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#Criminal minds fanfiction
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Birthday Meal
Summary: When Spencer reminisces about the meal his grandmother made for him every year and how it’s still his favorite food, you decide to recreate the memory.
Tags: Fluff, no use of y/n or pronouns for reader
Spencer had brought it up so randomly, a wistful expression on his face as he mentioned the meal his grandmother used to make for him every year on his birthday and how it was still his favorite meal. It was an entire meal - an appetizer, main course with sides, completed with soft cookies and a kid friendly mixed drink. When he tells you he wished he’d been old enough to get the recipes before she died, you know what you have to do.
First, you contact his mother. You’ve met before and write her letters every week, so the doctors at the sanitarium have no issue with a short phone call. She remembers the meal, but not the recipe, but she gives you the number to Spencer’s uncle, and promises she won’t tell. Spencer’s uncle hands the phone to his wife, and while she has part of the recipe (the appetizer and sides), she doesn’t have it all. But she thinks a distant cousin would, so you call another relative you’ve never met, and talk to each member of that family as they reminisce about the foods they used to eat on their birthdays. (You’re amazed that every member seems to have a completely new meal, made specifically for them.) You get the drink recipe and the main dish from them, but you’re still missing the cookies.
They’re trying to think of who you could call when Spencer’s mother calls you back, saying she had found a note in her old journal about the cookies, and that you’re allowed to read all about the celebration. She says it’s already in the mail to you and just asks that you return the journal when you can. You wonder why she didn’t just copy the recipe down for you, or verbally tell you, but you thank her all the same and promise to let her know how your cooking attempts go.
Before you can start planning, the uncle you called earlier calls again and asks for your address. He says part of the special meal was that everyone had their own plate, and he found Spencer’s up in the attic. He also says his wife wrote down the exact brands used, and you thank him profusely. Within a week, you have the journal from his mother and the package from his uncle. The cousins have also added something to the package, apparently an old mixing spoon that’s been passed down from the time of the Depression. Between all of them, you’ve got the recipes and most of the specific brands used. You hide the special lavender plate and glass, wondering if this is why Spencer loves purple so much, giddy with excitement and nervous for your surprise.
It’s a strange meal altogether - not something you personally would have ever put together, but the way Spencer had talked about it, the way he’d looked as he remembered something good from his childhood wasn’t something you’d forget.
His birthday was coming up soon, and he’d asked if you two could stay in, surprised at your enthusiastic agreement. He went to work that day, after you’d woken him up with excited birthday kisses, and you had verified with Penelope that they would do something for him at lunch. You were still slightly angry that they had forgotten his 30th birthday. Really though, you just needed to make sure they wouldn’t try to take him out after hours, you wanted your surprise to work.
The recipe is somehow complicated and simplistic at the same time- truthfully it’s not many ingredients, but it’s a long process, true grandmother-style cooking — slaving over a hot stove all day. You briefly wonder if you could speed things along with a crockpot, but ultimately decide to stick to the recipe, following it to a T.
Penelope texts you when Spencer leaves the office, giving you time to dress up and finish setting the table. You have a hand made banner hung on the wall, a detail that you discovered through reading his mother’s journal, and fresh flowers that match the plate. His mother is having a good day, and the doctors have approved a short video call when Spencer gets in. You sit by the window until you see Spencer walking up the sidewalk, then rush to call his mom. When you hear the key turn in the door, you flip your screen around, and the two of you shout “Happy Birthday!” as soon as he walks in.
Spencer blushes immediately, surprised and smiling. You kiss his cheek before handing him your tablet, telling him to talk to his mom while you finish plating dinner, and warn him not to come into the kitchen, but to let you know when he’s ready. Thirty minutes later, when he calls out hesitantly to you, just now noticing the banner and the bouquet of flowers, you come out of the kitchen smiling, telling him to sit and close his eyes.
He rolls them at you, but complies, even covering them with one large hand, jumping slightly when you sneak in a kiss. You hurriedly bring out all the dishes, setting them around and finally set the special plate down in front of him. You pour the layered drink into his glass as Spencer twitches and squirms in his seat, asking if he could please look now. He laughs when you tell him to be patient, curious as to what in the world you’re doing and wondering why he’s nostalgic over the scent of whatever it is you’ve made.
When you finally let him open his eyes, he looks to see you standing nervously, hands wringing together as you wait to see his reaction. He does a double take at the spread before him, and his eyes widen into saucers when he sees his place setting.
“Happy birthday, my love” you say softly, still nervous and smiling shyly.
Spencer stands so suddenly the chair he was on falls to the ground but he doesn’t care, lunging for you to crush you against him. He’s trying to hide the tears falling from his eyes as he squeezes you close to him, whispering his thanks over and over. He’s overwhelmed with memories he thought he’d forgotten - his plate, the banner, the way the drink looked in his glass.
When he pulls back from you, you’re concerned at his glassy eyes but he doesn’t give you the chance to ask, kissing you deeply and with all the emotion he feels. When you break apart, he’s smiling the wide smile that transforms his whole face, and you’re relieved that he seems to be happy. He fixes his chair, and asks you to tell him how you did all this, thanking you again. You fuss at him first, fixing his plate exactly how the journal had been written. There had been a few photographs of one of the last celebrations, and you were pleased with your recreation. The trouble you’d gone through with talking to his family (who had continued to call you, remembering strange details in the weeks leading up to tonight), tracking down exact brands - some that could only be found online, burning yourself on the main dish - none of it matters at all when you see how Spencer is looking at you.
Spencer honestly doesn’t care how the meal tastes, although it’s somehow better than he remembered. You tell him you added in extra love, and that the wooden spoon you’d used to mix the ingredients must have contained some too. His mouth drops open at the spoon, before he tells you a family story about how a wooden spoon became so meaningful.
He continually thanks you, unsure how to express his gratitude, and he lets you take photos to send to all the family members who helped you, forcing you into his lap for the last one, gripping your waist tightly as you both smile, looking at each other.
Softly, Spencer tells you this is his new favorite birthday, and one he swears he will remember every detail of forever.
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pathologicalreid · 14 hours
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this is the job | S.R.
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You and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.
who? spencer reid x retired!reader content warnings: takes place before the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place (so like circa 9x20), retired!reader is not actually retired yet, slight bickering, spoilers for season 6 finale (supply and demand), reader is female word count: 1.13k a/n: just a little shorty piece about my beloved spencer and retired!reader, im having a lot of fun writing this little vignette style series. i know it's short but the next piece will be long and very hurt/comfort heavy.
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When the phone started ringing, you thought it was Spencer’s phone, but after letting it go for a few rings, you begrudgingly realized it was your ringtone. Groaning, you turned in Spencer’s arms and grabbed your phone off of your bedside table before answering the call. “Hello?” You greeted groggily.
There was only one person who would be calling you at two in the morning. Andi Swann’s voice rang through the receiver, “We need you to come in.”
“Now?” You asked, blinking sleep out of your eyes. Next to you, Spencer started to wake up. Using his thumb, he rubbed small, soothing circles over your hip while you talked on the phone.
It was a pointless question, you already knew the answer, and that was why you were already getting out of bed. “Yes, we need to get you out as soon as possible. We might have a lead on The Program.”
You sighed, looking over at Spencer, who was now sitting up, as you nodded, “Okay, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.” You hung up the phone, setting it back down on the bedside table before you made your way to the closet to retrieve your go bag.
“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked, burning both of your retinas when he leaned over to turn on a lamp.
Hesitantly, you started grabbing clothes out of your side of the dresser. Most of your clothes would be in the apartment that the bureau would set you up in, but you could bring some of your things. Basics, mostly. “Uh, yeah,” you answered.
Peering over at you while you tugged on a pair of jeans, Spencer furrowed his brow. “You just got back,” he responded, getting out of bed himself.
“I know, but that was Andi. She says they might have a lead on The Program, so I have to go in,” You informed him, trying not to topple over while you put your socks on.
Sat on the edge of the bed, your boyfriend leaned back and watched you pack. “I believe the operative word there is ‘might’. Tell them to send someone else,” he urged, not wanting you to leave.
Shaking your head, you zipped your bag shut, “You know they don’t have anyone else.” It was true – you were the only female undercover agent that Swann had.
Spencer clenched his jaw, “I know they don’t have anyone else, that’s part of the problem. They need to hire someone else to split the burden with you, it shouldn’t be all on you.”
“This is my job, Spence. I can’t just tell them I’m not coming in. You drop everything as soon as Hotch calls,” you reminded him.
Reaching out for your hands, Spencer pulled you in, so you were standing between his legs. “Hotch would let me spend a night in my own bed before calling me back in. You got home at ten, baby. It’s been four hours and eight minutes,” he said, keeping his voice low in the dead of the night.
Giving in a little, you leaned into him, “Our jobs are different. We have different demands.” You brushed off his concern. There was at least a part of you that knew he was right. As usual, you called Spencer as soon as you had debriefed with Andi. He picked you up and brought you home.
He placed his hands gently on your waist, “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat or sleep enough when you’re undercover, and that won’t do anyone any good.”
Stepping back, you wiped a hand down your face, “I know, but there are so many people out there who need my help. I could save those people.” You bargained with him.
Spencer shook his head, “We’ve spent a total of four nights together this calendar year. It’s April.”
You knew that. You kept track just as much as he did, but that didn’t change the fact that you had a job to do, “You knew the score when you asked me out, Spence.” Your tone was a warning. When he asked you out after you worked with the BAU to rescue Renee Matlin, you warned him that you weren’t around much.
Admittedly, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.
Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you inclined your head toward him, “This is the job.” This job was who you were, Spencer knew that just as well as you did.
“This isn’t the job, love. You’re acting like you don’t have an option. It’s almost as if…” his voice trailed off as if he was stopping himself from saying something he’d later regret.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You might as well say it.” Maybe he’d give you a reason to walk out the door.
He shrugged helplessly, “Fine, I think Andi’s taking advantage of your selflessness and your need to please everyone.” He narrowed his gaze, “You were just gone for five weeks, and now you’re leaving again.”
What crushed you the most was that he was right. “I don’t want to let anyone down,” you murmured. Padding over to him, you wrapped your arms around him, holding your breath until he reciprocated. “That includes you,” you admitted, chest tight, “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
Taking a deep breath, Spencer smoothed your hair at the back of your head, “You’re gonna go save some lives, because that’s what you do.” His voice was low and steady, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You jumped when a phone started ringing, this time it actually was Spencer’s.
He picked it up and answered the phone, “Hey,” he greeted, face falling as the other person spoke. “I’ll be right there.”
Eyeing him hesitantly, you saw his entire demeanor change. The BAU had a case. Checking the time, you pulled back, “I should go.”
“Y/N,” he said. “I don’t want to part on bad terms,” he revealed to you as he started to get dressed himself.
Peering up at him, you offered your boyfriend a small smile, “We’re never on bad terms, angel boy.” You were just navigating a complicated relationship.
He raised his eyebrows like that statement surprised him, “but if I’m not going to see you for another month, then we can at least drive in together.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had already made your decision, “If we drive in together, then I have to call you for a ride when I get back.” You settled your hands in your lap, crossing one leg over the other.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Spencer responded, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
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ynscrazylife · 2 days
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stealing aaron’s glasses (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)
In your defense, you were dared by Derek to do it. After back-to-back cases, everyone needed a break, but especially your workaholic of a husband. You thought it was going to be hard to steal his glasses, since he was constantly wearing them to read over paperwork. However, your opportunity came fairly quickly when he took his glasses off in favor of rubbing his face.
“You poor thing,” you say as you walk into his office, going around to give him a shoulder message.
He lets you continue, ever appreciative of the kind gesture.
“You should take a break,” you advise him, kneading your hands into his muscles.
“A few minutes,” Aaron grumbles, only able to be soft around you. He folds his arms over his desk and puts his head down.
A few minutes is plenty. Finishing the massage, you quietly pluck his glasses off the table and slip them into your pocket. “I’ll grab you a cup of coffee,” you say, beginning to leave.
“Thank you,” he says dutifully.
Walking back over to Morgan’s desk, you flash a smile at him as you show him the glasses.
“Atta girl!” He says, giving you a high five.
“We’ll see how long it’ll take for him to notice,” you say, looking at the glasses. Experimentally, you try them on. “Woah.” It’s definitely blurry and disorienting.
“Lookin’ nice, Mrs Hotchner,” Derek teases.
“I can’t believe he sees the world like this,” you say, walking around a bit and taking it all in. It’s not long before you suddenly walk straight into a desk and the glasses make you dizzy, causing you to topple over.
“Oh, shit,” Derek says.
“Y/N!”
The concerned call comes from your husband who is now striding over. You sit up and look at him guiltily. Aaron stops short at seeing his glasses on your face.
“Cute,” he says in a voice that not even you can discern if it’s genuine or not.
He gives you a hand to help you up. “Are you okay?” He asks, glancing you over.
“Yeah,” you say sheepishly. “Morgan dared me to take your glasses!”
“Tattle-tale,” Derek mutters as he raises his hands up in surrender.
Aaron fixes him with an exasperated look, then takes his glasses and puts them back on. “You sure you’re okay?” He presses, caressing the side of your face with his hand.
You nod. “Just a little dizzy,” you assure him, shrugging.
“Oh, I’ll give you something to be dizzy about,” Aaron says with a smirk, before taking you by the arm and spinning you around, then catching you and holding you close against his chest.
“Aaron!” You exclaim, laughing but also surprised that he’d do something like this in front of all his colleagues. “That was mean.”
“And coaxing me into taking a break so you could steal an object that I rely on to see isn’t?” He says.
You pout and Aaron goes so far as to squeeze your face, smushing your cheeks. He can’t help it, your silliness is infectious, and one of the many reasons why he fell in love with you.
“I think everyone deserves a break,” Aaron says to the BAU team. “Take off early for today.”
The team cheers as Aaron throws an arm over you, heading back to his office so that he can grab his stuff and you guys can leave.
“Steal my glasses again and I’ll get you back for it, sweetheart,” he mutters into your ear.
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ginkgo-phyta · 2 days
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sneak peak alert!! here's one for my dom!spencer x reader smut fic. its still a wip, so hopefully this tides y'all over some. enjoy! 18+ mdni
(pay no mind to how ooc this is teehee)
“Watch.” Spencer hisses, shoving your head back to its original position. Uncontrollably, a faint whimper rips from your throat. You wordlessly do as you’re told, training your eyes on the man on the screen in front of you fucking his partner’s throat, her eyes watering and rolling back until all you can see are the whites. “C’mon, baby. Tell me what you like.” As your perched in his lap, Spencer’s voice is sickly sweet now mumbling against your arm, nipping it lightly. His left hand is under your shirt, fingertips barely playing with your hardened and sensitive nipples. His right hand is still on your back, moving between scratching your skin and teasing the waistbands of your shorts and panties. He’s driving you crazy.
The urge to close your eyes is hard to fight off, but you try your hardest. “I…” You’re breathless, despite not having even done anything yet, “I like how he’s controlling her,” you gulp as Spencer begins to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “a-and using her.”
“That’s what you want, hmm.” It’s not a question, so much as an observation. “You want me to use you like a toy?” Spencer leans in to mouth against your ear, “Want me to fuck your throat ‘til you can’t even speak?” Where did he learn to talk like this? Who is this man?
You know it’s not rhetorical. He’s waiting for an answer as his deep breaths whip strands of your hair around. He dips his head to press kisses onto the back of your neck. Your hands dig into his plush thigh as much as is allowed by the cloth of his pants stretched tight. “Yes,” you breathe out. Even to yourself it sound desperate.
“Oh, my dirty girl.” He drawls, roughly cupping your tit and kneading it as he wishes. “You want my cock, don’t you? Just wanna shove it down your throat?”
His words have your stomach turning cartwheels, and you moan at just the thought of his dick in your mouth. You’ve never yearned for anything so intensely, craved something so intrinsically. Nodding emphatically, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth. 
This was going to be a long night, but you wouldn't want anything less.
comment, reblog, like! :D follow to stay updated on the release of the finished piece :P
link to my sub!spencer sneak peak
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snixkers · 1 day
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Science Fair
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Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader
Fluff, minor angst
For: Anonymous Request
Content Warnings: Missing a child's science fair, pretty much nothing, he feels bad for not going
Summary: After missing the science fair, Spencer makes it up to your daughter
Author's Note: In this house, we believe in girldad Spencer. Forgot the request said 3 kids, sorry!
Feedback is always welcome!
Requests are OPEN
He was an idiot.
An IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and 3 PhD’s could not prevent him from being the dumbest man in the world. He had missed his daughter’s first science fair.
To be fair, he was on a case across the country, but it was a promise that he had made and then subsequently broke.
When he got home, the house was quiet as everyone else slept. He crawled into bed, not having enough energy to change, and fell asleep.
The next morning, it was about the same level of silent treatment. You got your daughter to school on time before coming back to get ready for work. He made you breakfast, which you ignored in favor of a granola bar, and was ready with flowers for an apology. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t in a forgiving mood.
This wasn’t the first time he had missed something important. He had a busy job, and sometimes, it took priority. But it had never been as bad as this. There were few things more precious than a child winning something, and he hadn’t even called to celebrate.
He felt terrible, but his daughter’s reaction was the worst part. She was slowly starting to think that she wasn’t the center of his universe, and that scared him.
He had to fix this. First, he called in to work, taking a week's worth of the vacation days he had saved up. Then he packed everyone’s suitcases, taking extra care to make sure you all had what you needed. Then he waited.
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When you got home with your daughter, you were confused. As far as you were aware, no one had planned any trips. Was something wrong?
Spencer noticed the look on your face and quickly explained his plan to you before leaning down to talk to your daughter.
“How do you feel about going on vacation?”
She nodded eagerly, setting her backpack down on the floor.
“I wanna go to the moon.”
You both laughed at her request, unsure how to break the news that traveling to the moon wasn't an option.
“Anywhere on Earth?”
She nodded, holding up the stuffed elephant she had won at the science fair.
“Ice cream.”
Spencer’s smile faltered slightly, but you reached down to reassure him. He wanted to make it up to her with some grand gesture, like taking her to the beach or Disney World. But she didn’t care where they were, as long as she was with her dad.
He kissed her forehead and nodded, standing back up.
“I’m going to go unpack and then we can have ice cream.”
She smiled at him, showing off a gap in her front teeth where a tooth once stood a couple weeks ago.
“Then we can watch Frozen.”
This suggestion had him groaning internally, but you managed to guilt-trip him into sitting down for the whole movie. If you had to see Frozen five times a week, so would he.
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I’ll never hurt you (Spencer Reid x Reader)
spencer reid can’t help but get involved when a guy moves into your apartment and he hears the fighting between you two escalate. he never meant for it to go farther.
warnings: relationship abuse. nudity. no smut. harsh language. angst
pookie wookie bear
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You moved in early September. Spencer met you the first week you came in, which you were in the process of unloading large brown boxes and small beige baskets of things into your apartment. Your first impressions of him were that he stuttered, rambled and, of course, was absolutely gorgeous.
He helped you unpack, after asking if it was alright, and the two of you had a friendly relationship going forward.
He took special note of your schedule. You'd leave around eight in the morning in a sweater and scarf with your hair up, a leather bag of textbooks, notebooks and a shiny grey laptop on your shoulder, and come home around eight p.m., makeup slightly worn and hair much softer and less organized than the morning, now in the same jacket as when you left, but a work uniform underneath, possibly for a barista or waitress. Your apron would be slung over your shoulder and your bag would have the scarf and sweater hanging partially out the side, and you'd always have this tired, sunken look in your eyes, but it was always replaced by bright cheeks and a smile in the morning.
You noticed his pattern, too. Always leaving in a nice jacket or button-down, sometimes to disappear for days. You always wondered where he went, but your interactions were bound to greetings and curtesies and not much else, mostly due to your nervousness around each other.
In November, a man started to come around every so often. Spencer had picked up from your chipper, however strained, greetings of him that his name was Ben.
By December, he was around every day. Spencer saw through the peephole boxes being carried to the apartment once again.
He decided not to think of it much. You were just a pretty girl who lived on his floor, meant to be with big, meaty guys like Ben. He couldn't help but wonder if he was smart enough for you, intense enough for you.
It wasn't until January that the yelling began. There would be nights where he could hear masculine yelling through the walls, these growling barks of words he couldn't always make out. He'd heard a few things, like, "Fuckin' bitch!" and "Stupid cunt!" Once, he even heard something along the lines of, "If you care so much what the neighbor thinks, why don't you go over there and fuck him!"
The quips were enough to make his blood sear red-hot, his eyes twitch and head ache.
One day, he hadn't heard your light, quick footsteps down the stairs, and he knew Ben had left had the night before because he had slammed the door behind him and said "Slut" just as he passed Spencer's door and pounded down the stairs. Spencer didn't sleep that night, waiting for Ben to return, but he never did. He wasn't sure what his plan was when he did return, but he knew something had to be done.
He decided to come to your door in the morning, alarmed that you were still in around 9:30 a.m. on a Thursday.
He knocked three times, then stood with his hands in his pockets. He heard your feet scamper to the door, then stop just in front.
"Spencer?" you asked, he assumed you were looking through the peephole. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, can I just," he paused, "Can I come in a second?"
"Uhm," you exhaled, "Now's not a good time."
"I just," he paused again, "I wanted to talk to you."
"What about?" you asked.
He became so alarmed by this answer, mind racing with every possible scene that could be behind the door. Maybe Ben had returned, he thought, maybe he was forcing you to stay home. Maybe you were crying, maybe he had hurt you. Maybe he had a gun on you at this very moment.
In a moment of complete irresponsibility and thoughtlessness, he touched the doorknob. When it gave way, he pushed himself through the door.
Ben was nowhere to be found, but you were, standing in front of him, eyes dry, but puffy from obvious crying, yellow makeup caked below your right eye, purple showing from underneath.
It was worse than he imagined, the feeling of seeing you in such a way.
"Oh, (Y/N)," he whispered.
When he looked at you with such sympathy, you broken entirely. You ran into his chest, shoulders shaking with sobs. "I couldn't," you breathe, "I couldn't cover the," again, "I can't go to class, I had to call out of work, I," you whispered, "I don't know what to do."
He just held you there, swaying back and forth, rubbing your hair. This was the first time he had seen it down.
"Look at me," he whispered.
You peered up at him with those red, glistening eyes, face swollen, hair stuck to the tears on your cheeks.
"You've gotta kick him out," he whispered, "You have to."
"I can't- he's- he's a cop," your voice wavered, "I'm a- I'm a fucking barista."
"I'm a federal agent," he stated.
You breathed out. "He'll," you pause, then whisper in a deadly flat voice, "He'll kill me if I make him leave."
He breathes, then whispers, staring deep into your eyes, hands on each side of your face. "I'll kill him if he touches you ever again."
He pulled you into his chest again, once again assuming the rocking motion from before, rubbing your back with one hand and stroking your hair with another.
This was easily ten minutes, possibly more. Then, the door handle jiggled. "Let me in, (Y/N)," Ben spoke, "I'm sorry, please let me talk to you."
Spencer whispered into your ear, "Go stand by the kitchen," and you did so.
Spencer then unlocked the door, then stepped as far as possible from the door, a few paces from you. He whispered to you, his head over his shoulder.
"It's open," he whispered.
"It's open!" you yelled, voice shaky.
When Ben walked in, his eyes went first to Spencer, then to you.
"What the fuck," he breathed, "You fucking bitch, you're cheating on me with this fucking asshole?"
"I'm not cheating on you," you spoke in a mousy tone.
"Oh, yeah? So you didn't fuck this guy?" he asked, stepping to get a better look at you.
"No," you spoke, not looking at him.
"Don't lie to me, bitch, fucking look at me," he stepped towards you.
Then, Spencer pulled a handgun from his pocket and pointed it at him.
"Don't fucking go near her."
"Oh my God, you're gonna fucking shoot me?" he laughed. "I'm a cop."
"I'm a federal agent, dick," Spencer glared intensely at Ben, your eyes stuck to Spencer.
"Oh, fuck, you're one of those BAU assholes?" he asked with a smirk on your face, "Well aren't you just a fuckin' angel?" He turned you, then says, "Have fun with this pussy, you're not worth the fucking energy." With that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Spencer ran to the door, locked it again, then returned to you.
"This is just temporary," he whispered, "I'm gonna get him put in jail for a long time."
You stared at him for a long time, then in a hushed tone said, "I'm gonna shower," you paused, then, quieter, said, "Do you want to come with me?"
He stares at you for a moment, blinking, then asks, "Do you want that?"
"Yes," is all you say, then grab his hand slowly, interlocking your fingers, pulling him to your bathroom. When you get there, you take off your tank-top first, which you have nothing underneath. Then you pull down your jeans, then your underwear. Spencer watching this entire process, not moving a muscle but his eyes. They wander across your body, then settle on your hips, which have a faded yellow bruise on the side. He winces, but then is washed by the sight of your bare skin. You're exactly as he imagined: soft, firm, perfectly balanced.
He then began to unbutton his skirt, peeling it over his shoulders. He was tall, slender, sculpted, but gentle looking so much more beautiful than Ben. His belt jingled as he unbuckled his pants, then pulled them down with his underwear, too, leaving both of you bare.
He closed the proximity of your bodies to kiss you, his hands around your head. He then pulled away to rest his forehead on yours and rub his thumbs on your cheeks.
You stepped into the shower and he followed.
He didn't try to touch you explicitly. He didn't press you against the shower wall, didn't choke you or whisper sick things about you into your ear. He didn't press himself into you or turn you around to fuck you from behind.
Instead, he took a handful of shampoo and began to wash your hair.
He first pushed your head back so it was full emerged in the water pressed his fingers along your scalp, allowing the water to seep into all the strands of hair. Then, he lathered shampoo in his hands and began to wash your hair. He turned you around so you were facing away from him, but he didn't touch you anywhere but your head. You instinctively tilted your head back to lean slightly towards his chest, eyes closed. You could hear his breath hitch. When he was done, he turned you around again, then tilted your head under the water again. When your hair was fully rinsed, you brought your head up so your eyes met his. You then kissed him again. Your hands slowly, shaking, trailed down his chest to his stomach. You trailed your fingertips along his waist, then pulled him towards you by his hips. He lifted his hands to your face again.
He looked deep into your eyes with his dark brown ones and whispered, “I’ll never hurt you.”
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vintagecarat · 8 hours
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Confessions and Cuddles
Summary: You finally tell Spencer that you love him.
A/N: This might be the absolute WORST title I've ever come up with. I wrote this on a whim without any sort of plan, and I already know that I'm going to cringe every single time I see the title of this one.
Enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day <3
Note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used (reader does have long hair, though), the briefest mention of intimacy in the entire world, tooth-rotting fluff,
Word Count: 2437
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After a lifetime of nothing but trauma heaped on top of even more trauma, Spencer couldn’t be any happier than he was in this moment.
You were curled up on the couch in Spencer’s apartment. You were sitting on his lap, and he was running his hands through your hair in a way that made you purr in satisfaction. For someone who wasn’t particularly fond of physical contact, Spencer absolutely adored being close to you and touching you whenever he could.
You were in the middle of watching a terrible rom-com - it had been your idea, and Spencer was never one to disagree with you - but it was clear that neither of you were paying attention. You only wanted to be close to one another, and if you had to suffer through a terrible movie to do it, then so be it. Spencer was often gone for so long when he was away on a case that you often ended up spending every single  moment clinging to each other when he was home.
You truly couldn’t get enough of him, and he truly couldn’t get enough of you.
Then, the peaceful silence was broken when you muttered something that made Spencer pause. His fingers stopped combing through your hair and came to rest on the nape of your neck as he looked down at you. His mouth was hanging open slightly, and there was a subtle blush creeping up his neck.
“What did you say…?”
At Spencer’s softly spoken words, you turned your head to look at him. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his shocked expression, even though your heart was pounding and a blush that matched his own began painting your cheeks.
“I…” your expression smoothed into a soft, albeit nervous, smile, “I said, I love you.”
You and Spencer had been dating for a little over a year, and your lives were beyond perfect. You’d both gone through so much in life, but everything felt absolutely worth it now that you had each other. You’d always imagined that there would be some grand performance when it finally came time to say those three words to him, but instead, you’d said them without even realising it.
You’d absolutely meant it, though. 
Spencer continued staring at you for a moment longer. He couldn’t find his voice at all, and his mouth was still hanging open. Then, his fingers began moving again, though instead of running them through the strands of your hair, he started to slowly braid them. Spencer’s hands were shaking.
“I love you, too,” Spencer muttered the words, almost as if he was worried that his voice would crack if he spoke them any louder, “So much.”
Your heart filled with so much warmth as he said those words back to you. There had never been any doubt in your mind that he loved you just as much as you loved him, but hearing the verbal confirmation meant more to you than anything.
A shiver ran down your spine at the touch of his gentle fingers against your scalp, and a smile flitted across your lips as he began braiding your hair. The last time he’d done that was after you’d been in a bad car accident and broken your arm. You supposed that the weeks after your accident were the moments you truly realised that you loved Spencer, but the words had been stuck to the tip of your tongue ever since.
“You’re shaking,” you’d already closed your eyes at this point, and you’d settled back into Spencer’s lap as if you hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell in your relationship, “You’re doing that thing where you scrunch your nose up when you’re trying not to cry, aren’t you?”
You didn’t even need to look at him to know exactly what was going on with his expression. You knew Spencer like the back of your hand, and you’d been with him for long enough to have picked up on every single one of his quirks and mannerisms. Just as he had for you. 
Spencer snorted a little at that, “I didn’t think I looked so obvious.”
“You do to me,” you hummed in response, letting out the softest sigh in the world. Spencer always made you feel so comfortable and safe.
You could easily fall asleep to the feeling of Spencer playing with and braiding your hair - to be honest, you’d definitely done that in the past. You’d always been so proud of your hair, and from the way Spencer seemed to find any sort of excuse to play with it, he loved it, too.
It felt as though the weight had been lifted from your shoulders now that the words were out in the open and you didn’t have anything to hide anymore. You and Spencer were inseparable, but you’d definitely wondered once or twice if he’d end up leaving because you’d taken too long to tell him that you loved him. It was a ridiculously stupid thought, of course. You knew that Spencer would rather die than leave you. 
“I don’t understand how you’re better at braiding my hair than I am,” you softly giggled. When you’d first started dating, Spencer didn’t seem at all like the type to do other people’s hair for them, so it came as a complete surprise when he seemed more natural at it than you ever did.
One thing Spencer had never told you was that he’d spent hours watching you intently as you sat in front of the mirror and did your hair. He’d been determined to copy it perfectly to surprise you. It ended up being that he was much better at it, though.
“I’m better than you at most things, sweetheart,” Spencer chuckled, “Braiding just happens to be one of them.”
“Oh. Ouch,” you faked a wince at his comment, and you playfully swatted him. It was true, though, Spencer was better than you at most things. It was hard not to be when he was a literal genius, “I try my best. It’s hard to keep up when you’ve got an IQ as big as your ego.”
You loved to tease Spencer every now and then over his IQ, even though his intelligence was definitely one of his most attractive traits. Spencer had these moments where he’d go full scientific mode and start spouting the most random facts he could think of, and every single time, you couldn’t stop staring at him in pure adoration. 
“I tell you I love you, and then you insult me,” you scoffed, “Despicable.” 
Spencer laughed at your playful swat, and he stopped braiding for a moment to catch your wrist and squeeze it, “Don’t complain too much, sweetheart. I’ve seen the way you look at me when I go into scientific mode,” he let go of your wrist and moved back to your hair, “You can’t hide how much you love it when I start spouting off random facts that go completely over your head.”
You shrugged, “What can I say? You look hot when you go into scientific mode,” you didn’t understand half of the things he told you, but you always listened to intently whenever he started rambling since his voice was your favourite things in the world, “I might not understand anything you’re saying, but that doesn’t mean I’m not listening very intently.”
“You don’t care about anything I’m saying, do you? You just like listening to my voice,” Spencer finished braiding your hair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist as he pulled you tightly against him so your back was flush against his chest, “I could be reading instructions for how to wash a dish and you’d still listen to every word.”
“Oh, absolutely,” you leaned your head back a little so you were almost resting against his shoulder, and you looked up at him, “I could listen to you talk for hours and I’d never get bored. You could probably read me the phone book and I’d listen to every single word.”
To be honest, it had mainly been Spencer’s voice that had attracted you to him in the first place. You’d met at the bookstore near where Spencer lived after you both tried to grab the same copy of your favourite book. Once you started talking about it, you found yourself falling head over heels for him. 
Your lips curled into a little smirk, and you placed your hand gently on his thigh as you squeezed it, “You don’t even realise how badly you turn me on when you whisper in my ear, do you?”
“Hm, I had a hunch,” his own smirk appeared on his lips as he spoke, though his eyebrow cocked slightly as you squeezed his thigh, “Don’t be sneaky, sweetheart. I’m not sure I can think of anything besides you right now, so I may start doing or saying something that I probably shouldn’t.”
You gasped in mock offence, “I’m not sneaky, Spence. I’m about as subtle as a brick wall,” your little smirk grew even wider as you squeezed his thigh again and you felt him tense up ever-so-slightly, “Especially when it comes to you.”
A low groan, a noise that Spencer didn’t make very often, escaped his lips before he could stop it, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m warning you, sweetheart,” he said, his tone half teasing and half serious, “If you keep that up, I might do something I shouldn’t.”
You scoffed out a laugh at that, but you raised your hands in a mock surrender, “Fine. I’ll stop,” you took your hand away from his thigh, instead choosing to take his hand and interlace your fingers. You stuck your tongue out at him, “Spoilsport.”
For a long moment, the two of you sat silently as you attempted to watch the rest of the movie, even though you’d barely been watching it from the beginning. Your earlier teasing attempts had all but been forgotten.
That was, until, you sneakily slipped your hand behind you, and you squeezed his thigh once more, making sure to go as close to touching through his jeans as you could without actually doing it.
Spencer’s body tensed. You both knew that he never had much restraint when it came to you. Spencer placed his free hand over your hand before you could move it from his thigh, “Please,” he whispered softly, his breath catching in his throat as he met your eyes, “Don’t keep doing that.”
“Sorry,” you shrugged a little sheepishly, “Couldn’t help myself. I’ll stop,” you meant it this time, too. Once Spencer started talking to you in that tone of voice and looking at you with that look in his eyes, you knew that you needed to stop teasing him. 
If there was one thing about your relationship with Spencer, it was that you always knew each other’s boundaries and never went over them.
Your teasing smirk dropped into a warm smile, and you snuggled back against Spencer’s chest with your head resting on his shoulder. You kept a tight hold of his hand, and your heart fluttered as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. You and Spencer held hands so much that you might as well have been superglued together.
"You're just so fun to tease."
Spencer grumbled, but his tone was teasing, “I swear to God. You’re going to be the death of me,” he squeezed your waist, “You know that, right?”
“Yep.”
A comfortable silence fell over the two of you again, and the only sound you could hear was Spencer’s heartbeat softly in your ear as you rested against his chest. 
“I can hear your heart beating,” Spencer said, as if he’d been reading your thoughts, “It’s quite loud.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grinned at him, “I’ll try and stop my heart from beating. Just for you.”
Spencer nodded, as if that was the answer he wanted to hear, and he smiled, “You know, experiments have demonstrated that conscious control of the breathing can actually cause arbitrary changes in heart rhythm,” he began to ramble, “It’s even possible to cause cardiac arrest by contracting the abdominal muscles.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as he rambled on and on about causing your own heart to stop. You were mainly focused on his lips as he talked with such enthusiasm.
Once Spencer realised that you weren’t saying anything, he looked down at you with a sheepish grin, “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“Oh yeah, you’re definitely rambling,” you giggled, gently tracing your finger over his lips. He had softer lips than you, which you were very jealous about, “You’re just… You’re so kissable when you’re rambling.”
Spencer laughed at that, and he pressed his lips together for a moment to stop himself from smiling like an absolute idiot, which was something he did a lot around you, “You’d kiss me any time. Dont lie.”
“I definitely would,” you teased, “Believe me. If I knew that I wouldn’t run out of breath, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.”
“Well, sweetheart, I can’t say I’d be too mad about that,” Spencer put a finger under your chin, tilting your  head up so that he could look into your eyes, “I’m pretty sure there are worse ways to die than kissing the love of your life.”
That sentence made you giddy, “I’m the love of your life now, huh?” you smiled at him, your eyes crinkling and your nose scrunching as you did so in the way that proved you were truly happy, “You’ve always got to one up me, haven’t you?”
“Absolutely, my love,” Spencer stroked your hair with his free hand, giving the braid he’d created for you a tug, “I told you. I’m better than you at most things. I think I’ll add confessing my love for you to that list, too.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
You scowled at him, but that expression immediately melted away when Spencer kissed you. Your kisses definitely had the tendency to be fiery and passionate when the time came for it, but most of the time, they were gentle and tender. A perfect representation of your relationship. 
After a moment, you and Spencer broke the kiss, and you continued smiling at each other like a pair of teenagers in love. To anyone else, it probably would’ve been sickening.
“I love you so much, Spence.”
“I love you too,” Spencer whispered, and he pressed his lips against your forehead before smirking, “So, what’s all this about you getting turned on when I whisper in your ear, hm?”
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secretlovezz · 3 hours
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can you write anything with bau! reader x spencer, who are expecting a baby🥺 i love dad spencer sm🫶🏻
Yes omg dad!Spencer he's my favorite! Hope you like this 🫶❤️
Spencer Reid x reader
Warnings: reader a little upset (Spence makes her feel better tho), pregnancy (duh), flufffffff, short and sweet, not proofread, wordcount: 582
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You try your best to focus on the task at hand, the stack of paperwork you had been putting off all week, emails on top of emails gathering in your computer's inbox, but the kicks of the baby growing inside you keep your mind elsewhere. Her little, still growing, feet kick into your ribs harshly making any position you try to move into uncomfortable, she just can't seem to keep still today; absolutely restless.
If you were home you might whine to your husband, Spencer, maybe even cry out of frustration but being surrounded by coworkers keeps you from doing both just as much as the baby keeps you from work.
Spencer watches as you rest your left hand on top of your bump -your thumb moving gently back and forth against the fabric of your top- and he smiles at the ring adorned on your finger, but when he takes notice of the slight discomfort etched onto your face his grin quickly dissipates. Your brows are drawn together in what seems to be annoyance, your eyes are closed, and your head is tipped back as you swivel your desk chair back and forth in an attempt to calm yourself and your little one.
you can feel Spencer's eyes raking your figure -he's always been able to read you just as quickly as he can read books- and you keep your eyes shut to avoid his worried glance despite your current need for his safeguard. You don't want him to think you're dramatic, that maybe you're being annoying despite knowing he would never think something like that of you and never has.
One of your eyes cracks open to glance at him and you hope the quick movement of you swiveling in your chair will keep him from noticing your peeking, but of course, he's far too perceptive to not detect your gaze. His head cocks to the side in question, "Are you alright," he asks.
You close your eye again and bring your hands to rub at your face, the tips of your cold fingers digging into your eyes, you're starting to get a headache.
Without warning two large hands land on your shoulders, fingers poke and prod at your skin in a way that makes you sigh in relief. When you tilt your head back -eyes still closed- your husband frowns at you, "I wish you'd tell me when your not feeling good."
you almost don't respond the movement of his fingers gently gliding to your hair and scratching at your scalp makes your bottom lip quiver slightly. "I'm okay." Your voice breaks when you speak and Spencer doesn't comment on it, he doesn't want to make you actually cry by pointing it out, instead he moves only one of his also cold hands down the slope of your heated cheeks and rest it there, a gentle remind that he's here for you.
"You look pretty, do you know that," he moves his head closer to your ear to whisper to you, "beautiful."
That finally makes your eyes snap open and he's grinning at you again. Groaning at how his teasing worked to get you looking at him, you tilt your head and lay a kiss on the palm of his hand, "your child is restless," You complain to him, "she gets it from you."
"I'm sorry." His words are sickeningly genuine, they make you smile.
"Its okay baby, I still love you."
He responds to your tease, "You better."
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slight angst with happy ending for aaron hotchner
he misunderstands your body language or something (maybe you grew a bit distant, more time on phone etc) and he thinks you cheat cuz he’s travelling for work and he’s had this small insecurity for a while
but obviously you’re not (leave it to you what reader was doing and if she reveals) cheating and comfort ensues
(love me some jealous hotch)
fem!plus size reader, wc: 566.
cw: angst, and fears of cheating :(
a/n: i know i need to let the angst breathe, but being the angst lover that i am, i almost jumped at this LMAO.
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Aaron wouldn’t blame you for cheating on him.
He was never home, he had a hard time answering your calls, and he barely texted you back; especially if he was away on a case. 
He hated that he even thought like this, but many nights he’d often catch you on your phone, texting away like he wasn’t lying right next to you. Aaron hated being nosy, but he’d sometimes find himself leaning over – just a bit – and playing it off as kissing you on cheek and bidding you goodnight. 
He’d understand if you were using the device to cool down or relax, but it was an everyday affair. When you were cooking? You’re texting with one hand. When you’re eating? As soon as the damn thing vibrates your eyes flicker over to where Aaron was sitting across from you quickly before looking back down and flipping the damn thing over.
Who the hell was holding your attention like this? 
Aaron didn’t want to offend you by accusing you of cheating on him, because he loves you, but if he didn’t at least know he would go crazy.
“Honey?” He had called out to you one night, his voice soft.
“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes still attached to your screen that illuminated the soft contours of your face. God, you were breathtaking.
“I -” For the first time since the beginning of your relationship, Aaron had no idea how to talk to you. “I don’t mean to intrude but… what are you doing?”
Your eyebrows furrow and you look up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that for the past week your phone has been glued to your hand.”
You look almost surprised at his confrontation, and that made his stomach drop. Is it really as bad as he thought it was? He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.
“Oh.” You were almost conflicted. “I-”
“Is there someone else?” Aaron never interrupted you, but he had to know, he had to get the hard part out of the way.
Your jaw dropped and your brows dipped low in disbelief, “Wha - what? No!” You scrambled to shove your device in his hand. “There’s no one Aaron, look.” Your head gestured down to your phone and when he did, he felt like an idiot.
There at the top was labeled ‘Penny <3’
“You know… your birthday is coming up soon, and me and Penelope were just trying to plan something nice for you. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t ask me about it because you know I can’t lie to you, and I didn’t want all of Penelope’s hard work to go to waste.”
Oh yeah, he was definitely really fucking embarrassed, but he was also overcome with the overwhelming feeling of shame.
How could he have assumed the worst out of you? All this time you were distant was because you loved him so much to the point where you couldn't keep anything from him.
“Oh, honey I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with remorse, and you only grabbed his large hand and kissed the back of it in response. You felt a cheeky smile tugging on your face.
“I’ll forgive you on one condition.”
“Whatever you want, it’s yours.” You shivered at the satisfying sound.
“You have to act surprised when you walk into the room okay?”
He chuckles but nods, “I promise.”
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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 days
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I hate myself for this but... sigh, I can't help it. At least this one is soft and not angsty
Aaron Hitch x Dad Male Reader
Hotch has been having trouble moving on from Haley (maybe divorce?) Despite it being 2 years. Garcia decides to talk him into going on a few blind dates, one of which is a friend of hers from an online RPG. Hotch is reluctant but agrees, trusting Garcia with her taste in friends.
When Hotch arrives at the small restaurant and stares hes there for a reservation that Garcia set up, he's lead to Reader already waiting at a table. Garvia failed to mention that Hotch's blind date was a man and so he's caught off guard. Through the date, it's obvious Hotch and Reader are awkward until Hotch mentions his son. As it turns out, Reader is a single dad as well after his fiance walked out
They bond over being parents and agree to meet up again. So they do, multiple times. They even set up little get togethers between the kids
Hiya, sorry this has take me so long (actually I'm sorry all of my requests are taking me so long aha) but I hope you enjoy it, it was a really cute request! :)
Description: What is says on the tin, really aha
You watch a man approach you and you know its him. Garcia knows your taste in men well and you have no doubt she would have ensured that the date she picked out for you would be perfect.
He approached you awkwardly, seeing that you were the only individual who was on their own. "Are you here for a blind date?" He asked, cheeks tinting pink.
"Yeah, I'm (Y/N), are you Aaron?"
The man, Aaron, nods. He's awkward, which makes you awkward. He sits down, "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting a-"
"Man?"
"Yeah,"
"I see... We, er, we don't have to do this, if you don't want to-" You rush out, already standing up.
"No, no, it's okay," He said, giving a small smile, sitting in the chair opposite you. "So, how do you know Garcia?"
"We play the same RPG, but we started talking on the forums and then eventually met up," You nod.
"RPG?" Aaron tilted his head, "That's role playing game, isn't it?"
You nod, grinning, "Yeah." Man, he was just too cute.
He nods as well, with a small smile.
Another minute passed in awkward silence. "So... Garcia mentioned you had a son?" You asked.
Aaron nods, a small smile already painting his face, "Yeah, Jack. He's just turned six."
"Oh, wow, my son's five," You nodded.
"You have a son?" Aaron asked, eyes widening slightly.
"Yeah, Ethan," You grinned. "His favourite thing at the minute is cars,"
"Jack's the same," Aaron said with a small laugh, "Cars and trains,"
"See, Ethan's not hopped on the train trend just yet," You laugh, "He's definitely on the dinosaur trend though,"
"Jack's not gone through that phase just yet,"
"Oh, cars and dinosaurs are all Ethan talks about," You smile.
After that, the rest of the meeting (*cough* date *cough*) went rather well, the initial awkwardness has dissolved and the pair of you stayed out late, talking about anything and everything. He now knew that Ethan's mother had left when he was still a baby, and you knew about the nasty divorce with his ex-wife Haley. You had even arranged a second meeting (read: 'date - sort of') where Jack and Ethan could meet each other the following week.
It was next week before you knew it. Ethan was so excited, practically bouncing off the walls.
"Are they here yet?!" Ethan asked, running in again.
"Bud, I've told you, I'll let you know when they're here-" You said with a small laugh, getting cut off by the doorbell ringing. "And it looks like they're now here,"
"Wooo!" Ethan cheered. "I can't wait to meet them,"
Ethan babbled as he followed you to the front door. "I'm sure Jack's just as excited to meet you," You grin. You really hoped the pair of them got along, you thought as you opened the front door.
"Hi," You breathed, seeing Aaron (that polo shirt on him? Damn).
"Hi," He replied. You grinned slightly, seeing the tips of his ears go pink.
"Hi! I'm Ethan!"
"I'm Jack!" Jack exclaims, equally excited.
"You wanna go play? My dad got me some new cars!"
"I love cars!" You smile as Ethan grabs Jack's hand and they both run off to go and play.
You turn to Aaron, "That looked like it went well,"
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Midnight | Chapter 18 | S.R
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Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Chapter Summary - whilst trying to clean up the mess you made, Luke makes a discovery. Spencer and Luke have it out before Spencer comes to a realisation about his mental state.
A/N - chapter starts just before the end of the last chapter as reader is storming away from Luke.
Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader
Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending
Warnings - use of “bitch” and “whore” (not towards reader), mentions of sexual assault, blackmail, swearing, murder, blood, PTSD, talk of split personas and alter egos. WC - 4.7k
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Chapter 18 - Uncontainable
When you stormed away from Luke back towards the cabin, the raised voice coming from inside stopped you in your tracks as you reached the front porch. All your years of FBI training kicked in at that moment and you slowly and cautiously crept to the window. 
The first thing you saw was a wave of bright red hair flashing before your eyes as the person it belonged to moved frantically back and forth. But it soon became clear she wasn’t moving of her own accord. 
Spencer, who was only wearing a pair of underwear, shook her by her wrist somewhat violently, yelling in her face. 
“Listen you little bitch, do you have any idea how many people are actually assaulted every day? How many don’t report it because they’re scared they won’t be believed? And you want to use their real pain for your own sick gain?”
You frowned at his words, trying to deduce what they were arguing about whilst also making sure you didn’t make a sound. 
“You know you’re not helping yourself right? If you bruise me it’ll only make my story seem more believable.” Mary spat back at him and you saw Spencer quickly let her go. “And don’t think I haven’t seen the bruises on your lovely wife. I’m sure she would back up my story.” 
Story? What story? Was she exploiting Spencer? Had Luke told her who you really were and now she was trying to blackmail him? He said something about unreported assaults, was she going to tell people he assaulted her? 
“The only story she would back up is the one where you’re a desperate little whore who shamelessly wanted to fuck a man you perceived to married.” He barked at her. 
“Well I guess we’ll see won’t we? Who’s going to believe the strange out of towner over the young, innocent girl.” 
That was all you needed to hear. You could put an end to this, clear up this mess before it got out of hand. 
You crept around the side of the cabin and let yourself in the back gate. You made sure to walk silently up the spiral staircase that led to the first floor patio and thank god you’d been too drunk to think about locking the bedroom doors last night. 
You snuck inside and quickly found the SIG in Spencer’s nightstand. You’d done this so many times before, sneaking up on an unsub, it was like second nature. Breathe through your nose, steady, shallow breaths. Feet barely ghosting the floor. Do not make a sound. Keep the gun pointing straight ahead. 
You silently made it down the stairs and you heard her voice again as you reached the kitchen door. 
“I told you I want out of this town. I work three jobs and I am nowhere close to having enough. Finding out your little secret is the best thing that could have happened to me. So if you don’t give me what I want, I will disgrace the former FBI agent Spencer Reid and tell everyone that you raped me. Ten grand should do it.” 
You could feel the anger rolling off of Spencer in waves before you even entered the room. He would see you the second you stepped inside and you had to hope he could control his facial expressions long enough so Mary wouldn’t see you coming. 
“Let’s just talk about this, please?” He was begging her as you slowly pushed open the door. His eyes flicked over toward you and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 
“No, no more talking. You pay me now or I will go straight to the cops.” 
You cocked the gun and if she heard it, it would have been too late. You aimed at the back of her head and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The sound of the gunshot rang out through the room as the bullet hit its target and continued careening out the front of her skull towards the wall. 
She made a pathetic gasping sound as her body crumbled to the floor right at Spencer’s feet. The shock was written all across his face as he looked up at you, still holding the smoking gun in your hand. 
You tucked it in your waistband and strolled closer to Spencer whose mouth was hanging open and wide eyes glared at you in a stupor. 
“W-what did you…? Why did you?” He croaked out as you stepped closer, not a single hint of remorse in your eyes. 
“Karma’s a bitch.” You shrugged simply. “And so was she.” 
“Are you insane?” He yelled in exasperation. “We don’t kill close to home! How are we supposed to talk our way out of this?”
Her blood was splattered across his bare torso and arms, but he didn’t seem to notice, his frustration taking precedence. 
“She was threatening you! What was I supposed to do? Let her tell the whole town you raper her? Or let you fork over all of our cash to keep her quiet?” You glared at him. 
“Fuck, Y/N, this is bad.” He scratched his head, trying to formulate a plan. “We need to clean this up. We need to make sure every inch of this cabin is as clean as when we found it. We need to get her body in the trunk of the car, we need to dispose of it, and then we need to leave town.” 
“Leave town? That will only make us look more guilty.” You scoffed. 
“By the time they figure out she’s missing we will be so far away from here, they will never find us. And with any luck the freaking BAU won’t find us again either!” He spat. 
You rolled your lip between your teeth and took a step back.
“You know that Luke was here.” You looked guilty. 
“Yes, Y/N I do. Fuck, this is falling apart like a house of goddamn cards.” 
“I’m…I'm sorry.” You swallowed thickly, your previous bravado fading around you. “I’m so sorry.” 
“Hey, hey. It’s ok.” He stepped around Mary’s body closer to you, suddenly softening. “You were trying to help.” 
He cupped your cheek in his hand and held you so gently you could cry. He looked at you as though you hung the moon, his love for you so painfully clear at that moment. 
“I fucked up, Spence.” Your bottom lip quivered. 
“And we’ll fix it. Together, ok? We’re in this together, sweetheart. I promise you we will figure this out.” He leant closer to you and pressed his lips to yours. 
You believed him, you had no reason not to. If anyone was going to be able to set this right it was Spencer. When the two of you worked together, it was some kind of magic. With Spencer on your side this didn’t seem quite as daunting as it actually was. 
***
Luke’s cell phone rang as he was letting himself back into the hire car. He grinded his teeth, not particularly wanting to talk to anyone right now. 
His encounter with you had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew there was something bigger at play here, he knew Spencer had done something, he just had no idea how to prove it. 
He slid into the driver's seat and pulled his phone from his pocket, brows furrowing instantly when he saw the name on the display. He gnawed his bottom lip and answered it, placing the device to his ear. 
“Phil?” He ran his fingers over his stubble. 
“Hey man,” Phil’s voice lacked its usual bounce and under normal circumstances Luke would have asked what was wrong but it was the least of his concerns right now. 
“I’m sorry now really isn’t a good time.” Luke slotted the key in the ignition but didn’t start the engine. 
“I really need to talk to you.” 
“I’m up to my eyes in a case, I’ll call as soon I’m-”
“It’s about Duncan Green.” Phil cut him off. 
Luke’s hand that was still on the key fell to his lap as his blood froze in his veins. It had been several years since he’d last heard that name but it didn’t make it any less sinister. 
“I’m sorry, what?” Luke leant back against the chair, gaze somewhere out of the window but not focused on anything. He could feel every erratic beat of his heart. 
“A body was found in a shallow grave in the Rio Grande National Forest in Colorado. We got a call after local cops got a match to his prints.” Phil’s tone was morose, not at all how Luke expected him to react to this. 
“He’s dead?” Luke wanted to jump for joy but he put the party on hold. He could tell there was something Phil wasn’t saying. 
“Had his throat cut. He’s been living in Albuquerque under the assumed name of Matthew Richards since his escape from prison.” 
Luke closed his eyes, holding the phone in a vice like grip. Green had been murdered, his body found in Colorado. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his cool, at least for the time being. 
“Is it a coincidence or do you think someone tracked him down?” Luke kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 
“I don’t believe in coincidences. The bureau still has sightings of him come in everyday but you know we can’t check out every lead, it would be impossible. But the Green case was accessed just a few weeks ago and again a week ago by the same government login details.” Phil’s voice sounded even more sullen. 
“Who’s were they?” Luke held his breath, already having a pretty good idea of what he might say. 
“L. Alvez.” Phil sighed as he spoke. 
Luke opened his eyes, slamming his hand violently against the steering wheel and letting out an animalistic groan. 
“Fuck.” He spat, slamming the wheel again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“I can only assume it wasn’t you?”
“Of course it wasn’t me!” Luke spat, pinching the bridge of his nose firmly between his fingers. 
There were only two people who he could think of that would have accessed that file. You knew him well enough to assume his login password, like it wouldn’t be hard for him to guess yours. And Spencer was a goddamn genius and it wouldn’t be at all difficult for him to figure it out. 
He had a post it note on his desk at work, hidden under his keyboard with his password scrawled on it, even though he knew it was dumb to do so. Realistically anyone at the BAU could have found it and logged onto the database as him but you and Spencer were the only ones who had the motive to do so. 
Green killed your sister, it wasn’t a far stretch to think you would have wanted him dead. And if Spencer was really in love with you, maybe he’d do just about anything for you, including finding the monster who ruined your life. 
He took a few deep breaths to try and compose himself before he spoke again. 
“How far is the National Forest from Crested Butte?” He grumbled, still pinching his nose. 
“Uh, why?” Phil’s tone was riddled with confusion.
“Just look, please?” 
“Fine, let me check.” Phil started tapping away at a keyboard for a moment or two before he spoke again. “About one hundred and sixty miles south, give or take.” 
“Goddamnit.” Luke hit the steering wheel again. 
“You gonna fill me in on what angle you’re working here, Alvez?” 
“I…no not yet.” Luke shook his head. “I gotta go.” 
“Alvez, tell me what you’re thinking.” Phil remained calm. 
“I can’t. Not yet. I need to piece this together first.”
“I can help you.” 
“No, you can’t. I’ll call you later.” Luke quickly pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up, smacking the wheel several more times. “God-fucking-damnit Y/N, what have you done?” 
Suddenly he grabbed the keys back out of the ignition and was hurling himself onto the street and marching in the direction of your cabin. 
***
Spencer closed every single one of the curtains on the house just to be sure. He wiped the residual blood off his torso, he’d shower properly later as he was bound to get dirty again, and threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, foregoing a shirt. 
While he was busy doing that, you laid out garbage bags and wrapped Mary’s dead body in them, sealing every inch to ensure no more unnecessary blood leaked out. You dragged her dead weight through to the kitchen, on your way towards the back door when there was a sudden and rampant knocking at the door. 
You froze in your tracks just as Spencer appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked at you, now covered in Mary’s blood after wrapping her up. He slowly padded downstairs, as quietly as possible in the hopes whoever was at the door would think you were out. 
But then they knocked again. 
“Y/N, I know you’re in there! Open the door!” Luke’s voice carried through to you both. 
“Shit.” You hissed, ducking below the kitchen counter even though the curtains were drawn. 
“He’s not gonna leave easily.” Spencer sighed, looking down at himself to ensure there was no visible blood. “You stay here, it’s about time Luke and I had it out anyway.” 
“Spencer, there’s a blood pool in the middle of the room and a fucking bullet in the wall!” You reminded him, glaring at him from the floor where Mary’s trash bag covered body was laying next to you. 
“Shit,” he groaned. “You’re right. If I open the door he might try and force his way in.” 
“Y/N! Open this goddamn door!” Luke yelled louder this time. 
“I’ll go round back, it might look suspicious but it’s better than the alternative.” He nodded to himself. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” 
“Spencer!” You whined, halting him in his tracks. “I’m scared.” 
He rolled his lip between his teeth and moved closer to you, dropping to his knees next to you and cupping your face. 
“I’m going to take care of it sweetheart. I promise you, everything is going to be ok.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before standing back up and you watched him stroll out of the kitchen towards the back door. 
You whimpered a little when Luke knocked again, heavier and angrier than before. You held your breath, moving to a sitting position on the kitchen floor and drawing your legs up to your chest and leaning back against the cupboard.
Spencer marched through the garden and out of the side gate, ready to face Luke for hopefully the final time. 
“Y/N open the fucking door! I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me!” Luke slammed his palms against the door just as Spencer was rounding the house and stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. 
“You’re gonna be here a long time then.” He folded his arms across his chest and he saw Luke tense at the sound of his voice. 
Slowly, the older man turned to face him, hands going to his hips and squaring his shoulders. 
“Where is she?” Luke spat. 
“That's none of your concern.” Spencer kept his cool, he needed to keep his anger bottled up if he was going to get through his encounter. 
“She’s my friend.” He folded his arms too.
“But she’s my wife.” Spencer smirked, unfolding his own arms and proffering his ring finger toward Luke.
“You and I both know that’s not real.” Luke scoffed. 
“It’s a symbol, Alvez. She loves me and who knows, maybe one day we’ll make it real. So stop chasing her down like a pathetic love struck puppy. She doesn’t want you, man, deal with it.” Spencer shrugged, offering him a slightly sympathetic smile. 
“You think that’s what this is about? You think I came all this way because I want to win her heart? We’re not in high school, Reid.” He rolled his eyes. 
“I think you’re jealous and you’re concocting scenarios in your head as a way of making yourself feel better when the truth is, Y/N and I just wanted to get away from it all. From you all. Do us a favour and leave us alone, Alvez. We don’t need you chasing after us.” Spencer spat as Luke headed down the front steps towards him.
“So it’s just a coincidence that Duncan Green turned up dead in the same state you and Y/N decided to call home?” 
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. It felt like a trap, he needed to pick his words very carefully. He made sure to keep his expression unchanged, didn’t even so much as blink at Luke’s words but inside he was panicking. 
Just take a breath. Calm down. Don’t rise to it. 
“Who?” Spencer hid the recognition from his face, but Luke still saw through it. 
“Don’t play dumb, Reid. It doesn’t suit you.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Duncan Green, the man who killed Y/N’s sister, who broke out of prison and who we were chasing at the FTF for years. He was found with his throat cut less than two hundred miles from here and my user was the last to look him up. All seems a little coincidental doesn’t it?” 
“Right, yeah Y/N has told me about him. What are you implying, Alvez?” Spencer cocked his eyebrow. “You think, what? I killed him? Oh come on, do you really believe I’m capable of something like that?” 
“The thing is, I’m not sure what you’re capable of. I thought I knew you both but I’m not so sure anymore.” Luke shook his head. “Some twenty two year old told me you were sleeping with her. Some diner guy told me Y/N said you were a bully. Hell, the guy at the used car lot thought she was scared of you! All that makes me think that maybe I never really knew you.” 
Don’t let him break you, Reid, do not give him anything. 
“Luke with all due respect, why are listening to these morons over me? You do know me, and you know I’m not capable of killing someone.” 
Luke’s expression faltered and Spencer breathed a small sigh of relief, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. He just had to stick the landing, don’t fumble it at the last hurdle. 
“I really don’t know what to think, Spencer. Of course I don’t want to believe you’re capable of something like this but there are just so many things that don’t add up here. And I swear to god if you did kill Green and you’ve put Y/N in danger, I will make it my life’s work to put you back in prison for the rest of your life.” Luke spat, his expression one Spencer had seen him use many times in interrogations. 
Spencer took a step back as a smirk twitched at his lips. He shrugged his shoulders at Luke. 
“You’re not as intimidating as you think you are, Alvez. And I can promise you, if I had done something, you would never get me back inside a prison cell.” He took a few more steps back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Now if you’d kindly get the hell out of here and leave us alone.” 
Spencer turned on his heels and started back towards the side gate. He thought Luke might have more to say, he heard the other man grunting in frustration behind him, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. 
He threw open the gate and bolted it behind him, not slowing as he traversed the backyard and made his way inside the cabin, locking the back door behind him. He found you more or less where he left you, cowering on the kitchen floor next to the garbage bag stuffed with Mary’s corpse. 
You looked up at him, bottom lip quivering as you hugged your legs to your chest. It was such a strange juxtaposition to see you so frightened when you hadn’t hesitated in pulling the trigger and killing Mary not so long ago. 
Spencer slid down to the floor next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and you instinctively rested your head on him. He could hear your erratic breaths as you snuggled against him.
“Is he gone?” You whispered. 
“Not yet. I’d kill him with my bare hands if I didn’t still respect him so damn much.” Spencer sighed. 
“I would never forgive you if you killed Luke.” You raised your head and looked at him. 
“I know, sweetheart. And I wouldn’t do that to you. But jeez he’s a pain in the ass.” He used his free hand to cup your face delicately and his fingertips brushed lightly over your cheek. “He knows about Green.”
Your face paled, colour completely draining from your skin as you stared at him in horror.
“He…what?” You swallowed. 
“I didn’t get the full story but I guess they found his body. There is nothing that can tie us to him, Y/N. We were careful.” He tried to insist. 
Apart from the fact I used Luke’s credentials to track him, he decided against saying out loud.
“What happens now, Spence?” 
“We have to wait him out, he won’t stay out there forever. Once it’s dark we have to get rid of the body, clean up this house and we have to get the fuck out of this town before anyone realises she’s missing.” 
“I like it here.” You sighed sadly. 
He could have pointed out the fact that if it weren’t for you being so trigger happy then you wouldn’t have to leave. Not so long ago, he would have pointed that out. He would have gotten angry, blamed you for this, for Mary’s death, for Luke showing up here and for the BAU being on your asses. But something had changed in Spencer.
It was entirely plausible that his time in prison had caused a break in his psyche. The PTSD that he’d left untreated for so long had manifested itself in the form of a second persona, much more dark and evil than himself. When he found his anger rising, he switched into this alter ego without meaning to, maybe because Spencer had never been good at dealing with anger or emotions in general.
His alter allowed him to stand up for himself, to deal with that residual trauma and not bottle it all up like he’d been doing his entire life. You’d told him he was like Jekyll and Hyde and you were right. 
But he was learning that the love he felt for you, that swarmed through every inch of his body was what could tether him. If he focused only on that love and not on the rage, he could keep the monster at bay. Best case scenario, he may never need to kill again, but really he’d just settle for not ever having to make you scared of him again. 
He wanted to be the man you needed him to be. None of this hassle was worth it if he didn’t have you at his side at the end of the day. You were worth not giving over to his demons for, you were the only thing that mattered in his completely fucked up existence. 
He knew if it came down to it he would take the wrap for everything, Green, Mary and Jason Durand included. He would not let you go down for any of this. He was going to the ends of the Earth to protect you no matter what. He loved you so much, it was the least he could do. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 
“I know sweetheart, but I’ll find you a new Stars Hollow, I promise.” He kissed your forehead. 
“Won’t they just come for us again? They’re going to keep coming for us, Spencer.” You chewed on your lip. 
“We have to be extra careful this time. We have to figure out a plan, we can’t use the Nissan anymore, not now the team knows about it. And our aliases are blown. Fuck, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” He confessed, letting go of your face so he could pinch the bridge or his nose. 
A smile tugged at your lips which caused Spencer to frown at you. 
“Good job I’m always prepared. I was a fugitive hunter, Spencer, we don’t leave anything to chance.” You sat back and reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out four similar rectangular cards which you handed over to him. “I think through every eventuality. The BAU have no idea what they’re dealing with.”
Spencer looked on in awe at the four driving licences in his hand. Two bore your photograph and two his. There was one matching set of Arizona issued licences for Samuel and Violet Truman and another set of Florida licences for Jack and Lily Waters. He glanced up at you with a curious expression on his face. 
“Samuel and Violet will buy themselves a little car to go on their American road trip. Meanwhile, Jack and Lily will be checking into motels along their way.” You smiled mischievously at him Spencer’s own smile grew. He had never loved you more than he did at that moment. 
“Good god woman, you’re an evil genius.” He pulled you close and kissed you hard. “If we make it out of this, remind me to marry you for real one day.” 
You giggled against his lips, both of you completely forgetting the imminent danger you could be in, ignoring the dead body by your side and Luke still skulking around outside. 
“We’ll be ok right, Spence? If we leave this place, we’ll find somewhere new and they won’t find us. We’re gonna be ok, aren’t we?” You needed to hear him say it.
“We're going to be just fine, sweetheart. We’re going to take care of this mess and we’re not looking back, only forward. They can’t curb us like they want to. They don’t get us. It’s you and me.” 
“You and me.” You repeated. “We’re uncontainable.” 
Hey,
we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back,
We're uncontainable!
Woo!
(Are you ready? Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls for the main event.
Ha-ha, they aren't ready for this one! Yeah, here we are!)
Comin' out the gate I'm swinging,
And if you're in my way you'll feel it.
I hear you think you're tough,
So put your hands up,
We never back down from a fight.
So lemme ask ya,
Can they stop us?
(No!)
Break us?
(No!)
Get your game face on,
We're against the ropes!
Tap out?
(No!)
Throw in the towel?
(Hell no!)
'Cause when the bell goes off the gloves do too.
Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back,
We're uncontainable!
Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back,
We're uncontainable!
Throwin' off the chains,
I'm runnin'.
You think you're at the top,
You're fallin.
Swing and miss you're through,
You're out of the loop,
We're gonna bury you alive.
So lemme ask ya,
Can they stop us?
(No!)
Break us?
(No!)
Get your game face on,
We're against the ropes!
Tap out?
(No!)
Throw in the towel?
(Hell no!)
'Cause when the bell goes off the gloves do too.
Hey, we're takin' our crown we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back?
We're uncontainable!
Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back?
We're uncontainable!
Keep swingin', keep dreamin',
But you'll never knock me out.
I've fallen too often,
But you'll never keep me down.
You see it, you feel it,
Your mama can't save you now.
One day they'll say,
The throne was made for me.
Yeah,
Uncontainable.
(Is he?)
We're uncontainable.
Hey, we're takin' our crown we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back,
We're uncontainable!
Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.
Hey, we never look back,
We're uncontainable!
Stop us?
(No!)
Break us?
(No!)
Get your game face on,
We're against the ropes!
Tap out?
(No!)
Throw in the towel?
(Hell no!)
Never look back,
We're uncontainable.
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@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom
55 notes · View notes
thewulf · 2 days
Note
Hiii🌸🌸 well this is my first time requesting so it's conoletly fine if you don't like this idea, no problem here!
Also I don't know how much you like to write about family dynamics, but if it's alright with you...
Aaron Hotchner x reader,
It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom".... And of course Aaron is there the whole time taking care of his' and his family emotions.
Kinda fluff, then angst and fluff ending hahha
If you want to write it, it would be such an honor you are my favorite writter in here but if you don't feel like it, it's fine
Love you and thank you 🌸🌸🌸
Ooooof this one is brutal. But I love it. Kids are sooooo mean sometimes and know exactly how to make it hurt!
You got it!
52 notes · View notes
mickisnotclever · 2 days
Text
~ Made Just for You ~
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Prompt: "To Belong" - Day 24 of @hotchfiles 's event MarchHotchness! (It's two days late but pretend it isn't, alright?)
Relationships: General, No ship, Aaron Hotchner & His Family, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, Blood, Alcoholism, Guns
Word Count: 1,819 | This wasn't meant to be this long. I have other fics I'm trying to update but this simply took hold of me
AN: I've never posted fic to tumblr before so I hope I did this right. Also, if this isn't the greatest can you just ignore it or lie to me? Lmao I'm so nervous about posting this. Takes place in very early days + season 1 era, so no Emily yet.
Home should be the one place where every child feels like they fit seamlessly. There should be spaces carved out in the exact shape of their bodies for them to nestle into at the end of a long day.
Aaron's house had no space for him when he was growing up.
It was too crowded with empty glass bottles and tin cans. Filled to the brim with the sound of his mother's muffled cries. Packed tight with his brother's desperation to please.
He had become an expert contortionist at a very young age.
He learned how to fold up his presence, to tuck himself into the tiniest crack. He perfected the skill of fading away in plain sight when his father transformed into a raging whirlwind that threatened to rip their house apart.
As time went on, he learned how to conveniently materialize when the crosshairs started to focus on his mother or brother.
He was nonexistent one moment, and there the next. Ready and willing to fill the space between the flying leather and his baby brother's pleading form.
He began to almost like it in a way.
He didn't enjoy the searing pain but he learned to take it. He almost... wanted it. It reminded him that he was there, that his father saw him for at least a few moments. Despite the circumstance, he was allowed to share the space with him for a while. He was allowed to exist loudly. He was allowed to have a voice. It didn't matter that he was crying in agony and despair.
The Hotchner house looked like a normal one from the outside. A regular family resided there, two parents and two children. They never wanted for anything, be it food and water or possessions. The neighbors saw them as equals, as as people who they could turn to for help. After all, they were the perfect family.
But Aaron knew the truth. That only one child truly lived there. Only one child fit there, was allowed to freely move around the whole area without a second thought, belonged there.
If Aaron had to make himself a ghost in order to allow his brother to live, then so be it. He'd gladly glide between the spaces that held the evidence of his brother's childhood. He drifted past the height markers on the door frame with an "S" scratched next to each one. None of them had an "A" next to them. There was a dent marring the other side of the frame where a heavy bottle had missed Aaron's head. He was fine with that.
When he silently drifted past the refrigerator and saw a display of a carefully crafted drawing with a shakily penned name, he smiled to himself. The award Aaron had been given for his high marks at school was still just as valuable where it remained in his bag.
He was too busy making himself small to notice when he had grown up. His family hadn't noticed either, least of all his father.
The times with him that Aaron used to relish in a demented way had grown tainted with resentment. The blood that dripped from his mouth, another stain in the carpet, was no longer proof that he was alive. It was no longer the mark of some sick justification to himself that his father was helping him grow strong. It was just another reminder that he was only allowed to leave traces of himself behind when they were ripped violently from his body.
The day he decided to pack his things and leave for college, his father tried to pull him back into the residence that rejected his presence.
Aaron unfolded himself then, staring the man dead in the eyes, and his father finally saw him. All of him. His fury blazed bright behind carefully tempered glass.
And he let Aaron go.
Aaron wasn't sure how to stop hiding within himself. His whole life had been spent ensuring that he didn't have a noticeable presence. Now, he was free to have one. When he reached to feel the space where it should be, his fingertips brushed nothing but an empty cavern.
Days turned months into years and he found solace in being directed to designated areas.
This is your dormitory. Your side. Your bed.
Temporary ownership of a space was all he needed.
This is your classroom. Your desk.
He studiously made his way through classes, doing everything he needed to ensure he received top marks. Before he could form a permanent place for himself, he'd be moving on to another.
This is your building. This is your desk. These are your clients.
He presented facts, he helped people get justice. It was the closest he came to feeling like he had a purpose, a place he was supposed to be.
But feelings of uncertainty snagged inside him, on the edges of something he wasn't aware was there. Seeing how clients had suffered made him want to go back further, to help before they were hurt.
It was never about him. He couldn't let himself unfurl here. He had a job to do. And he moved on, abandoning the area he briefly allowed himself to settle.
This is your new classroom. This is your gun locker. This is your protective gear.
He didn't need to fill out any extra space with anything other than what he was trained to do. Follow the protocol, become the best he can be, help his teammates complete the task. He was just another highly skilled shooter under a helmet. This was easy.
The feeling remained.
Then came the FBI.
This is your desk. These are your supplies.
He met Jason Gideon. The man studied him in a way he never had been before. It filled him with discomfort.
He focused on his work. The unknowable thing inside him grew a little more every time they managed to successfully stop a tragedy from happening.
The first time a cup of coffee appeared on his desk in the morning, he thought someone had forgotten it there. Looking around for anyone that seemed to be searching for it, he spotted Gideon raising his own identical cup at him with a nod.
A hidden corner within unfolded as he took a drink from his cup.
He met Derek Morgan. The man was downright playful in a way he was extremely unfamiliar with. For a long while, he didn't know what to do with it. Slowly, he attempted to match the man's energy. At first, it was just once in a while when a sarcastic comment made its way past his lips before he could prevent it. Before he noticed, it was an almost daily occurrence. And he found he didn't hate it.
Gideon recruited an incredibly young man, Spencer Reid.
Almost immediately, he saw himself in the younger man. The way he would hunch over, how he would ball himself up into his seat, the way he seemed to speak as fast as he could whenever he had someone's attention before his allotted time was up. Aaron began to leave space for Reid to bloom, letting him speak about the things he wanted to whenever there were no time sensitive matters at hand.
Whenever he saw another piece of Reid emerge from its hiding spot, something within him followed suit.
Penelope Garcia was a force that he was utterly thrown by and drawn to, simultaneously. She was so loud, in more ways than the literal. Her unashamedly bright clothes rivaled her personality and Aaron almost envied her. When he was focused on the work, he sometimes didn't have room for her colorful words but sometimes, despite himself, he would smile.
Another part of him unfurled, and the thing within grew a little more.
Elle Greenaway was someone he understood. He saw her drive right from the start and felt a tug of recognition. She just wanted a chance and he related to that deep in his bones. There was no question that she did good work. She joined the team and he knew it would be a good fit. The first time she made a joke that pulled a laugh from his chest, they both stared at each other with surprise. Maybe hers was mixed with a little more delight than his.
But he felt the swell of the thing growing, getting very close to filling him up to the edges.
Jennifer Jareau was a whirlwind, she looked over cases with a speed and intensity that he admired. The way she knew just what to say to the press to keep them as informed as possible while ensuring they still had control over the message was a skill he appreciated. When she teased him about his stoic outwardly appearance, he only felt a smile pulling at his lips when before he would’ve vanished into himself.
With these people, he didn’t have to be “the other one” or “your brother” or “hey, you” or even “Aaron.” He could just be Hotch.
And here, Hotch was a part of the team. Not just any part, but an integral part. They didn’t only need him, but they wanted him.
He felt it in the way that Reid moved unconsciously to save him a spot right next to him in line as they delivered a profile.
When Morgan lifted his arm to clap him on the shoulder, and Hotch had absolutely no fear that his hand would come crashing down on him.
In the moments when Gideon pulled him aside to give him praise in the veiled manner that he had learned how to decipher over the years.
When Elle would notice he hadn’t smiled in a while and crack a joke to make him laugh.
When JJ would bring food over while they were working long cases and offer him his favorite burger.
On a slow day, when Gideon would show him a rare coin he had managed to find, smiling at Hotch’s excitement, and then pressed it into his palm wordlessly.
In the field, when he could hold a confiscated weapon behind him without looking and know that Reid would be there to take it from him.
When Morgan would bust a door open and Hotch could go in first, confident that he had his back.
When Garcia would work at the speed of light based on his suggestions and then compliment his thought process, saying they were unstoppable together.
The thing that had been steadily growing in the depths of his being was now firmly in place. He couldn’t hide away even if he tried. And he didn’t want to.
There were spaces carved out for him all around the members of his team. He didn’t just grow with them, but he grew around them.
This place was made just for him.
He had finally found where he belonged.
And he never wanted to leave.
49 notes · View notes
hotchnisslvr · 2 days
Text
“After Hours”
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader
Summary: After ignoring orders on a case, Hotch calls you into his office to teach you an important lesson: there's no 'I' in team. (Highly Explicit)
Warnings: smut, p in v, blindfolds, bindings, delayed orgasm, vibrators, light choking, nipple clamps, dom!aaron hotchner
Words: 5.4k
Read on AO3:
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Your spine stiffens as he calls your name. His voice is flat, but you know that tone. Just your name on his lips is an order all its own.
Derek’s eyes meet yours as you rise from your desk. “Good luck,” he whispers, though you’re the only two in the bullpen. You’d stayed late to finish paperwork after the closing of your most recent case before the weekend.“Nothing good ever comes from that tone.”
You smooth the front of your skirt and adjust the front of the button-up blouse that’s tucked into it. You thank Morgan as you pass his desk and he nods before hunching back over the file he’d been working on. Swallowing your nerves, you ascend the stairs toward his office. The blinds are shut, but the yellow light of the lamps peeks out from around the edges.
Hesitantly, you rap your knuckles against the door.
“Come in,” Hotch answers.
You do as he says and he doesn’t look up from the file on his desk. “Shut the door.”
Again, you do as you’re told and stand awkwardly by it, awaiting further instruction.
“Sit.”
He doesn’t indicate where you should sit; the couch or one of the two leather backed chairs in front of his desk. You choose the chair closest to the door and cross your legs, and hope he can’t hear how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage.
“You went into that warehouse, alone, before we could confirm whether the unsub was there.”
“Sir—”
“Don’t interrupt,” he orders and you clamp your lips shut. “I understand that your actions resulted in saving that girl’s life. You were able to control the bleeding until medics could arrive. Your actions, brave as they were, were reckless and stupid.”
His words sting and you have to fight to school your facial expression, but you can feel the crimson rush of embarrassment flood your cheeks.
“You got lucky,” he continues, his voice hard. “We were able to apprehend the unsub as he was returning, but you had no idea if he was there or not. You didn’t wait for backup. We work as a team, you know this. The minute we start acting on impulse is the minute one of us gets hurt, or worse.” His eyes are steeled when they meet yours. “Do you understand?”
You nod your head, “Yessir.”
“Good,” he responds curtly.
“This can’t happen again,” he says, rising from his chair. Your eyes follow his movements as he shrugs out of his blazer and tosses it over his desk onto the vacant chair beside you. He steps from behind his desk and slowly approaches you, rolling the cuffs of his sleeves as he does so. He moves behind you and the click of him removing the paddle holster from his belt causes you to jump and you curse yourself for flinching.
“Something on your mind, agent?” he asks as he tosses his weapon onto the chair beside you.
You straighten your posture and answer him with as much nonchalance as you can muster. “No, sir. I’m just wondering if this will result in a write up or other form of disciplinary action.”
“As far as the Bureau is concerned, you saved that girl’s life. A meeting with me is all that’s needed to review your actions.” The soles of his dress shoes click against the tile and you feel his presence behind you.
“Whether you feel like another disciplinary action is necessary is entirely up to you.”
He always leaves the decision-making to you, but if this happens, it’ll be the first time it’s ever happened in his office, at your place of work. The thought terrifies you, but thrills you all the same.
So you dip your chin in the slightest of nods and the click of the lock on his door solidifies what’s about to happen.
“Good girl.”
Your nipples harden at the sound of his praise and you splay your fingers against your thighs, pressing the tips of your fingers into the muscle to keep yourself under control. Your body betrays you though as you feel your underwear dampen, your arousal building already. God, fuck him and his ability to do this to you with words alone.
His shoes click against the floor as he nears you and the hairs on your neck stand on end. You watch, eyes hungry, as he removes his necktie. He steps behind you once more and the familiar feel of silk over your eyes is almost a comfort as he secures it at the back of your head. With one sense cut off, you immediately feel your arousal’s intensity increase tenfold and you nearly want to cry out and come right then and there. Only he had this effect on you. Only he could do this to you.
Your chest is already heaving as you feel his hands slide over your shoulders and his mouth finds your ear. He inhales deeply and exhales slowly, his breath hot on your skin. “What’s your safe word?”
“Sage,” you breathe quietly.
“Good girl,” he murmurs and his hands slide over your breasts. You try to moan, but his hand quickly clamps over your mouth, firmly, but not enough to hurt you. His lips find your ear again, “Derek’s gone home for the night but Rossi is working late right behind that wall.” You can’t see it, but you know exactly how close his office is in proximity to Rossi’s. “So, keep quiet.” His hands slide over the fabric of your bra and you squirm against them. “Or I’ll have to gag that pretty little mouth.”
You swallow and nod to affirm your understanding. Your hands have moved to the arms of the leather chair, your fingers pressing into the material as you await his next move. Slowly, he unbuttons the first few buttons of your blouse and you shiver as the backs of his knuckles brush against your skin as he does so.
He slips his hands inside your bra and just holds both of your breasts for a moment, his thumbs skirting over the peaks of your sensitive nipples. You whimper and hear the soft laugh rumble from his lips. “Like diamonds,” he muses regarding the hardened tips and lifts both of your breasts, using the backs of his hands to push down the fabric of the cups so they sit prominently atop the underwire.
He hums low in his throat and your throat bobs. You feel his presence shift away from you. A drawer opens and items shuffle around. Something is turning and a soft click echoes in the room. “I figured it was only a matter of time before this happened in the office, so I tucked away a few…” he pauses as he draws nearer, “provisions.”
His cologne invades your senses, the cedar-based scent is intoxicating. He draws something small and metallic across your chest and a soft whimper escapes your lips. “Do you know what this is?” he asks, and you can hear the smile on his lips.
You lick your lips and whisper, “Yes.”
His fingers brush along one of your breasts and you inhale sharply as he rolls your sensitive nipple between his fingers. Your back arches slightly against the chair and you feel the dampness between your thighs begin to spread. You squeeze your legs together to try and assuage the ache to no avail.
“I’ve hardly touched you and you’re already falling to pieces,” he murmurs as he nips at the skin of your breast. You hiss and barely stifle a yelp as the nipple clamp pinches into place. Instinctively, your body jerks forward and Hotch chuckles as he catches you. He flicks the now-swollen nipple and you bury your face into the fabric of his dress shirt to keep from shouting. The sharp sting of the clamp compounds your pleasure and you know what comes next, but nothing ever prepares you for the pinch of the second clamp. You bite down into the muscle of his pectoral through his shirt to stifle the yelp that escapes your lips, hissing and moaning as the feeling overwhelms your senses. The growl that Hotch emits in response is primal. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and you don’t even remember when you had thrown your arms around him.
His hands slide up and over your arms. He curves his hands to cuff around your wrists. “As much as I love your mouth on me,” he says darkly, his hold tightening. His nose pushes into your hair as he brings his lips to your ears. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”
There’s no time to gasp as he pulls you to your feet and whirls you around so that your back presses into him, and you feel him pressing against you. The quick jostling causes the clamps to tighten and your nipples protest the pulling sensation. Hotch threads his arms through yours and palms your breasts, the warmth of his hands momentarily soothing the sting of the clamps. His fingers slide down your stomach to unbutton the remainder of your shirt, which he then pulls down and discards absentmindedly; leaving you in your knee-length pencil skirt and black stilettos. Your exposed skin bristles in the cool air conditioning.
“Hands behind your back,” he instructs and you do as you’re told.
“Good girl,” he praises. Your ears prick as he unbuckles his belt, and you feel the throbbing at your core increase. He loops the belt around your wrists and pulls the leather taught, binding them together.
He tugs the belt, indicating you to follow his movements and you do so. He guides you, one hand on the belt, and one on your back. Slowly, he pushes his hand forward along your spine, urging you to bend forward. Your breasts press into the wood of his desk and he pushes his pelvis against your ass, a soft moan escaping his lips as he presses his dick into the curve of your hip.
“I wonder,” he purrs as he releases his grip on the belt. You pull at the leather wrapped around your wrists, hoping to brush your fingers against his hands and miss them. He chuckles as his hand curves around your hip. His fingers drop below the waistband of your skirt and you squeeze your thighs together as they continue to dip between your legs. “Just as I thought,” he says. His fingers pass over your clit and even through your panties, the brief brush sends thousands of tiny bursts of energy pulsing through your nerve endings. You jerk forward against his hand and he chuckles. “So wet,” he hums. “I bet you’d love for me to take you right here, right now over my desk, and fuck you from behind until you remember there’s no ‘I’ in team.” His hand gently curves around the column of your throat, his fingers pressing gently into the sides of your neck as he draws you up to your full height. The movement causes the clamps to tighten around your nipples and you bite down on your lip to keep from crying out. “Would you like that?”
You nod against his grip on your throat and feel your knees begin to shake, almost buckling. “Come on, baby,” he sings into your ear. “You know it’s not that easy.”
A pitiful whimper leaves your lips and you feel the laugh rumbling from deep within him. Hotch’s fingers drop from your hip and you miss the feeling already, even though you know it’ll only be moments before it’s back.
Suddenly, a buzz fills the air and you nearly fall to your knees when Hotch touches the vibrator to the swell of your breast. His reflexes are quicker than lightning as his hand drops from your throat so he can loop his arm around your waist to keep you from falling.
“If you’re that sensitive up here,” Hotch murmurs as he touches the vibrator once more to your breast. You gasp in response and he chuckles low in his throat. “I can only wonder,” he touches the vibrator to your navel and begins to drag it down the length of your abdomen, “what happens when I touch you down here.”
The vibrator grazes the fabric of your panties just north of your clit and you gasp aloud, an inhuman sound erupting from your lips. Hotch quickly lifts the vibrator and pulls you taut against his body as he falls into the chair behind his desk. Securely rooted on his lap, the hand around your waist snakes around your chest and covers your mouth. He kisses the hollow of your throat before his lips find your ear. “What did I say about keeping quiet?”
You swallow and mumble an apology followed by ‘sir,” and you feel his erection twitch against your thigh. A devious smile plays upon your lips and he can feel against his hand. He knows that you’re aware of how much power you have over him, but he’s about to do the same.
The vibrator dances along your thigh and your legs quake against his as you tuck your feet around his calves to hold yourself as steady as you’re able to.
“That’s right baby, anchor yourself against me.”
Your skirt rolls up your legs as you squirm against him and that only makes it easier for him to access the part of you he so desperately craves and you so desperately need him to touch.
He touches the vibrator to the southernmost part of you and you gasp against his hand as your body bucks against the sensation. Slowly, he drags the vibrator up your center and you feel the buzz like electricity in your veins. When it touches your clit, you moan. Hotch responds by lowering the speed of the vibrator to draw out the pleasure.
“Your moaning is music to me,” he murmurs as he kisses the column of your throat. Your chest heaves against his arm as he circles that tight bundle of nerves in small circles. “It tells me how much you’re enjoying this. Tell me,” he says, and his voice is low in his throat. “Are you enjoying this?”
You nod quickly against his hand and cry out against the palm of his hand as you feel the pressure in your abdomen begin to blossom.
“Do you want to come?” he asks. The hand over your mouth is still there, and he strokes your cheek with his thumb.
Again, you nod vigorously.
The pressure is building, that familiar warmth spreading through you. Your chest heaves. Your breaths become shallower as you cope with the budding orgasm. Just as the wave is about to crest, Hotch switches the vibrator off and pulls it away, halting the wave in its tracks.
You buck forward as the denial immediately sets in, leaving you wanting, needing more. Your clit throbs, pulsating against the damp fabric of your panties and you can only picture the smug look on Hotch’s face. He thinks he’s got you right where he wants you, but you know how to play this game too.
His erection sits right against your ass. Ensuring your feet are tucked tightly around his calves, you tighten your abdomen and roll your body, allowing your ass to grind against the entire length of him. His grip on you loosens as pleasure courses through him. He’d not been expecting that. You continue to grind against him and you feel each twitch of his dick beneath you. A tight moan escapes his lips, and you moan in response knowing it’ll get him all the more excited.
You feel him tilt his pelvis, leaning into the movement. He lowers his hand as he groans into your ear and a grin splits your lips. You turn your head and press a kiss at the corner of his lips.
“It’s not my turn,” Hotch murmurs, though it turns into more of a grunt as you continue working him through his pants
“I thought this was to remind me there’s no ‘I’ in team,” you say coyly. If you weren’t blindfolded, you’d be batting your lashes at him because you know it makes him weak.
“You’re right,” Hotch answers. “We are a team.” The vibrator switches back and the sound stops you in your tracks, which simultaneously earns a frustrated sound from him. “And because I’m such a good team player,” he touches it to the spot just above your clit, which elicits a sharp whimper from you. His hand covers your mouth and he pulls you against him. In your ear he growls, “I’m going to skip my turn and let you have fun for a little while longer.”
You grind against the toy, passing it again and again over your clit. He’s allowing you to set the pace and you want to touch him, god you want to touch him. You pull against his belt around your wrists and whimper. “Let me out of these,” you pant against his hand. You want to run your fingers through his hair, and scratch your nails along his back. Hotch chuckles and you feel his cock jerk against you. “Not quite yet,” he murmurs, and it’s strained. He’s close too. If he didn’t let you out soon, he’d be cleaning up a mess inside his pants.
You groan as heat pools in your belly. Your aching clit throbs and you increase your pace; grinding against it and Hotch.
“Go ahead, baby,” he entices. “Come for me.”
Your chest heaves, your nipples straining against the clamps which only causes that wave to build even faster. The pressure builds quicker than you can keep up with. You lose the rhythm, but you don’t stop chasing that high. When the wave peaks, Hotch doesn’t pull the vibrator away. Instead, the pressure builds and builds until it has no choice but to release. You ride the vibrator through your orgasm until you collapse completely into his hold around you, your body jerking uncontrollably as the aftershocks pass through your body. The vibrator clicks off and you hear him set it down on the desk with a dull thud.
He drops his hand from your mouth and says nothing for a moment as you take deep breaths.
“Lean forward,” he orders quietly, and you do. His fingers make quick work of the belt around your wrists. Once loose, he drops it on the floor beside you and you bring your arms in front of you. The thick corded muscles that make up his arms thread through yours and he gently palms your breasts. You exhale sharply as he undoes the clamps around your nipples. With the tips of his fingers, he delivers a short series of massaging movements against the tender flesh. Finally, his fingers trail the sides of your face. They hook beneath the lip of the blindfold and gently pull it up and over your eyes.
You blink a few times to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim lamp-lighting and your eyes quickly land on his deep brown gaze. His lids are hooded as he looks at you, no that’s not the word, as he admires you. Your cheeks flush and you lean forward to kiss his lips. They part instantly for you and you slide your tongue into his mouth. You slip your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He groans into your mouth in response.
“I love the way you taste,” you mumble against his mouth.
You feel his lips smile against yours. “Nowhere near as good as you.”
You drop your hands to his shoulders and let your fingers find their way to the buttons of his dress shirt. You nip at his chest, leaving a purplish-red mark just beside his nipple. Your fingers brush the scars long since healed over from his run-in with Foyet as you explore his chest and abdomen with your hands. You need to feel all of him, to make him feel as good as he makes you feel.
Hotch slips his hands under your ass as you undo the buttons of his tailored slacks. His erection forces the zipper open before you get the chance to unzip it, tenting his boxer briefs.
Eagerly, you hook your fingers into the hem of his Calvin Kleins and pull down. He lifts his hips, with you on top of him, so you can jerk them down. His cock bounces up against his abdomen, pearls of pre-cum beading at the tip of his length. You eye it hungrily, but before you go any further you unhook your legs from around his and shimmy out of your skirt and panties. You unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor, not minding where it lands. When you return to sit on his lap, you slide your legs through each of the arms of his office chair and press your slick cunt against the length of his erection.
His head tips back as a low groan escapes his lips. You press your lips to the hollow of his throat before moving to suckle gently at his collarbone. The benefit of wearing a suit and tie day in and day out means you can mark him as much as you want and no one is the wiser. No one besides him and you that is.
You curve your hand around his cock. Slowly, you begin to pump him in your hand. As you gingerly massage his length, you press your breasts against his chest as you lie flat against him to whisper in his ear, “I think you’re ready to take me now.”
You smile as his eyes screw shut as you have him literally in the palm of your hand. You always love watching the tables turn when you play this game. Hotch nods and grunts out an enthusiastic, “Yes!”
“Very well,” you purr into his ear.
Standing on the tips of your toes, you keep your hand wrapped around his cock and guide him to your entrance. As the blunt tip of his cock slides easily inside of you, you begin to sink down onto the length of him.
You both moan as he fills you, the width of his cock stretching your tight walls.
“God,” you gasp as you dig your nails into the skin of his shoulder blades.
“No baby,” Hotch breathes. “He’s not in this room tonight. It’s just you,” he kisses you once, “and me.”
You roll onto the balls of your feet and push yourself up before sinking back onto your heels. This helps you get used to the feeling of his cock filling and stretching you.
“Find what feels good,” Hotch says. “You set the pace.”
You repeat the motion again, except this time leaning forward just so that his dick strokes against your g-spot with each thrust. From there you begin a steady rhythm, riding him at a pace where you can still manage to kiss one another without breaking your teeth as you get lost in the throes of endorphins and hormones.
Eventually, you feel that familiar pressure begin to build and his fingers squeeze into your hips. He’s nearing his own climax.
“I want you to come with me,” he whispers against your mouth. “I’m close.”
“Help me get there, then,” you tease.
Hotch releases one of your hips and snakes his arm around your waist. His fingers find your clit without guidance and he begins teasing the tight bundle of nerves. For a split second, you lose the rhythm, but he helps you get it back by pumping his hips up to stroke that spot inside. The dual sensation is almost too much to bear, but as he begins to slam his cock up and into you, you know it won’t be very long now. You clutch at his shoulder blades, and he hisses as you dig your nails in deeper.
“Come for me, Hotch,” you plead. As your orgasm builds, you feel his breathing become erratic. “Aaron, I know you want to come in me.” You know using his first name drives him wild.
He grunts and drops his hand back to your hip, his grip bruising as he slams you down onto his cock. Each thrust strikes your g-spot and as his entire being locks up and his orgasm rattles through his body and pulses into you, your release follows almost immediately after.
You stay like that for a minute or two, a tangle of limbs. His arms wrap around your back, his palms flat against your slightly damp skin. He kisses your cheek once and helps lift you off his cock. You groan as he leaves you, and slickness from your combined arousal drips down your thighs.
Completely spent, he carefully stands, ensuring your legs don’t get stuck beneath the arms of his desk chair. Your legs feel like jelly, shaking and trembling as he lets go of you. He fastens the buttons on his slacks and tugs his dress shirt on, buttoning it haphazardly. A tired laugh escapes you as he scoops you into his arms and carries you to the leather sofa against the far wall of his office. He gently places you down and tucks his suit jacket over your shoulders. He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll be right back.”
He ducks out of the room, careful to use his key and lock the door from the outside as he does so.
Your eyelids are heavy, and it takes everything in you not to tuck into the corner of the sofa and fall asleep right then and there. However, you don’t think the weekend cleaning crew would ever recover if they opened his office in the morning and saw you in this state.
The sound of his key in the lock brings you back to reality. You tug Hotch’s jacket tighter around you as the AC chills your sweat-dampened skin. He smiles at you as he enters the office. Hands full, he quietly shuts the door with his foot before approaching you.
He drops your go-bag by your feet and places two bottles of water on the table in front of you. He retrieves his own bag from beside his desk.
“I figured you’d want a change of clothes,” he says as he sits next to you on the couch.
“Astute observation,” you reply cheekily, though there’s a tiredness to your voice now.
He smirks in turn, “Come here.” He slips an arm around the small of your back, places his palm flat against your hip, and easily scoops you into his lap. He pulls his go bag onto the couch and unzips it. After rummaging for a few moments, he pulls out a small container of wipes, a washcloth, and a small container of something you can’t quite make out.
The lid on the container of wipes clicks open. He brushes your hair over your shoulder and begins to wipe down the back of your neck, your shoulders, and back; clearing the sweat away. He does the same to your chest, your breasts, and thighs. The wipe is cool against your skin and a chill runs down your spine.
He slides out from behind you, getting on his knees before you. He presses soft kisses to your inner thigh before using a fresh wipe to clean you up. “I’m sorry I don’t have something more formal,” he says with a soft smile. “You can take a proper shower at my apartment.”
You arch an eyebrow at that. “I’m coming home with you, now?”
He tilts his head. “Only if you want to.” He unzips your bag and pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants, the ones you take on every trip. He guides your feet through each leg and you reach to pull them up the rest of the way. He kisses the corner of your mouth as you bend down and his suit jacket falls aside revealing the marks he’d left on your breasts.
He sits and pulls you between his legs once more. This time he screws open the container he’d left sitting on the sofa. He scoops a small amount of the gel onto his fingers and rubs them together. “Lie back against me,” he says gently and he doesn’t have to say it twice. You roll back into the wide plane of his chest and let your head loll to the side. Your eyelids feel so heavy and you’d love to just curl up in his lap and fall asleep just like that. When the gel hits the sensitive skin of your nipples, you gasp.
“Shh,” he soothes as he rubs the gel onto your sore nipples. The movement is not sexual, but methodical, therapeutic even. There’s a cooling component to the gel and relief courses through the sensitive skin there.
He caps the jar, wipes his fingers on the washcloth, and pulls his hoodie out of your go bag. The letters ‘FBI’ were barely legible after how many dozens of washes it’d been through. The front pocket was barely hanging on and there was a hole in one armpit, but somehow the old thing held together. Hotch had considered his hoodie from the academy a good luck charm of sorts. He’d kept it with him his entire career with the Bureau, but when you first started seeing one another and you’d borrowed it after a night at his house, there was never any doubt that you should have it. He didn’t need it anymore, not with you around. He’d have all the luck he ever needed so long as you were there with him.
“What are you smiling at?” you ask as you let him help you out of his suit jacket and tug on the faded hoodie.
He passes you a bottle of water before he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You place the bottle on the couch beside him and lay your head against his and squeeze his forearm with your hands. “Just how lucky I am,” he answers.
You close your eyes and lean into his hold, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours.
He sits up suddenly, jostling you. “I meant to ask, did you want an ice pack? I think I might’ve held onto your hips a bit too hard there at the end.”
You arch an eyebrow and turn in his lap to loop your arms around his neck. You smile before kissing the downward slope of his nose. “My hips are fine, especially when they’re in your hands.
His thumb strokes your hip in response as he looks down at you from beneath his dark lashes. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
You nod. “Do you think if we order a pizza from the car, it’ll get there before us?”
Hotch smiles and helps you to your feet. He quickly gathers the things from your ‘lesson’ into the lockbox and tucks them into his go bag. He gathers your discarded clothes from around his office and tucks them into your bag. After he passes you the water bottle you’d discarded, he shoulders yours and his go bags. You’ll do laundry at his place over the weekend and repack it for the upcoming week.
He stretches an empty hand towards you, “Ready to go?”
You intertwine your fingers with his and squeeze. With the hand holding yours, he pulls you against his tall frame, the movement quick and unexpected. He captures your lips in a deep, final kiss. His arm is secure around the small of your back and you lean against it, gaze locked on his as you do so.
“Hey,” you breathe as you catch your breath. “Hotch?”
“Aaron,” he corrects with an arc of his dark brow.
“Aaron,” you repeat, drawing out his name, smiling as you see his own smile widen after using his first name.
His eyes search yours, and you let yours drop to his lips. “I’m still not sure I’ve learned my lesson.” You look up at him from beneath your lashes and bat them two, three times.
He kisses you again, both sets of your lips smiling as you fail to make it to the door. He pulls away with a breathless laugh, steps towards, and unlocks the door. As he opens it with his free hand he smiles at you, “Good thing your boss gave the team the weekend off.”
43 notes · View notes
fuckingstrange · 2 days
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Trust him.
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WARNINGS: Reader has trust issues, HURT/COMFORT + SMUT, sweet smut tho, praising, pet names ("baby", "good boy"), cumming early, sexual undressing(?), Luke doesn't cum in this but he will in the next one, kinda non-beta read
WORDS: 1,170+
PAIRING: Luke Alvez x M!Reader
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·a/n - Comments/Reblogs are appreciated! I love feedback!
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You follow Luke's guidance, letting him push you onto your back, surprising yourself with how close you're letting him - emotionally and physically. You feel him slot between your legs, his lips brushing against yours delicately, as if he was making sure to treat you with care, as if you were something fragile. In his mind — You are fragile. You own a heart shattered enough to cut somebody's foot if they were to step on it. The sight of blood would be anything but foreign to you.
His skilled fingers start working on your shirt, pausing about halfway down the line of tan buttons. “Are you okay with his?” You hear him ask, though your mind is so clouded with anxiety and fear you're unsure you can even verbally respond without betraying yourself in some way.
You don't know if you're okay with it. You have to ask yourself if you truly want this, though end up giving yourself no better answer than when he asked. You love him, and you think he loves you. But with how many times somebody has told you that then ended up hurting you, you're not sure if he's being truthful.
Luke notices the empty stare you have, the slight tremble in your hands as you think of the worst that could happen. You've trusted him enough that you stayed in this relationship with him for seven, coming up on eight months now. You've let him in enough that he can tell the nod of approval you gave him was forced. He leans back, looking down at you. “Baby.. we don't have to do this if you don't want to, y'know?” He says while rubbing your hip, the touch meant to be soothing.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking him up and down as you conjure up reasons to trust him this deeply. Your mind runs in circles for a few minutes, your gaze directed at his face, trying to read any hidden meanings behind him trying to get in your pants. Your heart begs for the deep connection, wanting nothing more than to be his and have him be yours. Your fear-riddled mind has no chance against your heart, but it does have you whispering “Spare my heart, please,” as you pull him down to meet your lips again.
Luke's own heart aches at your plea, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He can't help but mumble soft words of reassurance, saying, “I'll heal that heart of yours” before he lets his tounge slip between your lips.
The kiss is gentle. It's soft and slow. Something you're not used to with past relationships. You lean into it, sighing quietly and falling to your back, this time bringing him with you, letting the weight of his body press you down into the couch.
His hand moves up your side until it finds your hands, your fingers interlacing as he presses it down next to your head. Luke definitely isn't pinning you, scared that you're too mentally fragile to be restrained in any way shape or form during sex, he's simply holding your hand for comfort. You feel him give it a soft squeeze, which you do back to reassure him as well.
Luke adjusts himself, and for a minute you think he's simply straddling your leg before you feel his knee press up against your crotch. Your eyes immediately open from the foreign feeling of it, a boyish moan slipping past your lips and drowning in the kiss when he starts rocking his knee against you. You squeeze his hand tight, feeling your heart begin to pound in your chest while your cock hardens in your boxers. You start to squirm beneath him when his lips find their way to your jawline.
You give him a mix of a moan and a whine as you start rocking your hips to meet his knee, the movement slow but feeling good anyways. Heat rises to your cheeks when you hear him mumble a praise, the words “good boy” and “keep going” slipping from Luke's lips before he can even think about it. You pull your hand away from his to wrap your arms around him, pulling him even closer than he was before. He takes the opportunity to resume unbuttoning your shirt, working off the other half of buttons he hadn't before. You feel your cheeks burning, feeling on fire from being so exposed to him.
You close your eyes, not sure if you're ready to see the look on his face when he sees you like this. He works off the last button, the loose brown material sliding off and getting splayed out on the couch beneath you. You feel him start to pull off of you, letting your arms drop so he can sit up. You feel his eyes on you, making your breath hitch as you wait for some kind of degrading moment. But nothing comes. The silence hurts. More than if he were to be calling you ugly. His knee has stopped moving, your hips protesting the absence of friction with a rut against him.
Luke stares at you like you're a work of art, his hand coming up to ghost along the bare skin of your waist, causing you to flinch and whine. He soothes you with a kiss, his tounge finding it's way into your mouth as he resumes the movement of his knee, grinding it against your hardened cock.
“You're gorgeous. So.. fine.” He mumbles against your lips, his hands resting on your chest so he can focus on providing you with more friction, more pressure against your aching cock.
You can barely hear him with how much you're paying attention to the feeling of it all. His knee moving against you, his tounge brushing over yours, his hands on your chest causing goosebumps to rise. You whimper as your hips buck involuntarily, your hands shooting to grasp at his sides, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You have to pull back from the kiss, croaking out a weak warning of “If you don't- if- I'm gonna-”, only to cut yourself off with a pant or whine each time.
Luke seems to take this as a challenge, hearing you're about to cum just from his knee alone makes him want to moan. His hands slide from your chest to your hips, purposely brushing over your nipples to earn a gasp. He grabs your hips and starts guiding their movement, making sure you don't have to lift a finger to get what you need. The second he hears you start to beg, involuntary “please”’s falling from your lips, he knows you're just about there. He makes sure to keep the same slow but deep rhythm of his knee, not wanting to pull you off the path to your orgasm.
He encourages you almost absent-mindedly, praising you for each noise that you let out, praising you for each drop of cum that soaks into your boxers. His knee grinds into you even as you let go, making you moan louder than you ever thought you'd be comfortable with. You squirm, you moan, you cry, as you cum. But you find yourself not caring one bit. Because Luke is the one making you do it.
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street-smarts00 · 2 hours
Text
Clingy
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)
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WC: 7.3k
Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 
Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort
A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.
You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 
After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 
At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.
Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 
It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 
Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 
You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 
When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 
Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 
He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 
You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 
He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 
“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 
He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 
“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”
“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.
“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 
“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 
“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 
His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.
“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 
“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 
“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 
“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 
“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 
Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 
Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 
Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 
“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 
“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 
Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.
“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 
Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 
He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 
The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 
Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 
He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 
Something about you.
His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 
~
Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 
The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  
Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 
“Hey,” you greeted. 
“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 
“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 
“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.
He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 
“Huh?” 
“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 
“Oh.” 
“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 
You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 
“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 
The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 
You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 
He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 
He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 
“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 
“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 
“Do you wanna lie down?” 
You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 
“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 
His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 
“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 
You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 
You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 
“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 
You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 
He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 
So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 
He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 
He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 
“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 
“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 
You let out a small, almost shaky breath. ���Am I clingy?” you murmured. 
This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 
“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 
He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“
“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 
You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 
“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 
He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  
“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 
You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 
“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 
“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 
His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 
“Yes you were.” 
“Y/N please,” he begged. 
“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 
He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 
“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 
“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 
“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 
You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 
“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 
He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 
“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”
 Here we go. Flood gates. 
“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 
“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 
“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 
The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 
“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”
He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 
Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 
He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 
When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 
Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 
The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”
“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 
“That too,” he chuckles. 
After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 
“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 
Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.
“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 
He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”
His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 
There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 
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