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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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A Beginner’s Guide to Trying

Summary: You call out Eddie for complaining about high school while also simultaneously not putting in enough effort needed to actually graduate. He asks to you teach him how to do the one thing he’s scared of…trying.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: angst with happy ending, season 4 episode 1 spoilers, swearing, one sexual reference

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

It all started with a comment you made at lunch. To say you sat with the Hellfire Club at lunch would be a misrepresentation. Sure, you sat at their table but you didn’t sit with them. You didn’t really associate with anyone much in high school and their table was usually the last crowded so it was your designated lunch spot.

You would listen to their conversations while skimming through whatever book you had that day. Although you had not talked to any of them before, it was just like an unspoken agreement that you didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother you.

However, Eddie was in one of his self-righteous moods today, triggered by the absence of Lucas Sinclair from their game tonight. He had just finished ranting about the cliques and how he couldn’t wait to graduate this year.

You’re going to regret this, Y/N, you thought to yourself.

But still, you couldn’t stop yourself from opening your mouth.

“You know with how much you complain about high school, you don’t seem all that motivated to actually finish,” you bit into your apple, looking towards Eddie who had just sat back down.

The whole table stopped moving and stared at you in silence. No one ever spoke back to Eddie before, he was their leader. That was never questioned.

Eddie only glared at you with an expression you couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m just saying,” you continued, much to the horror of the rest of the Hellfire Club, “You keep talking about how all you need is to not blow Mrs. O’Donnell’s final and then you’ll get to graduate. Well, have you even tried to study for it? Or are you going to do what Eddie does best and pretend not to give a shit and then be mad when you have to repeat the whole cycle over again?”

You already dug your hole so you might as well go a little deeper, “I’m sorry if I offended you but you’re a smart guy, Eddie. I know that for a fact. And it frustrates me that you just won’t apply yourself even just a little bit so you can at least get the hell out of here. Or else, you’re going to be stuck in this loop until you eventually drop out because you either learn the shit and pass or you don’t. Mrs. O’Donnell can’t force you to care enough to pass. That’s on you.”

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang just as you finished your sentence. You collected your trash into your brown paper bag and grabbed your books, leaving the table to head to math.

“Does anyone know who that chick is?” you heard Eddie whisper to his friends and you smirked.

Maybe, just maybe you gave him the push he needed to finally get his diploma.

I guess the library was probably more suited for you to begin with. You didn’t have to worry about finishing a book in the cafeteria and having nothing to entertain you for the rest of the lunch period.

You did miss the background noise that the Hellfire Club provided though. Despite never actually interacting with them, all the conversations you had eavesdropped in on made you feel like they were sort of your friends in a weird way. Like you knew everything about them and they knew nothing about you. You were essentially a fly on the wall for the Hellfire Club.

However, you couldn’t bring yourself to return after the events of yesterday. It’s okay though, you supposed, only a month left of lunches before you graduated and you were content to spend those alone in the library.

You were particularly engrossed in a certain chapter of your book that you didn’t notice the chair across from you pull out as someone seated themselves down in it.

“Hey,” Eddie spoke.

You didn’t register it, your eyes just continued to glide across the page while you munched away on a baby carrot.

“Um hellooo,” Eddie waved his hand in your view, snapping you out of your trance.

You flinched a little in shock.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie grinned slightly.

“I apologize too, I’m not used to having that many people come up and talk to me in here,” you placed your bookmark in your book to not lose your page.

“You weren’t at lunch,” Eddie spoke.

“Figured you had had enough of me,” you replied, gesturing to the empty library around you, “Can’t bother anyone in here,” you shrugged.

“You were never a bother,” Eddie returned, “In fact, it was nice to have at least one girl at the table. Makes us all feel a little less like freaks and losers.”

“Don’t call yourselves that,” you bristled.

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it is most definitely not and besides, I don’t like when people are mean to themselves. What is the point in hating the one person you are stuck with for the rest of your life?”

“Huh, never thought about it like that,” Eddie leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

“So what are you doing in the library, Eddie?” you questioned.

“Looking for you,” he answered.

“And may I ask why?”

“I really want to graduate,” he explained, “Like for real. Because if I don’t this year, I doubt I’ll make it through next year so I’ll drop out and all of these years will have amounted to nothing.”

“Well, I’m rooting for you,” you replied.

“You seem very studious,” he looked at your large stack of books, “Is there any way you could help me study? Like give me tips or something? I’ve never really tried before,” he seemed embarrassed at this confession, “I don’t really have all that much money to spare but I could pay you a little in cash. Or drugs, I do have a lot of drugs.”

You chuckled a little, “You don’t have to pay me, Eddie. I would be more than happy to help you for free.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged, “I thought I made it pretty clear to you how upset it made me that you were wasting your potential. I would be a total hypocrite to not want to help you when you’re actually taking the step to seek it out.”

“Thank you so much. It really means a lot to me,” Eddie replied.

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, you meet me in here for lunch and we’ll use that time to study for your final in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class. But you actually have to show up and try, Eddie, I’m more than willing to help but I’m certainly not going to drag you through this and force you to care.”

“Agreed, I want to learn,” Eddie nodded his head enthusiastically, “But I have one condition.”

“This is me helping you, Eddie. There is nothing for me to gain. What the hell could you have a condition about?” you asked, amused.

“You have to still sit with us at lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes, secretly thrilled at the prospect of actually being missed by someone. Someone wanted you there, had purposefully invited you back.

“Come on,” he pressed, “I don’t like the thought of you being lonely in here all by yourself.”

“If you are lonely when you are alone, you are in bad company,” you retorted, glancing up at him to see if he got the reference, it was clear he didn’t, “Jean Paul Sartre,” you finished.

“Pleaseeeeee,” he begged, clasping his ring-covered fingers together.

“Fine,” you relented with a small smile, “I will return to my corner of the Hellfire Club table.”

“Yes!” Eddie broke out in a wide grin, “We desperately missed our honorary member.”

“I never talked and haven’t even been gone for a full lunch,” you rolled your eyes.

“And you were missed nonetheless. In fact,” Eddie dug through his backpack, “Here,” Eddie slid a crumpled pile of fabric across the table towards you, “Please accept this as a token of my appreciation.

You held it up, it was a Hellfire t-shirt. You couldn’t help the small smile that erupted across your face.

“I love it, thank you,” you tucked it into your bag, knowing you would probably wear it to sleep tonight.

“See you tomorrow at noon, Y/N,” he smiled, pushing out his chair and standing up.

Finally when he exited the library, it dawned on you. How did he know your name?

Eddie took your lessons seriously. So seriously in fact, that you were surprised when he managed to correct you one time.

He was doing the readings that had been assigned throughout the year that he hadn’t paid attention to until now. He was asking questions on things he didn’t understand and taking notes to review. You even caught him making flashcards with a multitude of brightly colored highlighters one time, though he will never admit it.

Somehow, he was still embarrassed by the very notion of trying. It just seemed against his nature.

You were reviewing key terms of last week’s class, he was almost fully caught up to where the rest of classmates were, when a random guy approached the table.

“Sup dude,” the guy greeted Eddie, giving him a classic guy handshake.

“What are you doing in the library?” Eddie asked him nervously.

“I have to check with the librarian if I can serve my detentions in here. It counts as two if you help reshelve the books instead of just sitting there,” he spoke, glancing down at all the books open on the table, “Are you studying, Munson?”

“What? No?” Eddie pushed his book away, “Come on, man, you know me.”

“So what are you doing here with her then?” the guy pressed.

Eddie gulped, glancing nervously between this dude and you. He had a choice to make, his ‘reputation’ or you.

He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes and you could tell the decision he was about to make.

“Just trying to tap that,” he put on a wavering fake smile to keep up his appearance.

You slammed your book shut and began packing up your things.

The dude laughed at your anger, “Sorry, Munson, I may have messed that one up for you. But don’t worry, party at my place this weekend, you can do much better than this.

You finished zipping up your bag and raced out of the library, beelining for the girls’ bathroom.

You pushed open the big stall’s door and fumbled to lock it with tears blurring your vision.

You threw your backpack to the floor and sat next to it on the ground, clutching your knees to your stomach and resting your head on top.

You don’t know how long you sat there for. At least past when the end of lunch bell rang. You just sat there, completely defeated, letting the tears flow out.

There was a knock on the stall door.

“Occupied,” you replied, thinking they might wait, you added, “For a while so just….go away please.”

“Y/N?”

You looked up towards the stall door in confusion.

“Nancy?” you replied.

Nancy was nice. You always had at least one class with her since freshman year. You’ve been paired together with her on a few projects and you’ve always gotten along well.

“Um, I was headed to the bathroom anyways but Eddie stopped me right outside and asked me to check on you. He can’t come in cause well, you know, but he wanted me to tell you that he’s really really sorry. It sounded genuine too, if that’s any consolation.”

“Thanks, Nancy,” you sniffled, “But I don’t have anything to say to him. Could you please tell him to leave on your way out?”

“Of course,” Nancy replied.

A few minutes later when she left the bathroom, you heard the hushed angry whispers of Nancy laying into Eddie.

“If what you’re telling me is true and she really has been in there crying for the past hour and a half, then I doubt when she is ready to leave, she wants to talk to you when she specifically told me to tell you to go. Whatever you did to her isn’t going to be helped by you pestering her. Now, go,” Nancy shooed him away.

You’d have to thank her later for that.

After about another 30 minutes, you finally stood and peered out the bathroom door. Luckily, Eddie was nowhere to be seen in the halls.

You quickly headed down the hall to the nurse’s office, feigning a stomach ache that had been keeping you in the bathroom since lunch. The nurse let you lay down for a little and then wrote you a pass to go home early after calling your parents.

It was a Friday so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Eddie until next week which was also your final week before graduation. Maybe, you should just skip that last week altogether. It’s not like anyone would miss you.

You stayed in bed all weekend with your ‘stomach ache’, even getting your parents to believe it was bad enough that you couldn’t go to school on Monday.

Eddie’s final was first period today so you doubted he would even show up the rest of the week. You hated that despite it all, you still wanted him to pass. You hated that he probably found a girl better than you at the party this past weekend just like the guy had claimed. And you hated most of all how you were still wearing your Hellfire T-shirt.

You must have fallen asleep because when you awoke to your mom gently knocking at your door, it was pitch black outside.

“Y/N, dear?”

“Yeah,” you answered.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she said it as if she didn’t even believe it herself.

You stood and opened your bedroom door, “Who?”

“A gentleman in a leather jacket with an…interesting hairstyle,” she stated.

“Tell him I don’t want to see him,” you crossed your arms.

“Honey, maybe just hear him out?” she proposed, “He’s holding a bouquet of flowers so big I’m scared his arms are going to fall off if you don’t get out there soon.”

“Fine,” you threw on some slippers and stomped down the stairs, not ready to face him but doing it regardless.

You pushed open the front porch door slowly to where Eddie was waiting. His eyes instantly snapped up to you.

“H-Hi,” he stuttered.

“How do you know where I live?” you immediately questioned.

“Um, I had to ask around but Henderson actually lives a few doors down so he knew,” Eddie replied nervously, looking down towards the ground and suddenly remembering he had flowers in his hand, “T-These are for you.”

He held the flowers out towards you but you made no attempt to reach for them.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he answered, “Mrs. O’Donnell told me she’d grade my final first and let me know since she knew how much was riding on it for me. She told me at lunch that I passed, my first ever A actually. I was ecstatic until I realized you weren’t there to tell.”

“Congrats,” you hummed.

“I’m really sorry for what happened on Friday, Y/N. I was a total asshole. You were helping me out of the kindness of your own heart and I threw it right back in your face. I don’t deserve you at all so please just take the flowers, it doesn’t mean you’ve accepted my apology or everything is okay because I still know I fucked up big time.”

“Fine,” you relented, accepting the comically large bouquet of flowers, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. Seriously, Y/N. I was so afraid of actually admitting I was trying and still failing,” he confessed, “Because if I try my hardest and still fail, then I have to admit to myself that I’m truly a failure. But, you pushed me, you believed in me, you helped me. No one has ever done that for me before and I know for a fact, that I wouldn’t be graduating without you.”

“Yeah, but you did all the hard work. I never forced you to care or learn. That was all you, Eddie. I’m so proud of you,” you spoke softly.

You saw tears in Eddie’s eyes at the compliment you knew he had heard far too few times in his life.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you but I fucked it all up,” he admitted in a hushed whisper.

“Eddie, you broke my heart and I’m still wearing a T-shirt you gave me. I’d say there’s still a chance for redemption.”

“Eddie Munson,” Principal Higgins announced on the microphone as Eddie made his way across the stage in his cap and gown.

Eddie had been saying every year for the past four years that when he graduated, he would look Principal Higgins dead in the eyes and flip him off. Every student knew it at that point from how much he repeated it in the cafeteria.

The crowd watched with bated breath as Eddie accepted his diploma and politely shook hands with the principal. Then, he turned towards the crowd, searching for and spotting you.

He held up his diploma for you to see with a beaming smile. You laughed while clapping and cheering as loud as you could, giving him a thumbs up. He formed his hands into a heart and blew you a kiss before exiting the stage.

You were profusely blushing as heads turned to look at you. But, you couldn’t care less. He was all yours, high school diploma and all.

any comments, asks, reblogs are greatly appreciated! seriously they make me smile so much <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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dealer’s choice

pairing. eddie munson x female! reader

an. i…everybody take a look at my dream man. I’m literally not kidding guise that’s actually who i will marry. i promise. i’ll share him with u if u reblog and comment tho<3 i’ve got more eddie on my mind so follow @ohcapfics for latest updates<3 synopsis. your dealer’s always been a bit sweet on you – giving you deals and letting you try out new shit. he even lets you make house calls! and pick the music, and sit on his lap…and…

warnings. 18+. i am beating minors off with a stick rn. drugs, drug dealing, kissing, sexually explicit lang, sexually explicit acts: fondling over clothes & under clothes and grinding/thigh riding. sponsored by sat in your lap by kate bush.

Keep reading

#dory’s bookshelf #stranger things fics #no minors please #LOVEDDDDDD THISSSSSSS #ugh imagining getting to sit on eddie’s lap and tease him with a mini skirt #my dreammmmmm

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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“Three’s a Crowd”

Eddie Munson/Reader/Steve Harrington (18+)

Summary: Hurt was easy to bury, especially when Steve Harrington was there with open arms and open legs. A little “friends with benefits” soothed the pain. Made it so I could leave Eddie Munson, and the cracks he’d left on my heart, behind me as college hurdled towards me on the horizon. But then again, sometimes life throws you a big, death-metal-sized curveball.

Word Count: 7177

Content: Reader-focused sex, voyeurism, nervous virgin Eddie, scene-leader Steve, emotional resolution, romantic Eddie/reader

♡ Read on Ao3!♡

#dory’s bookshelf #stranger things fics #no minors only #GOOD GODDDDDDDDDD #LITERALLY A MUST READ #everything about this was just so perfectly perfect #i love how you wrote it so steve and y/n don’t really like each other romantically so then i didn’t feel bad for him when you and eddie #got together at the end #the detail is impeccable like i could visualize it PERFECTLY #i’m so jealous i can’t write smut for shit

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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one, two, three (eddie munson x steve harrington x cis female reader)

gif by acecroft ^ plot: a casual smoke sesh with you, your boyfriend eddie, and your best friend steve turns into something...... less casual lol content warnings: smoking/drug use, voyeurism (eddie loves to watch), dirty talk, heavy petting, begging, fingering, overstimulation, eddie calls reader baby word count: 2.6k a/n: i hope yall like my first one shot! the ones been brewing for a while. it's pretty drawn out but i think its worth it. lmk if i should make a part 2! also not all of my stuff will be x cis female reader, it just pertains to this specific story smut below the cut!

Eddie's bed was probably your favorite place in the entire world.

It was an odd choice for a favorite place. His mattress wasn't anything special, probably over a decade old. His pillows are too flat for you. He doesn't even have a top sheet, just sleeps with the same old quilt every night. But damn it, every time you got in it, you either got high or got fucked. So yeah, it was your favorite place in the world. And it only gets better when your favorite people are in it too.

You sat on the end of the bed, facing the headboard, your legs criss-crossed. Eddie was on your left, laying down but propping his torso up with his elbows. His feet press against your hip, occasionally rubbing them softly against you, just to let you know he was thinking about you.

Steve was to your right. He laid flat on his back, hands plopped casually on his chest. It was rare, just the three of you hanging out without Nancy or Robin. Not that you minded, it was nice to have the occasional smoke session without Robin's constant babbling. She got ten times more talkative when she was high, but you'd also be lying if you said you didn't miss it a little bit.

Still, you were content. Sitting between your favorite boys, passing around the second joint of the hour. You were all substantially stoned already, but it was a Saturday, and the second joint was just sitting there.

And in the midst of the smoke, and jokes, and Eddie's little touches– the conversation seemed to have somehow drifted into unknown waters.

"Is it weird to not want to cum for like, a while during sex?" Steve eyes are staring at the ceiling. "Like I like it when a girl," He paused, not because he didn't know what to say, but he didn't know if he should say it. "Makes me.... wait for it?" His hands fly to his face, pressing against his eyes firmly. He lets out a groan, "I don't know what I'm talking about, nevermind."

You found it intriguing that Steve was so skittish when he talked about sex, since he seemed so experienced. Your mind drifted to the image of a girl on top of Steve, grinding slowly, tortuously slow, as his face contorts. You felt a twinge in your core, then pushed the thought away.

"No, it's not weird at all." You comforted Steve, your voice dragging slightly due to the pot. Eddie, who currently had the half-gone joint in his possession, nodded to agree with you– His lungs too filled with smoke to speak.

Steve didn't take his hands off of his face. "Well what do you know about this? You're a.. girl. You don't have to worry about cumming because if you do–" Steve raised his arms to emphasize, jerking them in a circular motion. "You can just do it again. And again."

Eddie cuts him off, "And she does." They burst into a fit of drug induced giggles.

"Eddie!" You exclaim, surprised. Both of you rarely mention any details of your sex life. But you didn't scold him, instead just playfully rolling your eyes. Something inside you didn't mind that Steve knew, maybe you were even a little excited about it.

His hand outstretches toward you, handing you the joint as the laughter dies down. "Sorry, baby, I think there's truth serum in this batch from Rick."

"You might be onto something there." Steve says as he sits up, leaning against Eddie's headboard. You watch him as you take a hit, adjusting himself to get comfortable. He finally rests his head back, staring forward in thought.

You didn't realize you had even been staring for that long until you saw Eddie in the corner of your eye, head rested in his hand, watching you watch Steve. You catch his gaze and his mouth flicks into a small smile. Then you watch him turn to Steve, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Isn't my girlfriend fucking gorgeous Steve?" Eddie asks as you take another hit. You chuckle modestly at your boyfriend, then watch Steve's eyes focus on you. You hand him the joint, but don't break eye contact.

A sweet smile spreads on Steve's face, holding the joint close to his mouth but not bringing it between his lips just yet. "Yeah, she's beautiful, Eddie." He agrees, nodding. He smokes.

You look back at Eddie, who's full-on smirking at you now. Eyes scanning your body hungrily. Hovering his hand casually over his mouth, he grazes his bottom lip with his thumb. You could tell he was turned on.

You got an idea just as your eyes traveled back to Steve, who was still looking at you. Not in the same way Eddie was, more like he was trying to figure something out. Like he had somehow never noticed how pretty he found you. It had always been secondary to his relationship to you. He knew you were with Eddie, so it didn't matter if he found you beautiful or horrendous. Until now.

He handed the almost-roach to Eddie, who was a master at smoking the very last bit of anything. He finished it off and pressed it firmly in the ashtray on his nightstand. For a moment, as the smoke whirled above all of you, nobody knew what to say. You were all stoned and confused and a little bit horny.

You decided to make the first move.

You unfold your legs from under you and walk on your knees towards the head of the bed. Eddie scoots over to make room for you, his eyes not leaving your face for a moment as you focus in on Steve.

You smile sweetly at him. You watch him let out a small exhale. A calmness washes over him. He suddenly remembers, Oh, right, it's Y/N. Nothing to be nervous about.

"Can I kiss you Steve?" Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Steve's jaw drops only a bit. You watch his eyes dart to your lips, then meets your eye. He nods.

Before you lean in, you look at Eddie, who's pupils have dilated more than you've ever seen. His mouth is also slightly ajar, just like Steve's.

You flick your brow up, silently making sure you have his approval. Eddie nods, bringing his hand around and caressing your shoulder.

You turn back to Steve. You both lean in, very slowly, but there's a hesitance between you. You think, Fuck it. You press your lips against his, firmly. It's a bit awkward at first, but then you open your mouth to kiss again, and suddenly you are sinking into it.

You had figured Steve was a good kisser– You can't really invent make-out spots without being a good kisser. But it still felt like a pleasant surprise.

His hands know exactly where to go. One is behind your head, pulling on your hair to the rhythm of the kiss. The other hand holding your waist. His tongue, ever so shyly, slips into your mouth. You return the favor.

Steve's lips drift to your cheeks, then to your neck. You let out a soft moan, and the small sounds ignites something in everyone. You turn your head to the left slightly, both giving Steve a better angle and you a better view of Eddie.

Your eyes traveled down Eddie's tattoo'd arm, down to his hand, where he was groping himself over his jeans. Your mouth falls agape.

Steve pulled away, hand still holding your waist. You turn back to him and place one slower, more sensual kiss. You then leaned down and held your face close to Eddie's, hovering in front, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. "I love you." You whispered.

The hand that was on his groin reaches back up to the back of your head. "I love you so fucking much." He kisses you, and it's like you're returning to him after a long trip. You grip both sides of his face, pulling him into you.

You underestimate your own balance and when leaning into Eddie you tip your whole body to land flat on your back between both of them, with a giggle. Eddie giggles with you, and you sink into his kiss again. He's now at the perfect angle, lying sideways toward you, right hand roaming your body like a man on a mission to find something.

You feel another hand snake around your waist, and soft breath against your neck. As you kiss Eddie, Steve plants wet kisses from your ear to your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt is.

You felt goosebumps rise on your legs and arms. You had never kissed anyone while someone else kissed your neck, and it felt so good you began to breathe hard.

Your core is aching at this point, begging to be touched. When you open your eyes from the kiss, and Eddie's head pulls back a bit, you notice Steve has gotten into almost the same position as Eddie, just on the other side of you. He's still kissing your neck.

"Too many," You pant, your eyes fluttering shut.

"What, baby?" Eddie asks, an amused smile on his face. He lovedseeing you so turned on you couldn't function properly. And no one had even touched your pussy yet.

You huffed as Steve went to town on where your neck meets your shoulder, leaving a dark spot when his lips released the skin. "Too many clothes." You finally managed to get out.

Steve and Eddie chuckle in sync. Steve lifts his head, looks at your shirt, then looks at Eddie. "Do you want to do the honors?"

"Hey, I get to do this, like, everyday. Go right ahead my friend." Eddie jokes.

Steve's brows furrow for a moment, then he looks at you. "Jesus christ, every day?" He asks you.

You, completely blissed out, shrugs. "More or less."

"You guys are like bunnies, seriously. Okay, here, sit up." Steve slides his hand under your back and pushes you upward. Gripping your top and lifting it over your head in the process. Steve's eyes are glued to your tits as he tosses the shirt to the other side of the room.

You watch him watch you as you take your bralette off. Then you look at Eddie, who has the same dumbstruck look on his face every time you take your bra off in front of him.

"Well I'm not going to be the only one with my tits out." You reach for Eddie's Hellfire shirt and pull it off him, exposing his toned chest. Steve takes his shirt off quickly and efficiently. You glance down at the hair thats grown over his pecs, and can't help but bite your lip.

"God I'm the luckiest girl alive, aren't I?" You ask nobody in particular.

Eddie smiles widely, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek before all three of you lie back down.

"Can I?" Steve lies down in closer, his hand waiting patiently for approval a foot away from your boob.

You smile, then nod. His hand reaches up and slowly massages your left one. His head leans down and places a soft lick on the nipple. You puff out an exhale, your head falling back.

As Steve sucks on your nipple, his hand pinches and brushes the other. You remember your boyfriend's hard cock and reach for it, gripping him through his pants. Eddie lets out a soft groan, sending fireworks to your slit. You feel your wetness soak into your panties.

Your legs tighten against each other. "Somebody touch me, please." You whine.

Steve looks up at you excitedly, then at Eddie who had that same amused smile on his face. He begins to unbutton your jeans. "She likes it when you rub her clit really slow at first." He pulls down the pants zipper.

He then reaches for Steve's hand, that was still resting on your boob. Steve is confused, until Eddie brings the hand down to where your panties peak out of your pants. Eddie lifts the fabric and guides Steve hand into your folds.

You're watching in total awe, until your feel firm fingers circle your clit. Both boys turn their attention to you, their hands lap in your underwear together, as you let out your first real moan. It's high and needy and raises in tone at the very end like a question. Your eyes flutter shut.

"Slower," You hear Eddie instruct, and Steve follows.

Your body jerks, your head pressing hard against the pillow in pleasure. "Sh-it." You groan.

Eddie's face breaks into a smile once more, this time with a sense of pride. He loved that he knew how to pleasure you so well that he could teach it to somebody else and still drive you wild.

"Now one." Eddie gripped Steve's pointer finger and guided it downward toward your entrance. Slowly, Steve's finger glides inside you. You let out a guttural moan.

"Two." Eddie says. Steve adds a finger. You moan even louder. "Fucking shit," You say under your breath.

"Does she always swear this much?" Steve mumbles to Eddie, chuckling.

Eddie grins, "Pretty much, yeah."

“Shut up," You whine between breaths. Eddie is pumping Steve's fingers into you. Then Eddie's hand lets go of Steve's and returns to your clit, circling around it at the same slow pace as before.

"Oh god, Eddie, fuck," Your back arches. "This feels so fucking good."

Eddie, never losing tempo with Steve, kisses your neck, paying extra attention to the sensitive spots he can see Steve already covered. You couldn't stop moaning, your hips now grinding against both of their hands. Eddie's head rises, his lips a centimeter away from your's. "Are you ready baby?" Eddie asks, and you know exactly what he's talking about. You nod furiously.

Eddie looks at Steve, and with his free hand, holds up three fingers. Steve takes his hand out of you and looks at your eyes.

You smile at your best friend and kiss him on the lips, placing a hand on his cheek. "I need you, Steve, please,"

Steve smiled, and obliged. Slowly at first, he slides three fingers into you. You gasp, gripping onto Eddie's shoulder. Eddie has to hold back a laugh, he just loves seeing you like this.

Steve pauses, waiting for you to exhale, before moving his hand again. He curves his fingers upward, touching the roof of your pussy and brushing your g-spot just how you like it.

"Yeah, just like that," You whine. Steve leans down and once again paints your neck with wet kisses. The only sound in the room is the quenching of your soaking wet pussy around Eddie and Steve's respective hands, and your feral moans as you felts your climax growing closer.

Eddie's clit rotations grow faster, and Steve matches his pace. Eddie's lips press into yours, your kisses sloppy from lack of focus. Suddenly, another wave a pleasure washes over you. Your mouth falls open, lips still touching Eddie's but unable to kiss.

Your eyes squeeze shut, and Eddie's goes even faster. You hear Steve groan against your ear, and his hot breath hits your neck, and suddenly you're seeing stars. Your moans are drawn out and lazy and loud, and your body goes stiff with pleasure. "Fuck me, I'm cumming."

Eddie's smile grows wide, and he slows down. Steve follows his lead, waiting a beat than pulling his fingers out of your pussy. You sigh, blissed out.

"The three of us should smoke together more often." Steve jokes, lying back next to you. Eddie does the same. The three of you stare at the ceiling.

You hum, then sit up. "Okay, your guys' turn."

#dory’s bookshelf #stranger things fics #no minors please #ohhhhhhh myyyyy goddddd #literally my dream blunt rotation like fr #if only this could happen to me irl i would die happy

8K notes · View notes

shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

Text

Detective Daddy

Summary: After a slight medical scare, you and Steve learn your family is about to grow a little bit bigger.

Pairing: Detective!Steve Harrington x Hairdresser!Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: no season 4 spoilers, lots of fluff with a little angst, swearing, fainting, pregnancy

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

The bell above the salon door chimed, signaling his arrival.

“Y/N, your boyfriendddd is here,” Tiffany sang.

You were sweeping up hair clippings from your last client when you felt his strong arms enclose around you.

“It’s actually fiancé now,” Steve corrected her.

You held up your left hand, showcasing it for yourself and Steve again.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” you beamed as Steve kissed your neck.

“I would have done it way earlier but I was trying to save up for a ring you actually deserve. If I would have proposed when I actually wanted to, the only ring I would have been able to afford was a ring pop,” Steve spoke.

“And my answer would have been the same,” you turned around in his arms to give him a kiss.

Steve was wearing a light blue collared dress shirt tucked into black dress pants. He had his gun concealed in the holster on his hip right alongside his badge.

Steve was a part of the recently formed Hawkins Supernatural Investigation Division of the police department. The FBI thought it was best to assemble a specific task force designed to handle those types of cases given Hawkins’ history. Since Steve had the most experience fighting those types of creatures, he was left in charge as head detective.

You were so proud of him. He would come home every day and give you a run-down of his day. His eyes just lit up when he would talk about possible leads.

He also couldn’t wait until Dustin was out of school so he could promote him to ‘Co-Head Detective’. Right now, Dustin was technically classified as an intern since he was still finishing his senior year of high school; even though, he was basically running the place alongside Steve.

The rest of their Hawkins’ crew didn’t have much interest in continuing to try to understand and fight the supernatural, most decided to leave town and pursue different passions. But, it was everything for Steve and Dustin. It was their calling.

“How’s your day going, Detective?” you asked as you led him over to the sink.

“Quite boring actually. Nothing to investigate, only piles of paperwork. Dustin won’t even be in today so I have no one to entertain me at the office,” Steve frowned.

“Ah, the boring life of a supernatural detective. Who would have thought?” you joked, “Lean back,” you guided Steve’s head down into the sink.

It only made sense that Steve ended up with a hair stylist. Free trims whenever he wanted.

“Can you use that shampoo again that smelled like strawberries?” he hummed, relaxing as you combed your fingers through his hair while rinsing it with warm water.

“Of course, baby,” you squirted a few pumps into your hands before massaging it deep into his scalp.

You felt Steve instantly melt into the chair, “Those hands are absolute magic, love.”

You giggled, “I’m glad.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Tiffany asked from across the salon where she was currently giving a woman a perm.

“I’ll marry her any time, any place,” Steve affirmed, “The rest doesn’t matter as long as she’s mine.”

The whole salon ‘aww’ed at his comment and you blushed.

“I want a spring wedding,” you decided, “The flowers newly budding, birds chirping, the sun beginning to fully shine.”

“Sounds lovely,” Steve agreed as you rinsed the conditioner from his hair.

You wrapped a towel around his head before instructing him to sit up and head to your chair.

“Big wedding?” Steve continued the conversation as you buttoned the black cape around him and pumped the chair up a few times.

“I’d say no. We can have a big party afterwards to celebrate but I would like just the very most important people in our life to be there,” you explained, “It feels more special that way. Less like a show we have to put on for our guests and more just about us.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darling,” Steve spoke, “But my stomach is already in knots trying to decide if Robin or Dustin should be my ‘best man’.”

“How about I make Robin my maid of honor so everyone’s happy?” you offered.

“This…. this is why I love you,” Steve smiled.

“Alright,” you grabbed your scissors and a comb, “What are we doing today, love?”

“Just the usual trim,” he replied.

“Are you sure you don’t want a buzz cut? Perhaps the classic Will Byers middle school bowl cut?” you teased.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Steve playfully glared at you through the mirror.

You got to work snipping just the very ends of his luscious hair.

“You’re my last client of the day, love, so I’m going to head home after this. What do you want me to make for dinner?” you asked.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Steve replied.

“But I just chose what we had last night,” you pouted, “It’s your turn.”

“Fine,” Steve relented and chose the easiest option for you since he wouldn’t be home early enough to help, “How about spaghetti and meatballs?

“Sure thing,” you smiled, setting down your scissors, “Blow dry?”

“Yes, please,” he smiled.

You plucked the Farrah Fawcett hair spray from your assortment of products and spritzed 4 pumps into his damp hair before grabbing your round brush and blow drier.

You loved the way Steve’s eyes fell closed and his lips turned upwards into the most blissful smile as you ran the heat through his head. You absolutely loved pampering him to no end.

“All set, handsome,” you set the drier down and unbuttoned his cape as he reopened his eyes with a grin.

“Amazing job as always, love. Thank you,” he stood, heading to the door, “One sec, I have something for you in the car.”

He reentered the shop just a few moments later with a brown paper bag and a bouquet of daisies in hand, “Your payment,” he presented them to you.

You peeked in the bag, revealing a blueberry muffin, your favorite.

“And your tip,” Steve leaned over the counter to give you a lengthy kiss that had butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“My favorite customer, as always,” you grinned, “I’ll put you in the books for another trim in 3 weeks.”

“Great,” Steve glanced at his watch, “I’ve got to head back to the office but I’ll see you at home?”

“See you at home,” you confirmed, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, giving you one final peck before waving goodbye as he headed out the door.

You sighed dreamily as you watched him drive away.

“Where can I get myself one of those?” Tiffany’s client asked, referring to Steve.

You chuckled, beginning to clean up your station for the day. You were beginning to feel woozy but you chalked it up to the lovesick feeling Steve left in your belly.

You headed to the store on your way home to grab a few things. As you pulled into the driveway, you saw a familiar bike parked on your lawn.

Your theory was confirmed when the front door was already unlocked and you heard the TV blasting.

“Dustin? Are you joining us for dinner?” you shouted over the loud volume over the TV.

“Yes, please,” Dustin switched off the TV and entered the kitchen where you were unloading the grocery bags, snagging a bag of potato chips for himself.

“Well then, you’re not going to ruin your appetite with those,” you grabbed the chips back.

“But I’m famished,” he grabbed his stomach, pretending to be in agony.

You tossed him an apple as he took a seat at the kitchen counter, “Here. Dinner will be ready in 20.”

Dustin was a regular guest in you and Steve’s home. He even had his own key. You didn’t mind it at all, he was basically your younger brother-in-law.

“How was your day?” you asked him while turning a pot of water on for the spaghetti.

“Same old, same old. Mr. Peterson gave us a pop quiz today and I’m pretty sure I bombed it.”

“Well, look on the bright side, you’ll be graduating in less than 2 months and you already have a cool job lined up for you right out of high school,” you reminded him, grabbing a jar of sauce from the pantry.

Suddenly, you were hit with the same woozy feeling from earlier but much stronger. The room felt like it was spinning. You stumbled to reach for the countertop.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” you heard Dustin ask as he stood from behind the counter.

“I think I’m gonna-”

Your hand let go of the jar of sauce and it shattered against the tile. You felt Dustin catch you as you collapsed to the ground, fading out of consciousness

“Y/N!” Dustin yelled, gently laying you on your back, “Oh god, what the fuck do I do?”

He reached for the landline on the counter and quickly punched in Steve’s office number.

“Hello, darling,” Steve answered, “I’m just about to head out in-.”

“Harrington,” Dustin interrupted.

“Kid, what are you doing-”

“Y/N just passed out and I don’t know what to do,” Dustin panicked.

“Is it something paranormal? Does she look like she’s being possessed?” Steve asked, frantically.

“Nope, I think it’s just regular old passing out,” Dustin replied, trying to fan you awake with a magazine.

“Did you call 911?”

“No, I’m on the phone with you, dingus!…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, this is just a really stressful situation right now,” Dustin apologized, “Should I hang up on you and call them?”

“No, I’ll be there in 5 minutes to take her to the hospital so I’d beat an ambulance anyways. Stay right there,” Steve ended the call.

He sprinted to his car, leaving just about everything behind except his keys.

Dustin lowered the phone, thinking out loud, “Where does he think I’m going to go? The mall?”

Dustin paced around you for a few moments before he leaned down to check your pulse when you groaned.

“Y/N,” he sighed a huge breath of relief, “Thank god.”

“What happened?” you sat up, looking around.

“You fainted and were out for a few minutes,” he informed you, “Steve should be here any minute.”

You heard the screeching of brakes outside the house and a car door slam.

“Speak of the devil,” Dustin spoke.

“Y/N? Dustin?” Steve yelled out.

“In here,” Dustin called back.

You heard his footsteps race to the kitchen before you laid eyes on his panicked face at the sight of you sprawled on the floor, half covered in pasta sauce.

“We need to get you to the hospital, love,” Steve bent down to your level.

You nodded just as the sickening, unsteady feeling surged once again.

“Steve,” you gripped his arm, “Feeling dizzy again.”

You felt his hands come up to support your head just as your vision went dark.

You slowly opened your eyes, taking in your surroundings. White walls and a fluorescent light. Definitely not home. You tilted your head down to see what was the weight in your lap. It was Steve resting his head on you as he slept in a chair next to your hospital bed.

You fainted twice. You remembered now, poor Steve and Dustin must have been worried sick.

“Baby,” you whispered, softly running your hands through his hair.

He rustled around a little before you heard him let out a quiet yawn and allow his eyes to open. They immediately sought out you.

“Hi,” you grinned down at his adorable sleepy face.

“Thank god,” he sighed in relief, pulling you in for a hug, “They kept assuring me that you would wake up but I was still terrified you wouldn’t.”

“Sorry to make you worry, handsome,” you kissed his nose as he scrunched it up in a pout.

“I’ll always worry about you, love. You’re my everything,” he replied, never failing to make your heart melt.

“Did they say what’s wrong?” you asked.

“They wouldn’t tell me until you woke up. Only direct family can know and since I’m only a fiancé, they couldn’t disclose anything other than that you’d be fine. I’ll go see if I can find a nurse now,” Steve reluctantly let go of you, kissing your forehead before slipping out of the room.

He was back just a few short moments later, “They’re going to send the doctor in.”

You moved to the side of the bed to make room and patted it, signaling you wanted him to join you.

Steve laid down beside you, wrapping his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Dustin wanted to stay too but I called his mom to come pick him up. Figured it was probably best since it’s a school night and there was nothing he could really do to help at that point. I promised I’d call him with any updates though,” Steve told you.

“Look at you, so responsible,” you teased, “Talking about school nights and stuff.”

A knock sounded from the door.

“Come in,” you called out.

“Good evening, Y/N. I’m Dr. Evans. Before I proceed, I have to ask, is it okay that he’s here?” he pointed to Steve.

“Yes, of course, he’s my fiancé,” you answered.

“Alright then, the blood work I had done shows you fainted due to a drop in your blood pressure. Further blood testing revealed that the cause of that drop was that you are pregnant,” he informed you, looking up from his clipboard.

“Oh my god,” your hand instantly sought out Steve’s, “Oh my god!” you repeated.

Steve was staring at you in complete awe.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the doctor excused himself from the room.

“I mean it’s a little earlier than we had expected but we did always say we wanted kids,” you rambled, “I know we’re not super prepared but my job is pretty flexible and I think we could make it work. Basically what I’m saying is I’m happy…if you’re happy?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m ecstatic,” Steve beamed with tears in his eyes, “I absolutely can not wait to meet the life we created.”

You pulled him in for a sweet and soft kiss to express the overwhelming amount of love you felt inside you.

“I was always destined to be a babysitter,” Steve joked as he leaned down to kiss your belly.

You playfully ruffled his hair while laughing, “I don’t think it’s considering babysitting if it’s your own kid, genius, I think that’s just called parenting.”

any feedback is greatly appreciated!! <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

Text

Bad Excuses & Blue Slushies

Summary: After playing hard to get for so long, you finally agreed to go on a date with Steve. When he stands you up, he comes back with the strangest excuse as to why.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Content/Warning: no season 4 spoilers (season 3 spoilers though), fluff with some angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.9k

You hastily tied your red bandana around your neck as you ran into Starcourt Mall.

Your scuffed converse skidded along the tiled floor as you sprinted into Scoops Ahoy, headed to punch yourself in before you were late.

“I already punched you in,” Steve spoke from the register, handing change back to a customer.

“Thanks,” you heaved, hunched over and trying to catch your breath, “My. bike. broke. Had. to. run. over. 2. miles. in. this. stupid. fucking. uniform.”

Steve grinned, “Well, at least you still look as gorgeous as ever.”

“Ha-ha, very funny” you deadpanned, “I do a nice thing and agreed to cover Robin’s shift and this is how I’m repaid.”

“Wow, I’m hurt,” Steve clutched his chest in fake agony, “I pay you a compliment and I’m met with cold sarcasm.”

“Sorry if I find it very hard to believe that the Steve Harrington thinks a sweaty girl in an unflattering sailor’s costume is the epitome of beauty,” you retaliated.

“All the boxes on my dream girl checklist are ticked off,” Steve grinned, “What are you doing Friday night?”

“And how is that your business?” you inquired.

“Because I’m trying to ask you out,” Steve replied.

You let out an audible laugh, stifling it as a customer came into the shop.

“Ahoy there! What can I get for you today, matey?” you greeted them.

“Can I have a large chocolate overboard cone please?” the older woman ordered.

“Right away, ma’am,” you began scooping the ice cream.

“Come on,” Steve continued, “Give me one good reason you won’t go out with me on Friday.”

“Steve,” you chastised, “I’m with a customer.”

“She doesn’t mind. Do you?” Steve looked to the woman.

“Oh no, I’m loving this. Why won’t you go out with this hunk, sweetie?” she asked you.

“Steve, tell this woman where you were just last night?”

“On a date with Stacy Johnson,” he sighed.

“And two days before that?” you inquired.

“With Stephanie Williams but-”

You interrupted him, “I rest my case. $4.82, ma’am,” you handed her her ice cream.

“She makes a compelling case,” the lady handed you the money, “Have a good day, dears.”

“I can list more reasons if that’s not enough for you,” you grinned at Steve who scowled in return.

After cleaning up after the store had closed, Steve locked the doors as you waited for him.

“Until next shift, Harrington,” you waved goodbye to him as you entered the parking lot.

“Wait, your bike is broken,” he spoke.

“I’m aware,” you replied.

“Well, how are you getting home?” he continued.

“Walking, I guess. My parents aren’t home,” you shrugged.

“Let me give you a ride,” he offered.

“You live on the opposite end of town and we just worked a double, I’m sure you want to get home. I’ll be okay, really,” you assured him.

“I don’t feel comfortable letting you walk miles home in the dark. Just please get in,” he returned, opening the passenger side of his car

“Fine,” you sighed, getting in, “Thank you.”

Steve started the car and pulled out of the parking lot just before you added, “But if you try any funny business, I will snap your neck.”

Steve chuckled, “I’d expect nothing less.”

You rested your head against the window, completely exhausted after your shift. You hated to admit it but Steve was right. If you walked home alone in the dark, you probably would have fallen asleep in a ditch about half a mile in.

“Are you ready for the math test tomorrow?” Steve broke the relative silence of the car.

“I didn’t even know you knew I was in your class,” you snorted.

“Believe it or not, Y/N, I notice you,” Steve spoke.

You hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t believe it. Steve was popular, you were decidedly not. There’s simply no good reason he should have any interest in you whatsoever.

“To answer your question, no. I’m completely unprepared but I’m ready to wing it and hope for the best,” you responded.

“That's my strategy with everything in life,” Steve smiled.

He flicked on his blinker as he turned down your road.

“One chance, Y/N,” Steve spoke, “You go out with me Friday night and if it goes bad, I won’t ever bother you again. Deal?

“Why are you so hellbent on me going out with you? Have you seriously run out of all other options?”

“Is it really that hard to believe that I genuinely want to go out with you?” Steve asked, pulling into your driveway.

“Yes, very much so actually,” you spoke softly.

Steve put the car in park and turned to look at you, “I find you witty, intelligent, gorgeous, and overall remarkable. Yes, I do go on a lot of dates but that is because I’m trying to find the right girl for me. No one else makes me laugh like you do, Y/N. No one else could make me so excited to work an eight hour shift scooping ice cream in an overcrowded mall. Frankly, all the past girls don’t even hold a candle to you, Y/N. They’re boring and you’re so incredibly the opposite.”

You relented “Friday night?”

Steve smiled widely, “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

You opened the car door and slipped out of the seat, “I’m looking forward to being nowhere near how high your expectations of me are.”

Steve wholeheartedly laughed, “I’m looking forward to making you admit you actually had fun for once…and on a date with ‘the Steve Harrington’,” he quoted you.

“I’d. rather. die.” you grinned, “Good night, Steve.”

“Night, Y/N,” he waved and watched you until you were safe inside your house before pulling out into the road.

Friday night was finally here. You’d never admit it out loud but you were actually looking forward to hanging out with Steve. Even a bit nervous.

You doubted any of your normal wardrobe was suitable for a first date so you bought a sage green skirt at the mall after one of your shifts that week.

You paired it with a plain white tank top and your usual black high top converse (you couldn’t stray too far from who you really were).

You straightened your hair and almost poked yourself in the eye putting on mascara.

“Not too bad, Y/N,” you surveyed yourself in the mirror once you were finally ready.

You grabbed your purse and sat on the front steps of your house, waiting for Steve to arrive.

Ten minutes late was excusable, his hair routine was quite complicated and thorough.

Twenty minutes, maybe there was just really bad traffic.

Thirty minutes was pushing it.

You called it quits when the clock hit 8:01. If he tried to show up any later than this, you wouldn’t be going out with him regardless.

You sulked back inside and stripped off your outfit, trading it in for pajamas. You wiped off your makeup and put your hair up in a ponytail.

This is how your Friday night was supposed to go anyways, minus the crushing disappointment of being stood up.

You pulled a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and clicked on the TV, trying to distract yourself from the pain of rejection.

You woke up in the same spot on the couch the next morning, the TV still on and your empty ice cream carton sticking to the coffee table.

You had the opening shift at work today so you forced yourself to get up and change into that god-awful uniform.

Luckily, you managed to fix your bike so you could get to work on time.

However, that didn’t seem to matter because when you pulled into the parking lot, the mall was completely burnt to the ground.

You set your bike down on the sidewalk and ran up to a group of firefighters who were chatting.

“Excuse me?” you asked, “What happened?”

“We don’t know much of anything right now, sweetheart. Just that the whole place set ablaze last night. Two casualties,” he reported.

“May I ask who?” you gulped, suddenly concerned for Steve’s safety.

“Chief Hopper and Billy Hargrove,” he stated.

“That’s awful,” you shook your head in disbelief.

Sure, you weren’t really a big fan of Billy but you didn’t want him dead.

“You should get back home. I doubt you’ll be working for a while,” the firefighter turned back to his group.

You biked home, trying to process all this information. You must have zoned out and gone into autopilot because when you looked up from your handlebars, you were home.

Except there was a very unwelcome guest leaning against his car hood in your driveway, waiting for you.

His face was clearly swollen and bruised.

“Don’t you look pretty?” you quipped, hopping off your bike and pushing it up your driveway.

“Y/N, can we please talk?”

“Let me remind you of our deal, Harrington. I give you one chance and if it doesn’t go well, you won’t bother me ever again. Suffice to say, it didn’t go well. It didn’t go at all actually cause you didn’t fucking show up.”

“Yes but I have a really good excuse,” Steve countered.

“Try me.”

“I was kidnapped by Russians who have a secret laboratory under the mall,” Steve spoke like it wasn’t the most bizarre statement ever.

“Yeah, okay,” you laughed, “So when’s our next date?”

“Really?!”

“No, moron!” you snapped back, “Clearly, that’s so made up. If you’re going to lie, at least make it something believable. Or, just tell me the truth that you didn’t want to go on a date with me! Or even better, don’t ask me out just to mess with my feelings if you aren’t going to fucking show up,” you yelled.

You could feel the tears of frustration welling up in your eyes.

“Robin was there too! You can ask her,” Steve insisted, “Or Dustin. Dustin Henderson who comes into the shop all the time.”

“Sure thing, I’ll just ask your two best friends who would clearly lie for you and just believe every word they say,” you sarcastically replied.

“You have to believe me, Y/N. I seriously wouldn’t miss this date if this didn’t happen.”

“Please just go home and stop bothering me, Steve,” the tears started to roll down your cheeks, “Please.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Steve relented, witnessing the pain he was putting you through, “Um, you have my number if you ever wanna call. I guess I won’t be seeing you at work for a while.”

“I think that’s for the best,” you sighed, wiping your eyes against your sleeve.

You turned to go inside and placed your hand on the doorknob.

“Is there any way I can make this up to you?” Steve called out.

“Not unless you can actually prove you’re telling the truth,” you spoke before heading inside and locking the door behind you.

“That’ll be $11.37, sir,” you slid the box of cigarettes and soda back across the counter.

The man handed you a twenty and you gave him his change before he returned back to his car at the gas pump.

Since the mall was still in ashes, maybe never to be rebuilt, you had to look for work elsewhere. You got a job at the gas station convenience store in town.

Despite not having to wear that stupid sailor uniform, you hated it more than Scoops Ahoy. It was lonely.

You wished the mall hadn’t burnt down. You wish you could still be scooping ice cream with Steve. And you wish he hadn’t stood you up so you could still hang out with him.

I mean you technically still could, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to go crawling back to him, only to be most likely stood up again.

A familiar maroon BMW pulled into the gas station. Great.

The bell chimed above the door, meaning he had entered but you kept your head down.

You heard his footsteps stop when he realized it was you behind the counter.

He cleared his throat, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Got to make money somehow,” you replied.

“Twenty dollars on pump two,” he slid a twenty across the table.

“That all?” you asked.

“Add a large blue slushie and M&M’s too please,” Steve pulled out another five from his wallet before heading to fill his cup.

You handed him back his change as he set the cup back down at the counter. He pocketed the change and began to leave.

“Um, you’re forgetting your stuff,” you gestured to the counter in confusion.

“Oh, those are for you. They’re your favorites, right?”

“Yeah, they are. Um, thanks, I guess.”

“When does your shift end?” Steve asked.

You glanced at the clock, “An hour and twenty minutes.”

“Do you mind if I bother you once last time tonight?”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt, I’m already bored out of my mind. I’m literally counting holes in the wall at this point.”

“Okay, stay right there,” Steve spoke, “I’ll be back in 30.”

“It’s my job. I’m kinda stuck here,” you smiled ever so slightly.

“Right,” Steve remembered, “That was stupid. Anyways, I’ll be right back.”

You watched Steve run out to his car and swiftly pull out of the gas station.

“He forgot to get his gas,” you laughed to yourself as you refunded his money.

As promised, Steve was back in 27 minutes and 42 seconds. No, you weren’t counting.

He was followed into the store by a young girl who had her arms crossed.

“This is Erica Sinclair,” he introduced her to you.

“Um, hello,” you waved to her.

“Tell Y/N how you feel about me,” he prompted her.

“He’s a nerd who spends way too much time on his hair. He’s not very bright which might explain why the majority of his friends are like five years younger than him. And he wasn’t even that good scooping ice cream,” Erica sassed.

“So you agree she doesn’t like me?” Steve looked to you as you stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, I would say so,” you replied, giving Erica a high-five.

“Erica, what happened on the night of Friday, July 4th?” Steve asked her.

“I had to go through this tunnel in the ceiling at the mall because I was bribed with free cream for life. But then, we discovered this secret elevator and the older kids got captured. Basically long story short, we saved their asses from evil Russians who were trying to open up this portal thingy.”

“How do I know you’re not paying her to say whatever you want?” you asked.

“Oh, I’m being paid to come here,” Erica answered, “Erica does nothing for free. But I wouldn’t lie on this guy’s behalf just to get him a girlfriend who is way out of his league.”

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” Steve handed her a twenty, “Please go wait in the car.”

Erica happily skipped outside.

“I can’t say I believe it but I guess I’ll just have to trust you on this,” you spoke.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“Should I not be?” you questioned.

“No, you definitely should be. I’m 100% telling you the truth here,” he answered sincerely.

The more that you thought about it, it was way too crazy of a story to make up as an excuse. Plus, that would explain the bruises all over his face that morning. And the reason for the mall fire was still a mystery so you couldn’t exactly disprove him.

“One more chance, Harrington. I’m serious. No excuses this time, not even evil Russians.”

“Yes, thank you! I promise you won’t regret it,” he smiled widely.

“I really don’t know why this was worth all your trouble. A date with me already cost you twenty bucks in bribe money.”

“Worth every single penny,” Steve replied.

You just stared at him. How was he so damn charming all the time? You hated it. That was a lie. You were a sucker for it.

Your eyes flickered down to his lips. He noticed and smirked.

“Do you want to kiss the Steve Harrington, Y/N?” he spoke smugly, leaning over the counter.

“Nope.”

Such a lie.

“That’s a real shame cause I really want to kiss you,” he answered.

You blushed, finally giving in and leaning to meet him halfway. It was gentle and deliberate, as if he was scared one wrong move would have you disappear from his life again.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his fingers tangling in your hair. He tasted like peppermint gum and cherry chapstick.

When he pulled away, you felt like you were floating. Your lips tingled with a fuzzy sensation.

He leaned his forehead up against yours, “I have to bring Erica home before her bedtime. Lucas is covering for her.”

“Don’t forget to actually get your gas on the way out this time,” you whispered, smiling.

“Give me another blue slushie. I think they’re my favorite now too,” he grinned.

A/N: sorry if you were expecting a spencer reid fic lol. i tried writing for a different character, i would love to know what you thought <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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should i stay up all night and write a steve harrington fic?

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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Passive Aggressive - Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

WC: 2.1K / navi / preview

Summary: Spencer’s stressed, and he takes it out on you. You’re sure it would have hurt far worse if he’d shouted, but instead he broke you down bit by bit, his cold demeanor leaving you crying in your car.

Contents/Warnings: passive aggression, stressed spencer, brief mentions of missing persons, tension, hurt/comfort, angst with a fluffy ending

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Not right now,” Spencer mumbled, not even bothering to look up at the sound of the door opening. He knew it’d be you, you were the only other person in the apartment, but that didn’t dull the edge in his voice.

You hesitated in the doorway, your hand gripping tight to the doorframe as if it would stabilize the part of you that had deflated at Spencer’s tone.

“I just wanted to let you know lunch is ready.” Your own voice had lost most of the vigor that you had intended for it to possess, instead coming out meek as you monitored Spencer’s reaction.

His shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly, and you heard a brisk sigh escape from his lips, “I’ll be there soon.”

That was it. No thank you, no tension-diffuser, nothing. Just that same sharp, biting tone.

“Right,” You hesitated in the doorway for only a few seconds more, teeth grating against the inside of your cheek as you tried figuring out if you could get away with saying anything else. You gave up, shutting the door quietly behind you as you trudged back to the kitchen.

Keep reading

#stop this was so sweet #the cookie cutter sandwiches is adorable #spencer realizing the phone charger text is just an excuse and going to find you 🥺❤️#i loved this!!!#dory’s bookshelf

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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Seven Months (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Nota my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: A field operation goes wrong, and you lose the most important person in your life. That's what you thought for seven months.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: A character’s death and mourning are mentioned and discussed. Pregnancy is shown and discussed. A mention of possible abortion (not actually happening). Strong words. A character faint and needs medical attention. Angst with a happy ending.

A/N: Hey, my loves! I wrote this one based on this request I got the past weekend. Are you familiar with Doyle’s arc? Here is, but it’s not Emily faking her death; it's Spencer. I enjoyed writing this one, although it was painful in some parts. You can send me requests! I would love to work on those.

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Your life has been pretty good, in your opinion. It's not like you haven't been through dark times for a few years, but once you grew up and followed your dreams, things got a lot better. You became a reputable FBI agent working at the BAU, one of the most elite groups in the bureau. You earned excellent colleagues who are also your friends and your family. And you met Spencer Reid, your fiancee, the man who can light up your days and rock your nights.

Yeah, life has been pretty good to you.

Until today.

Until that bastard stabbed your fiancee in a raid.

A bastard who managed to escape.

You blamed yourself. You should have burst into the warehouse with Spencer. You shouldn’t have left him alone.

The hours in the hospital seemed endless for you. The team’s faces weren’t better than yours. He has to make it. Right?

He’s the love of your life. You can’t lose him.

You tried to stay collected, thinking of good scenarios and Spencer's recovery.

Your thoughts stopped when JJ walked through the hospital doors that separated the wards from the waiting room. She had tears in her eyes.

“He never made it off the table.”

That was the moment your life was turned upside down forever.

A widow. That's what you were and how you felt.

Crying for Spencer's death became a full-time activity. How could it not? Everything in your shared apartment reminded you of the life you both had together. The plans, the dreams, the memories, all were there in every corner. It took you weeks to grab Spencer's coffee mug he left on the kitchen counter the last morning you ate breakfast together.

Going to work didn't make things easy. The looks, the pity, the talk behind your back. It was like everyone walked on eggshells around you.

Spencer’s death affected the team, not only emotionally; two weeks after Spencer's funeral, Strauss split the group, sending Hotch to missions out of the country and Rossi to support another task group in the FBI. JJ was called to assist in other divisions from time to time. Morgan was the present team leader, and Prentiss, Garcia, and you were the permanent team members.

In the lonely nights at your apartment, surrounded by your memories, sometimes your mind tricked you, thinking that Spencer could walk inside with open arms and smile brightly at you. Maybe you would go insane.

At moments like those, you ended up knocking on Emily’s door. She was emotionally stronger than you, holding you as you cried for hours.

You will always be grateful to her. You knew it was unfair to Emily because as the same time you mourned Spencer as your boyfriend, she mourned Spencer as her little brother.

You started to feel sick most of the time. Emotional and physically sick. Your head throbbed constantly; your stomach couldn't stand the food you forced yourself to eat, and it was common to wake up in the morning with nausea making you run to the bathroom to empty your guts into the toilet.

Two months passed, and you couldn't feel better. Emily advised you to go to the doctor.

“They will tell me that I’m depressed and send me home. I can’t be home, Em,” you argued.

“But you need to be checked. Depressed or not, being like this doesn't help you. Please, just let them see you.”

You did what Emily requested. At your doctor's appointment, she asked the trivial questions and ordered urine and blood tests. You could feel her pity look on you when you told her what happened with your fiancee.

You hated people looking at you like that.

In the next appointment, with the results on hand, she disclosed two things: one of them you already knew; the other felt like a cold bucket on your back. You were depressed and pregnant.

What the doctor told you after that was a blur to you. You didn't listen, your brain only filled with one word: pregnant.

Still shaking, you managed to get out of the doctor’s office and dialed Emily’s number.

As in the past weeks, she comforted you and offered her support all the way. Whatever your decision could be.

You spent days and nights thinking about what to do. You didn't feel in a good place to be a mother, but it was Spencer's child, the love of your life. It was part of your plan together. You both wanted kids, but he was gone now.

Could you be strong enough to raise a child?

One night, curling in bed with Spencer's shirt in your hands, smelling the faint scent of his cologne, you noticed there weren’t more tears in you. The pain still was there, but you couldn't cry anymore. Instead, you started rubbing your lower belly with one hand. At that moment, you made a choice.

Telling the team made it more real. You will have a baby. Spencer's baby. Everyone hugged you, offering all the support you could need. You didn't know why, but JJ looked more emotional that day. You guessed that she felt like the baby would be his friend's living legacy. You always knew how strong was JJ and Spencer's friendship. It was a terrible loss for her too.

Emily became your partner in all the baby’s appointments you got, and she asked about all your therapist’s sessions.

You needed to acknowledge that therapy helped. Every day you felt a little bit better. Maybe it was because you focused on the baby: you needed to be okay for them. You needed to stand again because now a human life depended on you.

Months went by, and your bump started to be noticeable. Looking at you in the mirror every morning, you could see how the baby has grown.

You made changes in the apartment. Morgan helped to adapt your and Spencer’s old office into a nursery. You changed the furniture in your bedroom too, settling a bassinet by your bed. It was time to decide what to do with Spencer's belongings. You packed his clothes in boxes and left them in the basement storage room. Some of his books ran the same luck. But most of them, you wanted to keep it so your child could see part of his father there.

And so seven months have passed since that fateful day. Seven months in which there were days when it was difficult to get up, but you kept going. The support of your friends was essential.

The job also helped you overcome the pain and make each day count.

Your belly was growing and growing, and without knowing it, the baby you were carrying became the BAU’s top priority. Your baby was still not born but was loved by everyone.

“Come on (Y/N)! Tell us! It’s a boy or a girl?” JJ insisted. She, Emily, and you were in the conference room. You already knew the gender, but you didn't want to tell anyone, not even Emily.

“My lips are sealed,” you informed, sipping your tea. JJ huffed.

“We can profile you to find out, you know?” Emily warned. You narrowed your eyes.

“You wouldn't dare...”

“To know if I’m having a godson or a goddaughter? Of course!” Emily pointed matter-of-factly.

You shook your head, clucking.

Then Derek and Garcia entered the room. A severe expression on their faces. You three noticed immediately.

Something important happened.

“We found him,” Derek announced.

Your jaw dropped to the floor. JJ and Prentiss looked at each other, not knowing what he was talking about.

“Found who?” JJ asked.

“The son of the bitch who killed Reid. Steven Harmon.”

Your throat tightened, and your hands started to shake.

On the day of Spencer's funeral, when Derek hugged you, he promised to catch the man who killed your fiancee. And after seven months, he succeeded. You knew he was tracking him with Garcia's help, but no one mentioned or talked about that until now.

“We need to move fast, though. I called Hotch and Rossi. We are going to get him.”

Although your protests, Morgan didn't let you participate in the field operation. You begged him; you needed to catch the guy, but Derek reminded you that it could be dangerous for you and the baby, and he never would forgive himself if something happened to you.

Two days after that, the entire team, minus Garcia and you, finally caught who killed the love of your life, your baby’s father.

You thought that after his arrest you would feel relieved. This was what you needed to bring justice and peace of mind to you. But why it didn’t feel like that? Why did you feel like something was off?

Hotch called everyone to the conference room the next morning. After asking you to sit down, he folded his arms over his chest and spoke—JJ by his side.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Spencer lost a lot of blood after his fight with Harmon. But the doctors were able to stabilize him. And he was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. His identity was strictly need-to-know. And he stayed there until he was well enough to travel. He was reassigned to Paris, where he was given several identities, none of which we had access to for his security.”

You took in Hotch’s words, but they seemed extracted from a movie, not from reality.

“His is alive?” Garcia mumbled.

“But we buried him!” Prentiss shouted.

By reflex, you pressed both hands to your belly. Your pulse quickened, as did your breathing.

“As I said, I take full responsability for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me,” Hotch informed. The same calm and stern voice with which he started speaking.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Morgan growled.

Emily's eyes flicked from Hotch to you, back and forth. Had anyone cared about you before disclosing this news?

And then everyone turned to the door. He was there. Spencer stood awkwardly, looking at each team member, but especially at you. When your eyes and his locked, you felt like you couldn't breathe. You stood suddenly because your limbs were numb, and you didn't know if you were dreaming or awake. You clutched your bump to ground yourself. Spencer’s eyes widened when he noticed your belly.

He didn't know you were pregnant.

He didn't know anything.

You noticed how he looked at JJ as if he was asking why. She knew. Hotch knew. Who else lied to you all these months?

The silence in the room was suffocating. No one dared to say anything.

Spencer took a step ahead toward you, but you stepped back. He lied to you. Everyone lied to you.

“Don’t! Don’t come closer!” you whined.

“(Y/N)...” Spencer tried to talk to you, but you continued moving backward.

“I don’t want to know. You - you...”

The air left your lungs, and you felt dizzy. The room started to spin, and in a matter of seconds, you fainted. Emily and Derek were fast enough and caught you before falling to the floor. Derek took you in his arms to move you to the nearest couch so you could lay down as Emily called the paramedics to get you checked.

Spencer tried to reach you, but Hotch stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s move to my office,” Hotch instructed.

Spencer glared at his boss with a look that revealed how betrayed he felt. JJ intervened too.

“Spence. We need to talk.”

Reluctantly and with his gaze still on you, Spencer left the conference room, heading to Hotch’s office. Rossi and Garcia followed suit.

“Why on earth you didn't tell me she is pregnant?!” Spencer shouted to JJ once they were in the office.

“Because you would have done exactly what you shouldn't,” Hotch explained. “Wouldn't you have taken the next flight to DC?”

“Yeah! Maybe I would have. She needed me here!” Spencer spat to Hotch. “I thought you were my friend?” Spencer now directed his anger to JJ.

“You have no idea the times I was about to tell you! But Hotch is right. You would have blown your cover, and we could never have caught Harmon,” JJ defended herself.

Spencer rubbed his eyes with his palms. In all the months he was away he wondered how you were. It hurt him not being able to talk to you, to say anything. To you, the most important person in his life.

His look darted to Rossi and Penelope.

“I’m so sorry. You didn't deserve this. Any of this. I - I’m sorry,” Spencer sniffled. Rossi approached and patted his back.

“It was for your safety, kid. It's hard now, but everyone would understand, she would understand,” Rossi reassured him. “It’s good to have you back.”

“My turn,” Penelope demanded, wrapping Spencer in a tight embrace. “I can’t believe I can hug you again. Now I’ll hug you every day, and I don’t want complaints,” she declared.

Spencer chuckled, still sniffling a bit.

“I missed you guys, and I really want to tell you all about this, but I need to know about (Y/N); when did she tell you about the baby? How has her health been?”

Rossi, Hotch, JJ, and Penelope looked at him in a way that told Spencer everything he needed to know: you have been through hell in the past seven months.

How would he fix this now?

The paramedics checked on you, and said there was no need to go to the hospital. Your vitals were okay, and the baby was okay too. They only recommended you needed to rest.

Easier said than done, you thought.

Emily and Derek were in silence by your side. They didn't want to rush you or pressure you in any form. When the paramedics left, you looked at them with the question on the tip of your tongue.

“That - that was real? He - he is really alive?” You asked, voice cracking.

“Yes. He is,” Emily confirmed.

You closed your eyes for a moment to inhale and exhale.

“Did you know?” You asked again, looking at Emily and Derek.

Both shook their heads.

“What is supposed to happen now?” You asked, more to yourself than your friends.

“I don’t know,” Emily told you honestly. “I mean, I can understand the whole thing, but it's not easy to accept as if nothing happened.”

Derek was still in silence.

“Morgan, please say something,” you demanded.

“I’m sorry pretty girl, I wish I could have something to say to you, but I don't.”

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your belly.

It was evident that everyone was shocked, but Spencer was alive. That would be a reason to be happy. Right? So why you couldn't stand and run to hug him? Maybe because you already accepted that you lost him.

You didn't dare to leave the conference room during the entire day. Emily brought you snaks, and lunch, making you company for most of the hours. You told Morgan that it was okay for him to leave you there, that you were okay. The same you told Emily, who seemed more reluctant. You convinced her by telling her that you needed to be alone to think.

Eventually, Morgan and Emily went to talk to Hotch, JJ, and presumably Spencer. But you weren't ready yet.

More hours passed, and you didn't know what to do. You knew that you will have to talk to him at some point. You couldn’t avoid him all day.

Peeking through the blinds, you saw Spencer sitting alone at his desk.

It was real. He was real.

The man you mourned for months was alive and a few feet from you. Rubbing your bump, you asked yourself if life was giving you a second chance, or maybe it was a test to prove how stronger you were.

Either way, you needed to confront this.

You opened the conference room’s door, and Spencer's head snapped instantly in your direction. You didn't say anything, retracting to the office but leaving the door open. You assumed it was enough for him to understand.

Spencer quickly strolled where you were. Cautiously he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled, standing in front of you.

It was only then that you really noticed him. His hair was longer and his curls wilder than ever. He grew a little stubble and his dark circles seemed more prominent. His clothes looked different too: gray slacks, a black shirt, and a gray tie.

“Did you want to talk to me?” You asked him, your voice monotonous as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Yes,” he replied to you almost in a whisper. “I didn't come earlier; Emily warned me that I needed to wait until you wanted to see me,” he explained.

“She only told you that?” You asked.

“No. After punching me in the arm and cursing me for hurting you, she told me that,” Spencer corrected.

“That sounds more like Emily,” you mused.

“Yeah.” Spencer acknowledged, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Looking at you didn't make it easy.

He was in front of you, and the only idea that plagued his mind was how bad he wanted to hug you and kiss you. But he couldn't.

To you, he was like a ghost.

“I - I’m so sorry, (Y/N). But I had no choice. I had to do it. And there wasn’t a moment being away that I didn’t think about you. When I regained consciousness, I was flying to Bethesda. The only information I had was a note with my destination and the prohibition of talking to anyone because it could mean Harmon hurting some of you. I couldn't let that happen.”

Spencer's eyes got glassy, and his voice trembled.

“So the only solution was faking your death? I thought you were a genius, Spencer,” you huffed, disappointment written on your face.

“I’m sorry. If I could go back in time, I would do it to prevent all of this. Believe me. It wasn’t easy for me either. To lose everything I had, not knowing if someday I could get it back? Trying to figure out how to solve this being miles and miles away. Away from you. It killed me day by day,” Spencer sighed, hands fidgeting with a notepad in his hands.

“Yeah? Big difference was that you knew we were here, alive. While we had to assume you were dead. We buried you! Do you know how hard it was? And do you want to know what it meant for me? Oh, God! To come back every day to an apartment full of your memories. Every night trying to sleep in a bed we used to share. It took me months to pack your things! Fuck you, Spencer!”

The rage and the pain mixed perfectly in your voice. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Spencer knew better. There wasn’t any word he could say to make that go away. So he was ready to take every stab coming from your mouth.

“I deserve all your anger. I deserve your cold shoulder, but please. Believe me when I tell you that this wasn’t how it should have happened.”

“No? Of course, because it was easier to trust JJ than me, uh? I was your fucking fiancee, Spencer!”

After you said that, Spencer noticed. You weren't using your engagement ring. Of course you weren’t. He was dead. You had the right to go on with your life.

“It wasn’t like that. I was trying to protect you,” he defended.

“Oh, please! Not that bullshit. What you did, what you all did, was the lowest thing I expected from you. Don’t ask me to be okay with it.”

“If I have known that you were...” Spencer trailed off, darting his eyes to your bump. Protectively you put your hands over.

“Pregnant? Would you have come back? I don't think so. Don’t lie to me, Spencer.”

You didn't believe him, and that broke Spencer.

“(Y/N)...” he wanted to argue, but you cut him off.

“I wasn't even sure if I wanted to keep it, you know? I was so depressed, in a hole that I didn't know how to get out of. But yeah, this baby symbolizes the love we shared at some point. It was something we both wanted. This baby gave me a reason to live when I thought I had lost everything!” you bawled, feeling your voice trembling.

Spencer couldn't help but sob, seeing you like that and hearing what you said. He had already lost too much of your life and pregnancy during those months, and the guilt was eating him alive.

Not having anything more to say, you grabbed your bag to leave. Spencer watched with horror how words failed him in an attempt to stop you. Before crossing the threshold, you turned one last time.

“(Y/N)... wait. Please,” he begged. You halted at the threshold, doubting if it was a good idea to turn around. But you did it anyway.

“Do you have anything else to say now?”

“No. But please, could you take this?” Spencer stretched his arm and offered you the notepad he had previously.

“What is this?” You asked cautiously.

“You know I’m not good at expressing my feelings, but I wrote them. I tried. Please, could you read it?” He pleaded. You noticed his hand shaking. You nodded, grabbing the notepad.

“I don’t know what you expect I find here,” you frowned, setting the item in your bag.

“My life in the past seven months. I know it couldn't be compared to what you went through, but I think you deserve to know,” Spencer hastened to say, his glassy eyes telling you it was important to him.

You didn't respond, but nodded instead.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Fixing your bag on your shoulder, you turned again and left the room.

Spencer stood there and contemplated through the window how you walked to the elevator and disappeared behind the metal doors.

The notepad begged you to be opened. You shoved it over the coffee table earlier, debating if it was a good idea. You were curious but afraid of what was written there.

After dinner, you sat on the couch with a mug of tea. Your eyes darted to the notepad again while your free hand flew to your belly.

“I know what you are thinking; your mom is a mess right now. And you’re right. Adults could be so complicated, my little peanut. Mom and dad are not exceptions. Yes, your dad. It happens that he is very much alive. Can you believe it? We should be happy. Right?”

You sighed. Leaving your mug on the coffee table, you grabbed the notepad and opened it. You couldn’t help but smile at the scratchy-messy Spencer's handwriting.

The first page seemed like a letter.

-&-

My love,

I’m writing this even if I can't actually send it to you. Right now, I’m sitting at a desk in my hotel room in Paris. My flight arrived three hours ago, and I’m settled here until I can have my documents. Then I can rent an apartment here. I wish I shouldn’t have to. I wish I could take the next flight to DC. I wish I could come back to be with you and tell you that everything is okay.

I’m sorry. You and the team are thinking I died on the table by now. I’m so sorry. I should have been faster than Harmon. I should have stopped him somehow. I failed. And now we are miles away.

My body hurts from the wounds but what hurts me more is knowing that I’m dead for you. And I’m here with my life suspended for an undetermined time.

Would you forgive me someday?

I love you, and I’ll love you forever.

No matter if someday you forget who I was.

-&-

Tears started to roll down. This was the first entrance in the notepad. The following pages were filled with more letters to you: 210 in total. He wrote a letter to you every day. Some were longer, others not. The first ones were filled with hope, the last ones with sadness and melancholy. But each letter showed how much he loved you, how much he missed you.

He wrote the last one on the plane to DC two days ago.

-&-

My love,

My heart is beating so fast right now. Hotch told me they caught Harmon and that I could come back. God, never did I pack a suitcase so quickly in my life. I’m so excited about coming back, but I’m terrified. They didn't tell me much about anything in the past months, even when I begged to know about you. Are you okay? Did you forget me yet?

I know this won’t be easy. And I wouldn't blame you if you hate me after this. But I have hopes. The hopes I was losing in the past months.

Just five hours and fifteen minutes more.

I love you. I love you. My body is shuddering, and I’m sure the old lady beside me must think I’m crazy because I’m mouthing the words as I write them.

Just a few hours more, my love.

-&-

The man in the letters was the man you loved. And the man you still love. You couldn’t deny that. Was it a messy situation? Yes. Were you still confused? Sure you do.

But this is your Spencer. And he is alive. And he loves you.

What he did could be reasonable or not for you, but it was done. Why prolong the agony? You both deserve happiness. Rebuild what you both lost in the past seven months.

That’s how you stood from the couch, grabbing your coat and keys. It didn't matter the time. Nothing else mattered.

You didn't remember much of the text you sent Emily asking where Spencer was staying. You didn’t remember much of the cab ride or how you were in front of Morgan’s door.

After knocking insistently, a confused Derek opened the door. You were a sight to see: slippers, pajama pants, an oversized sweater covering your pregnant belly, and a coat.

“I guess you are not here to see me,” he teased you. You rolled your eyes.

“Not now, Derek, please,” you begged.

“Come in. He is sleeping on the couch. Or he was.”

Stepping into Derek’s apartment, you immediately saw a pair of hazel eyes looking at you with confusion.

“(Y/N)...” he muttered. Then panic appeared in him. “Are you okay? The baby is okay?” He hastened to ask, standing from the couch and moving closer to you. Derek didn't bother to say anything; he left you both alone.

“Everything is okay. Or I hope it will,” you told Spencer, daring to step closer to him. You could feel how Spencer's breath hitched. His puppy eyes looking at you, trying to decipher why you were there at 2 AM. Then it hit him.

“Did you...” Spencer gestured in the air. He didn’t need to finish the question because you knew he was talking about the notepad.

“Yes. I read it,” you admitted, pursing your lips to conceal the quivering on them.

Spencer cleared his throat.

“Oh. Okay?”

He was frozen on the spot.

It was the time for a leap of faith and love. For you, for him, and the life growing inside you.

You closed the gap between the two of you, your hand reaching his cheek and stroking it tentatively. He leaned into your touch.

It was real.

He was real to you.

You were real to him.

You could see the tears pouring from Spencer's eyes. You didn't do it better, sobbing as your other hand explored his face, touching his eyes, jaw, forehead, and nose.

“I love you,” he whispered, using his hands to mimic your actions. He left a trail of feather touches on your cheeks, eyes, chin, and lips. Then his eyes lowered to your belly. He returned his eyes to yours, silently asking permission. You nodded.

He kneeled, and with both hands, he caressed your belly over your sweater. With the tears came the whimpers. You were both fully crying now. Spencer couldn't believe that he was touching where his baby lay since seven months ago.

“Hey there,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy, you know? Yeah, the asshole who made mommy upset all these months. Sure she mentioned to you that,” Spencer spoke, guilt in his voice.

“You both need to talk about that later,” you conceded, gently stroking Spencer's hair.

“I have to tell you something now, though. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here and won’t leave you or your mom ever again,” Spencer mumbled to the baby, planting a kiss on your belly.

“You promise? Because I can’t lose you again. Mourning you twice would destroy me,” you confessed, looking down to find his eyes.

Spencer stood and took your hands in his to kiss your knuckles not breaking eye contact.

“I’ll stay forever if you will have me. I promise,” he assured you, now cupping your cheeks with both hands. You got lost in those hazel eyes. The same eyes that made you fall in love years ago.

He leaned and kissed you. You felt butterflies in your stomach, like always when he kissed you. You didn't think twice and kissed him back, pouring all your feelings and longing into that kiss.

When you parted, he rested his forehead on yours.

“I love you. I love you both,” he mumbled.

“And we love you, Spencer.”

Those words flooded so naturally from your mouths.

But they had a new meaning now.

For Spencer, those words confirmed that his life wasn’t suspended anymore. He recovered your love and gained a new one.

For you, those words brought to existence what you thought you lost seven months ago: the love of your life and the father of your child.

------------------

Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic

#i’m a sucker for angst with a happy ending #loved this!!!#dory’s bookshelf

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

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Inkpot Gods

Smurph's Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3080

Rating: Mature

Warnings: post birth!reader, mentions of previous miscarriages, comatose reader, birthing complications, mentions of delivery and labor, angst with a happy ending!

Summary: After giving birth to their son, Reader has complications during delivery. The doctors tell Spencer she might not wake up, and he has to prepare for a life without her for the sake of their son. Since he's not great with talking about his feelings except with her, Spencer decides to write a letter to nobody to work through his emotions.

Notes: This oneshot was inspired by the song Inkpot Gods by The Amazing Devil! @thedancingcostumeyoungadult sent me the song months ago and I LOVED IT. So, I was feeling horrible and sad these last few weeks and I wrote this to work through some of the feelings I'm having <3

Sixteen hours, forty two minutes and thirty seven seconds.

That was how old Spencer’s son was.

That was how long his wife had been unconscious.

Sitting next to the hospital bed, Spencer held your hand, tears flowing down his cheeks as he rubbed circles into the back of it with his thumb. Your son, Gideon, laid in his clear hospital cradle on his other side.

He burped and cooed, waving his little fists and wriggling under his blankets. Spencer regretfully let go of your hand to happily pick him up for what felt like the hundredth time already.

Spencer sniffled as he held your child in his arms. He reached out to him with a hiccup, his little body jerking as he learned how to use his limbs outside the womb. Gideon wrapped his tiny hand around Spencer's finger when he rubbed it along his chest, the first time he'd done so without Spencer pressing the pad into his little palm.

Spencer burst into tears.

Already, the baby you two had spent years excited to have, gone through so much to have, was sixteen hours forty eight minutes and twenty three seconds old… and you still hadn’t seen him.

He’d gone through so many firsts already, and Spencer found himself crying with each one. Full of pride, he gave Gideon his first bottle, changed his first diaper, changed his clothes. Full of grief, he watched his son do those things without you getting the chance to see them, he did them without you.

You'd had complications, that was all the doctors had really told him. After two miscarriages, you two had been wary when you accidentally got pregnant again. The thought of losing another child was agonizing, and the two of you had discussed abortion just to spare the pain of losing a baby again without meaning to.

Months spent on bedrest, you’d watched sadly while Spencer put together all the furniture again, folded all the baby clothes and put them away, painted the nursery. It had killed you not to be able to help him prepare for Gideon, but all Spencer wanted was for you to stay healthy and safe, and told you over and over again that your only job those nine months was to take care of their child.

The labor had been long, and he’d held your hand and rubbed her back through the painful delivery. Your grip on his fingers faded as the doctor’s gave their directions, telling you just one more, Mrs. Reid, one more push and you’ll hold your baby boy.

You did what they told you, pushed one more time with everything you had. There had been a cry, from both Gideon and Spencer, and then you went limp against him.

There had been a rush of beeping machines, doctors pulling you away from him as he watched wide eyed and petrified. Stern voices and the opening of sterile instruments engulfed the room until they pushed him aside and rolled you out, leaving him alone with a nurse and a crying infant.

He needs you, Dr. Reid, she told him as she cleaned him off, wrapping the little bundle of skin and tears in a swaddle and holding him out to him. He needs to know he's not alone.

With shaking hands, Spencer held your son for the first time. He weighed nothing, featherlight in his arms and he burst into a choked sob. When he brushed his knuckle against Gideon's cheek, the boy's crying softened into little gurgles and hiccups.

He opened his eyes for the first time as he settled, blinking up at Spencer with eyes that looked just like yours and he had to sit down as the ground shifted beneath him. His heart broke in that instant, but pieced itself back together just as quickly as he looked at the baby you'd made from scratch that looked just like you.

You always said that, patting your swollen tummy protectively and smiling at him, I'm making this kid from scratch, Spence, I'm making him perfect.

He sobbed into Gideon's little chest while the nurse watched on. He needed you here, he couldn't do this without you. Spencer always wanted to be a parent, a husband, but the image only solidified in his mind when he met you. Before it had been fuzzy, a dream he couldn't quite see, but the moment you stepped into his life that picture became crystal clear.

At a dinner party at JJ's place, he laid eyes on you for the first time. JJ had talked you up before, but he had hardly listened, his many failed relationships leaving him wary and nervous about dating anyone, let alone being set up on a blind date. He insisted on meeting you first, in a casual setting so he had little pressure, and in you walked with a smile and a cheeky wave. You stole his heart in that split second and he never asked for it back.

This is my friend Spencer, JJ said with a grin, raising her brows from behind you and making his cheeks go red. Spencer, this is Y/N.

I've heard a lot about you, you chuckled, it feels like I know you already. JJ made this as awkward as possible, huh?

Right now I'm not too upset about it, Spencer said, feeling brave as you bit the tip of your tongue through your wide grin. I've heard a lot about you, too.

You'd pursed your lips and leaned in close, All bad things, I hope.

Years later, there he sat, holding the culmination of your love for one another and genuinely thinking he'd never see that smile again.

It felt like years ago already, but it had only been sixteen hours, fifty nine minutes and fifty seconds… now seventeen hours since he'd seen you open your eyes.

With a tube in your nose and machines softly chirping in time with your breathing, you laid in that bed unmoving and unseeing. You didn't squeeze his hand back in your unconscious state, didn't flash him that soft smile or laugh at his dramatics. You didn't even look how you did when you were sleeping, and it only put the doctor’s words to the forefront of his mind.

There were complications. She might not wake up, you need to prepare yourself for that.

How could he possibly live a life without you let alone prepare for it? How was Spencer supposed to get in the car without you? Go home without you? Take Gideon home without you?

No. No, he wasn't going to do that.

Later in the day, the team filtered in. They held Gideon in turns while JJ held your hand and whispered to you. What she said, he didn’t know, but when it was her turn to hold the baby she leaned against his shoulder and cried.

Sets of your friends and his came by to say hello, to sit with him so he wasn’t alone. The team came by in waves as the week went on, and his faith that you’d come back to him waned with each passing moment.

Four days, three hours, twenty six minutes and ten seconds after Gideon was born, the doctors informed him that he was ready to go home. He’d passed all his infant tests with flying colors, the baby you both were so worried about healthy and thriving while you wasted away in a hospital bed.

He stared at the doctor blankly until she eventually sighed and went away, probably deciding to come back later and rehash that conversation. He was alone for the first time in days, just you and Gideon keeping him company along with the steady beeping of your heart monitors and machines.

Spencer leaned down and grabbed a notebook out of his bag, setting it on his lap and letting out a weary sigh as he twirled his pen in his hand. He’d stopped talking days ago except to Gideon and you, stopped crying sometime after the twenty-four hour mark of Gideon’s life. He needed an outlet, and as much as he enjoyed Gideon’s gurgling responses to his musings, they weren’t helping him much.

Never much for praying, Spencer believed in the power of the written word. His feelings were natural and he knew it. This rage, this grief, the very soul of him being ripped from his body… they were all part of the human experience. But he was inept at talking about how he felt.

Somehow you always knew what he meant, you always listened to his infodumping or his roundabout way of expressing himself and knew what he was trying to say. You weren’t here right now, though. You might never be again, and he was going to have to find a way to talk so that his son knew him one day as well as you did.

Sweetheart, he started, then scratched it out with his pen.

Who was he even writing to? Who was he directing all these wishes and wants and pieces of unlived lives at? You couldn’t hear him, Gideon couldn’t understand him, and if you didn’t wake up… he’d never know you.

Someone, anyone, he wrote this time, not even trying to keep his chicken scratch legible as he scrawled his pen across the lines.

Thunder cracked outside the window, rain pouring against the windows and the buildings outside while he let his hand do the talking for him.

I'm calling out to the dark. I've found myself in this crisis I never expected.

He looked over at you, your chest rising and falling steadily. You were the home your son had resided in the last year, keeping him safe and creating him cell by cell

Building him from scratch.

My wife has been through so much. We spent years trying to have a baby, losing two in the process. It almost killed her, almost killed me. We were in the process of adoption when she became pregnant with Gideon, and we were terrified.

Here he is, after almost a year of painstaking care and patience. He’s perfect, just like she promised he would be.

Gideon let out a little screech, something Spencer had become accustomed to by now. Sometimes, just like his mother, he liked to let out little noises of glee just to let the world know he was here, he was alive.

He worried at first that the baby was in pain or scared, but when he rushed over to the cradle that first time Gideon was smiling up at him, just like you always did.

Spencer leaned over to blow a raspberry at him, hardly holding back his grin as he wiggled and let out another happy yell. He rubbed his belly with his fingers, his heart swelling in his chest while his little boy delighted in just his touch.

“You’re perfect,” Spencer told him, opening his mouth in faux shock as Gideon jumped and squirmed for him. “Mommy’s so smart, she knew you’d be.”

Spencer tore his gaze from him to jot some more down, still rubbing him with his free hand and scratching away with his pen.

Please, let her live, wake up for just one more day. She’s so much more than all her scars, and she has so much more to do. With me, with Gideon, with our family. She’s smart, and so so funny, and she makes me laugh like I’ve never laughed before.

If she doesn’t have the strength… if she can’t hold on… I’ve had to think of what I’ll have to do if she doesn’t wake up.

The thought of losing her makes me want to disappear. I want to go catatonic, do nothing but stare at the wall and descend into a pool of misery and live in my mind where she’s still here.

Gideon burped, and when Spencer looked over he had spit up a bit on himself. He put down the notebook and went about cleaning him up. He changed his outfit for something like the thirtieth time in just a few short, very long days.

For his first Halloween, we’ll dress you up like Christopher Robin! You’d giggled, I’ll be Piglet and he’ll be Pooh. We can make Hotch be Eeyore!

This one was a little Pooh Bear onesie you had squealed in happiness over. He’d looked over in the baby store, and you waved it at him with a giant grin and jumping in place.

JJ had brought some things with her on her last visit, and among the bags were some of your old Winnie the Pooh books from your childhood. When the two of you had first moved in together, you’d arrived with a big tote full of them. You’d dragged it from the driveway, panting and laughing as he sighed dramatically and picked up the other end.

Once Gideon was settled again, Spencer picked up the pen and paper again, feeling a bit better after running his hands along his soft skin. His scent was even comforting, sweet and new and gentle.

I’m looking at my son, and he looks just like her. He feels like her, he giggles like her, it’s like her soul shines through with just his smile. I want to curl up and turn to nothing, but just his presence pulls me back to the light.

I can’t check out. If she doesn’t wake up and hold him, I can’t let myself put up my walls and fade away. I can’t leave, I can’t run.

I will be the man my father never was.

Thinking he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, Spencer’s head turned to look over at you. You still laid there, and his heart sank, but he could swear your hand had been at your side when he looked over before. Now it laid on your belly, but he couldn’t remember if he’d set it there or on the mattress just a little bit ago.

He rubbed his eyes harshly with the back of his hand. He hadn’t slept much since the four days, six hours, thirty minutes and eighteen seconds that Gideon was born… that you’d been asleep.

Shaking his head and sniffling, Spencer turned back to his paper.

I can hear her voice in my head, scolding me for even thinking about hiding inside my own mind. It’s something I’ve spent years working on, something she helped me with. I have had to push myself out of my comfort zone to be the man she needed me to be, and I was glad to do it… but it was hard. It’s hard now, especially with everyone coming in and grieving over her like she’s already gone.

I worry that she’s giving up. I don’t know what to do, how to help her. I don’t know how to bring her home to me. All these years spent analyzing statistical data and profiling using science, and I can’t figure out a way to wake her up.

I need her. Gideon needs her, is going to need her. There’s so much I can’t do. She’s so much better than I am at so much. All my weaknesses are her strengths.

I feel like this road I’m going down is for me and me alone. If I live without her, I’ll be alone. I know that’s not true, that I’ll have work and the team and Gideon, but the thought of being without her makes me cold.

Looking at my son again, I warm right back up. Part of me feels guilty, that her loss could be patched up just at the sight of the life we created together, but I also know it’s a good thing. I shouldn’t need something to live for, but having Gideon makes the burden of being without her easier to live with.

Sweetheart, he wrote with a shaking hand. Spencer sniffed hard and rubbed his hand across his face in an attempt to stave off the tears welling in his eyes.

I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t make it back from where you’ve gone.

Just know, I loved you all along.

I’ll love him just the same. He’ll never question that, I won’t let him, just like I’ve never let you.

I love him.

This time, he knew he clocked movement out of the corner of his eye, and his head snapped over to where you laid on the hospital bed.

Your hand was raised above your head, blocking the bright lights as you blinked blearily. Spencer launched from his seat and rushed over to you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered as best he could, but he was so ecstatic. His veins tingled with nerves while you swallowed thickly.

You moaned a little, turning your head toward his voice. Your eyes closed a few times as you blinked through the haze of medication and sleep bunnies. Each time they did, his heart stopped, fluttering again when you opened them even though you couldn’t seem to focus.

“I’m here, okay?” he told you, rubbing his fingertips along your tummy as you licked your lips and swallowed again.

“Where-?” you croaked. Your lips smacked together again as you tried to speak, so Spencer reached over and grabbed the water pitcher and filled you a glass.

“Here, take a sip.” Spencer angled the straw toward you, but you waved a weak hand to push him away.

“Gideon,” you rasped painfully, eyes finally latching onto his, wide and worried.

Spencer brushed back some of the hair from your face and grinned, “He’s perfect, sweetheart. He’s safe, he’s beautiful, he looks just like you.”

You didn’t look like you believed him, so Spencer tore himself away from you to wheel over Gideon’s cradle. Carefully, he picked him up and sat on the limited space on the mattress. He moved the bed to sit you up a little more and leaned over you so you could see your son.

Gideon let out one of his yells, and you laughed breathily as you laid eyes on him. Tears burst from you, and you touched him with shaky hands.

Four days, seven hours, twenty two minutes and four seconds after giving birth to your son, you touched him for the first time. Sobbing quietly, you smiled back as he giggled and burped under your hands.

Your eyes met his and you spoke softly, full of conviction and pride.

“I made him from scratch.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

CM Forever Tag:

@simplyparker , @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid

#love me some angst with a happy ending #dad!spencer #dory’s bookshelf

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

Text

literally perfect, that’s all i can say

Infinity and More - S.R. (SMUT)

Summary: Happy with their little family, Spencer and Reader think that it might just be time to expand it.

CW: Emotional smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, insecurities, oral sex (F receiving) (18 plus content)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife Reader

Word Count: 6,200

Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this! Remember, all reblogs, comments and notes mean the world to me!

MASTERLIST | LATEST FIC | Tell Me What You Thought

Infinity and More

Looking back, I’m still unsure of how it all started. Like I’m not sure how one or two choices led to all this imperfectly perfect mess. I love my perfectly imperfect mess, with the colorful toys littered around in the living room, the tiny sneakers that line the entryway wall, and the crayon marks that never seem to come off the walls.

I adore the toys and the sneakers and the crayon markers because it all comes together into our perfectly imperfect life we’ve made. Pictures line the walls and the smiling faces of my children and husband beam down on me. I like to look at them, seeing how Spencer and I age ever so slightly through the years. While Spencer and I’ve only changed a little bit, new glasses and hairstyles, our children grow into adorable little people who are perfect combinations of us both.

Nearly a decade and two children later, it would be safe to say that our family is complete. Maybe in a couple years the kids will beg for a dog and, of course, Spencer will join in on the begging. And, of course, I won’t be able to resist any of them.

Spencer leans against the doorway of the kitchen, still looking handsomely sleepy. He watches me and I pretend to not know he’s standing there.

It’s a Saturday. Which means bringing Auggie to chess at the public library and making sure Florence has her gear ready for softball. It’s a small enough task and there’s a certain serenity in knowing that in a couple hours the chaos of our house will all be gone and all that will remain is the comforting quiet of silence. It’s something rare in the house and, as much as I adore my children, I know I’m going to savor the quiet.

“The quiet before the storm,” Spencer says, as he walks over to the counter. I smile softly at him, enjoying the way that his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He’s lucky that he can look so effortlessly handsome this early in the morning. His white tee shirt is discolored with bleach and rumpled slightly, but somehow he makes it work, along with his pajama pants to sit dangerously low on his hips.

“You look like you slept well,” I muse, reaching to grab a mug from a high shelf. Spencer reaches along with me, brushing his fingers against the back of my hand, slightly telling that he’s got it, “Thanks,”

Spencer smiles back at me, setting the mug on the counter. He kisses my forehead quickly through a smile. “Of course,”

“I thought you’d try to sleep in. You don’t have to take August to chess till noon,”

“Well I woke up and you weren’t there,” Spencer says, taking the coffee pot and pouring me a mug, “And I missed you,”

Laughing deliciously, drunk on the lack of sleep and Spencer’s kisses, “You missed me? We spent the whole night together,”

Spencer nods sheepishly, ducking his head and twisting his body into a hug. I welcome it, eager to feel his body against my body. The steadiness of his heartbeat is soothing. There isn’t another body, besides my own, that I know better than Spencer’s. I know the way his heart skips beats when he gets nervous, the way his cheeks blush at my touches, and the way his eyes dart around my body when I’m close.

“Hmm. It’s never enough with you,” Spencer says sweetly. He breathes in my scent, nose and breath tickling my neck. He, after all these years, makes my skin tingle with anticipation.

The sweetest and tenderness of the moment, suddenly, is gone. The pair of steamy coffees are neglected on the counter. His hands are holding my face still as he looks at me like he wants to devour me. Spencer eyes are a mixture of light honey brown and a cool green. It’s my favorite color because it’s so effortlessly Spencer. Or maybe it’s my favorite color because it’s what love looks like to me.

Spencer tastes like coffee. His skin is still warm from sleep and his hands find their rightful place on my waist. He grabs bunches of my shirt, his shirt actually, as he kisses me with more fervor. I start to feel something burn inside. Eagerness. Desire. Need. Love. All of it circles me, making me dizzy off the taste of his hazelnut coffee and vanilla creamer.

“Mommy! Mommy! Daddy! Dad-”

The little voices are heard before their even smaller bodies materialize. Dressed in mismatching pajamas, the kids bound into the kitchen full of glee. Spencer smiles into the kiss, nipping my bottom lip with his teeth. I scrunch my nose at the interruption, allowing myself to have a selfish moment to be annoyed at my children.

“What are you doing to Mommy?” Florence says, walking towards Spencer and tugging on his shirt. She looks up at him, her eyes exact copies of her father’s eyes. They’re the same honey brown and the same cool green.

“Kissing her,” Spencer says, brushing Florence’s hair from her forehead, “Good morning, Florrie,” he says, kissing the top of her head.

“Why?” Auggie says, appearing, as always, on his sister’s heels, “It’s icky,” he says, making a face that causes him and Florence to burst into a fit of unstoppable giggles.

“Because she’s so pretty,” Spencer says, winking at me and kissing my cheek. He effectively causes the children to roar with laughter.

“So you kiss girls because they're pretty?” Auggie says, a curious wonder appearing on his face not unlike his father’s own countenance, “That’s really silly,”

“Auggie,” I say, exhaling an exasperated sigh, “Baby, you don’t need to worry about kissing anyone for a really long time,” I tell him, ruffling his curly brown hair.

“Okay that’s good,” he says, nodding his little head with worry, “Can Daddy make waffles?” he asks, looking up expectantly from me to Spencer with wide eyes.

Florence chimes in with an eager “Please!”

Spencer, whose cheeks are still a tinged pink from kissing, leans against the kitchen counter watching his family. It’s moments like these that make me grateful for all life’s thrown at us, even if it’s a little sappy. And, at this moment, I have a feeling Spencer’s thinking the same thing.

“Of course,” Spencer says, “And maybe if you ask your mom really nice she’ll let you decorate them with whipped cream and sprinkles,”

Over the resounding chorus of squeaky pleases and chants of Mom and Mommy, please, I look over at the kitchen table with Spencer, Florence, and August and think that there just might be enough room for one more.

“A date weekend?” Spencer asks, nearly tripping over Florence’s science kit as he throws himself down on the couch, “At a hotel?”

“Yeah,” I say, running my fingers through Spencer’s hair, “And what’s with all the questions? Don’t you want a date night with your wife?”

“Of course I do,” Spencer says, “It’s just been a long time since it’s been the two of us. We’re busy. And the kids are just getting busier,”

“I know,” I say sympathetically, “Penelope said she’ll sleep over and you know it will be nice to do certain adult things that we can’t quite do when there’s two little people with the best hearing in the world the next room over,”

“Oh,” Spencer says, burning his head into my lap, “Yeah, I mean. I’m not going to say not to that,” he says, turning his face to smile up at me.

He’s really beautiful like this. His hair falls into his face like dominos. His nose scrunches up in an innocent sort of embarrassment that makes my heart soar. His wire-rimmed glass reflects the little reading light, making him look somehow both young and older at the same time.

“And you know we do have enough bedrooms for another one,” I say, wincing protectively for Spencer to respond. When he doesn’t say anything for a moment and then another, and makes me wonder if I read everything all wrong. He left all these little hints. From him musing about how cute baby clothes look in the clothing store, to him sending me pictures of Auggie’s first birthday, to him talking to everyone and anyone about how great his kids are, I think, as the moments pass by, I read this so wrong.

“You want another baby?” Spencer asks, an unreadable tone in his voice causing me to pause, “Reall?” he says, and the quiver in his voice tells me everything I need to know.

“Yeah,” I say, loosening Spencer’s tie as he rests with his feet hanging over the arm of the couch and his head in my lap, “I mean, we make really cool kids. Look at Florrie, she’s so smart. She devours book after book. You know I caught her the other night using her alarm clock to read after lights out. I mean, she’s just a little sponge,” I continue, feeling pure love course through my veins as I talk about my wonderfully sweet and smart children.

“Auggie’s all you,” Spencer says, playing with my hands. He laces my fingers in with his fingers, unable to not touch you, “And well, Florrie is all you too. But Auggie’s kind and caring and he’s an excellent chess player,”

“Ha! So you admit it. I’m a better chess player than you!”

I love it when Spencer laughs. It’s this sound that’s full of love and life and everything good and warm in this world. Laughter, with Spencer, is completely contagious. It’s impossible for me to maintain a straight face when he laughs. He’s always, ever since I've known him, had an uncanny ability to crack my facade. Maybe not crack, but melt.

“Shhh, you’re being way too loud,” I hush him, letting him kiss in hands in protest, “I just put those mangy kids to sleep, don’t wake them up now,”

“So no chance to wake them up for a hug and a quick story?” Spencer asks, peering up at me through his glasses.

“Not at all. Because if they see you they’ll want three stories each with different voices. And then they’ll convince us to let them into our bed. They’re mangly little monsters, Spencer,” I say, hardly able to resist rolling my eyes at Spencer’s pout.

“Yes, but they are our mangy little monsters that are actually really adorable. Especially when they sleep. You know how Auggie does that thing when he rubs his infant blanket between his fingers for comfort? Or how Florrie will try to steal your shirts because she says it’s like getting a constant hug from you?”

I lean down so my lips reach Spencer’s forehead. Gently, I place a kiss on his forehead, chuckling lightly at the soft sigh that Spencer lets out. It’s a sound of complete comfort and trust.

“We got pretty cute kids,” I remind him, reaching over and tugging off the lamp on the reading table, “Let’s get you to bed, old man. Before you fall asleep on my lap,”

Spencer, groaning dramatically, slowly sits up next to me on the couch. He leans in, gently resting his hand on my jaw. His long fingers reach up to my ear and the base of his palm tickles my chin. I’ve always felt safe when he kissed me like this; hands cradling me like I’m something precious.

“I’m not old,” Spencer says, grimacing as he tries to sit, “Well maybe I’m as limber as I used to be. But you certainly are, or at least we’ll see that over the weekend,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

“God, you’re such a dork,” I tease, standing up from the couch. I grab my books in one hand and with the other I help Spencer up from the couch.

“Yeah, a dork that can make you come-” he starts a teasing sort of voice making my cheeks heat in the dark.

“Spencer!” I shriek, his laughter ringing through the living room as he follows me up the stairs, “You’re insatiable,”

“Only for you, darling,” Spencer says, grabbing my hand as we walk up the stairs to the bedroom. His voice drops low as we walk by the bedrooms where sleeping children rest.

“So we’re going to do this?” he asks, “Try for another?”

I nod immediately, not having to have a moment of hesitation for a decision like this. Spencer flops onto the bed, already sprawled out, still in his work clothes. He grimaces when I flip on the switch, letting the bright light flood the dark room.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, sliding into the spot next to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and kiss the spot in between his ear and neck, “I think the kids are old enough, but it won’t be too big of an age gap. And I’ll be able to take some time off work too,”

“Maybe I’ll go to academia full time. You know, leave the BAU,” Spencer says, clearly thinking aloud. He must know what I’m going to say next because he answers my question before I can even ask, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. There’s a full time position available for a Chemistry professor on a tenure track at Mary Washington. Maybe I should take it?”

“It would be really nice to have you at home before the kids go to sleep,” I say, kissing Spencer’s forehead, “But I know it will be hard to leave the BAU,”

“I don’t know,” Spencer whispers. I can just picture the sad smile that must be on his face, “I’ll miss seeing the team. I’ll miss helping people that need it. But I won’t miss thinking I’m never going to see you every time I get on that plane. Or every time I put on a vest,”

“Me too,”

“So it’s settled,” Spencer says, “I’ll tell Emily tomorrow,”

“It’s okay to be sad. It’s a really big chapter in your life that’s gonna close. It’s okay to be sad, baby,” I whisper into Spencer’s ear, kissing his soft skin with a whole lot of love and tenderness.

“But I’ll be very happy to know that the only time you’ll be getting on planes is to go to family vacations and the only vests you wear are my horrible crocheted ones,”

“I love your sweater vests,” Spencer says quietly, “And I think the BAU will prepare me for family vacations for three children,”

“Getting ahead of yourself there, racer,” I tease, sitting up in bed.

“Actually,” Spencer says, resting on his elbow, “I was going to say four or five, but I didn’t want to scare you off,”

“Dork,” I tease, slipping off the bed and dropping my sweater to the ground. Spencer’s gaze dips to my bare arms and I swear that he gulps at the sight of me, “Well, I’m going to go shower. You know, if you’re interested and all,”

Turning to the attached bathroom, I smile as I hear the bed creek and feel Spencer brush by me beating me to the bathroom.

“Woah. Now this is really nice,” Spencer says, running his fingers along the leather-bound copies of books in the small library, “I guess I was right in getting an AirBnB over a hotel room. It feels more like a home,”

I nod, unzipping my backpack for the weekend. Spencer already finds himself in vacation mode, probably moments away from pulling out the nearest book and cracking it open. On the drive up, it was so quiet with just the two of us. But it was a good kind of quiet because silence with Spencer sometimes says more than the noise.

“So, we have enough groceries with us to make dinner here tonight. Or can we order in?” I say, sitting on the arm of the chair that Spencer claimed. He wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his head against my chest and sighing deeply as I toy with his hair.

“Hmm, whatever you want,” Spencer says, “Pizza, Thai, Indian. All three because, you know I get hungry after marathon sex. Especially marathon sex in the middle of a woods in a lonely cabin, without children in the next room or noise travelers,”

“Good idea, Spence. Neither of us are going to want to cook afterwards,” I tell him, a sudden shyness overcoming me, “Is it silly if I say that I’m a little nervous. It is silly, right?”

“I get nervous whenever you walk into a room, Y/N,” Spencer confesses, “And it’s not because being close to you triggers my anxiety or whatever. Just being in the room with you makes me feel all these emotions all at once. It makes the hair on my arms stand up straight. It makes me feel like a teenager with a secret crush. It makes me feel fucking alive. And I love you, so if you’re nervous, that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything like that. We can just order in and watch movies that we’ve missed for the last 8 years,”

“No, no,” I say, “I want to have sex tonight, Spencer. It’s just, sometimes I think I forget I’m not the same 22 year old that you fell in love with all those years ago. I’ve changed. I’m bigger than I used to be and I have new marks that weren’t always there. I’m different, and I’m not sure if it’s a good different,”

Spencer doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the words sink in and giving it time to settle.

“It’s the best kind of different there is,”

“Yeah. You’re just saying that because you have to,” I mumble, bringing my hands to cover my eyes to brush away the hot tears that fall down my cheeks, “You’re my husband. So-”

“So I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. In every room. In all the rooms. And yeah, you’ve changed in fifteen years. I’ve changed in fifteen years. God, you know that more than anyone, sweetheart,”

“Yeah and you’ve only gotten more and more handsome, Spencer. It’s actually a little ridiculous,” I tease, wanting to make light of the conversation that seems to be getting more and more intense.

“And think about how I feel about you,” Spencer whispers, dragging me from the arm of the chair to share the seat with him, “And you being the most beautiful, stunning woman in the world is least interesting thing about you,”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl,” I say, leaning in so my lips brush against his when I talk, “And all this talk about how I’m so pretty and whatever, is making me want to fuck you. Right now,”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes and wandering hands making me yelp with glee as he follows me into the bedroom.

There’s a full length mirror in the bedroom. When I walk in, I can see Spencer standing behind me. He walks up towards me, hooking his arms with my arms. His chin rests comfortably on my shoulder and his hair tickles my chin. I’m not sure how long he stands there, staring at me and at him the full length mirror with a brass perimeter, but it’s seconds I know I’m never going to forget.

“Spence,” I whisper, looking at his eyes through the mirror. It’s still early evening, have the entire night and rest of the weekend to spend together, “You look so pretty like that,”

“Like what,” he says, starting to kiss down my neck. He sheds the light jacket I wore, tossing it somewhere over on the floor. His continued kisses, bound to leave marks by tomorrow, threaten to melt my mind. And I just might let him.

“Like I’m the only woman in the world,” I groan, wanting to grab his face and deepen the kisses he places all over my skin.

“Hmm, you are,” Spencer says, turning to face me, “You are the only one to me. The only one by miles,”

Spencer, like always, brings his hands to cover my chin, holding me close as he closes to distance. Kissing Spencer is like kissing him for the second time. Not the first time. The first time is filled with nerves and sweaty palms. But the second time, the second time is when the magic happens. Because when you kiss for the second time, you already know what to expect. You already know the little whimpers of need and whines of pleasure that the other person will make. The second kiss means you know that to expect, but it also means you’re starved for more.

I could ask him how many second kisses he’s had with me. Thousands, perhaps? Spencer would be able to figure it out. He must have realized that my mind is turning, but he pulls back. The sudden lack of his warmth is jarring.

“What are you thinking about, love?'” he asks, still working his mouth across my neck. He moves slowly and languidly, clearly taking his time because he can. I can feel his teeth nip at my pulse point, making my heart skip beats.

“How many times we’ve kissed,” I say, my voice coming out in an exasperated sort of sound that’s borderline desperate.

“Oh,” Spencer says as he runs his hands underneath my shirt, “That’s simple, we average around 8 or 9 kisses a day. That’s 3,285 kisses a year, and given we’ve been together for nearly 15 years, I’d estimate that we’ve kissed 45,990 times,”

“God, only you can make math sound so fucking sexy,” I mumble into the kiss, the words making my teeth clash against Spencer’s teeth in a way that’s not entirely awful. The noise that makes is halfway in between a chuckle and whimper, but whatever it is, it’s making my knees wobble.

“Bed,” Spencer whispers firmly, “Now,” he says, the need and desire in his voice not going unnoticed.

I nod, not dropping his hand as I lie on my back. The pillows cradle my head as I watch Spencer shed his sweater vest. It’s Wisteria Purple, a favorite color of mine on him and probably a creation of my own. As he takes his sweater vest off, his button up and undershirt come undone from his pants. I can see a sliver of his skin and can hardly contain myself as Spencer starts undoing the rest of his shirt.

“Let me,” I say, beckoning him forward with my pointer finger. He listens and I can’t help but add a, “Good boy,” that makes his cheeks tint with embarrassment.

With my legs spread on the bed and Spencer situated in between them, I take a moment to look at him. His face is still his face, but with fifteen more years worth of wrinkles and scraps. I happen to like the wrinkles; thinking that they give him more charm and this dashingly sexy professor thing.

I unbutton the rest of his shirt, letting it hang open with his sleeves rolled up. I lean down, kissing Spencer for who knows what time this weekend. I’m sure by the end of it, both of my lips numb from it.

“How,” Spencer starts, grabbing my hand, the one with my wedding ring, and kissing it, “did,” kiss, “I,” kiss, “get,” kiss, “so,” kiss, “lucky,”

Each kiss fills me with this warmth from the bottom of my toes to each individual strand of hair on my head. It’s like I’m floating in the air, high above the trees. God, if I’m the only woman in the world then Spencer’s certainly the only man.

“I should be the one asking that,” I say, brushing my fingers across his face, “I always knew I was gonna marry you. When I first met you, I knew it. Immediately,” I reveal.

“I was so young back then,” Spencer says, “I didn’t know the first thing about girls or love or being a husband,”

“You were always a very quick learner,” I quip, “About being a good boyfriend and buying me books and other things,” I add, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

Not needing another que, Spencer brings his hands to the waistband of my pants. He looks at me, expecting another sign of affirmation to continue.

“Please,” I say, “God, it’s been so long,”

Spencer laughs. It’s that loud, bellowing sort of laugh that reminds me of how alive I am, “We did this just last week. Yeah, it was quick and in the shower, but-”

“Shh,” I say, pushing my finger against his perfectly pink lips, “It’s far too long for a woman who has a husband that talks a mile a minute and has a incredibly talented tongue,”

Spencer winks before he pulls down my jeans and tosses them on the floor. While he does that I shed my shirt, throwing it down with the other discarded clothing items. Spencer rests on his elbows and starts to kiss the inside of my thighs, already making me squirm at his affections.

“Spence,” I say, grabbing a fistful of his hair, “No teasing,”

His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of my thighs. I can feel his unsteadiness against my body and I want nothing more than to cradle him into my arms. His fingers, deft and nimble, tease me against the fabric of my underwear. He’s so completely in tune to my body at this point and knows exactly what makes me tick. Eventually, he relents, taking off my underwear, but not before kissing me tenderly.

Spencer peppers kissing along my thighs, spreading my legs even further apart. He leaves me completely exposed and I can feel the tiniest bit of stubble on his cheeks against my thighs. Spencer pears at me, his glasses reflecting the low light in the bedroom, smiling. He drags his tongue up my center, effectively making me shudder.

“God, you are so fucking beautiful,” Spencer curses, the uncharacteristic language making me want him more, “And all for me,”

Unable to even form words at this point, Spencer darts his tongue around my clit making a sucking sort of motion that threatens to upend me. His strong hands grip my thighs, holding me completely still and totally at his mercy.

There’s no way, but with his talented tongue circling my clit, that I’d rather be. I buck my hips, desperate for more friction, more tension, more anything, against his face. Spencer grids against the bed, also desperate for more. He groans into my thighs before he looks up, chin slick and licking his lips eagerly.

“No, God, please! Spencer,” I groan, nearly teetering over the edge as Spencer removes his fingers and tongue.

“If you come,” Spencer says, a certain darkness coming across his eyes, “It’s going to be on my cock,”

I can feel him pressed up against me. I’m desperate for the weight of him to rest on top of me, to consume me, devour me. It’s like a part of me at this point. We’ve always found ourselves to be inseparable, but now we’re simply one. All I can manage is a slight nod as I undo my bra. Spencer’s hands cling to my chest, massaging me and leaving kisses against my unkissed skin.

Spencer’s kisses lead up to my neck, my chin and jaw, and my lips. He’s full of fire and passion. I know it’s impossible, but Spencer’s kisses melt my lips. I’d let him ruin me, millions of times, as long as he would be the one to put me together again. He breaks the kiss, standing up to shimmy out of his pants.

My gaze traces over the curve of his lips, the slant of his nose, the little collection of scars that adorn his body. All of it adds up to him. All of it adds up to my perfect Spencer. I sit up in the bed, tracing my fingers around all his marks that make him up. I kiss along the surgical scar where he was shot, the first time I thought he was going to die. I remember how young and naive I was back then, we both were.

He must know I’m thinking about this because his hands snake up to my jaw, gently, yet firmly making me look at him. Spencer’s hair covers his ears, falling in brown curls by his forehead. His glasses are a little askew, probably from moments before, but nonetheless he looks devastatingly beautiful.

“It’s been a pleasure growing up with you,” I whisper, kissing his stomach gently. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, a lipless kiss.

“And it will be a pleasure to grow old with you,” he says, leaning down to kiss me yet again, “I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. More than anyone will ever love anyone,”

It’s impossible to top that, yet I have to try. Because as much as Spencer loves me, he deserves to be loved equally as much.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him, “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine,” I continue, ready to drag him headfirst fearlessly.

“God,” Spencer whispers, “I’m dying for you to fuck me now,” he continues, guiding you down on your back as he kisses fervently against your chest and neck.

“Please, Spencer. I need you to touch me,” I whine into the kiss. My teeth nip at his bottom lip, tugging at it as we separate from the kiss. His wandering hands are rough against my body, making me yearn more for his touch. His kisses, lazy and long, threaten to go on forever. And, if you were to ask me, I would just let him kiss me like this forever.

Spencer sneaks his hands down to my clit, fervently rubbing circles, making me dizzy and delirious off him. I never want this to stop, I want to live it forever and ever, playing it on repeat.

“Do you like that, Y/N?” Spencer asks, a taunting, teasing sort of voice making me burn with need for him, “I think you do, sweetheart,”

“Yes, yes,” I chant, knowing that words will do nothing but fail me at his point, “Spencer, please. I fucking need you,”

I reach down in between where I two bodies meet, stroking his erection. Spencer whines into my shoulder, pressing kisses and the gentlest of bites against my skin. His whimpers are delicious in my ear, making me proud to still be able to make him crumble with the lightest of touches.

“Fuck me,” Spencer says, pleading into my skin, “Please,” he begs, adjusting his legs so I can sit in his lap. He lines himself up with me, letting me sink down on his erection, “Oh, fucking hell,” he whines into another kiss.

“You feel so good, so good, baby,” I praise, the words punctuated by the thrusting of his hips to my center, “You want to fill me up, hmm?”

“Yes,” Spencer cries out, clinging himself closer and closer to my body. His arm wraps around my torso, our sweaty bodies meeting as one, “So, so bad,”

“Yeah,” I coo, squeezing my eyes shut as Spencer’s fingers stimulate my clit in rapid, sloppy circles, “Yeah, you want me to make you a daddy again?”

“Y/N,” Spencer whines, unable to thrust into me. I bounce myself on his erection without mercy, watching as his normally put together exterior falters at my doing, “Please, let me fill you up. Let me, please. Let me get you pregnant, Y/N. I want it, I need it,”

“Do it. Do it, Spencer,” I tell him, bracing my hands against his shoulders. As if spurred on by the very thought of it all, Spencer leans forward, pushing me down on my back. He hooks my legs around his shoulders, opening me up more to him.

“Oh, God,” I cry out at the new sensation, “You feel…you feel so deep,”

Panting, I look at him with wonder. His hair is a complete wreck and his glasses rest against his nose, but he’s never looked more beautiful than he does now. Maybe it’s the emotions of it all, or maybe it’s something else.

“Yeah, that’s right, sweetheart,” he chokes out, his words short and clipping, a testament to his yielding disposition, “You’re dripping for me, my love. All for me. This pussy is all for me,”

I grip his hair, guiding him to my mouth for another kiss. He relents, kissing me deeply and passionately. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but I love it.

I love him.

“I need it, I need it, Spencer,” I call out, my approaching climax making me delirious off him, “I’m going to come, Spencer. Please, I need it,”

“That’s it,” Spencer coos, a certain softness in his voice making me want him to devour me completely. I want his body to be on top of me forever. I want to feel the weight of him on me as I sleep. I want the scent of him on me as I breathe. I want him, no, I need him in every sense of the word, “That’s it, sweetheart,”

His words, soft, yet strong, guide me to climax. I never believed it, but I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the way I twist and writhe under Spencer and the way he stiffens against me.

“Spencer, please,” I cry out, “I love you. God, I fucking love you,”

“That’s it. So good, so good for me,” he praises, brushing the sweaty hair from my face affectionately. He kisses my forehead, “God, I can’t wait to see you carrying my child. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” he says, the crudeness of his curses softened by the sweetness of the sentiment. And then it’s dirtied, filthied, but the way he moans into my lips.

“Please, Spencer. Please fill me up. Tell everyone who I belong to,” I cry out, clawing at his back, desperate for him to finish inside of me.

“So spoiled,” Spencer tuts against my skin, “What a spoiled girl, always getting me to come inside of you. Getting you nice and pregnant with my babies,”

“Yes, yes,” I cry, as Spencer’s sloppy thrusts grow more and more uncoordinated, “Come for me, please? Come inside of me, Spencer,”

Spencer’s frantic thrusts slow as he comes undone. He looks beautiful when he finishes, deep inside me. There’s sweat on his brow and his hair is even more wild and unruly. He’s untamed, but tamed only for me. Gently, he lets my legs down with a grimace. He flops down next to me, kissing me with his hands tenderly holding me in place by my jaw.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, Y/N,” Spencer whispers, breaking the kiss ever so slightly. His lips still brush against mine, like butterfly kisses that take flight.

“How do you get more and more beautiful, Spencer?” I whisper, taking his glasses off so he can rest against the pillow.

“That’s the hormones talking,” Spencer replies, “All those endorphins and oxytocin,” he starts, looking skeptically as I shake my head.

“Nope,” I say, sitting up on my elbow, “You’re just beautiful. I don’t need any hormones to know that,”

“That was,” he trails off, choosing to ignore my comments, even now compliments are a hard thing for Spencer Reid to accept, “That was very good,”

“Yes, it was,” I agree with an unabashedly proud smile on my face, “You know we might just need to pick up a pregnancy test on the way home if we continue at the rate we’re going,” I tease, scooting into Spencer’s embrace, “Lemme get cleaned up first though. And dinner, God, I’m starving,”

“If you’re planning on going again,” Spencer starts, grimacing as he sits up, “I’m going to need some Acetaminophen,”

I laugh, sitting up and kissing Spencer’s forehead, “Okay, old man. I’m going to get cleaned up and let’s see if you can figure out how to place an online order,”

Spencer brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear, tucking it in and out of my face. He smiles, softly as he drinks me in. I think to myself that there’s no one else I’d rather be drunk on, but him. There’s a uncertainty that washes over me, it’s not bad, but hopeful. And maybe, I’ll decide to embrace it, along with my perfectly imperfect life. A perfectly imperfect life made even more perfect by the man that sits to my right.

I sigh, thinking about the way Spencer’s hands on my body never fail to make me feel beautiful and desired, “Hey, Spence. How many kisses do we have now?” I ask.

“Well,” he says, turning his head to the side with an air of cockiness, “I’d venture to say we’re north of 46,041,”

“Good,” I say, kissing him yet again, “We just made it, 46,042,”

“And it will never be enough,” Spencer says, “46,043, because,” another kiss, “46,044, infinity isn’t enough with you,”

Kissing him again, I hover over his mouth, our bodies pressed up against each other, “46,045,”

Taglist

@pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @folkreid @muffin-cup @doctorspenceryeet @shemarmooresfedora @strawberryspence @alexrosex99 @reidslibrarybook @reidslovely @reidsacademia @cncos-baby @fightingdragonswithreid @drayshadow @gspenc @ssa-uglywhore27 @mimischaos @xoxospencerreid @nomajdetective @spencerreidat3am @sleepyspencer @reidselle @foxy-eva @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @luredwithpretzels

#dory’s bookshelf #no minors only

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

Text

loved this concept! can’t wait for the next chapter!

What to Expect | Part One: The Stork Bite

18+

Summary: After meeting his godson, Spencer wants nothing more than to father a child of his own. What better way to do that than to help someone else who wants a baby have one too.

warnings: season 5 spencer, first dates, falling in love, smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, baby-making, daddy kink

word count: 2.9K

masterlist

She can’t stop fiddling with the placemat.

Staring at the door as she waits for her date to arrive, but he wasn’t just a normal date. This was a man who she was meeting to determine if she wanted to have his baby.

The site she found him on was called co-parents. Where people who want children can get the other half of the puzzle that they need. She wanted to get pregnant, she just needed a man to donate, but she didn’t want to pay for sperm or to be inseminated, she just wanted to fuck someone and get a baby out of it.

Out of all her potential matches, one doctor Spencer Reid stood out the most. He was a genius on paper, very tall, extremely handsome with brown hair, brown eyes and no health issues to report. He did state he was the child of someone with schizophrenia, but that didn’t scare her, potential mental illness isn’t a deterrent for her, it can happen to anyone.

She waves to him when he walks in, watching him point to her as the server asks for his name. He walks over by himself with a beautiful smile. She stands to meet him with a matching one, “hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well,” he replies, waiting for her to sit again before sitting opposite of her. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long,” she waves it off. “I was just really excited so I came early.”

He laughs slightly, “well, I’m glad you’re also excited.”

“Did you want to just jump right into it?” She feels very comfortable with him already.

“Sure,” he nods. “What made you join the site?”

She lets out a sigh she didn’t know she was keeping in, “well, I want a baby and I don’t want to take out a mortgage just to make one and put it in me so this seemed like a good idea. You?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad,” he shrugs. “Nothing's ever worked out for me relationship-wise, I haven’t been able to find a woman who likes me for who I am and wants a life with me. And I thought if this is how I feel I can imagine there are women out there who want a baby but can't find anyone good enough to make one with…”

“Exactly,” she can’t help but giggle, “your profile said you were interested in co-parenting, not just donation and copulation…”

He clears his throat, “yes, I’d really like to be in the Child's life in some capacity.”

“From what I saw on your profile, I think you’re a really well-rounded man on paper, but I’d like to know you a bit more before making the decision,” she explains.

“I completely understand,” he nods along. “have you met anyone other than me, from the site, I mean?”

She shakes her head, “no, some of them seemed really sketchy. You used personal photos and when I googled you, I could tell you were really the same person, clearly, you are.”

“I would suggest getting background checks on everyone you meet with,” he adds. “Even if you don’t pick me, my friend Penelope at the FBI can look into anyone you consider.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, already knowing she doesn't want to meet with anyone else. “What’s it like being an agent?”

“Uh,” he pulls at his collar, “it’s intense. I’ve only been working there for 5 years now.”

“Do your co-workers have kids?” She wonders, wanting to know if it’s possible for someone as busy as him to also be a present father.

He nods, “my boss, he has a son who’s almost 5 and my friend JJ has a son, Henry, he’s also my godson. He’s the sweetest 2-year-old in the world, I’ll have to bring you to the next office party so you can meet him.”

He just slips her into his life like it’s nothing, “yeah, I’d love to,” she agrees rather easily. “Do you have any other kids in your life?”

He shakes his head, “no. I’m a single child and I don’t have cousins, so I’m just waiting for my friends to have kids and then I’ll be Uncle Spencer again.”

She thinks that’s cute, “did seeing your friend have a kid make you want one?”

“I’ve wanted kids of my own for a long time,” he sighs, “I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I grew up craving a normal family or the fact that I only feel productive when I’m taking care of someone, but I want to be a dad.”

He’s so incredibly honest and real, it’s a strange thing to see a man so open about his feelings and self-proclaimed flaws. She’s almost taken aback by how easy it was for him to lay it all out on the table like that.

Before she can really reply, the server comes over and takes their orders, interrupting the conversation without a real way back to where they were.

“Um,” she takes a sip of her water quickly, “so why are you still single?”

It makes him laugh, “I’ve been told I’m weird and hard to talk to.”

“That’s not true at all?” She doesn’t believe it.

“Well,” he tilts his head to the side, “you don’t really know me yet, believe me, I can get pretty weird.”

“Okay then, what’s your favourite thing to ramble about?” She asks earnestly and by the look on his face, no one has ever asked him that.

“Wow,” he takes a deep breath and thinks about it. “Everything, I retain a lot of facts and random statistics and the things I find fascinating, most other people don’t.”

“That’s really cool though,” she can’t help but smile. “Hopefully your kids are that cool too.”

“And you’re perfectly okay with sharing custody and working out a parental agreement?” He just asks right out.

Open, honest communication, no beating around the bush, just laying it all out on the table. She really admired that about him. “Absolutely, I actually already contacted a lawyer about my situation so if we get pregnant then we can work something out.”

“I uh, I don’t want to sound like a dick, but if you couldn’t afford to buy sperm and have the procedure, are you financially capable to handle a child?” His voice drops to a whisper of sorts, wanting to keep her business between just the two of them.

She nods, “oh yeah, I’m going to be fine. But if we’re co-parenting, I’d expect some of the expenses to be covered by you as well?”

“Oh, of course!” He’s overly enthusiastic about that. “I’ll cover everything if it means I can have a family at the end of the day.”

It breaks her heart just a bit to think of how lonely it must have been growing up as an only child, with no cousins either, and now no one in his life who wants to date him. “You’re too wonderful to be single this long, seriously, I don’t know what people mean by you’re weird… I think you’re very nice and smart, you’re someone I’d want to ask on a real date if I met you organically, and not online, actually.”

“Really?” He smiles so softly, it’s beautiful.

She nods, “really, you’re handsome and kind, you want the same things I do and you give off this vibe that you’re a good person who always wants to be a good person, it’s like you strive to be liked?”

He laughs, “yeah… I’m a people pleaser.”

“I was more the teacher's pet kid, the kiss ass,” she shrugs, “I would do anything to get to where I wanted to be.”

“Which is?”

“Well, back then I wanted to be a journalist, now I’m a 911 operator,” she smiles, "it's not much, but i've saved enough over the years to support us."

“I haven’t spent much of my paycheques in the last few years, it’s just sitting there, begging for me to start a life and use it all,” he explains, hand on the table slowly inching closer to her.

She takes the plunge and lays her hand on top of his, holding it in the middle of the table, “I choose you, I want to do this with you.”

“Really? Already?” His brown eyes glimmer with hope, “you’re serious?”

She nods, smiling sweetly with a giggle. “Yeah, I think whoever we make would be really cool, really cute and super smart, you’re what I’ve been looking for. You’re the other half of the puzzle.”

“Sorry—“ they’re pulled right out of the moment as their food arrives, being placed in front of them at the worst time possible.

She pulls her hand away from his, staring at the food and then him, both of them not wanting to be there anymore, they had bigger plans and things to do, he looks like he wants to say something, but she beats him to it, “Could we possibly get this to go? He’s a doctor and has to get going,” she lies, but not completely.

“Oh,” the server hesitates, “sure, do you want the bill?”

“I’ll pay,” Spencer reaches into his pocket for his wallet, “and here’s a tip for the inconvenience.”

“I’ll be back with the containers,” she leaves in a hurry, bringing back some styrofoam boxes for them to stuff their meals into and then they’re off.

“This is crazy… right?”

Spencer nods, “but it also feels right, somehow?”

She leans forward with a smirk, motioning him to do the same, “how do you feel about practicing the baby-making first?”

He laughs, “I feel confident that our practice can make something perfect.”

—

His heart was beating in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

Her lips were on his as soon as they were in her apartment. She guided him through the house, into her room and against her wall, her coat came off, then his. No words were shared, but he could feel her feelings in her touch. It was delicate, it was electric, it was everything he hoped for. She unbuttons his shirt, hands wandering under the cotton and over his skin. Her hands are so soft on his skin, then her kisses start to move, down his neck and towards his chest, “you’re so warm.”

“You’ve got my blood pumping,” he smirks, enjoying her lips on his neck, her hand slips down his chest and over his cock, strained behind his dress pants, wishing to be freed.

“Feels promising,” she teases back.

She pulls away quickly, taking her shirt off and then pressing their chests together again, he was so much warmer than her, they fit together like they were always meant to be.

He looks into her eyes, ever so softly, “you’re still sure?”

“More than ever,” she can’t help but smile, tugging him towards the bed, he pulls her in for another kiss as the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed.

He kisses down her neck, paying close attention to her boobs and then he turns her around, kissing the back of her neck and shoulder blade, “can I take this off?”

“Please?”

He unclips her bra, holding her stomach and leaning her forward so he can kiss along her spine. “So beautiful,” he says against her skin.

She feels a shiver run through her body as she moans at the contact, “Spencer, please?” She grips the sheets as she leans over the edge of his mattress.

He kisses all the way down her back then he stands up and turns her around, looking back in her eyes and then down to her lips, and even lower to her naked breasts, “where do I start…”

“Anywhere,” she sighs, reaching for the button of her pants, attempting to unbutton it when Spencer takes over, kneeling down as he pulls her jeans down to her ankles and fully off.

“Here?”

“Yeah,” she moans, letting him pull her underwear down and off, she steps out of each leg and tries to move up the bed.

He grips her thighs, “uh-uh,” he makes her sit on the edge of the bed and spread her legs, “be patient.” His shirt falls off his shoulders and to the floor, he runs his face along the inside of her thighs as she arches her back and pushes her aching pussy in his direction.

He lays delicate kisses over her lips, spreading them with two fingers on his right hand, “so fucking wet,” he mummers, “fuck…”

She gives him a satisfied hum when he kisses her clit, “all for you…”

He dives in and her hands reach for his hair with a shout, her hips shutter at the contact. He knows what he’s doing, he moves his tongue in a few different ways, trying out techniques and following through with the ones that give the best response. He finds the sweet spot, she pulls on his hair, her chest heaves as she gets closer and he can feel the muscles in her legs twitch as he overstimulates the fuck out of her.

The closer she gets, the more she begs, grinding against his face and pushing him in deeper. That’s when she feels his fingers at her core and pushing inside of her. One first, two quickly thereafter, it felt too fucking good to be real. “Please?” She chants, “Oh god, please?”

“Let go,” he mumbles, his words captured by her pussy as she cums on his face.

Her orgasm thrashes through her, it's so powerful she can barely even make a noise. All that leaves her mouth is a high-pitched breath as her back arched. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps going, she’s so tight he can’t help himself.

“Fuck,” he groans against her, pulling back finally, but still fingering her, “I’m so hard I need to get inside of you.”

“You fucking better,” she pants, crawling up the bed more and tossing her head back once she’s comfortable on the mattress.

Spencer takes a moment to just look at her. He spent most of last night anxious that this woman he was meeting was going to be weird, or not even real, she was too good to be true. Never in his wildest dreams did he think she’d actually be perfect. She was exactly what he was looking for at first glance, and the more he uncovered from her just made him like her more.

He took a chance and brought a condom, placing it on the bed before taking his pants off.

“I don’t do this often,” she says, “I don’t do this at all actually,” she shrugs. “I know I’m clean if you are? And you just want to take a chance and see where it gets us?”

He tosses the condom over his shoulder, getting completely naked before meeting her on the bed. He hovers over her, resting between her legs, “you’re sent from heaven, you know that?”

She smiles, “no, heaven is what you just put me through…”

He groans, “just wait, angel.”

“Fuck me,” she doesn’t ask, she tells him.

He grinds his cock against her and she realizes she hasn’t had a chance to really look at him. Pulling back from him and watching as he glides his cock along her folds and slides in slowly. It’s all too much for him, he closes his eyes while he moans.

Her nails grip his back as she pulls him down against her, bottoming out, she wraps her legs around him and holds him as close as humanly possible.

“Sweet Jesus,” she whispers.

“Like that?” He kisses her cheek, along her jaw and down her neck as his hips move in a slow rhythm.

“Fuck,” she tosses her head back, pushing him deeper inside of her and wishing he’d do it again, and again and again.

“Oh, she wants more,” He teases, thrusting again and getting a similar reaction. “Think you can handle it?”

“Yeah, daddy,” she responds almost instinctively.

His thrusts pick up and he drops down on top of her, kissing her neck as he fucks her— she would describe it more as pile driving into her. It’s beyond intense, she feels him so deep, he can’t believe how she feels.

He reaches between them,, laying three fingers flat on her clit and rubbing simple circles over the sensitive skin, he fucked her harder. “Gonna cum again for me?”

She nods, whimpering slightly, she pulls on his hair to bring him back in for a kiss. Heated, full of tongue, desperate for each other like never before.

“Fill me,” she begs against his lips, “fuck,” she cums as soon as she says it, the mere thought was enough for her.

The phrase was everything for him.

He stills, groaning, filling her with hot ropes of cum and thank you’s mumbled under his breath.

“Fuck…” she pants, holding him on top of her as he presses lazy kisses to the side of her neck and tries to catch his own breath.

“Is it,” he’s still breathing heavily, “bad for me to say, I’m hoping it didn’t work this time so we can do that again?”

“Absolutely not.”

Permanent tag list

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@hotched @mrs-dr-reid @wander-lustbabe @m-mhotchner @reidselle

#dory’s bookshelf #no minors please

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

Text

i love the snippet format!!

Correct me if I’m wrong

Content warning : language, make out session, very slight mention of fire

Synopsis : For as long as the team could remember, Y/n and Spencer have had unresolved issues, or did they ?

January 17th, 2007

“ It’s called a tauntaun, you’re free to search it up.” Spencer challenged, taking a step closer to me.

“ No shit, but tauntauns are a species of non-sentient lizards, and if you had time to listen to me speak, then you would know that I was talking about the creatures as a whole and not a specific species.” I spat, taking more steps than what I was used to.

Spencer looked at me shocked, he’s never seen me blow out on him like that. But he needed to learn that in order to get my repeat he needed to respect me first.

And without an extra word. I turned around and walked away, not having the energy to verbally fight him that day.

April 9th, 2008

“ The number zero doesn’t appear until the thirty-second position in pi, so you’re wrong.” Spencer corrected, rolling his eyes at my small mistake.

“ You can’t blame me for something I last studied fourteen years ago, not all of us have eidetic memories, you know.” I could feel him get angrier at my words, but his actions were just childish, there was no need to get mad over a subject so small.

He crossed his arms across his chest, almost like a shield safeguarding him from my words. “ Just because others might let you get away with this, doesn’t mean I will.” I spat, one last time before spinning the chair back around looking into my stack of unfinished paperwork.

October 15th, 2009

“ Boo !” Spencer yelled, standing outside the door of the elevator as I finally stopped at my floor.

“ Aagh ! That wasn’t funny !” I yelled, almost spilling my coffee as I jumped back. “ Yes it was, you should’ve seen your face.” He held his stomach as he loudly cackled over my terror.

“ Give me that !” I reached over and grabbed the clown mask from his hands, walking out of the elevator. “ But that’s m-” ” Not anymore !” I cut him off, not turning back around to spare him a glance.

March 3rd, 2010

“ Surprise !” Everyone yelled, throwing confetti as I entered the bullpen. “ Aww, guys, you didn’t have to.” I smiled so hard my face hurt, no one’s ever done this for me.

“ you’re right we didn’t.” I heard Spencer mutter from next to me, an annoyed expression covering his face.

I decided to ignore his existence and turn back to the people I could actually stand being around.

“ She has to open my present first, I put a lot of thought into it,” Garcia pleaded, fighting with Rossi. “ And I put a lot of money into mine, but fine I guess, she’ll just have to save the best for last.” Rossi smirked as shock covered everyone’s faces, a small groan coming from Garcia.

September 23rd, 2011

“ Dopamine and serotonin are not the same thing, as dopamine causes us to feel giddy, energetic, and euphoric. While serotonin is theorized to regulate anxiety, happiness and mood, though you are partly correct, it is found in the chemical formula for love.” Spencer added, causing others to turn their heads.

“ So what you’re saying is that I’m right and you’re wrong ?” I smirked, tilting my head to the side for an extra effect.

“ That’s not what I said - you know what I mean, you’re just denying the fact that I will always be right !” By the end of his ramble he was yelling, and off his seat.

“ No need to get your panties in a twist doc, I was just joking around.” I put my hands up in defense, enjoying the amount of anger I was placing into his head.

“ I know you too hate each other, but please save it for outside of the workplace.” Pleaded Emily, huffing at our antics.

“ She’s right, even though my office is across the building - I can still hear the both of you !” Scolded Garcia, pointing furiously at the two of us.

May 1st, 2012

“ Y/n, that’s enough drinks, you’ve already had five.” Spencer removed the drink from my hands, “ Hey, give it back, I paid a lot for that !” I whined, wanting the burning taste back on my tongue.

“ No, do you know how many people die because of this ?! I’m not letting you die, especially not when I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He babbled, spitting out a few statistics here and there.

“ Okay ! Just shut up, and take me home. I wanna sleep.” I slurred my words, barely able to keep my eyes open.

I stood up from the small stall, tripping and falling into a cold pair of hands instead of the ground.

I look up to see Spencer again, this time he looks away again, in a flustered state.

February 14th, 2013

“ Okay, who has decided to play with my feelings today ?” I turned around, holding out the bouquet of roses on my desk.

Everyone here knew my bad reputation with Valentine’s Day, and how the worst of things always seemed to happen to me on that exact date.

“ Not me, I just remembered it was Valentine’s Day, ” spoke JJ, taking a look at the batch of flowers in my hands.

“ Me neither, I don’t like that stuff - it reminds me of my past relationship.” Shrugged Morgan in feigned disgust, making me and JJ laugh.

“ It's probably Rossi, maybe he feels bad that you have to spend this day alone.” Teased Blake, I sent her a joking glare, not expecting that from her.

“ Seriously, you too Blake ? ” I groaned, sitting back down roughly placing the flowers back on my desk. “ Woah, lady, what did the flowers do to you ?” “ More like the person that sent them, why would anyone give me flowers anonymously ?” I asked.

Today felt odd as Reid was not speaking at all, he refused to meet my gaze, and especially didn’t bother correcting me once I purposely told everyone incorrect facts.

July 4th, 2014

“ Do you want me to light that up for you, Jack ?” I offered the little boy, struggling to deal with the firework in his hands.

“ Yes please.” He nodded, handing me the small firework. I used the small lighter in my hand to light up the correct area on the small machine and placed it on the ground.

“ Let’s get back Jack, you wouldn’t want to get hurt.” I softly pulled him back and against my chest as he waited for the colors to burst out.

“ Y/n, would you mind going back inside the house with Reid to get more juice for the kids ?” Asked Rossi, as he and Hotch stood over the grill.

“ Of course, sorry Jack, I guess you have to watch this one on your own.” I apologized, standing back up from my crouched position as I walked by the pool.

“ Let’s go,” I ushered Spencer, who was reading into a book on one of the seats by the large pool. “ Fine.” He muttered, closing the book and standing up.

I awkwardly walked by him into the house, wincing as the cold air hit my body inside the house.

“ God, I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Spencer muttered, pushing me back against the wall, kissing deeply into my neck.

“ Spencer! if you keep giving me these planet sized marks on my neck people are gonna know.” I whimpered as he kissed over the weak spot on my neck, causing my knees to buckle.

I held onto his forearms, tilting my head as I allowed him extra access to my neck. “ You. Are. The. Best. Girlfriend. Anyone. Could - ever ask for.” He peppered kisses on my face with every word coming out of his mouth.

“ I can’t believe we ended the day by hooking up in Rossi’s bathroom.” I laughed as the two of us caught our breath.

“ Y/n, this is huge !” Whined Spencer as he stared at the mark on his collarbone. “ It’s not like you complained about it,” I smirked. He groaned in reply as I patted down my hair, not wanting the adults to know of our previous doings.

“ Oh shit ! ” I realized, “ what ?” Spencer turned to me in concern.

“ The juice, Spencer, we were sent here to get juice for the kids. ”

#dory’s bookshelf #i gasped when spencer started kissing us #what a plot twist #he got us rosesssss ugh blush

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years

Text

OBSESSED

Your Something Else (+18)

Summary: Reader reveals to her boyfriend, Spencer, that she's never had sex. He takes it into his hands to change that, with her enthusiastic support of course

CW: Elements of Dom Spencer & Sub Reader, Virginity, Innocence Kink, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink, Mutual Masturbation through video conferencing, Implied Age Gap

Word Count: 3,800

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Author's Note: I hope you like this!! Let me know if you'd want a part 2 when they actually...(Also thank you to my love @reidsbookclub for reading this over!!)

Latest Fic | Tell Me What You Thought | Taglist

I can count the number of times Spencer's kissed me on two hands. It's the most I've been kissed in a very long time, so I don't blame myself for getting carried away by the feeling of his soft lips and strong hands on my body. Spencer's breathing into my neck, as I try to scoot closer and closer to his body in his car. It's almost like that typical teenage experience that we both missed out on: making out in cars on a summer night. I can tell, sitting in his car with his hand brushing against my chin, that we both crave it.

“Spence..Spencer, wait. Please,” I say, the uncertainty in the words making Spencer drop his hands immediately.

“Did I do something wrong?” Spencer asks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read me, which he probably is trying to do, knowing him, “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me, sweetheart. I’m not going to mad or anything,”

“No, no,�� I whisper, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, “It’s me. It’s not you, Spencer. It’s a little embarrassing,” I admit, looking down at where your and Spencer’s hands interlock. His hands, bigger and a little more worn, are warm against my cool ones. It might be a little silly, but I like to look at his hands, especially when his hands gleefully embrace my hands. I haven’t had many hands to hold before Spencer.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asks, his thumb runs over the back of my hand nearly melting away all my doubts and insecurities. Nearly.

“It’s just,” I mumble, the words unable to materialize due to my mortification, “It’s silly, really. All of this is just made up. I’m a virgin,” I whisper, lowering my voice at that last word, “And I really, really like you, Spencer. Like I think I love you. And I want to do those things with you. It’s kind of all I can think about when I look at you. But I’m so clumsy and nervous and just…”

“I know,” Spencer says, but a layer of regret flashes across his face right as the words slip out, “No, what I mean is. I know you’re a virgin. But that doesn’t matter to me. It’s a ridiculous thing rooted in patriarchy. It’s entirely made up, like you said,” he continues, drawing shapes across the palm of my hand with his fingers.

“You knew,” I say, feeling a little more embarrassed that he knew this entire time, “Is that, is that why you didn’t push for anything to happen,” I venture.

“No, well. Partly?” Spencer offers, “I figured it out based on the way you reacted to when I kissed you, or when I touched you, or held you hand or really anything,”

“Oh,” I say, the wave of embarrassment becoming almost too much at his point. I feel like I’m a pathetic little insect trapped under a microscope. But when I gain the courage to look back up at him, Spencer’s eyes are full of nothing, but love. I didn’t realize that eyes could be so beautiful until he came into my life, “Sorry, I’m sure that was a total mood killer,” I say, the self-deprecation second nature at this point.

“Not at all,” Spencer whispers, a certain darkness in his voice that intrigues me, “On the contrary, it only made me more curious at the little noises I could get out of you,” he says, his hands, yet again, reach across the console to hold mine, “I only got a little taste of those whimpers you make when I kiss you innocently. But what I really want to hear is you unable to say anything but my name,”

My mouth, far beyond dry, parts in shock at Spencer’s words. Despite three months worth of sweet compliments, breathy kisses, and stolen touches, I’m still not used to all the attention, especially from someone as magnetically handsome as Spencer. He notices this, because of course he does, and smiles softly. Spencer’s fingers release themselves from my grasp and travel to my chin. He brushes the tips of his fingers against my lips and I let myself marvel at the feeling. Secretly, I wish he would slip his thumb into my mouth or grip my jaw with the intensity I know he holds back.

“Spencer. I didn’t think you thought of me like that,” I whisper, afraid to be too loud as if an increase in volume would shatter what we have, “I mean, I certainly thought about you like that, but. I don’t know,”

His mouth moves closer to my ear and I can feel his breath against my skin. There’s something so enchanting about him. He’s some magnetic force of a man that draws me closer and closer to him.

“I want to tell you just how I’ve thought about you,” he whispers into my ear, having a very different reason for whispering than I did. It makes the hair on my arms stand up. His hands drag across my bare arms, slipping the strap of my dress back up my shoulder, “I want to show you just how crazy you make me,”

“Spencer,” I choke out, his name nothing but a cry for help, like some sort of distress signal for someone who wants to be the opposite of saved, “Please, please show me,”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Spencer asks, a teasing character to his voice making me more eager to see what he has in store, “To be the first one to make you whimper like that?”

“Yes. God, please. Yes,” I call out, the feeling of his finger brushing against my elbow making me mad at this point.

Spencer kisses along my jaw, leaving wet open mouth kisses against my skin. I should protest because the pressure he uses is sure to leave marks. But I don’t care. I want to be marked. I want the world to know I’m his, just as much as he’s mine.

“I’m not fucking you in my car, Y/N,” he says, his lips brushing a sensitive part of my skin. I feel sick suddenly and my head feels dizzy as Spencer pulls back, looking at me.

“Oh right,” I say, the unsteady quiver in my voice impossible to hide, “Those are nice leather seats. And sex is messy,”

“No,” Spencer says, leaning across the console again. I don’t even have time to wonder what he’s about to do before he’s kissing me against, “I don’t give a shit about the seats, Y/N. But your first time isn’t going to be a quickie in the back of my car,”

“Oh,” I say, suddenly chuckling nervously. Something resembling insecurity washed over Spencer’s face and she has a sneaking suspicion that he’s not entirely as he may seem, “Oh, no. Spencer, it’s…it’s not you. I’m not laughing at you at all. It’s just, my God, you’re so handsome and smart and I just still can’t believe you’re into me too? Like in my mind it’s just my wildest dreams to think that you’d like me as much as I like you,”

“Love,” Spencer says, a smile tugging on his lips as his fingers itch closer to your hand, “I love you, Y/N. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you feel as beautiful as I know you are,”

“Spencer,” I whisper, his forever name forever the name on your lips, “you’re something else,” you say, as he kisses your cheek before putting his car into drive and navigating out of the parking lot.

“Well, that’s sort of right,” Spencer says, resting his hand against my thigh as he drives back towards my apartment, “I’m your something else,”

I smile, unafraid to show my unabashed enthusiasm as Spencer’s affection, and notice how his hand rests so naturally against my leg. He plays with the hem of my dress. His touches, though electrified, don’t fill me with that unchecked desire I felt before. As we drive away, it fills me with a different feeling entirely. The feeling of home.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t used to Spencer being out of the area for longer periods of time, I was well aware that that was part of being his partner. It didn’t mean that I liked it though. After two weeks since I told Spencer that I’d never slept with anyone before, we finally discussed it more than we already did in his car in that abandoned lot.

I lay on my bed, the cream colored quilt smelling like freshly washed sheets under my fingers, with my phone propped up on a book. Spencer, on the little screen on my phone, sits on his hotel bed four-hundred miles away. It was night for both of us, so we shared stifled yawns and swapped stories about our days in separate beds. Convincing Spencer to upgrade his phone proved to be a challenge, but when he discovered online trivia games and Words with Friends, he was easily swayed.

“I miss good coffee,” Spencer groans, holding a small cup in his hands. His glasses rest on his nose and the yellow glow of the lamp casts mysterious shadows across his face. He looks mature like that, with his clean white sleep shirt and dark brown glasses. His hair, wet from the shower, needs to be brushed. I can only sit in my bed wishing I was there with him to brush out the knotted curls and feel his skin against mine.

“And me,” I tease, smiling into the phone screen at Spencer’s bashful grin, “You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late anyway,”

“I know. It’s just we’re so close to a break in this case, I’m thinking of trying to figure out the geographic profile. We’ve narrowed it down to a couple blocks, but that’s not nearly enough, given the victimology,” Spencer says, pinching his nose, “Sorry, you don’t deserve to hear about all that,”

“No,” I say, nearly shouting into my phone. I pick it up, holding Spencer’s in my hand as I situate myself on my bed again, “I love hearing about your day, honey. It’s just I wish I was there to take your mind off things. You know, like to distract you,” I say, the tone of my voice implying something that I hope Spencer picks up on.

“And how do you do that, sweetheart?” Spencer asks, resting one hand behind his head and the other grips his cellphone, “Would you touch yourself for me?”

My heart thumps in my chest and my limbs ignite with a passion that’s completely foriegn to me. Spencer’s intense stare, though through a screen, burns through me. I lick my lips, wishing I could feel the pressure from Spencer’s mouth engulf me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “I just feel a little silly doing this,” I admit, “No one’s ever watched me…”

“Touch yourself,” Spencer says, finishing my sentence for me like he can read my mind. “That’s okay, sweet girl. Just start off telling me what you think about when you’re alone,”

“I think about you,” I say, looking at Spencer’s flushed face through the screen. He looks as aroused as I feel and I’m inclined to take that as a good sign, “I think about you touching me,”

“Where?” Spencer asks, the single word coming out more as a demand than a request, “Where do you want me to touch you, sweetheart?”

His voice is like honey. It’s thick and sticks to me like a vice. He’s all over me, even though we’re in separate beds miles and miles apart. Spencer’s labored breathing, evident even through the speaker of my phone reminds me that I’m not alone. A wave of embarrassment flushes over me, I’ve never done this with someone watching. And even though I trust him, it’s still a difficult hurdle to cross.

“Everywhere,” I mutter, the heat in my cheeks spreading across my body, “You kiss me a lot. My face, my arms, my neck,”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, “That’s my good girl. Why don’t you take off your shirt for me, love. Let me see how beautiful you look,” he requests, his eyes scanning my figure. I listen, desperately wanting to please him, but also curious to see what he’s got up his sleeve.

“Now touch your tits for me,” he instructs, “Just like you want me to touch you,”

Listening to him, I skim my fingertips across my collarbone, feeling the softness of my skin. Everything, every touch, every brush feels more intense. Maybe it’s because it’s under Spencer’s instruction or maybe it’s because Spencer’s heavy gaze finally makes me feel beautiful. In the end, I don’t care.

“I think about you kissing me in other places, too,” I admit, hoping it will lead to something further than me just grazing my neck.

“Do you now, Y/N?,” Spencer says, readjusting his position in the bed, “Are you okay with going a little further? It’s okay if not. I’m more than happy to stay on till you fall asleep. I know it’s a little creepy and I am more than aware of my line of work. But I like to watch you sleep,” he admits, a boyish smile on the same lips that I desperately want to ruin me.

“No!” I shout, embarrassed at my unregulated enthusiasm, “Sorry, it’s just that I’m ready. I want to go further,” I tell him, playing with the hem of my pajama shorts, “I really really like you, Spence. I trust you,” I tell him, reminding him that I want this just as much as he does.

“Okay,” Spencer says, his mind clearly millions of miles away as he mulls over what’s about to happen, “You’re going to be a good girl and listen to what I have to say?” he asks, it’s almost like his personality switches, “Take off you shorts, Y/N,”

I listen to him, taking off my shorts and sitting on the bed, awaiting what Spencer says next. I feel my heart thumping in my chest and a shake in my hand that I can’t quite control. But underneath it all, there’s something else. It’s something safe and warm and loved.

“Slip your fingers into your underwear,” Spencer instructs, gulping as he watches, “Pretend it’s my fingers touching your clit, my lips kissing your thighs,”

Running circles on my clit, I feel the familiar sensation build deeper inside of me, but quicker than it’s ever happened before. I listen to Spencer’s words, the sound of his voice fills my ears and I anxiously await what he says next. From my position on the bed, I can hardly see him on my phone. But through my half laden eyelids, what I can see is a beautiful man looking at me.

“Good girl,” Spencer says, “You’re not allowed to come until I tell you, sweetheart. So keep touching your pussy, just like that and tell me what else you want me to do,”

“I-I,” I start, unable to articulate what I want to say, “I want to eat me out. So bad, I think about it when you kissed me that night in your car,” I tell him, feeling my entire body heat up at the revelation.

“Mmmh,” Spencer groans, clearly taken by the sight before him, “Oh fuck, I’ve thought about that too, Y/N. Goddamn it, I just want to taste you. Fuck, when I get my hands on you, you’re not going to able to walk for a week. I’ll spend hours and hours tasting you,”

“Please,” I cry out, still drawing circles around my clit, even though I feel a nearly unbearable heat build inside of me, “Spencer, please it feels so good,”

“Shh, I know. I know, sweetheart,” Spencer says, “You’re doing so good for me. Making me so hard, just by watching you. I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping like a little whore for me,” he says, the demeaning language should sting painfully, but it only makes me want him more.

“Are you touching yourself?” I ask, hoping that I have the same effect on him that he does on me, “I wish you were here, Spencer. Oh, God. My fingers don’t feel as good as yours will,” I pant, “They’re not big enough,” I whine.

Splayed out on the bed, I slip my fingers inside myself, wishing Spencer was here to bring me across the edge. Instead I settle for listening to his means of approval as I continue to finger fuck myself through the phone camera. The pressure becomes unbearable, but I listen to Spencer’s words, not letting myself finish until he instructs.

“Yes. Damnit, I wish it was your hand,” he groans, “You’re hands are so much softer. Or your lips. Fuck, your lips would be so hot on my cock. You’re going to look so cute for me on your knees, begging for me to fuck you face, your pussy like the good little slut you are for me,” Spencer spits out, rubbing himself faster and faster below the camera’s view.

“Oh, God, Spencer,”

“I’d have my fingers so deep inside you, you’d feel me for weeks. You look like a fucking angel, my fucking angel,” Spencer pants, his words sticking to me like glue. It feels so real, so intense it’s almost like he’s here with me. I like the way his voice quivers, telling me that he’s just hanging on as well.

“Would you fuck me if you were here?” I ask, daring to venture into something a little more salacious as we both near the end. I’m desperate enough to do nearly anything to get the release I desire so much.

“I’d put you on your back so I can see those tits bouncing in my face,” Spencer grunts, slightly biting his lips in anticipation, “I’d rip those little panties off your sweet cunt and fuck you for being a slutty little tease,” he continues, “I’d touch your puffy little clit, making you scream with pleasure,”

“Spencer,” I whine, still rubbing as he instructs, wanting for the moment he lets me come, “Please,”

“No,” he barks, “Not yet. Let me finish. I’d feel how wet you are, let you feel how deep my cock is inside you. I’d go slow, letting you get used to my cock inside your tight cunt,”

At this point, all I can do is moan his name. My legs are useless, nothing but puddy at Spencer’s dirty words. I would never have thought he’d be like this. I expected him to be sweet, to be gentle like his button upped exterior hinted at. But this, this is something I could never have imagined even in my wildest of dreams.

“And then I would kiss you,” Spencer says, “I’d leave marks all over your thighs, your tits, your neck. You’d be covered in them. So everyone would know who you belong to,”

“You,” I whisper, “I belong to you. Please, Spencer. Please, I can’t take it anymore,” I pant, halfway begging him for release. I can tell he likes it.

“That’s right, Y/N. You’re all mine, my love,” he says, the nickname my love will be the death of me, or rather the thing that sends me completely over the edge.

“I’m yours,” I say, “If you’re mine. Would you come inside me, Spencer?” I ask, knowing that this will be the death of him.

“Fuck, you know what’s going ruin me, Y/N. I’d come so deep inside of you, you’d feel me for months. I’d feel that little cunt tighten around me like a vice. You’d want me to breed you like the good girl you are for me?” I watch as he come

I wonder if my strangled cries make his dick twitch with what it will be like when he can touch me. Gripping the sheets, I feel something like a coil unsnap deep inside of me, but I wait for Spencer’s words. My head is swimming with thoughtless thoughts. Unable to form a coherent thought, I watch Spencer in anticipation.

“Come for me, Y/N,” Spencer says, finally letting me have the release that I’ve wanted for so long, “Let me see how beautiful you look when I make you come,”

“Oh, God. Oh, fucking hell, Spencer,” I feel a wave of pleasure wash through me as I feel my first orgasm at someone else’s hands. Wondering to myself if it feels more intense because I love him, I savor the feeling, hoping the tingling lasts forever, “That was, that was incredible,”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, “I wish I was there to hold you now. I’d definitely be kissing you,” he admits, a blush forming on his cheeks. It makes him look youthful and sweet, like the kind and gentle Spencer I’ve found myself loving for the last three months.

“I can’t wait for that, Spencer. I can’t wait for all of it,” I whisper into the phone, “I’m going to get myself cleaned up,” I tell him, wondering silently if this is where the phone call ends. I don’t want it to end here, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. Even if Spencer practically told me he loved me. Maybe it was just a spur of the moment sort of thing. Maybe it slipped out in a heated moment of pleasure.

“Take me with you,” Spencer says, “If you’re okay with that, that is. I just, it’s silly, but I like seeing your face,” he admits, “I had Garcia show me how to get a different home screen. You’re mine,”

“Really?” I ask, standing up on shaky legs, “Well that’s certainly an honor. Maybe you’ll have to pose with Auggie. I don’t think I can boot him from my home screen, quite yet,” I tease.

“Well, I love you and Auggie loves you so we’re going to have to come to an agreement,” Spencer says, the words spilling from his mouth with this nonchalance that catches me off guard.

“I love you too,” I whisper into the phone as I head to the bathroom, “Oh, and did you really mean you like to watch me sleep. Because I think I just might take you up on that offer tonight,” I tell him, giving him an identically toothy smile.

“Anything for you,” Spencer says in a way that makes me roll my eyes just as much as it makes my heart soar, “Actually, sleeping with one’s partner helps to promote emotional intimacy. I’m not too sure if the studies included scenarios quite like this one,” he continues, “But I’m willing to test it out with you,” he says, winking into the screen and making your heart soar and not for the last time tonight.

TAGLIST

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#no minors please #spencer reid smut #like sooooooooo detailed omg #i’m jealous of your smut writing skills #dory’s bookshelf

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