. “Don’t say that in front of him.”

They entered and finally you see your fellow Pomefiore freshman. Epel was wearing a purple onesie with white lines with little drawings (like a Christmas onesie, but purple instead of red). But the biggest surprise was seeing him with his excited smile. You would think he from all people wouldn't like a party like this. I mean, it's kind of hard looking anything other than cute on a onesie. But he seems looking forward to the party.

“Ah! I love your onesie.” You tell him.

“Thanks! My grandma did it for me some time ago. I never had the opportunity to use it with other people wearing their own onesies too!”

“I also told him that he wouldn't need to worry about being the only one being called cute on this party.” Vil said.

“Oh! I'm eager to see what our dear schoolmates chose to wear on this night.”

“Um, Rook?” You ask before he continued followed the other two to the lounge.

“Oui?”

“I’m curious. Epel is wearing a onesie that his grandmother made. Vil is wearing, well, the animal that I most associated with him.” You giggle. “But I was wondering why you’ve chose a bear?”

He smiled at you. “I’m glad I picked your curiosity.” Rook had his, let’s say, hunter smile on his face. “Well, since you’re the host, I may tell you. You see, I always found fascinating by how a huge beast like a bear could turn into a soft and cute toy for children. Both an efficient predator and a fluffy friend. I thought it was a good fit for both the party and me. Wouldn't you agree, trickster?”

“Indeed.” you smiled, slightly worried.

Some minutes later, more knock on the door.

“HIII, prefect!” And you thought Ortho couldn't look cuter. He was wearing a magenta onesie with little horns, and with the ways he was moving you were able to glance a pointy tail behind him as well. He even changed his flames hair colour to match the onesie. “Wow! The Grim-san onesie is so cool! It looks so good on you.”

"Thank you. Your onesie is so cool too."

“Ha ha, thank you. They are from characters we really like. We thought it would be cool to matching clothes for this kind of party.”

“We? Matching?”

“And I’m already regretting that.” You heard a familiar deep voice saying somewhere outside.

“Ni-san! Come on, you said you wanted to show everyone how superior our onesies are.” Then he imitated Idia's voice. “There's no way those guys have better onesies than this. I personally upgraded mine from their standard self to accommodate my shut-in needs.”

“Fine, fine… you don't need to info-dump everything in one line of dialog.”

Instead of waiting for Idia to came out of his hiding place, you snick out your head to find him crouching to the wall close to the door.

“Heep! N-no need to jump-scare me.” He was wearing a onesie similar to Ortho’s, but his was teal, and the horns were longer than Ortho's. He was using the hoodie to hide his face, despite the long blue flames of hair that lit him. You could also see the pointy tail lying on the ground.

“Sorry.” Your eyes widened. “Your onesies are so cool! And the fact they’re matching is so adorable.”

Idia looked up at you, saw your cat ears with flames that match his own hair, and the ends of that same hair began to turn pink.

“(Y/N), could you help me convince my brother to enter the party. Please.” The please wasn't needed, he was asking you with his cute little brother's voice, and you existed heart couldn’t say no to that. That and you also wanted Idia in the party.

“Um… If I tell you some of the onesies others are wearing, would you feel more comfortable?”

“That could be considered a spoiler but… yah… If the game offers you some hint about the element of your opponent’s attacks, you’re a noob for not taking advantage of that.” And with it he at least got up. Making you be the one looking up.

“Let me see… Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater are matching to. They’re card soldiers.”

“Um… I think I saw the pack online…”

“Riddle is a red hedgehog.”

“WHA-? Riddle-shi is here?! And on a hedgehog onesie?!”

“Right? I was as chocked as you.”

“Well, from the small sample my theory still holds.” Idia whispered with a smug smile.

“So, will you enter with me Ni-san?”

“Y-yes. I-I can go with you.”

Ortho happily thanked you and tugged his big brother by his onesie sleeve. After they entered you could see in both onesies a little pair of demon wings.

You were still waiting for someone else. But it seemed to be taking longer than the others.

“Kalim. Please tell me that you didn’t forget to invite de guys from Diasomnia.”

“I could swear I invited everyone… AH! That's what I forgot to tell Lilia in music club meeting!”

“What?! You didn’t invite them?!”

“Don’t warry, (Y/N).” Jamil said to you. “I made sure to go to the music club room after their meeting was over and I came across Lilia on the corridor. I can assure you that I informed him of the party.”

You could hug and kiss this boy right there and then and it shown on your eyes. “Oh Jamil, you’re the best!” he said it was nothing as he hid his face in his onesie's hoodie.

Despite that, you were only relieved when you finally heard another knock on the door. You open it with an expectant smile on your face and...

Nobody?

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Aaaahh! Lilia!” you scold.

Lilia just did one of his popped out of nowhere upside-down things. This time appearing on the top of your door trim.

“Fuhuhu. Forgive me, but I couldn’t resist.” He said as he turned to land his feet on the floor. He was wearing a black dragon onesie, with fluffy horns and tail and a purple belly.

You looked at him, he looked at you.

“You look so cute!” you both said to each other at the same time. And while you were laugh it off, three tallest figures appeared behind Lilia.

They were all wearing the same black dragon onesies. The only exception was that Malleus' onesie didn't have the fluffy horns. Instead, there were holes on the hoodie specially made for his real horns take the place of the fake ones. He had his charming, delighted smile on. The smile he always has when he's invited for something.

“Indeed, that is certainly a flattering attire. Especially on you, Child of Man.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and blush. “Come on in! I want to see your onesies better.”

“HA!” Sebek yelled. “A human capable of understand the grandiosity of waka-sama to be willing to admire his figure in such admirable garment.” He was probably calling the onesie admirable because it was design based on the dragon form of the Thorn Fairy.

This also made a sleeping Silver standing next to Malleus wake up. He sighed. “I knew this onesie was too comfortable.” He was the last one entering the hall.

It was funny seeing Sebek so proud for using a dragon’s onesie alongside his Waka-sama. Seeing sleepy Silver on that onesie was one of the cutest sights of the night. But you also felt sorry for him because he was struggling more than usual to stay awake.

And Malleus, the warm way he was looking at you on your Grim onesie plus how cute he was on his, you suddenly felt like hugging him. He would probably like it. Sebek wouldn't.

You told them they could join the others on the lounge, and they started walking there. But you saw Malleus staying behind with you, and with a little help from Lilia, the other two didn't realise it. The moment they walked in the lounge you heard Sebek starting an argument with Ace about their onesies.

“Is something wrong, Tsunotarou?”

“Do you remember me giving you permission to touch my horns?”

“Yes.” And you already did it once or twice.

“I know they are part of your suit, but would you allow me to touch your ears?”

It took you a moment to finally answer with a wanna-be smug smile. “You can touch them, if you're willing to suffer the consequences for the audacity.” And you even dared to try to strike one of Malleus' powerful poses.

“Ha ha ha ha.” You successfully made him give you one of his genuine laughs. “Fine then. I have never been one to cowered over anything.” He got closer to you, reached out his hands and started petting your cat ears.

And while he was entertained by that, you hugged him. He widened his eyes looking down at you on his chest.

“The consequences.” You told him. What made him giggled and return the hug.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX