#to lovers

[plague-memoria]

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[sarl3ne]

"𝙮𝙚𝙨! 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙚!"

ᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴍᴀᴜ!

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴍᴏᴜꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴏʀ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ʜᴏᴛ ꜱᴏᴜᴘ ꜱᴘɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴍᴏᴜꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇᴏᴜᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴛᴀᴜʀᴀɴᴛ, ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴡ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ɪꜱ- ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴏ-ꜱᴛᴀʀ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀᴋᴇᴜᴘ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ? ᴏʜ ɪᴛꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ.

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, ᴀᴄQᴜᴀɪɴᴛᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴄʀᴜᴅᴇ ᴏʀ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ, ᴀᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴀᴜ, ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʙᴏᴡ (‎ꫂ᭪݁).

(ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅꜱ)ꜱʜɪᴘꜱ: barbara/fischl, jean/lisa, venti/zhongli, xiao/aether. these are the ones i plan to write in but keep in mind if you dont like these ships respectfully suck it up or just leave i will not tolerate hate (helpful criticism yes, hate no)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ: intro--cast, background, director.

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 1- for starters...

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 2-I can't even...

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 3-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 4-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 5-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 6-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 7-

ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 8-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 9-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 10-

ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 11-

and so on..

taglist? open!

@lalalaloveallmydays @ananeuvii @sleepylilacx @pvrepure @theintruder1000 @hihelloimizzy @mywillt0live @autism-criminal @withered--ivy @n4n40 @crimxeexistspeacefully @potabletable

[mike-wheeler-offical]

Barbnance is byler… I said what I said.

[avaawritess]

Delicate-by Taylor swift😛

Honorable mentions

18- one direction

Shameless- Camilla Cabello

Aged up college au

Childhood friends to lovers, sunshine x grumpy, female reader,lowkey short

Spotify

Apple Music

Fluff, angst,smut

Warnings: Rough sex, desperate Bakugo, praise kink,overstimulation, pussy drunk Bakugo, missionary,aftercare😁

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ⚘᠂

Bakugo had a very huge reputation not in the best way a lot of times. Most it was he was too rough, too cold, too...mean. At least that's how others see it, see him. They don't see the soft, sweet version he rarely shows.

How he gets you your favorite chocolates when your on your period or will go out of his way to get multiple boxes of pads and tampons just because he didn't know which one you used (he got regular and heavy flow and MAXIMUM) what the hell was maximum he thought. "Tch I don't think she needs all this" he mutters to himself as he willingly checks it all out bringing five hundred bags of just stuff you crave and need.

Your eyes lit up and he got the fluttering feeling he grew used to assuming it was happiness to see you happy.

Never understanding that it was because you're genuinely his favorite person to be with.

One time you two were at the fair. He was dragged along but came just to see the bright smile take place on your soft lips. Oh how he adored the way your eyes shone with sparkles which he thought he was hallucinating and grumbled looking away.

You both were walking around as you talked about recent drama at the college and how your friends boyfriends acted and how they made you mad. He really didn't care, he just liked hearing you talk with that sweet melodic tone.

"Hey let's go on that one" you pointed at a large rollercoaster. "No," he said with a straight face. Before a pout took place of that bright smile,"why not?" You asked and he sighed knowing you,"because you'll get sick after the first drop and after I'll have to get you a water and we wouldn't ride anymore rides" he says.

You pout grumbling incoherent words, that was until he let out a reluctant sigh,"fine but if your dumbass gets sick don't complain to me" he grumbles crossing his strong arms, his back muscles flexing in the light.

He was right, obviously. The first drop didn't do you justice your stomach curling uncomfortably with the taste of disgust lingering on the edge of your tongue.

Well he was right to an extent he would definitely help you. He was worried to no end rushing and barking orders to people that you were gonna die (you weren't) and finally he got you water with a cold rag. "Fucking dipshits wouldn't get out of my way acting like their dip n' dots was more important than my... I mean you" he grumble shutting up as he placed the cold rag on your forehead letting you sip from the water.

You both obviously left no more rollercoasters just as he said but he would do anything to see your smile so he'd do anything in a heartbeat even if it was for a second he saw your eyes lighting up in delight.

He dropped you off at your shared apartment with Mina. He carried you bridal style making sure you were okay and whispering comfort words in your ear as he held you and your water bottle in his arms.

Mina opens the door surprised seeing a worried Bakugo holding an almost passed out y/n,"What happened?" She asked opening the door wider. Bakugo stepped in setting you on the couch comfortably pulling blanket over you tenderly. His eyes flashed with care and adoration as he placed your belongings on the side table with your water bottle.

"She got sick at the fair" he said shortly, dryly as if Mina didn't deserve his time. She looked at him deadpanned as an annoyed sigh left her lips. Glancing at you she notices you're asleep so when Bakugo goes to leave she stops him,"you ever gonna confess or what you two are in this push pull type of situation like you should just ask her out" she said seriously a small grin tugging her lips upward as she noticed Bakugo stiffen.

He turned slowly glaring at her with a hushed whisper he talked back,"what the fuck are you on about pinky" he says almost defensively.

"You know you treat her differently than anyone, your softer it's kinda sweet in a way...a weird disgusting hopelessly In love way" she says humming loving the way he got flustered almost proving her theory right.

"Tch just shut up you don't know what you're talking about" he said grumpily before storming away before she could say more to actually get him thinking.

He thought he was safe honestly, that he could keep this whole charade of just friends. But his friends had another idea in mind.

He was so fucked.

A couple weeks later they all sat in the cafeteria chatting and catching up while he texted you since you were in your lecture missing lunch.

This freaking sucks she's talking about chemical bonds are super important remember all of them! As if I haven't already who does she think I am stupid?? :(

She's probably mad that a 23 year old is smarter than her 63 year old ass.

Don't call her that >:( but I totally agreee she's so uptight

He smiled softly chuckling to himself, the group turned their heads to him in surprise.

"Did he just laugh?"Denki asked quietly chewing on a snack,"Forget that he's smiling so big I think he's constipated" Kirishima whispers back all of them indulged in the way Bakugo was texting back with so much speed.Mina sat in the corner a smirk plastered on her face cause she knew why he was smiling.

"Our boys in love with his best friend" Mina says loud enough to make Bakugo look up and stiffen the group looked surprised. "YOURE GAY?!!" Denki yelled before Mina hushed him but before Bakugo could speak Kirishima cut him off,"dude hate to break it to you but I'm not gay" not knowing it was his other best friend.

Bakugo just groaned telling them to quiet down before he blasts them."No his other best friend y/n" Mina grinned. "I don't like her she's just a friend pinky" Bakugo glared but before Kirishima hooted,"oh no dude your whipped I was confused if it was midoriya but y/n makes more sense your always staring at her like she hung the moon and stars"

He glared fiercely, silently threatening them as they wore shit eating grins snickering like middle school girls.

After that incident he really started to think back, did he really like you?

I mean he did like the way you smiled, they you laughed, the way your eyes twinkled with amusement from a crappy dad joke, the way you'd smile when talking about anything and everything, and it was all for him.

It was his to have.

But he was scared that's what you didn't want that you didn't like him or even see him the same so he did something any stubborn scared person would do.

Push the person they care about the most the farthest away from them to just have space to think correctly.

At first you took it well assuming he was going through something. But the longer it dragged out the more you worried.

Had you have done something?

You're more sure, you don't remember offending him or anything, fuck the last you saw him you both got coffee together like usual.

So what was going on?

Soon it affected your mood and how you dealed with anything and everything. Mina was the first to notice the tension, the drift between you two that was so out of the blue. She noticed how sad and gloomy you were, to how you stopped attending lectures Bakugo would usually scold you for skipping.

She knew you loved him genuinely.

Even though you never voiced it, she knew just how much he meant to you. And how affected you seriously were.

Finally you had enough, after a month of silent treatment and vague conversations. Your heart burned with pain and heartache as you finally gathered the courage to knock two firm knocks on his apartment door.

It was raining outside, cold, gloomy, the raindrops dripping slowly down the window as if trying to hang on to the one surface they could be on.

As if once they fell that was the end, and maybe you were scared that was gonna be you and Bakugo soon.

Like the raindrops, you were scared he was your surface and you were the raindrops. Holding onto something that will never be enough to hold you, to support you.

After some time that felt like long torturous hours,your heart in your throat.

He opened the door, his hair frizzled and down far from his usual spiky proud look. He had intense eye bags, wearing a crumpled up t-shirt and sweatpants that had stains on them. You glanced inside his once clean apartment that held opened cans of soda and food lying around as if he couldn't sleep.

"Are you okay?" You managed to croak, "yes I'll be fine you can go" he says shortly as if too scared to say too much.

He tries to close the door but you stopped in your lip trembling in fear,"did I do something, I'm sorry.....I...I'm so sorry" you said fear taking over as your voice cracked.

He looks up at you eyes wide with suprise as he looks away the fear in your eyes eating him away as he feels so guilty, frustration building.

You mumbled out apologies one after the other as you ramble on about what you could do better and how you'd improve. God, sometimes he hated when you rambled talking down on yourself as if your nothing but a mouse to him.

"Shut up" he says lowly but you kept going and his frustration snapped it at you but himself,"shut up" he said yelling fingers entangled in his hair pulling the roots to bring him pain as if to forget the way his heart aches in sadness for you.

You go silent watching him fight his internal battles inside his head. "I'm not...shit.. I'm not mad at you I'm mad at me" he says his voice croaking going down an octave.

You stood there scared,"Fuck...shitty hair and pinky were right...I fucking like you... like a lot like so fucking much I want to kill every person who looks at you wrong... I hate that stupid smile that you give me and how I get so giddy over your fucking adorable laugh and just how you brighten the room..brighten the world with your smile it makes me feel shit I'm not used to" he says spitting out a confession he never meant to.

"I just used to think it was cause we were child hood friends but I don't do any of this shit for Deku or stupid raccoon eyes" he says.

"But fuck I like you..love you even your the most important person in my life an I...I don't know what'd do without you" he says the words weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The silence ate him apart as he stood there silently.

His heart was laid out, bare, raw, and vulnerable just for you.

"I..love...you too" you said slowly loo trembling a smile taking a hold of your lips. Fuck his heart ramped up seeing it greave your lips like a blessing meant just for him.

He stepped forward looking down at you adoration filling his face with a hint of desire glinting in his eyes. You felt his breath fan over your lips. They parted, heart racing.

"Can I...kiss you?" He asked hungrily. Fuck he would've loved to just devour you right then and there but hearing your consent he was fucking hard from that thought of you trusting and telling him what you want.

Your lips purse together scared before nodding slowly and as you did his lips crashed onto yours, making you le to a sharp gasp he ate with delight.

His fingers dug into your hips while your hands held his face.

He pulled you into his apartment lips never leaving yours as he shut and locked his apartment door pushing you up against it.

"Fuck your beautiful" he said huskily glancing over your flushed features the way your chest heaved up and down from how intense he was. Just from the look you gave him he felt his balls tighten already needing to cum but he'd save that for you.

"Fuck come on gorgeous" he says gently leading you to his bedroom before pushing you up against his door not waiting any longer,lips clashing with yours as if to memorize your mouth.

He presses flush against you making oh squirm from his overwhelming body heat. "Fuck" he groaned against your lips.

"Tell me what you want" he says hoarsely his forehead against yours staring deeply into your eyes. You bite your lip shyly,"u-um I want you" you say. He grins almost teasingly,"well I hope so beautiful but what do you want me to do" he hums patiently.

You grumble embarrassed, "I want you to eat me out" you said glancing away as he grinned proudly, kissing you once more before pushing you lightly on the bed.

He smiles as he left small love bits in your jaw as he helped you undress, finally after years he pulls off of you to see your gorgeous body beneath him,"fuck look at you, so ready for me so beautiful" he says leaving kisses down your neck to your collarbone across your perky breast teasing the area around your nipple before going down your soft stomach and down to the inside of your thigh.

Your legs tried to clench to hide yourself from him as he hummed as if disappointed,"no sweetheart, imma need you to stay open for me" he says.

You whimper embarrassingly as you glanced away from him, he took a long lick of your cunt. "Look at me with those pretty eyes of yours" he demands grinning against your cunt as you listen.

He hums making you squirm from the vibration. He ate you out slowly teasingly, as if to make you beg for something he'd wait to give.

He slowly got faster tounge delving into your slick folds. Earning loud moans and meals from your pretty mouth.

His thumb teased your clit going fast before going slow earnings a frustrated huff from you that almost made him laugh at how needy you were .

He loved seeing you squirm and look at him with those lust-filled eyes begging him for more.

Your hands dug into his head gripping his hair as if to pull you down back to reality. Earning a groan against your wet juicy cunt as he went faster bringing you closer to your climax.

Finally you came but he didn't stop his rough tongue dragging out your orgasm.

He grinned watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

He softly laughed lapping up your juices from his chin and around his mouth.

"Fuck beautiful you did so well but come on you can give me another one right?" He hums almost evilly. Forcing tow digits into your sopping wet cunt.

Earning a loud mewl from you. As he slowly fully pulled the out before shoving them back in."Look at you so willing to take my fingers pretty girl" he hums satisfied. Before picking up his pace using his thumb to push down on your clit earning more pleasure from you. He could tell you were close again from the way your velvety walls clinched onto his fingers.

"Fuck princess cum for me, come on my fingers with your pretty cunt"

Once he said that you let out a loud moan he slowly thrusted them in praising you, "how about one more princess" he kissed your temple. It in fact was not one more but three leaving you trembling and overstimulated.

He grinned at his artwork sucking your juices away from his fingers tasting you. Before kissing you so you'd taste yourself.

Tears pooled your eyes from exhaustion and the overstimulation.

"Just one more baby I know your tired but I mean it" he says humming pulling off his pants and his boxer revealing his hard fat cock as it slapped onto your stomach.

Your stomach curled with pleasure at the sight, but too overstimulated to care.

You let out a noise as if to say fine. He hummed happily a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

As he rubbed his dick up and down your folds lubricating it with your juices making you whine and whimper.

Finally he looked at you for the go ahead still wanting you consent not wanting to push boundaries.

You nodded your lip trembling,"hey it's okay sweetheart I'll be slow...that is if you want that"

He said that as he slowly pushed in his breath becoming ragged letting out a grunt of satisfaction as he pushed himself all the way in.

Fuck he loved your pussy it was so sweet and fit him so well.

He waited for your nod before slowly thrusting in and out. Pulling all the way out before slamming himself back in earning loud moans from you.

You let out babbles as you force yourself to say "faster" it came out more strained then you meant.

He nodded before listening to your demand going faster pistoning in and out of your greedy cunt.

He let his head fall back as his hips set a bruising pace against your sensitive hips."Fuck sweetheart your perfect" he grunts while you let out more rambles that fall silent and drool leaves the corners of your mouth.

Finally his thrusts became sloppy and he pulled out dumping his seed all over your stomach before laying on top of you both of your chest heaving sweaty bodies conjoining as one.

"Fuck you did so welll for me" he hums giving you a slow sweet kiss. Before rolling off,"come on let's get you cleaned up" he says dragging you to the bath cleaning both of your dirty bodies off as you two softly tiredly chat earning soft laughter and smiles from one another.

Once you two were finished you layer in his arms as he put on one of your favorite romance movies on,"shit this is fucked yo after we had sex" he groans into your hair as he kisses your head,"but y/n will you be my girlfriend" he asks shyly his ears tinting pink.

You smile softly laughing at his awkwardness,"yes I will" you hum nuzzling closer to him hungry for his warmth.

He grunts,"idiot" he says before softly smiling kissing your head once more.

Maybe he was a rough cold guy but he just needed his own person to love to take down those walls. At least that's what he thought.

Bonus scene

"YOUR TOGETHER" Mina shouts letting the whole campus know as you two sat side by side his arm wrapping around your shoulder pulling you closer.

Bakugo ignores her eating his lunch silently letting the chaos unfold.

"You two fucked didn't you?" Denki asked a shit eating grin plastered on his face. You both stiffened your face red and well Bakugo shot him a glare.

He laughed,"what it's not my fault I can basically feel the pheromones and testosterone in the air, so how was it y/n Bakugo rough in the sheets?" He ask grinning before earning a smack from Bakugo himself.

You were so flustered you groaned and nuzzled your face into Bakugo chest hiding yourself. "Shut up Denki and none of you better tease her or I will fucking blast you into fucking oblivion" he threatens.

"And here I thought he'd change but no" Kirishima said before grinning,"we get it bakubro we're happy for you "he says.

Denki snickers,"yea for growing a pair and listening to us" and before he knew it Bakugo blasted him away from the table.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ⚘᠂

Authors note

Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it.

[danyngomez]

I will protect you, at all cost 🤍

[hulk4me]

Peak Cloohickey dynamic:

enemies to friends to enemies (he fucked his wife) to lovers