𝙎𝙔𝙇𝙑𝙄𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙉𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙔 never feels safe.
𝙎𝙋𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙍 𝙍𝙀𝙄𝘿 is beyond fixing.
They hate each other.
But what they didn't know
was that all along, the one
thing they both needed was
the other.
❝ the moment I laid my e...
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SYLVIA CONNELLY.
HONESTLY, IF I TRULY HAD someone to blame for Spencer Reid and I getting together, it would be that devil child Jake Kosher. We met him on Los Angeles on a case a while ago and arrested him for detonating four homes in Beverly Hills. At the time, Spencer and I hated each other's guts and I guess Jake sensed chemistry between us that we hadn't noticed before. He basically implemented those ideas of us hooking up into our subconscious from the beginning—no wonder why it actually happened.
It totally wasn't because Spencer and I were secretly pining over the other for three years. But whatever, the damage has been done.
Well. The only damage that's been done has been to my...
"Fuckin' pussy!" Jake shouted, furiously waving around the video game controller in his hands. I stood at the doorway with my mouth hanging open, watching the guys—no, boys—all sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart like idiots.
"Hey! Respect your elders!" Timothy shot back.
Spencer was laying on the right side of the two, holding the remote with an extremely confusion expression. He was pushing random buttons, and when I entered, I saw on the TV that his car was flying off the cliff.
"You're no genius if you suck at Mario Kart." I leaned in and muttered into his ear. Spencer practically squealed and jumped five feet, turning around to me with wide eyes.
"You're home!!!!!!!"
My god. I was gone for two hours.
I rolled my eyes and planted a large kiss on his cheek. Spencer smiled at me happily, wrapping his arms and peppering kisses all over my face. I groaned, trying to shove him off of me.
"Get a room!!"
My head snapped towards Jake, who wore a mischievous smirk on his face. He quickly shifted his attention back to the game and I marched over to the table, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. Timothy and Jake groaned with protest.
"Uh oh. Momma's home." Tim snorted.
"You. Don't you have a job or something? Why are you always here?" I snapped at him.
"This face and body can't work more than seven hours a day, my dear." He smirked.
"My dear? What was that? Huh?" Spencer scowled, throwing a slipper at his face.
Tim yelped and covered his face with his arms. "Ah! I was kidding! Forgive me forgive me!"
