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forhappysake · 3 months

Text

We're Okay

A/N - Guys idk where this came from. I guess I'm just feeling emotional and inspired.

Content - After JJ admits her decade-long love for Spencer, you and your boyfriend have to have a conversation to calm both of your doubts and fears.

Warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, season 14 spoilers, anxiety, mentions of typical BAU-level crime stuff, fluff at the end

You walked in the door slowly, cautionary even; afraid the smallest noise would bring reality crashing down on you. The car ride home had been completely silent, as neither of you bothered to turn on the radio. Spencer shuffled in behind you, the click of the lock making you wince as you did your best to avoid his gaze. You stripped off your coat, throwing it over the couch before walking straight into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you.

As you started the shower and stripped off your clothes, the evening’s events rushed back into your mind. Being involved in a hostage situation with an unstable unsub was one thing. JJ being held at gunpoint was worse. However, as if all that wasn’t enough, JJ admitting her decade-long hidden love for Spencer was the final nail in the coffin. As you climbed into the shower, you did your best to let the water wash away the thoughts running through your head.

Unfortunately, your attempt was unsuccessful. As you dried off and wrapped yourself in a towel, your mind raced. You’d been dating Spencer for nearly a year and a half. The two of you had just recently moved in together. Having known him and JJ for at least half a decade, you knew they were close, but you never would have guessed this was coming. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way she did. If so, what did this mean for your relationship?

After stalling in the bathroom for so long that goosebumps dotted your freshly dried body, you mustered up the courage to slip out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that you shared with Spencer. As you walked across the hallway, you could see his silhouette sitting on the living room couch, head bent forward. You couldn’t tell if he was reading or in deep thought, but you decided that either option was better than the alternative: trying to have a conversation.

You snuck into the bedroom, gently turning on the bedroom light and letting your eyes adjust to the warm glow of your room. You meandered to the closet, pulling out a simple t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. Slipping into your pajamas and stealing a glance at yourself in the vanity mirror, you noticed one of the many images covering the tabletop.

A framed photograph from less than a year ago of JJ, Will, Spencer, and yourself with the boys on a weekend hiking trip. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest and wondered if Will had any idea what was going on in JJ’s head. You shook the thought away, reminding yourself that you had bigger problems of your own to deal with. You turned back to the bed, sliding under the covers and turning off the light. Despite your distress, you were exhausted and you found yourself losing track of time and drifting off to sleep in mere minutes.

* * *

You awoke to the sound of the bedroom door latching shut. You rolled over, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to sneak a peak at your bedside alarm clock. You’d already been asleep for three hours and Spencer was just now coming to bed. It was well after midnight, and you knew that meant he had been up thinking about something. You figured it would be best not to push the subject after everything that had happened.

With your eyes shut, you waited to feel the familiar sensation of Spencer climbing into bed. Instead, you felt his weight at the foot of the bed, as if he had perched himself on the end. You tried not to think much of this and did your best to fake sleep. However, it soon became apparent that Spencer was on to you.

“I know you’re awake,” he said gently. His voice was gruff from the hours he’d spent in silence. Spencer waited before speaking again, “I think we should talk about what happened.”

There it is, you thought. Your stomach sank as your eyes fluttered open. You rolled over to face him, leaning up on your arms. It was then you noticed that he was still in his suit. His unkempt hair fell over his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the disheveled man in front of you. “Alright,” you relented, still refusing to meet his eyes, “what do you want to talk about?”

Spencer rolled his neck, tension evident in his movements. “I want to know how you feel about what was said earlier,” he said. For the first time in hours, you met his eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. You found no signs of dishonesty, so you fell back on the bed, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know, Spencer,” you groaned. “I definitely was surprised. I definitely wasn’t thrilled.” Spencer nodded, moving some hair away from his eyes as you spoke. “But,” you started again, “it’s not like we can go back and change it now.”

He reached an arm out, putting a hand over the covers on top of your knee. “I know,” he whispered, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You scoffed a bit at his sincerity and his innocence, meeting his eyes once more. “And how do you feel about it?” you asked.

Spencer bit his lip in thought. You could tell you had caught him off guard with the question, and he seemed to be calculating his response. “Can I be honest with you?” he said.

You raised your eyebrows, the nervous feeling in your stomach intensifying. Is this where he tells you he feels the same way and leaves for good? You pushed your thoughts to the side. “Always,” you whispered.

He sighed, laying back on the bed so he was next to you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you wanted nothing more than to curl into his warmth. You knew this wasn’t the time, so you held yourself back and held your breath, awaiting his response.

“First, I was confused,” Spencer explained, eyes locked on the ceiling. “I haven’t thought about JJ like that in over ten years. Frankly, I never knew she thought of me that way, so I was caught off-guard.”

So he did have a crush on her at one time, you thought. You were ready to close your eyes in defeat, to slip off the bed and out of the apartment and never come back when he cleared his throat.

“But then,” he started once more, “I had a quick epiphany of all the moments she’d gone out of her way for me, and I could understand where she was coming from.” You turned to look at him, watching his eyes scan the ceiling as he tried to come up with his next statements.

“And?” you asked, prompting him to continue.

“And then,” he continued your previous statement, “I was terribly appalled.”

Your head, which had turned to the ceiling, snapped back in his direction. You felt your eyebrows raise and your jaw drop open a bit in surprise. “Appalled?” you asked, confusion evident in your expression.

“Appalled,” Spencer echoed, sitting up on the edge of the bed once more and looking back at you.

“Why?” you asked.

Spencer shook his head, looking around the room. “I’ve been thinking about that for the last couple hours, and I’ve come up with a lot of reasons,” he mused. “I know she was in a tight place, but Will deserves better than that. The boys deserve better than that. But aside from them,” he leaned over on the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you must have thought. I was so afraid of your reaction and of losing you.”

Despite your evident emotional state as tears pooled in your eyes, you tried to play it off. “Spencer, this isn’t about me,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he said, lying next to you, “it is.” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, pulling some curls out of his eyes. “Everyone knows how much I love you. I know how scary something like this can be. But you have to know that I have no idea where this came from and that anything JJ and I had died, on my end, long before I ever met you.”

You glanced over at him, the sincerity in his voice had moved you to believe him. For a moment, you forgot about JJ and Will, the boys, and the implications of her words. You offered his fingers a small squeeze. “So we’re okay?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“More than,” Spencer whispered.

He rolled on his side to face you and you mirrored his actions. He wrapped his arms tight around your body, the textured material of his suit jacket pressed against your cheek. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead and you found yourself falling back into sleep. After several minutes passed, you felt Spencer’s voice rumble through his chest for a final time before he succumbed to sleep: “Ever since I met you,” he mumbled, smoothing some stray hairs away from your face, “it’s always been you.”

3K notes · View notes

springtyme · 22 days

Note

munch spencer. that’s it. this is the ask.

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲) ♡

Yo, doc, what that mouth do? thank you for the ask, hun! I'm sorry it took so long to get around to it <3

Spencer Reid x afab!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: You love Spencer, you love all of him. You especially love that big, beautiful, brilliant brain of his, it does, however, make him talk a little too much sometimes. But there's one activity he loves that seems to effectively shut him up every time.

word count: 4.5k

warning/tags: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Cunnilingus (obviously). Vaginal fingering. Squirting. Multiable orgasms. The moodboard is only for vibes, there is no description of how the reader looks.

The soft glow of the television is casting long shadows on the walls as Spencer’s sweet lips begin to explore down your neck, kissing a trail down your heated skin and down to your collarbone.

“Did you know that the average person spends two weeks of their life kissing?” he murmurs against your skin, causing you to giggle, the movement of his lips making your skin tickle. His smooth voice sounding huskier than usual, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, his touch lingering on your collarbone as he leans in closer.

“Oh, really?” you reply, playful amusement in your voice as you tilt your head back to give him better access.

“Mmmhmm,” he hums against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of desire wherever they roam. “And the longest recorded kiss lasted over 58 hours,” he continues, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending a wave of goosebumps down your spine.

“That’s really interesting, Spence,” you gasp as Spencer’s lips finally reach the hollow of your throat. “But can we focus on the kissing part right now?” you add, gently tugging on his hair. Spencer chuckles softly, clearly amused by your eagerness as he lifts his head to lock eyes with you.

You love Spencer’s mind; his big, beautiful brain never ceases to amaze you. It is one of the first things that drew you to him. And when he had looked into your eyes for the first time, with those beautiful hazel brown eyes of his, full of warmth and intelligence, you knew you were done for. You love everything that makes him him, but in this moment, all you can think about is the way his lips feel against your skin, the way his touch ignites a fire within you.

His gaze is intense as he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss that leaves you breathless. The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the warmth of his body pressed close to yours. The sound of the television is now just background noise, the documentary you had been watching completely forgotten as your focus now is solely on the feel of Spencer’s lips on yours.

Time seems to stand still as the kiss deepens, a mix of desire and adoration swirling between you and Spencer. His hands move to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he deepens the kiss even more.

You moan softly against his lips, arching into his touch as the intensity of the moment washes over you. Spencer pulls back slightly, his eyes fixed on yours as he breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

“I could spend a lifetime kissing you,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion.

Your heart flutters at his words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his sweet declaration. You smile, feeling a rush of love and affection for this man who holds your heart in his hands, but you also feel how a warm flutter of fire hot desire starts to burn in your stomach, a primal need for him burning inside you.

“I could spend a lifetime kissing you too,” you reply, your voice filled with equal parts love and desire as you slowly start to straddle his lap, Spencer’s hands instinctively finding their way to your hips, pulling you closer against him. “But I wouldn’t mind doing a little more than just kissing,” you add, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as you feel a tingling sensation course through your body at the thought of what could come next.

Spencer’s eyes darken slightly as he watches you with a hunger that mirrors your own, his hands sliding up your sides and you can’t help but squirm a little at the sensation of his touch.

His lips curve into a mischievous smile before he gently pushes you back onto the couch, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

“I think we can definitely do more than just kissing,” he murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine. You still can’t believe how confident he has become since you started dating. He is still the same sweet, smart, nerdy Spencer, but now there is a newfound confidence in him, he is not as hesitant.

The air between you crackles with anticipation as he leans in to capture your lips once again, the kiss deep and searing, sending sparks flying through your veins. His hands roam over your body, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both.

You tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin against yours, and he responds by pulling it off with a quick efficiency that leaves you breathless. His fingers trace patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he leans in to capture your lips once more.

You are just about to ask him if he wants to stay on the couch or if you should move this to the bedroom when the sound of Spencer’s phone ringing interrupts the moment. Spencer freezes mid-kiss, a soft sigh of frustration leaving his lips as he reluctantly pulls away.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he says apologetically as you remove yourself from his lap. You nod understandingly, trying to hide your disappointment, you know that this is just a part of dating someone with as important a job as Spencer, that he has a job that can require his attention and focus at all times.

You take a moment to catch your breath, your body still humming with desire from the moments before, feeling the ache between your legs grow stronger as you hear Spencer answering the call from the kitchen.

A little pang of hope lingers in your chest as you hear Spencer groaning down the line. “I can’t believe you’re calling me for this now, Garcia,” he says, his voice filled with annoyance. You can hear the woman’s laughter through the phone, followed by some witty banter that makes Spencer chuckle softly despite himself. Doesn’t sounds like he has to leave to go on a case

You have not met any of Spencer’s coworkers yet, they don’t even know that Spencer is dating anyone. Maybe you should feel some type of way about your boyfriend keeping you secret, but you understand his choice. His job is high-stress, demanding, and potentially dangerous. You trust his judgment and respect his decisions, even though a small part of you wishes you could be there for him more openly.

His colleagues and him are close-knit, almost like a family, and they have their own ways of showing support and camaraderie. It doesn't bother you that he hasn't introduced you to them yet, but you can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the people who mean so much to him.

As Spencer finishes up his call, he walks back into the living room with a sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and desire. “Sorry about that,” he says as he flops down next to you on the couch with a groan. “Garcia keeps trying to set me up on a date, it was with someone from her book club this time, says I need to get out more.” he continues, rolling his eyes. “I keep shutting it down, but she’s so persistent.”

You chuckle at his admission, reaching out to run a hand through his tousled hair. “Well, I’m glad you’re not interested in going on a date with anyone else. I quite like having you all to myself,” you say with a teasing smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

Spencer’s eyes light up at your words, a smile spreading across his face as he leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “I have no desire to go on any dates that don’t involve you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Maybe it’s time I introduce you to the team,” he adds, his eyes searching yours for approval. “Get Garcia to stop trying to set me up on blind dates.”

You feel a rush of warmth at the thought of finally meeting the people who mean so much to Spencer, of being able to share a part of his life that he keeps separate from you. “I would love that,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve been curious about the people you work with, they must be amazing if they’re anything like you.”

Spencer’s smile widens at your words, his hand reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. “They are pretty amazing,” he admits, a hint of pride in his voice. “I think you’ll fit right in with the team.”

“But they can’t be as amazing as you,” you say, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on Spencer’s lips. The warmth of his smile against yours only confirms the depth of emotion you feel for this man.

As you pull back, a spark of mischief lights up in Spencer’s eyes. “I think it’s time we pick up where we left off,” he murmurs, his hands already starting to trail down your body, igniting a fire of desire within you once more.

You can’t help but laugh as you lean in to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” you whisper against his lips, the desire igniting once again between you both. “Bedroom?” ask, your voice filled with anticipation and desire.

Spencer’s eyes light up with anticipation as he nods, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Definitely bedroom,” he agrees, his voice dripping with desire. With a shared grin, you both rise from the couch, hands intertwined as you make your way to the bedroom, leaving the glow of the television behind, his warm hand holding yours tightly as he pulls you along.

Once inside the bedroom, Spencer pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss that leaves you breathless. Clothes are discarded hastily, a sense of urgency driving you both as you fall into the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire.

“Did you know that making love releases oxytocin, the hormone responsible for bonding and feelings of intimacy?” Spencer murmurs against your skin, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he’s committing your form to memory. You gasp at the sensation, the warmth of his touch sending waves of pleasure cascading through you.

“I didn’t know that,” you breathe, your fingers threading through his hair as he continues to worship your body with his kisses.

“Yeah, and it also increases levels of dopamine, the pleasure hormone,” Spencer adds, his voice husky with desire as he peppers kisses along your jawline, his hands skimming over your curves. “Which means that being with you not only feels amazing physically, but it also strengthens our emotional connection.”

“Oh, really?” Is all you muster for a reply, the husky tone his voice has taken, is sending a thrill of warmth through you.

“Yeah, and cunnilingus has also been shown to have numerous health benefits, including reducing stress and boosting the immune system,” Spencer continues, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness as he looks up at you with a knowing smile.

You can’t help but laugh at that comment. You remember how shy Spencer had been when you were together for the first time, the way his eyes had been wide and his pale cheeks blushing as he had asked you if he could go down on you, almost pleadingly, like a parched man begging for water, like your pussy was the water that would save him. And that is exactly how Spencer eats pussy, with a reverence and devotion you would never guess, and he fucking loves it-You've never before been with someone who genuinely enjoyed giving oral sex as much as Spencer does, and it drives you wild.

“I’m all for boosting my immune system,” you reply playfully, your hands roaming over his body as you pull him closer to you. Spencer grins at your response, his eyes dark with desire as he leans in to leave a sloppy kiss to the side of your neck, sending a hor shiver down your spine. He continues to kiss a wet trail of kisses down your neck to your chest.

He is kissing and licking down between the valley of your breasts, his hands sliding down your body to explore every inch of your skin. The sensation of his lips and hands on you is almost overwhelming, the desire building up inside you like a wildfire.

The only thing you’re still wearing is your now soaked panties. Spencer’s hands slide slowly down to your hips, his gaze meeting yours as he presses a tender kiss to the center of your chest. The intensity of the moment fills the room, the air around you charged with desire as you lose yourself in the sensations of his touch.

Your breath catches as he leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he trails kisses down your abdomen, his hands deftly hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties, but instead of pulling them down, he lowers his head and places a gentle kiss to the fabric, his lips teasing the sensitive skin beneath.

A soft gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, your hands grabbing the sheets as he continues to worship you with his mouth, his tongue tracing patterns over the thin fabric.

Finally he takes the delicate garment between his teeth, gently biting down on the fabric and with a slow, deliberate motion as he uses his mouth to slide the panties down your legs until he reaches your knees and his hands take over, leaving you bare before him. The cool air hits your heated skin as he tosses your panties aside, his eyes locking with yours as he moves back up your body, kissing up your legs until he again is placed between your thighs, his hands prying your legs apart as he settles himself in between them.

His gaze is intense as he looks up at you, the desire in his eyes burning bright as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You can feel his warm breath against your core, sending a rush of heat through your body as he begins to slowly explore your most intimate parts with his lips and tongue.

“You are so gorgeous,” he hums into you, his voice filled with adoration and desire. The vibration of his words against your cunt is sending a delicious shiver through you, making you arch your back, pressing your pussy more firmly against his mouth. He groans with content as he nuzzles his face against you, his nose brushing against your clit as inhale deeply, savoring the heady scent of your arousal.

Spencer’s tongue is warm and velvety as he pushes it through your slick folds. You thread your fingers through his hair, urging him on with soft moans and gasps as he continues to lap into you with a hunger and passion that leaves you trembling with need.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, his words sending a delicious thrill down your spine as he swirls his tongue around your swollen clit, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You can’t help but let out a cascade of moans and whimpers as he begins to move your hips in rhythm with his ministrations, making you gently grind against his face as he continues to worship you with his mouth.

After a little while one of his hands leaves your hips to slide up your body, teasing and caressing your skin as he cups your breast, flicking his thumb over your hardened nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

The sound of your moans echoing through the room only drives him further, his movements becoming more urgent as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your wet pussy pulses with desire. The bedframe is now creaking under you, Spencer grinding his erection against the mattress as he eagerly devours you. Your head is spinning, the sensations overwhelming you as you feel the coil of pleasure tightening within you.

The dual sensations of his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast are driving you wild, the pleasure building up inside you like a tempest. You can feel your orgasm approaching, a wave of ecstasy ready to crash over you at any moment.

You arch your back, gasping for breath as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of your release. Spencer’s name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper as you ride out the intense waves of pleasure, his eyes locked on yours, filled with desire and adoration, but he doesn’t stop. Your body is writhing beneath him, every nerve ending aflame.

“I know you got more in you,” Spencer’s voice is husky and filled with desire before he teasingly flick his tongue against your sensitive clit. “Want you to sit on my face, love.”

Your breath hitches at his words, the suggestion sending a rush of arousal through you as you meet his gaze. Without hesitation, you lift yourself up slightly, allowing Spencer to shift beneath you as you straddle his face, settling yourself comfortably in his eager mouth.

The sensation of his warm tongue lapping at your sensitive folds sends a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your hands clutching at the sheets as you ride the waves of ecstasy that wash over you. Spencer’s hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you grind against his face, the slick sound of his mouth on your wet pussy mixing with the sweet sounds of your moans and gasps filling the room. He brings your throbbing clit between his lips, sucking gently before flicking his tongue against it, sending another wave of pleasure crashing over you.

You can feel the tension building within you once again, your body trembling with need. You lift yourself up slightly, feeling the heat of Spencer’s breath against your swollen clit, he lifts a hand to your pulsing core, flicking over your weeping cunt with a speed and urgency that has you gasping for breath. your toes are curling as you gush all over, the clear liquid getting flicked everywhere. You know how much he loves it when he can make you squirt.

You feel your body tightening with the impending release, the pleasure building up inside you like a tidal wave ready to crash. The intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing over you relentlessly. Spencer’s name keeps spilling from your lips as your body shakes with the force of your release.

Spencer eagerly drinks in your essence, bringing you to new heights of ecstasy with his expert ministrations. You feel the world around you fade away as you lose yourself in the delicious pleasure he is giving you, his devotion and desire evident in every touch, every caress, every flick of his tongue.

As the waves of pleasure finally subside, leaving you breathless and trembling in the aftermath, Spencer pulls you close, kissing you tenderly, making you taste yourself on his swollen lips. You pull away after a little while so you can look into his beautiful eyes. His lips and chin glistening with your juices.

“You are incredible,” you whisper, your voice filled with genuine awe as you brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. Spencer smiles softly, a contented look in his eyes as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace.

“You’re pretty incredible yourself,” he murmurs, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Do, eh… Do you need me to return the favor?” you ask, feeling a surge of desire to give him just as much pleasure as he had given you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle while he gently shakes his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he says, a slight red blush creeping across his cheeks. That’s when you notice the wet, sticky spot on the front of his gray boxer briefs

“I think I might have taken care of that myself,” he adds with a small, almost shy, smile, causing you to giggle softly. You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling a rush of love and affection for this man who will devour you like a starved man and bring you to the highest of highs, who also blushes after creaming his pants while eating you out.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking cute, Spence?”tease, your heart filled with warmth and adoration for the man in front of you. as you lean in to capture his lips in a sweet tender kiss. “And so fucking sexy,” you add, whispering the words against his soft lips.

Spencer chuckles, the sound vibrating sweetly against your lips, his cheeks flushing even more at your words. “Only you,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth and adoration. “But I like being told that by you.” You smile, feeling a rush of affection for him as you snuggle closer, reveling in the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

“I love you, Spencer,” you whisper, feeling his arms tighten around you in response, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you too, more than words can express,” he murmurs, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell with happiness.

“And here I thought you had words for everything Dr. Reid,” you tease playfully, earning a soft chuckle from Spencer.

“I may have words for a lot of things, but when it comes to how much I love you, words always fall short,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

You can feel your heart overflowing with love and happiness at his words, knowing deep down that this man truly adores you. You snuggle closer to him, feeling his warmth and love surrounding you like a comforting cocoon.

“Do you have any plans next Saturday?” Spencer asks, his voice filled with excitement as he looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You raise an eyebrow in curiosity, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, why?” you reply, wondering what he has in mind.

“Just… Maybe you could meet the team next weekend,” he says, a shy smile playing on his lips.” They mean a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me, it makes sense to introduce you to them,” he explains, his eyes shining with love. “Would be nice to get Garcia off my back as well,” he adds, his playful tone causing you to laugh.

You feel a rush of warmth and happiness at the thought of finally meeting the people who are so important to Spencer, of being able to share a part of his life that he's kept separate from you.

“I would love to meet them,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face. “I can’t wait to finally put faces to the names you talk about so often.”

Spencer’s grin widens at your words, his eyes shining with excitement. “You’re going to love them,” he assures you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can’t wait for them to meet you. And they are gonna love you. You’re so lovely,” he adds, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“You are lovely,” you murmur, feeling a surge of love and happiness at the warmth and affection in his words as he kisses your forehead again. You snuggle closer to him, feeling content and secure in his embrace, knowing that you have found someone truly special in Spencer.

You lay tangled together in a peaceful silence for a long while, the tranquility of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“You want a shower?” you ask, breaking the silence as you feel the stickiness of sweat and other fluids on your skin.

“What about a bath?” Spencer suggests, squeezing you a little tighter.

“A bath does sound amazing,” you agree, feeling a smile tugging at your lips as you shift to look up at him. “You know me so well.”

Spencer chuckles softly, the sound filling the room with warmth as he presses a tender kiss to your lips. “I aim to please,” he says, his voice filled with affection.

“Hmm, maybe I can please a little too,” you counter, running a teasing hand down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Spencer lets out a breathy giggle as his eyes find yours. “You don’t have to do that,” he replies, his soft smile making his eyes look like they sparkle as he leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

“Maybe I want to, Spence,” you reply with a mischievous grin, feeling a surge of desire pulsing through your veins at the thought of returning the favor to him. “After all, we did just learn about all those health benefits of cunnilingus, isn’t it the same with fellatio?” you ask, raising an eyebrow playfully as you trace a finger along his jawline.

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly at your boldness, a hint of surprise flashing in his gaze before a playful glint takes over. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair to test out those health benefits,” he says, his voice filled with amusement as he stands up from the bed, offering you his hand to help you up as well.

The two of you make your way to the bathroom, filling the bathtub with warm water and bubbles as you both slip in together. The warm water soothes your muscles as you relax against Spencer’s chest, his arms wrapped around you in a loving embrace.

As you relax in the warm water, Spencer’s hands find yours, intertwining your fingers as you both bask in the peace and comfort of the moment. The sound of the water gently trickling around you is soothing as you lean back against Spencer, feeling his warmth and love enveloping you like a blanket. You close your eyes, savoring the moment of intimacy and connection that you share with him. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life,” you murmur, feeling a rush of gratitude and love for the man holding you close.

Spencer presses a soft kiss to your temple, his voice filled with sincerity. “I feel the same way about you,” he whispers, his arms tightening around you in a loving embrace.

The words warm your heart, filling you with a sense of happiness and contentment. You feel truly blessed to have found someone who loves and cherishes you so deeply. “I love you, Spencer,” you say, your voice filled with emotion as you turn to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” he says, bringing your entwined hand up to kiss your knuckles. “So, so much.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated ♡

@sadroses98

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headkiss · 8 months

Note

I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

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irndad · 1 month

Text

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man.

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one.

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk.

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership.

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you.

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself.

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning.

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks.

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection.

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone.

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation.

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically.

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this.

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting.

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride.

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth.

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips.

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic.

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?)

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spencereidluver · 5 months

Text

D is for Diana

summary: you overhear spencer calling his mother and telling her about you. how hes finally found someone like him and who can understand him

word count: 675

warnings: none, just fluff and spencer crushing

It was a normal Monday morning. The sounds of files rustling and pens against paper filled the room as people filled out their weekly paperwork. The only thing off was the slow speed the certified genius across from you was working. There was something on his mind, but from the look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to share.

“Hey Spence, I’m gonna go make some coffee in a little bit, do you want some?” You asked, trying to find a way of cheering him up without trying to pry at him.

“I’m good, thank you though.” He said without so much as looking up from his desk.

You let him work for a little longer, before you finally let it get the best of you, and you just had to ask him. “Okay, Spencer,” you said, finally getting him to look up at you for the first time this morning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded. “I’m just waiting on a phone call from my mom.”

That made sense. Spencer always got nervous when his mother was brought up. His phone rang moments later, seemingly right on cue. “I’m gonna take this in the conference room, I’ll be back.”

Spencer opened his phone as he stood up, greeting his mother with a warm “hello.” He quickly ran up the stairs, nearly hitting himself with the conference room door as he entered. You giggled to yourself before getting up and making your way to the kitchen to make the coffee you’d thought about earlier.

_____

With a freshly made cup of coffee in your hand, you couldn’t help but follow your unconscious lead to the conference room, leaning against the door to make sure Spencer’s conversation with his mom was going well. You weren’t trying to be weird or creepy, you just were trying to look out for your friend. You knew sometimes his mom said things that hurt him, mostly without realizing it.

As you reached the conference, you heard the squeaky giggle you’ve heard so many times come from behind the door. You almost left it at that, but curiosity got the best of you as you leaned your ear against the wooden door.

“No, mom. She’s perfect,” you heard Spencer say. “Everything about her is perfect.”

There was a pause, Diana was talking. You wondered who he was talking about. Spencer hadn’t talked to you about a special lady before. Maybe you’d stick around a little longer.

Spencer began to speak again. “No, she is the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s gorgeous too, mom… No, I haven't asked her out… No, no she doesn’t have a boyfriend… I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. And I don’t want to make work awkward if she says no.”

Work? The girl he liked was at work?

“I can’t just ignore her if she says no mom. Our desks are right across from each other. I’d have to face her every day.”

Oh my god. He was talking about you. Your face turned a shade of red so dark it might be classified as maroon. Your stomach had so many butterflies it felt like it was migration season.

You heard Spencer begin to tell his mom he’d have to be going soon, and you decided you’d better hurry back to your desk so he didn’t know you were listening. He’d die if he knew, you thought.

You thought for a second, before returning to the kitchen and pouring another cup of coffee in Spencer’s favorite mug. You knew he’d said no, but you also knew, especially now, how much it’d mean to him if he came back to a warm cup of coffee on his desk. You add 5 sugar packets to the small mug, just how he liked it.

You returned to your desk, sitting your mug on your desk and Spencer’s on his. You grabbed a sticky note and a pen and wrote: "For Spence <3,”before sticking it to the mug and returning to your seat.

next chapter: E is for Even Guys Like Me?

a/n: i'm so glad that this group of stories has been so well received :) i've worked so hard on them, and am trying my best to get ahead so i can release new parts at least every other day. i love reading all the comments you guys have left too... thank you all for the support. i'm so proud of the next chapter, it's definantly my favorite one in the series so far. it's pretty long, but in my own opinion, it's worth it. the chapters are going to start getting more relationship centered, starting next chapter!

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.”

i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!

Thank you lovely!

cw: mention of kidnapping (more a backdrop than anything)

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets.

“Hey.”

He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, your cheek and nose are look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand.

“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?”

Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.”

A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.”

“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.”

“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out.

She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else.

Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.”

“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.”

“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that if your face weren’t already so pink it’d be coloring now. “I figured you might need them, so.”

“You were right.”

Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?”

“That’d be great,” he says, relieved.

He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours.

“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!”

“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?”

You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.”

“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.”

“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.”

The tops of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks.

Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm.

“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job.

You straighten immediately. “We were just—”

“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.”

Spencer suspects his face is about as red as yours as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.”

“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest.

He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug.

“This has lipstick on the lid.”

Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.”

“So you started on mine?”

“I sampled.”

“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.”

He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”

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miley1442111 · 16 days

Text

motherly instincts- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: aaron's mother can only be helpful to you postpartum, right?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: fluff, body shaming, feeling of discomfort, postpartum, reader is postpartum and aaron's wife.

You were pregnant. It wasn’t exactly planned, but Aaron and you were ecstatic all the same. Jack was excited to have a new sibling and he was totally ok with it. At your wedding, you had adopted Jack, meaning you were already one of his legal guardians. The only problem was telling everyone. The team were ecstatic for you, Jj giving you tips, Spencer sending various articles on pregnancy and childbirth, Derek promising his babysitting service, Emily promising to come and help out in anyway, and Penelope sending you cute baby clothes ideas (and buying them for you).

But telling Aaron’s mother.

That was a shit show.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re pregnant?” she repeated. The lack of emotion in her face and voice made you feel practically sick. “Why?”

“Mother-”

“Is Jack not enough for her?” She asked like you weren't even there.

You took a deep breath. “I adore Jack, you know I do. We weren’t exactly planning this-” Wrong thing to say.

“So you don't want the child?”

Aaron rolled his eyes, taking your hand in his.

“Of course we want our child!” You exclaimed and she looked taken aback.

“Aaron, she’s shouting at me!”

“I will be too if you don’t stop this mother.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had since reached out and apologised, so you felt that it was ok to let her come and stay for the week, they were her grandchildren too.

You had given birth to twins, two girls. You named them Elizabeth (Beth for short) and Natalie (Nat for short). You both loved both of them so much. They had taken Aaron’s dark hair, and your eyes. They were beautiful. You adored them. Aaron adored them. Jack adored them.

Aaron’s mother… not so much.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 1

She had already bulldozed through your regular routine. You were exhausted from literally growing two children and then pushing them out and into the world. Aaron understood that. Jack understood that. Aaron’s mother did not. She expected you to just be fine. She expected you to do all the cooking and cleaning while she took care of your newborn babies. Aaron basically had to put her in a time out and lock the door to the nursery to let you just be with your children for more than a few minutes. Jack loved coming in to see his sisters whenever he could, which meant Ms. Hotchner also had to be allowed in. So, you were basically banished unless you wanted to argue, and trust me, you didn’t want to argue with that woman.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aaron?” You mumbled as you climbed into bed beside him, both the twins and Jack down for the night.

“Yes honey?” he whispered, wrapping you in his arms.

“Do you think you could talk to your mother? Just about letting me have some down time with the twins?”

“Of course darling, I didn’t realise it was that bad,” he looked down at you. Even through the darkness of the room, you could see the guilt on his face.

“It’s not!” You lied. “Just… I don’t know,” You sighed. “It doesn't matter, sorry for worrying you. You shouldn’t say anything.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, scepticism clear in his voice. “I’m happy to talk to her. She’s only supposed to be here if she’s helping. If she’s not helping we can ask her to go home.”

“Aaron, it’s alright, I promise.”

“Well, tell me if it gets bad, alright? I know she can be overbearing sometimes,” The amount of care and love present in his voice and words almost brought you to tears, so you just nodded and pressed your head into his chest. You felt him chuckle. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

After a few minutes of his comforting voice and soft hands lulling you into drowsiness, you were asleep.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the baby monitor went off and you slept through the cries of your children, Aaron smiled. He was happy you were getting sleep. Insomnia had been the prevailing issue of your pregnancy, and it drove you crazy. He got up, swaddled and fed his babies, checked in on Jack and got himself a glass of water. He lay down beside you again and cupped your cheek. You were sound-asleep as he looked at you with all the love in the world.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 2

“Did you sleep?” You asked your husband. “I’m so sorry I slept through it, I just… next time you should wake me up, ok? I’m so sorry-”

He cut you off with a kiss. “I was fine, don’t worry. I’m glad you’re finally getting some sleep,” he smiled playfully at your glare.

“I can take Jack to school if you want to lounge around for a bit?” You offered, hopeful that he would let you. He shook his head and dipped down, kissing you again.

“I’m fine. I’ll walk him there, then go for a run.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Hotch’s mother exclaimed. “She’ll go for a run and drop Jack off. She needs to start getting rid of the baby fat.”

Your jaw genuinely dropped. There was no way anyone would have the nerve to say that to you. Not when you were literal weeks postpartum. You knew you didn’t look the same as before, you hadn’t expected to. But to be confronted with it so blatantly was a stab into your confidence.

Aaron’s face hardened and solidified into one of irritation and annoyance. “What did you just say to my wife?”

“Aaron. We can’t lie to her! It would just be a disservice,” your mother-in-law said as she stood by the coffee machine, a frown on her lips. “It’s only a few miles-”

“If you ever think about talking about my wife in that way I will not hesitate to block your number. You can pack your bags Mother. I’ll call you a taxi,” Aaron got his phone out, a comforting hand on your waist.

“Aaron, that’s a bit drastic-” You tried but his voice cut yours off, ordering a taxi to your house. He thanked the person on the line and smiled at you as he hung up, his mother’s temper tantrum beginning.

“She doesn’t get to talk to you like that. No one does.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was no day 3. She left your house, essentially cursing you, but you didn’t care. It was finally the way it was meant to be. Just Aaron, Jack, the girls, and you.

Your perfect family.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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currently-reading-a-book · 26 days

Text

Faux Love, Real Hearts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer must pose as a couple for a mission. However, one question remains: why does he keep calling you 'love'?

Genre: smut

Warning: talking about a criminal case, making out, fake dating (let me know if I forgot something)

Word Count: 882 words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

You blushed yesterday, you blushed today and you most definitely will blush tomorrow. You simply will never get used to his soft voice whispering: “Sorry, love.”

As he calmly brushes past you. You will never get used to his rough hands brushing against your skin from time to time. You will never get used to his soft backrubs or his light kisses against your forehead. Perhaps it’s better this way. If you’re used to his permanent presence your heart would break into two when this mission ends. When all of this ends. Every day you’re hoping that the mission is continued another day, just to be with him. And for a certain time, it did work; until it didn’t anymore.

For more than a year, you have been working in the Behavioral Unit (BAU) department of the FBI. As an aspiring Agent, you are willing to do anything to save people. The team welcomed you warmly, always helping you where they could since you were the youngest member. You feel safe because you know they will always have your back. Yet nothing could have prepared you for your latest mission. The mission where you and Spencer had to fake a romantic relationship. Spencer was a good boyfriend; a fake one sadly.

This unsub is targeting young couples, so the team decided you and Spencer would be the best ones to fit his victimology. Quickly you move into a fake house that isn’t yours; drive a fake car and act like a fake couple deeply in love with each other.

“Are you ready to go to bed, darling?”, shouted Spencer down from your shared bedroom.

It was a comfortable room with a carpeted floor and a large king-size bed. Oh, how you loved this bed; nevertheless, nothing compares to sleeping beside Spencer. Your sleep quality improving enormously. Maybe Spencer has to do with it...

Without answering you went up, already in your pyjamas ready to get a good night’s sleep in. Today you search through lots of recordings in hopes of finding a lead in the case; Spencer of course helping you, but how could anybody read faster than Reid himself? You collapse onto the bed, feeling utterly exhausted. The slender nerdy boy, with his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, is deeply engrossed in his book. Every now and then, he looks up from his reading, his bright eyes shining with a gentle smile that warms your heart.

“You must be absolutely tired, love.”

“God, yeah,” you laugh awkwardly. A strange silence surrounded them.

“Come here,” he opened his arms gesturing her to come closer.

She found herself in a state of confusion, uncertain of what to do next. As she lay there, she couldn't help but feel drawn towards Reid's comforting presence. She knew that cuddling with him would be unprofessional, but his warm embrace felt like a safe haven that she longed to be in. The conflicting thoughts in her mind left her feeling torn and indecisive, so she stayed where she was.

Since she didn’t come closer, he decided to drew closer to her. His hot breath tickled her neck as he whispered against her ears sending shivers down her spine: "You know we have to act like a real couple, you want to catch this unsub, don’t you?”

She gulped silently. Of course, she wanted to catch this motherfucker who’s been killing around D.C., however, all she could think right now was how close Spencer was and how his hot breath felt amazing against her neck.

“Spencer…,” was the only thing she could whisper back.

His hands grip her waist lovingly, bringing her closer to him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he murmured against her hair, kissing the top of her head softly.

Another gulp. Feeling hot all over her body, you tried to think a straight thought, but how can you think rationally when a hot FBI agent's body is nearly pressed against yours? Particularly Spencers hot body.

“Kiss me, Spencer.”

Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. Like a starved man, his kiss was impatient and rough, in contrast to the delicate touch of his hands all over your body. You could feel his warm big hands exploring every inch of your body. Oh, how good it felt.

“Fuck, I wanted to do this since day one,” he cursed against your lips before softly biting them. His tongue teased your lips, wanting to enter your mouth. Gently you open your lips and your and his tongue dance together. His soft lips moved their way down to your jaw, then your neck where they stayed for a bit, nibbling at your flesh. You reached for his curls, gripping them which he responded with a moan.

“If I had to act like this stupid fake couple thing again I would absolutely, do it, just to taste your sweet lips, love.” He smiled against your neck.

“Wait,” you pushed him a bit away from you, “you don’t enjoy this fake dating?”

He took a deep breath. Panic started washing over you. Of course, he wouldn't like your back, what do you think?

"No". His angelic voice brought you back from your negative thoughts: “I would like more if we were dating real.”

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cumulo-stratus · 3 months

Text

!! Babe alert !!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #bau #bau team #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #Spencer reid x fem reader #Spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x you #Babe alert #Spencer Reid fics #mgg #mgg pics #Matthew Gray Gubler #Matthew Gray Gubler pics

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444rockstargf · 6 days

Note

Please write anything with Spencer Reid, hopefully fluff that turns into smut. I love your work 🫶🏻🫶🏻

"whip it into a cream." | spencer reid

taco truck x vb. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: sweet, pretty, and filled with white cream...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden

female!reader x spencer

word count: 2.0k

contents: fluffy, baking cupcakes with spencer, unprotected p in v, creampie, very cringe-worthy joke at the end

“c’mon, spence! we’ll never get to put these in the oven if you eat all the batter.”

you take the spatula out of his grip as he slathers a small helping of red velvet cake batter on his tongue once again. he shakes his head, smiling as he licked the decadent mixture off his lips. “you’re one tough lady.”

you and spencer had made plans to go to the best restaurant in town tonight, but of course a thunderstorm had to hit the streets with raging lightning and roaring thunder. you were bummed, so much that you had gotten back into your pajamas and slumped down onto the couch, letting the evening waste away. but spencer wouldn’t let this storm rain on your parade. so he had come up with the brilliant idea of making your own sweet treat. he truly was a genius.

he got into flannel-print pajama pants that matched your pants, getting both of you into oversized hoodies as he picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter. he kissed you softly on the nose, staring at you intently with his big brown eyes and promising you the night of your life. then you two got straight to business.

you began carefully pouring the deep red batter into the small cupcake tins that each had a white cupcake wrapper inside of it. spencer stood behind you with a hand on your waist as he watched the oven reach the desired internal temperature, giving you a gentle squeeze as a signal. “let’s get these in the oven, baby.” you filled up the last tin, smearing away a stray drop with your thumb and licking off the residue.

you picked up the tray and spun around, handing it to him. he took it and carefully opened the oven, placing the filled tin inside with great care before shutting the oven. he sighed, putting his hands in the large pocket in the center of the hoodie. “and now we wait.” you looked around the kitchen, pouting slightly.

“we should probably start cleaning up this mess, huh?” spencer groaned softly, wrapping both his arms around you and letting his head nestle in the crook of your neck. “never thought i’d live to see the day that you of all people would want to clean.” you swatted him on the chest with a scoff, earning a laugh out of him. “...besides, we haven’t even gotten started on the icing yet.”

you eyes widened with realization. “right, let’s get to that while the cupcakes are in the oven.” spencer nodded, already two steps ahead of you as he dug into the pantry and pulled out all the ingredients in one trip. he set a jar of icing sugar, a stick of butter and a cup of milk on the counter, starting to combine the ingredients into a large bowl as you watched him in action. there was something so enticing about seeing a man in action, or maybe that was just the effect that spencer had always had on you. you were never able to tell.

you propped your elbows on the cold marble, grinning ever so slightly as you watched a sweet, fluffy cream come to life. he lifted up the coated spatula, holding it in front of you. “this look okay to you?” you squinted as you looked at it, frowning as you shook your head. spencer raises an eyebrow. “what’s wrong with it, baby?”

you pointed at something indistinctable in the icing on the spatula. he brought it centimeters away from his face, trying to find whatever could be wrong. then you pushed his hand upward, getting a white, gooey mess all over his nose. you burst into a laughing fit, spencer fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across his unamused expression.

he set the spatula back into his bowl, only managing to get a little of the frosting off his nose. he shook his head as you giggled profusely, taking you into his arms once again and sweeping you into a kiss, his nose rubbing against yours and distributing some icing in the process. he pulled away, gazing down at you through his eyelashes with a cheeky smile on his face. “well, it looks like we’re both iced now.”

you rolled you eyes, grinning as you got a wet cloth and cleaned the mess off of your face, passing it to him to do the same. he sloppily wiped his nose, only smudging the white cream in the process. you groaned, going on your tiptoes to reach his face. “geez, you just made it even worse, spence.” he picked you up by your thighs, setting your bottom on the counter. “why don’t you help me clean it off then..?” you used your thumbs to get the last bit off his face.

he opened his mouth, licking the frosting off your fingers and humming with approval. you smiled, caressing his face gently with your thumbs as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. his hands had a gentle grip on your bare thighs as his gaze went slightly hazy, like you were the only thing in the world right now.

your hands snaked around the back of his neck, slowly pulling him down to your level until you connected your lips in a leaden kiss, his jaw opening as his lips moved against yours. he hummed quietly into your mouth, head tilting against yours to get a better taste of you. the atmosphere sucked the both of you in whole, the warmth of the room and the sweet smelling aroma from the oven making your nerves stand on end.

spencer quickly got carried away, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring it. you gasped softly as he did so, a familiar tingle ringing in your core. your tongues fought a silent battle as spencer started to move against you, his hips rocking into yours as his heart raced in his chest.

he bit his lip, suppressing a groan that nearly slipped from his mouth. his eyes glanced down, seeing where your two bodies connected and the primal beast that had awakened in his pants. his cheeks immediately flushed red as his gaze ran up to your face, taking in your shiny, parted lips and dilated pupils. you wanted him, badly. and there was no denying the desire he had for you. so the only thing to do now was just go for it.

spencer’s hands travelled downward uptil they reached the maroon drawstring of his pajama pants, his shaky hands barely able to undo the simple bow that he had tied to keep them up. his breathing was heavy and shaky, matching yours as your pressed your legs together to stop the molten-lava that boiled inside of you. you were already soaking through your shorts. not wearing panties was an amateur mistake. who knew that you’d ever find yourself in a situation like this?

as spencer finally undid the know, his cock sprung out with a bead of precum rolling down the tip. you looked down at his manhood, taking in the 8-inches of pleasure that would soon be inside of you. you wrapped your hand around his girth, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you stroked his slowly, smearing the precum down his length with your thumb.

he rocked his hips up and down, creating a little more speed and friction against his shaft. his eyes were locked on you, drinking you in like you were a drop of water from a precious fountain. his hands found your waist again, slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts, kneading your bare hips as his thumbs worked their way down to your wet core.

you lifted up your hips a little, pulling down your shorts and kicking them off, letting them lay lifeless on the linoleum floor. you ihaled a shaky breath as the cool air hit your wet pussy, your clit throbbing in response to the sensation. spencer was nearly as red and the batter the covered the bowl a few feet away from you.

he spread your leg apart a little further, slowly sinking down onto his knees until he was face to face with your dripping cunt. he looked at your hole, nearly drooling like a starved dog. he brought his mouth close to you, his hot breath warming up your insides. before digging in, he looked up at you, his voice dropping to a raspy octave. “can i..?” you nodded, sealing your eyes shut.

the feeling hit you like a brick. his tongue began to swirl across your wet pearl, his pink tongue slipping through your gooey folds. you were audibly soaked, the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of your tight hole filling the room, apart from your strained moans and whimpers. short grunts came from spencer as he pumped himself, his cock throbbing in response to his severe arousal.

his groans filled your body with waves of vibration, making you shiver as you rolled your hips against his tongue. “that’s it, baby… use me…” he managed to mutter through breathless gasps. you tossed your head back, his fingers hitting the tight bundle of nerves inside of you repeatedly.

spencer took his hand off of his dick, panting heavily as he rose back to his feet, desperately trying to recollect himself. if he had been down there for a second longer, he would’ve came without even getting to the main course yet. he lined up his pulsing rod with your cunt, teasing your entrance with his tip. you bit your lip, feeling more turned on by his teasing than anything else.

he grabbed your hips, starting to push himself in inch by inch at a time. you slurred out moans in unison, holding onto eachother for dear life until he completely stretched you out, your pussy swallowing him whole. he wasted no time thrusting into you, his hips slapping against your and sending recoils throughout your body.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rubbed messy circles onto your clit, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he swallowed hard, his cock coming into perfect contact with your cervix with every sloppy thrust. his balls slapped against the base of your hole. the stimulation became two much for you, your muscles twitching as you quickly fell into a state of overstimulation.

“s-spencer..! i-i, i’m gonna cum…” you choked out, your fingernails digging into the plush fabric of his hoodie. he buried his face in your neck, kissing it to hide the whimpers that spilled out from him. he fucked you at lightning speed, your bodies heating up like two stars reaching their supernova.

your nerves glowed as you felt yourself releasing all over him, your core buzzing with pleasure. as you convulsed around him, spencer shot hot ropes of hot cum into you, his muscles spasming as his eyes momentarily welled with tears. he pulled out of you with a gasp, stray drops of cum gathering at his tip.

he pulled you close to him, using you as a foundation as he hastily recollected himself. you hopped off the counter and in the nick of time, the timer dinged, signalling that the cupcakes were done.

you walked over to the oven, not bothering to put your shorts back on since the hoodie was long enough to hide to the cum that dripped down your inner thighs. you opened up the oven, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out the cupcakes, the tops of them fluffy and rosy. your placed the tray on the counter that you had just been sitting on, spencer inhaling the sweet aroma.

he smiled, grabbing the bowl of icing, finally having the chance to add the finishing touches to the cupckaes. he took one last taste of the icing, now shaking his head with disapproval.

“the icing’s okay, i guess.” he pulled you closer to him, bringing his lips to your ear. “but you, my dear, definitely take the cake.”

author's note: bang bang kiss kiss.

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forhappysake · 4 months

Text

the bau on a roadtrip JJ, from the backseat: play some music, I'm bored hotch, driving: *holds up the aux cord* who wants it? garcia, in the third row: oH! me! me! I have the best music! emily, next to JJ: no, give it to me, hotch. you know I'll play something everyone likes. spencer, shoved in the third row back next to garcia and morgan: *scoffs* I don’t think everyone likes ice spice

morgan: spencer seems like a munch rossi, in the passenger seat: a WHAT? emily: *plugging in her phone* hey siri, play Munch by Ice Spice

*collective groaning*

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springtyme · 16 days

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐍𝐨 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♡

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Main masterlist || can also be read on ao3 || Next chapter

summary: After having worked for the BAU for two years, you have seen and experienced a lot, but after a series of murders of young married couples, you’re asked to do something that you never had thought you would have to do; going undercover, as an expecting, married couple, with Spencer Reid.

word count: 5.8k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Undercover as a married couple. Pretend pregnancy. Language. Drinking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Coworkers to lovers. Not set at a specific time, but definitely somewhere in the early seasons. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mention of canon-typical violence.

The table is a bit sticky, and the music could be better, but the drinks are decent and you’re just so happy to finally be out with your friends after what feels like forever. Your job is demanding, and being an FBI agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit means that your work-life balance is almost non-existent. But tonight, you don’t want to think about the gruesome crime scenes or the long hours spent profiling and investigating violent crimes, all you want to do is have a good time and catch up with your friends. And finally having an occasion to dress up and feel cute isn’t bad either.

Closing your glossed lips around the straw of your Strawberry Daiquiri, you take a long sip and let the sweet, icy drink cool your throat as you sit back in your chair, listening to the lively chatter of your friends. Michaela and Piper are going back and forth about some new movie that you haven’t had the time to watch yet, and you and Janelle, who is sitting across from you, are laughing at their antics as you listen to their debate with half an ear, but you focus shifts as Janelle gently nudge your shin under the table.

“That guy is totally checking you out,” Janelle says with a playful raise of her eyebrow, gesturing towards the bar with her eyes, as she takes a sip of her Mai Tai, while Michaela and Piper continue their discussion about whether the final plot twist of the movie was too predictable or an actual genius twist.

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle and roll your eyes as you follow Janelle’s gaze, glancing over to the bar and catch the eye of a man who is indeed looking in your direction, but you quickly turn back towards your friend again. “I thought we had decided to just focus on having a girls’ night out tonight, no boys allowed?” you say, giving her a knowing look. She shrugs her shoulders and smiles jestingly.

“You can still appreciate the view, even if you’re not looking to buy,” she teases, taking another sip of her drink. You shake your head, laughing at her antics, but you can’t help but look over in the direction of the guy at the bar again. He catches your eye and flashes you a charming smile. He is cute, sure, but not cute enough for you to want to do anything about it.

But to be fair, he could be the cutest guy in all of D. C. and you probably still wouldn’t do anything about it. You don’t really have the time or energy for dating right now and you are not really currently in the mood for meaningless sex with a stranger either.

Your job consumes so much of your life already, and you’re content with just focusing on your career, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share your life with, but what you’ve learned over the last few years is that most guys don’t understand the demands and emotional toll of your job. They either can’t handle the long hours, and all the time you have to spend on cases, or the gruesome details of your work, or they simply can’t comprehend the darkness that you have to face on a daily basis. And so, you’ve built up walls to protect yourself, to shield yourself from potential heartbreak or disappointment.

“You sure it’s not you who he’s checking out?” you ask, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from your lack of interest in dating. Janelle laughs and shakes her head.

“No, I think he’s definitely into you,” she says, nudging you playfully.

“Well, I’m not interested, so he is all yours, Nell,” you reply, taking another sip of your drink as you give her a playful wink. Janelle just laughs and shakes her head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just here to have a good time with my girlies,” she says, raising her glass in a toast, making Machaela and Piper forget their never-ending debate and cheerfully join in.

Just as you’re about to raise your glass and join in the toast, your phone buzzes in your purse, interrupting the moment. You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, seeing Hotch’s familiar number flash across the tiny screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you say with a sigh, standing up from the table giving your friends an apologetic smile. Your friends nod understandingly, knowing that your job always comes first as you excuse yourself from the table and head to a quieter corner of the bar to take the call. You feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, knowing that your night out with your friends is about to be cut short.

“Yeah?” you answer, putting the phone to your ear, not bothering with any formalities as you know that Hotch is going straight to the point when he calls you outside of office hours.

“Sorry to interrupt your Friday night, but we’ve got a new case, high priority,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, his tone serious and professional, but you can also hear the tired edge in his voice. It can’t be easy being the Unit Chief and always having to be on call, but you respect him for his dedication to the job. “I’m afraid I need you and the team back at the office ASAP.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you say, already mentally preparing yourself to switch back into work mode.

“Great, thank you, agent,” Hotch says, and you can hear the gratitude in his voice before he hangs up. You can only imagine how shitty it must feel to have to call in your team on a Friday night only a few hours after everyone has left the office. But that’s the nature of the job, and you have accepted it a long time ago, even though it means sacrificing your personal life and plans at a moment’s notice.

With a deep breath you take a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the disappointment of having to leave your friends behind. As you head back to the table to break the news to your friends, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for having to leave them hanging. They all look up at you expectantly, sensing the change in your demeanor. “I’m sorry guys, I have to go. Work…” you trail off, your voice apologetic, you hate having to disappoint them.

Michaela and Piper exchange sympathetic looks, while Janelle just nods understandingly. “It’s okay, we understand,” Janelle says, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I’m sorry I have to cut the night short,” you say, feeling the weight of disappointment settling in your chest.

“Hey, your job’s important, we’ll catch up another time,” Michaela says, standing up to give you a supportive hug. “And we are really proud of you, just so you know,” she adds, giving you a reassuring smile as she pulls back from the hug.

Suddenly you almost feel like you could cry. You spend so much time burying your emotions and focusing on the job that it almost feels overwhelming to be reminded that you have people outside of work who love and care about you. “Thank you, Kay,” you say, smiling back at her. You hug the others and say your goodbyes, before you quickly gather your things and prepare to head out and find a cab.

· · · · ·

Spencer is abruptly pulled out of his slumber by the sound of his phone ringing. The book he had been reading sprawled open in his lap. The softness of the armchair and the long week of work finally caught up to him, and he must have dozed off. He blinks groggily as he fumbles to grab his phone. He squints at the screen, momentarily disoriented from being woken up so suddenly. Seeing it’s a call from Hotch, he quickly answers, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hello?” Spencer mumbles, trying his hardest to sound awake and alert despite his groggy state.

“Reid, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a new case, high priority. I need you and the others back at the office ASAP, we will have a briefing as soon as you’re all here,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, terse and serious, but also tinged with exhaustion.

Spencer’s heart sinks at the news, knowing that his plans of spending a quiet Friday night at home, recovering after a hard work week is now dashed, but he quickly pushes the book aside, already mentally preparing himself to switch into work mode.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replies, removing his glasses that he had swapped his contacts out for earlier in the evening. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight, the sense of urgency now kicking in.

“Thank you, Reid,” Hotch says before ending the call, leaving Spencer to gather his things and head out to Quantico without delay.

As he makes his way out of his apartment and towards his car, he can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment at having his night disrupted once again by work. He had really been looking forward to a quiet night in, and finally enjoy a break.

Spencer watches the city lights pass by in a blur as he begins to make his way out of D. C., the reality of his job sinking in once again. He knows that as a part of the BAU, his work is never truly done. The cases are always waiting, the criminals are always out there, and the demands of his job are always pressing. And while he loves what he does and finds fulfillment in helping to catch the most dangerous offenders, and having his mind challenged, there are days when he longs for a sense of normalcy, for a break from the darkness that seems to follow him everywhere he goes.

With a deep breath, he steels himself for the long night of driving and work ahead, knowing that he may not see his bed again for a while.

· · · · ·

As you arrive back to Quantico, you rush into the FBI building, quickly making it through the security check. The heels of your stilettos click loudly against the floor as you hastily make your way to the conference room. The short, tight dress that had made you feel so confident just a few hours ago now makes you feel exposed and vulnerable as you walk through the sterile hallways of the building.

You try to pull down the short hemline of your dress, as you push open the heavy door to the conference room, but it doesn’t change the fact that most of your thighs are on display and that your tits are almost spilling out of the low-cut neckline. It is so rare that you get the opportunity to dress up and feel sexy, so you might have gone a little overboard with your choice of outfit for a simple girls night, or at least that is how you feel now as you’re about to walk into a room full of your colleagues, who aren’t that used to see this side of you, and are about to hear about the details of a violent crime case.

As you step into the room, you see that Derek and Spencer are already sitting at the big round table, waiting for the rest of the team to show up, Hotch is probably in his office getting more details for the briefing before the entire team is here. They turn their heads in your direction as you enter, and you can feel their eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary, seemingly surprised to see you in such attire.

“Damn, princess, you clean up well,” Derek says with a smirk, giving you a once-over. “You had a hot date tonight or something?”

You roll your eyes at his comment, knowing that he always loves to tease you about your personal life. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Morgan,” you reply with a raised brown and a playful smile, taking a seat at the table and crossing your legs and adjusting your dress as you sit down.

“Of course, I would like to know, that’s why I asked,” Derek chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You come in here looking like that, and you expect us not to ask questions? I just need to know, is he more handsome than me, should I be worried?” he teases, earning another playful eye roll from you.

“Can’t a girl just want to look good for a change, without it having to be for a man?” you shoot back.

“What do you mean, for a change? You always look good,” Derek counters with a charming smile, before he turns to Spencer, who has been awfully quiet this entire time. “Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

Spencer looks up at Derek and then at you, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks. His hair is slightly tousled and he is wearing his glasses, making him look even more adorable than usual. You don’t know if it is wrong of you to think of your colleague as adorable, he is a grown man and exceptionally capable of his job, you respect him a lot, but you just can’t help but find Spencer extremely endearing.

“You don’t have to answer that, Spence,” you quickly interject, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. You know that Spencer can be a bit awkward when it comes to social interactions and you don’t want Derek’s teasing to make him feel even more self-conscious.

You and Spencer have become good friends over the two years that have passed since you joined the BAU team, you and him are the youngest agents in the unit. You have always admired Spencer’s brilliant mind and his ability to remember almost everything he reads as well as his sweet, quirky personality. You have a mutual respect for each other’s intelligence and dedication to the job. You have also noticed the way he sometimes gets lost in his thoughts or stumbles over his words when he’s nervous, and you have always tried to support him and make him feel comfortable in social situations.

But despite being friends and good colleagues, there’s also always been a slightly awkward tension between you and Spencer, at least on your end, it’s not like it’s there all the time, but you do feel it from time to time. You are not even sure where it comes from or why it’s there, but there’s something about Spencer that can make you feel slightly flustered and unsure of yourself, if you ever stop to think about it. It’s probably just because you admire him so much and don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you respect so deeply.

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer says, his usual rambling tone coming through as he speaks. “You do look very nice, tonight. Wait, no, I mean, Morgan is right you always look nice, but you also look real nice tonight,” he stammers, stumbling over his words as he tries to explain himself.

You can’t help but smile at his adorable awkwardness, grateful that Derek’s teasing didn’t faze him too much. “Thank you, Spence,” you say, giving him a kind smile and reaching out to pat his arm reassuringly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, so when it is him you appreciate it, I see how it is,” Derek jokes, earning a playful shove from you.

“Shut up, Morgan, you know that I love you,” you say with a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at him, which makes him laugh, but you don’t get to continue your banter as the rest of the team starts to filter in, Hotch enters the room with a stack of case files in hand, his usual stoic expression in place as he takes his seat at the head of the table to begin the briefing.

“Thank you all for coming with such short notice,” Hotch starts, his voice authoritative and commanding. “We have a new case that just came in and it’s classified as high priority. A series of brutal murders have been reported in Northern California. Local police have finally reached out to us for assistance after multiple cases after two new victims were found earlier in the day. They have all been double murders, with the assumption that the victims have been stalked for a while beforehand, and are then killed in a very specific and violent manner. All have been young married couples, all under thirty, and in all of the cases, the female victim has been between five and nine months pregnant.”

As Hotch continues to outline the details of the case, you can feel the weight of the seriousness of the situation settle in the room. You are usually able to compartmentalize your emotions and focus on the task at hand, but the thought of innocent lives being taken in such a violent manner always hits a nerve and you feel a chill run down your spine as Hotch describes the details of the case, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This is a disturbing and horrific case, one that hits close to home for you as a woman.

As Hotch finishes the briefing he turns to Spencer. “Reid, I would like to have a word with you in my office. The rest of you, start looking into the evidence and see if we can find any leads or patterns that may help us track down the unsub.”

You watch as Spencer nods in acknowledgment, it’s clear that he is a bit confused about being called into Hotch’s office alone, as he follows Hotch out of the room, leaving you and the rest of the team to start digging into the case files and evidence.

· · · · ·

“Please take a seat,” Hotch says as he gestures towards the chair in front of his desk, as Spencer follows him into his office. Spencer feels slightly anxious as he takes a seat, his eyes searching Hotch’s face for any clues as to why he’s been called into his office while Hotch takes his seat behind the desk. Hotch clears his throat before speaking, his tone serious and professional. “I have something to ask you to do, and it’s not a small thing,” Hotch begins, his eyes fixed on Spencer. “I need you to think carefully before you answer.”

Spencer can feel how his heart starts to race, his mind already trying to anticipate what Hotch is about to ask him. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady despite his growing nerves. Hotch takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks again.

“I’ve spoken with the local authorities in California, as well as our own expert and with the circumstances of the case and lack of leads, we have decided that the best way to proceed is to send in two undercover agents that fits the profile of the victims, and I want to ask you to be one of those agents.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his mind racing with the implications of such a task. Going undercover in a case like this would be incredibly risky, not to mention emotionally taxing and it is not something he has much expertise in.

“I understand that this is a big ask, but you fit the profile of the victims and your ability to think on your feet and adapt in high-pressure situations makes you the best candidate for this job,” Hotch explains, his eyes searching Spencer’s face for any sign of hesitation.

Spencer takes a moment to process Hotch’s words. He can see the logic in Hotch’s reasoning with the specific details of the case and the lack of leads; it might be the best way to proceed, and Spencer knows that it is only done when absolutely necessary. “And you’re sure I’m the best agent for the job, I don’t have much experience with undercover work,” Spencer says, keeping his voice as steady as he can while feeling the uncertainty within himself.

“You’re more than capable, Reid. Your intelligence and quick thinking are your strongest assets, and we have full confidence in your abilities. I would never ask this of you if I was not fully convinced that you are fit for this job. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I also know that you have it in you to handle it,” Hotch reassures him, his tone firm and unwavering.

Spencer nods, taking a deep breath as he processes the weight of the task that has been given to him. This is a very serious assignment, one he knows is crucial to solving the case and bringing justice to the victims. “If you believe I can do it, then I’ll do it,” Spencer says finally, his voice resolute.

Hotch nods, a sense of relief crossing his features. “Thank you, Reid. This means a lot to the case, and I know you will do a great job,” he says, his voice showing his appreciation.

Spencer reciprocates the nod, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. It’s a lot to take in, and it takes his usually so fast thinking mind a second to realize that he won’t be going undercover alone. “Who will be the other agent going undercover with me?” Spencer asks, wanting to know who he will be partnering with.

“I have someone in mind, but I want to make sure that she is on board before we move forward.”

“Is it, Y/L/N?” Spencer can’t help but ask, his mind already considering the possibilities of who he is going to work undercover with, and you are the person in the unit that would fit the profile of the victim the best. He really hopes it’s gonna be you, even though a part of him also doesn’t want you to be put in a potentially dangerous position. Spencer knows that your skills and intelligence would complement his own in such a high-stakes situation. And most importantly he just really likes being around you. You are always so kind to him and you never fail to make him feel included and supported.

Hotch nods. “Yes, she fits the profile as well and I believe that she has the expertise for this kind of operation. I will speak with her and see if she is willing to take on this assignment. I trust that the two of you will work well together on this case and you seem to get along well, and that’ll be important in this case. I’ll have to be sure that the agents I’m sending in can deliver a believable performance.”

And that is when it really dawns on Spencer, the two of you are not just going into a dangerous situation together, you will also have to pretend to be a couple, a young married couple expecting a child. He had been so caught up in the seriousness of the assignment and the potential risks involved that he hadn’t even considered that part of going undercover with you.

The thought of pretending to be a married couple with you, even if it’s just for the sake of the operation, sends a wave of feelings and thoughts through him, too many at once for him to fully process. Sure, it’s all part of the job, but the idea of being so close to you and having to maintain that facade is a challenge he’s not sure he’s fully prepared for. The idea of playing the role of your husband, even if it’s just for work, is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying at the same time.

But as Spencer looks into Hotch’s eyes, he sees the trust and confidence that his boss has in him, and he knows that he can’t back down now. He has a job to do, and he will do it to the best of his abilities, alongside you.

· · · · ·

After Hotch and Spencer left the conference room, you and the other agents moved back to your desks to go through the evidence and case files. You are now wrapped in the cardigan that usually hangs from the back of your desk chair and you feel a little more office appropriate.

“Damn, this is a tough one,” Derek says, shaking his head as he scans through the crime scene photos. “The level of violence in these murders is just brutal.”

You nod in agreement as you flip through your own stack of evidence, looking up from the file in your hand as Spencer and Hotch emerge from Hotch’s office, Spencer walking down the stairs to join the team, but Hotch stays back, his expression serious and you get a little surprised when he addresses you.

“Can I have a word with you in my office?” Hotch says, his tone somber before he steps back into his office.

You can’t help but feel a sense of urgency as you put down the file in your hand and get up from your desk. You pass Spencer at the foot of the stairs, his eyes flicking down to meet yours. “Everything okay?” you ask, a hint of concern in your voice. Spencer nods, but there is something in his eyes you can’t quite read.

“Yeah, uh… yeah, Hotch will explain,” he says, his voice slightly tense, and a slight crease is formed between his brows but the look in his brown eyes are soft as they meet yours.

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a small smile, before you quickly step up the stairs, or at least as quickly as you can in your five inch heels. You feel a small knot of anxiety starting to form in your stomach as you step into the office, wondering what this is about.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you feel the weight of Hotch’s gaze on you as you stand in front of his desk. “Please, sit down,” Hotch says, his tone grave as he gestures towards the chair in front of him. You take a seat, feeling a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

Hotch’s expression is unreadable as he looks at you, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder what all of this is about.

“I have a very big thing to ask from you, agent, and I want you to know that I’m asking this of you because I trust you can handle it. It’s a request, but the choice is fully up to you,” Hotch starts, his voice steady but filled with seriousness. “Due to the lack of leads and the nature of these murders, we have come to the decision to send in two undercover agents who fit the profile of the victims to try and draw out the unsub, and I would like to ask you to be one of those agents. Agent Reid has already agreed to take on the assignment, the two of you match the victim profiles, and I truly believe that with your skills and expertise, you would be the perfect choice for this task.”

You lean back in your chair as you let Hotch’s words sink in. So this is why Hotch wanted to talk with Spencer. Going undercover on a case as gruesome and high stakes as this is not something to take lightly, but with the circumstances of the case and the lack of current leads you can see the logic in it. It’s a risky move, but you know that sometimes risky moves are necessary in order to catch the unsub and bring justice to the victims.

“I know that this is a very big thing for me to ask of you, and I want you to know that I fully understand if you have any reservations or concerns,” Hotch continues, his tone earnest. “But I also believe that you have what it takes to handle this assignment, and your dedication to the job is unparalleled. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I wasn’t convinced that you could handle it.”

“I understand the gravity of this assignment, Hotch,” you say, your voice calm and steady, wanting to reassure him that you are aware of the importance of the task at hand. “I am aware of the risks involved, and if you think I’m the right person for the job, then I’ll do it.”

Hotch nods, his features softening. “Thank you, agent. I know this is a lot to ask, but I have full confidence in your abilities and I truly believe that you and Reid will be able to handle this assignment with the utmost professionalism.”

You nod in acknowledgment, a surge of determination coursing through you by your decision. You also can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that Spencer will be the person going undercover with you. You trust him implicitly and that makes you feel a sense of ease.

“I will arrange for a briefing with you and Agent Reid to go over the details of the assignment. You’ll also have to go through a training course while we set up a location for the undercover operation, and you will of course be given your undercover identities. I’ll inform the rest of the team about the assignment,” Hotch’s words are firm and decisive, and you can see the weight of responsibility in his expression. “But you better get home and get some rest. You have a long and intense process ahead of you, agent,” he adds, a softer tone creeping into his voice.

“Copy that,” you reply as you stand up from your chair. Soon you’re back down in the bullpen, standing at your desk as you gather your belongings and start to make your way out of the office. Just as you’re about to close your purse, you catch Spencer’s eye from where he’s standing over at his own desk, and as you give him a tired smile, which he mirrors, you swing your purse over your shoulder and walk over to his desk.

“So, Hotch asked you?” Spencer says as you approach him, his brown eyes meeting yours. You nod, the weight of the assignment settling in as you face each other.

“Yeah, he did. Looks like we’re partners in this one,” you reply, smiling at him once again.

Spencer nods, a small smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. You both stand there for a short moment, the weight of the assignment hanging heavily between you, before Spencer breaks the silence. “Do you need me to walk you to your car? I know the parking lot is just outside and that we have security, but still.”

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for his offer, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he looks at you, but that is also when you remember that you didn’t drive here yourself.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” you say, feeling touched by his concern. “But I actually didn’t drive here tonight, I took a cab.”

“You took a cab all the way from D. C.?!”

You laugh at his surprised expression. “Yeah, I was out, I didn’t have my car and I also had had a few drinks.”

“You should have called me, I could have picked you up and we could have driven together,” he says, his tone filled with genuine concern. You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“I appreciate that, Spence. Maybe next time,” you say, giving him a grateful smile. You know that Spencer is always willing to go above and beyond to help his friends and colleagues, and you can’t help but feel extra lucky to have him as a partner in this assignment.

“Well, you have a ride back home now,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“That’s nice,” you reply, with a bright smile, feeling very grateful for his offer. You had expected to get a lift from one of your colleagues when you drove out here, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get hold of a cab this late out here, but it feels really nice that you didn’t even have to ask for one.

“Of course,” Spencer replies, his smile growing wider. Soon the two of you are stepping out of the FBI building and are met with the brisk night air, your feet are hurting and the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. But almost before you get to register it, Spencer has removed his jacket and offers it to you. “You must be cold,” he says, giving you a kind look. You try to protest, but he insists, draping the jacket over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you mumble, not feeling like protesting further as soon as the warm feeling of the jacket engulfs you.

Once you reach his car, he opens the door for you and you slide into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kindness. “You want this back?” you ask, removing the jacket from your shoulder. You don’t really feel ready to give up the warm garment, but you also don’t want to assume that he offered it for more than just the walk to the car.

Spencer shakes his head as he settles into the driver’s seat and you watch him start the engine. “No, you just keep it.” You smile happily as you toe off your shoes and curl up in the seat draping the jacket over your bare legs, feeling like it is enveloping you in a comfortable cocoon of warmth and safety as Spencer starts the car and begins the drive back towards D. C.

The landscape passes by in a blur outside the window as the two of you drive in comfortable silence, the both of you seemingly getting lost in your own thoughts for a little while. The weight of the assignment in front of you settles heavily between you.

“I’m really grateful that you’re going to be my partner on this assignment,” Spencer breaks the silence eventually, his voice soft but filled with sincerity.

“Me too,” you reply, turning to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Another comfortable stretch of silence fills the car as you continue on your way back to the city. Despite trying to fight it, your eyes start to feel immensely heavy. Fatigue from a long day and the weight of the impending assignment finally catching up to you, and with the gentle lull of the car you never really stood a chance and soon you are starting to doze off, slowly sliding into the sweet embrace of sleep as you sink deeper into the soft car seat.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡ edit: it would especially be nice if you reblog when you ask to be added to the tag list ♡

Taglist: @luivisa @babyspiderling @reidsdaisies @eddioto @sadroses98 @lovelyygirl8

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

steady hand

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: probably very inaccurate descriptions of r’s job (it’s for the plot, okay??), shy!reader, a very small injury description, yearning (?), first kiss, fluff !!!

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first hotch fic (gasp) so i hope i did okay!!! i’m excited to be writing for him and i have enjoyed it so far and i hope you will too!!! please please let me know what you think and if you’d want to see more of him from me <33

༄

People are usually impressed when you tell them you work at the BAU.

Which, you won’t lie, is something to be proud of, but their first thought is always that you’re doing something big and solving cases. They ask you if you were there when this case was solved or when that killer was caught.

Then there’s the nodding and dissipation of their excitement when you explain that you work a desk job there. Organize files, write reports, that sort of thing. That is a lot less impressive to most.

You’re no Agent Morgan, or Dr. Reid. Certainly no Agent Hotchner or Prentiss. Instead of being on the field, you spend your time fighting with a printer.

Getting the papers you needed should have been simple, a quick in and out that would have you back hiding behind your desk in minutes. Of course, the universe or something must be against you, because instead, you’ve spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong.

It isn’t jammed (you’ve checked about five times to be sure) and you’re not educated in printers enough to know how to fix whatever’s going on. You’re just lucky nobody else has needed it yet.

“Come on,” you mutter, trying to pull it away from the wall to get a better look.

You’re sure there’s stress sweat building on your forehead. The last thing you want to do is ask someone for help, to make yourself too visible in this place full of important, intimidating people. You’d rather struggle on your own for now.

You make sure that the thing is plugged in (it is) and then check if it’s jammed. Again.

“Piece of shit,” you’re mumbling at the thing, leaning over it looking for anything out of place.

That’s when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. The sound has you jumping, your knuckles smacking against the wall where your hand had been wedged between it and the printer. You turn around to find Agent Hotchner.

He’d been walking by the printer room when he heard the grumbled curse words. Peeking inside, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find you fussing over the printer. He bit back a chuckle before making his presence known.

You tug your skirt down where it’d ridden up, fiddling with the hem as you try to push down your embarrassment. Of course he’d be the one to see you, in his crisp suit and all. He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely. You swallow and try not to look at his biceps.

“Sorry, sir. The printer doesn’t seem to be, um, printing.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you were fighting with it.”

You fight a wince, “you heard that?”

“Heard what?” He asks, though by the twitch of his lips, you know that he’s well aware of what you’re talking about. He then gestures at the cause of your issues behind you, “it’s not jammed, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t when I checked, at least.”

You’re trying not to act as nervous as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever really spoken to Agent Hotchner, save for small ‘hello’s and that one time you apologized for bumping into him. He’s handsome—you’ve always thought so—and, more importantly, he’s basically your boss.

“Let me take a look,” he says, walking over. You step aside, staying out of the way.

“It’s alright,” you start as he looks over it, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than fix a printer, sir.”

Hotch’s eyes flick over to where you stand, a hand still fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your hair a little messy, your eyes a little wide and worried. You look pretty, he thinks. And sure, he does have things he should be doing instead of trying to fix this printer, but he doesn’t really care.

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.

He looks back to the printer, and he seems pretty convinced about trying to help, so you drop it.

While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to look at his profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched a little in focus. It’s unfair, you think, for him to be smart and brave, and be so good-looking on top of it all.

Like he’d heard your thoughts, felt your gaze, he looks over at you again. You turn your eyes toward the floor quickly.

It’s a couple of minutes before anyone speaks. You, staring at the carpet until your vision goes a little fuzzy. Hotch, pushing buttons and flicking switches trying to figure out whatever was going on with the damn printer.

Then, the sound of the ink swiping over the pages, the papers spitting from the printer. You look over at it, mouth slightly parted. What can’t he do?

The sound of your name has your eyes snapping up to his. It’s yet another surprise, him knowing your name. You’re not that important, in the grand scheme of things at the BAU, in the world, really. Someone meant to stay hidden in the background. And still, he knows your name.

“It should be fine now,” he says, grabbing your papers from the cartridge and handing them to you as he stands up straight. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”

You grab the pages from him slowly, still shocked at the whole exchange. Your fingers brush against his as you do. “I- Thank you, sir.”

He nods, moving towards the hall. He pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you. “Hotch is fine.”

“Sorry?”

“You keep calling me ‘sir.’ You don’t have to. Just Hotch is fine.”

“Right. Sorry, sir- I mean, Hotch,” you test it out. “Thank you again.”

Yes, Hotch thinks, he likes you saying his name a whole lot more. He sends you a kind smile, “no problem.”

Hotch walks away, probably towards his office where he has very important things to do. Stuff that was surely delayed because he paused to help you. You stare at the doorway for a minute, until you give yourself a papercut and look down at it.

Aaron Hotchner knows who you are.

You’re two shitty coffees deep so far, your report open on your desk, the typing bar blinking on the screen of your computer.

There’s pages to go, though you’re not sure how many. You’ve been doing the sort of mindless, robot typing you do when you’re tired. When you’re preoccupied with trying not to glance in the direction of Hotch’s office.

The team got back sometime last night, long after you’d already gone home. From somewhere in Indiana, you think. You’re not sure how they do it, flying about and still coming into the office. You’re tired and you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been on a plane. Add the crime fighting and you’d be a goner.

Blinking yourself from your thoughts, you look back at the blank pages spread out in front of you. It’s not unusual for you to be missing pieces that you need to complete things, it’s just inconvenient. You always end up having to ask someone for the files you need, and then you feel like a burden.

It’s stupid, but in a place full of important people, it’s easy to feel like you’re just in the way.

Anyway, it’s your job, so you push away from your desk and stand, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your first thought is to go to Reid. As far as friendship goes, you’d consider yourself closest to that definition with him. He’s also the least intimidating of the bunch, probably because you see the most of yourself in him.

You find him in the kitchen with Agent Jareau, both holding their own mugs, probably filled with the same coffee as the one that sits on your desk. You knock gently on the door even though it’s open.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if either of you have the files from that case you worked a couple weeks back. The one in Ohio,” you shuffle on your feet under their gaze. “I need them for this report.”

“Hey,” Reid speaks first, smiling kindly, “I don’t remember keeping them, but I can double check in my desk if you would like.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll find them somewhere.”

You’re about to head out the door when Agent Jareau stops you, “wait, I’m pretty sure Hotch has them. I can go ask him for you.”

It’s silly to feel nervous talking to them, especially when nobody’s ever been anything but nice to you. A little bit of the twist in your gut comes undone.

“No, no. I’ll go ask him if he isn’t busy, thank you though.”

“You should be fine, the door’s open,” she tells you.

You nod, sending the both of them a smile you hope doesn’t look awkward. “Thanks again.”

Their voices picking up their conversation follow you out the door. You cross the space, saying small ‘hello’s to Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss when they greet you. You try to ignore the prickle of eyes on you as you climb the steps and head to Hotch’s office.

His jacket is draped across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms. It’s probably the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him, and he’s only missing a single layer. You look away from his arms when he says your name.

Hotch had his head bent, looking over a case when he’d heard footsteps, and he’d been glad to find you standing in his doorway. You work in the same place, yet he barely sees you. That’s probably why something lightens in his chest every time he does. The rarity, that’s all.

“Is this a bad time?” You ask.

“Not at all,” he leans back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, sir-”

“Hotch,” he reminds gently. His voice is easy, a hum that you think would sound good no matter what he was saying.

“Right, sorry. Hotch. I was just looking for some files that I need from a case you guys had for this report.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

Then, he smiles in that way that Aaron Hotchner so often does. A small twitch of his lips, a lift in the corners. One that you probably wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying so much attention. One that feels sort of like a gift.

You shake your head at yourself and elaborate, “the Ohio case. Three weeks ago, I think. I asked Agent Jareau, but she said you had them, so…”

Hotch wants to reassure you, but he’s not sure how to do it without standing up and letting himself grab your hand and squeeze it the way he’d like. And he can’t do that, not when you’re already nervous. Not when he’s not sure he could hold back after one touch.

“It’s no problem,” he opens one of his drawers, flips through folders until he finds what you’re looking for.

He stands up and walks around his desk until he’s in front of you, and he lets his gaze flick over your face while he has the chance. Your eyes find his easily, and you hope he can’t hear the catch in your breath.

Aaron isn’t usually so quiet with his affections, but that’s because he’s never found himself feeling this way at work. He wishes your desk was on his way to his office, just so he’d have an excuse to stop and talk to you. He makes sure never to use your favorite mug from the cupboard, just so you’ll be more likely to have it.

Hotch clears his throat, “here they are.”

He holds up the folder between you, his hand holding it loosely, the other hanging by his side. His fingers twitch.

You’re embarrassingly distracted by his exposed forearms, eyes trailing from his hand to the skin of his arm, to the way his shirt is tight where the sleeves are rolled. Then, it’s the color of his tie today, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.

His hand reaching for yours is enough to erase everything else. He lifts it and places the folder in your hold for you. Your skin burns even when he pulls away.

“You alright?” He asks. Probably because you’d been staring at him like a weirdo.

Get it together.

“Yeah. Yes, sorry. Just sort of spacey today, I guess.”

When you look back to his face, there’s nothing but a sort of softness in his eyes you can’t identify. He smiles at you, and for the second time, you feel like you’ve won something.

“Is that what you needed?” He asks.

You open the folder and peek inside. You find exactly what you’d been looking for, not that you’re surprised. Hotch knew what you’d meant and you didn’t doubt that.

“It is. Thank you, Hotch,” you grin lightly when you get that part right. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way.”

Hotch says the words like he’d known you needed to hear them, like he’d known what runs through your mind so often, like he can read you. He probably can, you think. He is a profiler after all.

Still, the words make your heart do a stupid little jump.

“I’ll bring them back when I’m done,” you say.

“No rush. They’ll just be going back in the drawer anyway.”

“Well, thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really.”

Hotch watches you walk back to your desk with your head down. Looking at the folder in your hand, he thinks, at least it’s an excuse for you to come see him again.

Hotch isn’t in his office when you return the files.

Since you can’t thank him in person—assuming he’s off with the team somewhere saving lives—you leave a sticky note on top of the folder. You drop it on his desk and leave before you second-guess yourself and rip the note off.

You can’t help but think that the office feels sort of empty without the team there. Without Hotch there. It’s how it is most days, so you’re not sure why the absence feels so present now. You shake it off.

The day passes by, then your drive home, and the rest of your night, too. Through it all, you can’t stop wondering what Hotch is doing, wherever he is. Hoping he’s safe.

You’re certainly not expecting to see him the next day, back so soon, but you can’t say you’re upset about it. It’s a brief glance, him walking into his office, the rest of the team and their chatter following, but it’s enough to make your work seem less tiring for some reason.

It was a quick case, and Aaron was glad to at least get a couple of hours of sleep in before coming into the office. When he sits at his desk, the first thing he notices is the folder you’ve left there. The small note in your handwriting.

‘Thank you :)’

He peels the note away and folds it up. Without thinking, it ends up tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s a simple piece of paper, but it’s heavy where it sits. He rubs a hand over the pocket where the note is and gets to work.

It’s not until a couple of hours later that Hotch ends up leaving his office. Conveniently, in the direction of your desk.

You’ve been burying yourself in your work, your leg bouncing nonstop, your nose inches away from the pages on your desk, your chair pushed in as close as it’ll go. You have to, because if you take a break, if you look away, your eyes will search for Hotch, and you don’t really want to think about what that means right now.

About the ache in your chest when he’s gone, the urge to go ask him a stupid question just to talk to him. It’s awful.

The pen you’re using suddenly runs out of ink, and it makes you pause long enough to feel a cramp in your hand. You sit up and huff, pulling your drawer open and digging around for another pen. Your name in Hotch’s voice has you shutting the drawer and spinning quickly.

It’s just your luck that your shirt gets caught, that the sound of the rip is too loud to play off or ignore.

“Oh gosh,” you whisper, looking down at the damage.

It’s a cheap shirt, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s worse than you’d expected. This is what you get for sitting so damn close. The side seam is split, and if you move too much, your bra would probably be visible.

“This is so embarrassing,” you say, holding the rip shut with one hand and holding the other on your forehead. Of course this would happen to you in front of him.

Aaron’s eyes hover where your skin had been exposed, even now that you hold your shirt shut, wondering if it’d feel as soft as it looks. He can’t even remember what he came over to do or say.

He swallows and looks at your face, “do you have another?”

You shake your head, still hiding behind your hand, “no. I really, really wish I did, though.”

“I have an extra one in my go bag. If you’d like?” He hears himself say the words, and he doesn’t regret them, necessarily, but it’s clear to him that you mess with his brain. He doesn’t think straight where you’re involved.

You peek up at him, dropping your hand to your side. “Are you sure? I could probably just use some paper clips, or something.”

“Nonsense. I’ll go get it, okay? I’ll bring it to the bathroom so you can change.”

“You don’t have to-”

Your name leaves his mouth again, gentle but firm. “I’ll grab it.”

“Okay.”

You speed-walk over to the washroom and walk in, closing the door only to block out the rest of the office, who surely noticed what just happened. You’re probably never gonna live this down.

Your overthinking doesn’t get very far, because after only a minute, Hotch is knocking on the door.

“It’s just me,” he says. ‘Just,’ like that word could ever be used to describe him. “You can just open the door a crack and I’ll pass the shirt through.”

You do as he says, tugging the door open until you can see a white dress shirt (of course) in his hand. You reach out and he hands it to you easily.

“Thank you, Hotch. I’ll wash it and give it back, I promise. Sorry for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, closing the door.

His shirt is wrinkled from being packed in his bag, and the sleeves are long when you put it on, but it smells like him and isn’t ripped so you really can’t complain. You roll the sleeves and tuck the bottom into your pants, looking in the mirror to make sure you look at least a little bit put together.

Holy shit, you think. I’m wearing Aaron Hotchner’s shirt. What world have you been living in recently? To be interacting with him more often, to be feeling this sick skip in your heartbeat whenever you do.

You toss your ripped shirt in the garbage, look up, and huff out a breath before leaving the bathroom. You’re surprised to see Hotch still standing there.

“Oh,” you nearly bump into his chest when you walk out the door, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder steadies you. “I didn’t know you were still there, sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry so much, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You’re dreaming, surely. You pinch yourself on the inside of your arm, just in case. You don’t wake up.

“I- um,” you’re fumbling for words because he’s standing there, looking at you softly, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that voice of his.

Aaron doesn’t know where that came from, but he’s said it and it’s happened. With the way he thinks about you, how often he does, he can’t really be surprised. Besides, seeing you get flustered because of him is absolutely worth it.

“I wanted to thank you for getting those files back to me so quickly.”

Your eyes flick over to his arm, and it’s then he realizes that his hand is still on your shoulder. He pulls it away and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s probably imagining it, but he swears his palm is tingling.

You wipe your hands over your thighs, “right. It was no problem, really. I was mostly done with my report, so… Thanks for giving them to me.”

“I’m glad to be able to help,” he says. Then he walks back to his office.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom for what’s surely an odd amount of time. Even back at your desk, you can’t shake the haze you feel, a pink tint to your vision, a flutter in your gut.

You spend the rest of your day with your nose buried in the collar of Hotch’s shirt, avoiding the gazes of your coworkers around you.

Aaron spends the rest of the day thinking about how you looked in his shirt. About how you’d look in it and nothing else. He drags a hand over his face when that pops into his head.

“You good, boss?” Morgan asks from the doorway.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk on Morgan’s face.

It’s very rare that Aaron leaves work at a reasonable time. So rare that he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t the last person there.

He’s used to the late nights, the empty spaces, deserted desks. Even so, it’s nice to finish up earlier than he’d expected. He looks forward to the extra sleep he’ll get, the longer time frame to decompress.

Leaving work early already felt like a small victory for the day, and he feels like he’s won something bigger when he sees you in your car, still in the parking lot.

You’d left maybe twenty minutes before Hotch, though you’d assumed he’d be leaving hours after you like he usually does. Everything was fine, normal as you bid your goodbyes to your desk neighbors, as you rode the elevator down.

The sun has started setting, and the air gets cooler as it sinks. You fish your car keys from your bag and unlock it, getting in quickly and tossing your bag onto the passenger seat.

You like your job, sometimes you love it, even, but you look forward to going home either way. You think about the warm shower you’ll take, the shitty dinner you’ll end up eating. Your lonely plans are ruined as you twist your car key in the ignition, it sputters and doesn’t start.

“No, no. Come on,” your head falls back, you huff and take the key out.

You try again, and still, no luck. And again, and once more until you’re fed up with it and drop the keys in your lap. Your head is dropped against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a moment of dramatics from your defeat.

A knock on your window startles you upright. Your heart races for reasons other than fear when you look at who it is.

Hotch stands outside, leaning towards your window with a scrunch in his brows. When he catches your eye, he steps back from your door and gives you room to open it and step out.

You shut your car door behind you and lean your back against it, “hi.”

“Hi. Sorry to scare you, but I wanted to check that you were alright?”

“It’s okay,” your arms are folded behind your back, your hands twisting. “Um, it’s nothing, just some car troubles.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I guess not. It won’t start for some reason. I don’t know.” If he wasn’t standing right there, you’d probably smack yourself for how unsure you sound. “You keep catching me at the worst times, Hotch.”

He disagrees. Aaron can’t think of a time where seeing you could ever be a bad thing.

“You’re fine,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, “trust me.”

Despite the bite of the wind outside, the way he speaks warms you. He’s so honest in the way he speaks, in the sense that he sounds sure, even if it isn’t necessarily vulnerable. You don’t know how he does it.

A small smile spreads on your face before you can stop it, “okay, good. And thank you for checking on me. I’ll just call a cab and figure this out tomorrow.”

There’s no way he can let you take a cab. It’s obvious that with what he does, the things he sees, he’d rather know for sure you’d be safe getting home. But then, there’s the sort of floating feeling he has when he’s around you, one he’d like to feel for a little longer if he could.

“Let me drive you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll be fine.”

He ducks his head a little, catches your eye and holds you with that soft gaze of his. “Please, it’s not a problem. For my peace of mind.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, really. You’d much rather sit in a car that probably smells like him than in the back of a cab that smells like sweat.

“For your peace of mind, then. That’d be great.”

You grab your bag from your car before following Aaron to his, where he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before shutting it. He jogs around the front of his car and gets in.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks, starting his car. The radio hums softly through the speakers, and Hotch reaches over to turn on the heating when he catches you shivering a little.

You tell him your address, “you don’t have to drive me if it’s out of your way, Hotch. I mean it.”

“It isn’t out of my way,” he assures you, and he could easily be lying, but you accept it anyway.

It’s quiet for a little bit, besides the odd question from Aaron for which way to turn. You take the chance to look at him as he drives, his hands on the wheel, the street lights hitting his face. Your head lulls against the seat.

“You’re finished earlier than usual today,” you say. “Not that I know your schedule, or anything, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, a smile spreading. It’s wider than what you’ve seen at work, unguarded enough to show his teeth. It’s really pretty. “It’s alright. It’s work I can be doing at home.”

“That’s good. A change of scenery, at least.”

“Exactly.”

You’re not sure what it is that feels different now, in the car. Maybe it’s because it’s only you and him, no prying eyes in the office, no concerns about what this is, what’s allowed. It might only be you, that feels this sort of spark with him, fizzing i’m the air between you. Either way, you’ll soak it up for the duration of the ride to yours.

Maybe that’s why you’re saying, “you know, I always thought you didn’t even know who I was. Until the printer thing.”

Aaron peeks over at you, leaned in his passenger seat. You look like you belong there, like there’s always been a spot for you in his life. Even when you’d started at the BAU, when he first saw you, he felt like it was right that you were there.

Hell, he’d asked Garcia who you were and has had your name in the back of his head since.

“I’ve always liked you,” he admits. He doesn’t say he’s always known you. Liked.

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. Someone like him even noticing you seemed unfathomable. But liking you? He’s gotta be lying.

“Really. Even when you were bumping into me.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. You were looking down at the ground, walking like you were being timed. And you had on this light pink sweater.”

Your eyes go wide, focused on his face. You had been wearing a light pink sweater that day. And he remembers all of that? You think, if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, your eyes would be in the shape of hearts, pulsing in your pupils.

“I can’t believe you noticed all of that.”

“I notice a lot of things,” he says.

Aaron has always had his guard up around new people, has always made himself more serious at work than anywhere else. Then you came along and he had to fight to keep things that way. It makes sense that the minute he sees you outside of work his walls would crumble to dust.

It was inevitable, really.

“I’ve always liked you, too.” Then, before he can say anything, you point at your building, “it’s this one here.”

The car rolls to a stop slowly, his turn signal flashing as he pulls over by the entrance of your apartment building. He puts the car in park and turns to you fully.

“Thank you for driving me.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out before he can really think about it, fingertips featherlight over your cheekbone, sliding over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then, like it was never there, he pulls back. There’s a glow in his fingers where they’d brushed your skin, golden.

It matches the one you feel on your cheek, sparkling.

“Get in safe, okay?”

“It’s a few feet from here to the front door, Hotch. I’ll be alright.”

He huffs softly, twin smiles on your faces. Lovesick and shy, nervous and pink-hazed all at once.

“For my peace of mind,” he says.

“Fine, then. Your peace of mind,” you reach for the door handle, tugging it and pushing the door open. You look at Hotch again, like you can’t get yourself to stop. “Thanks again.”

“See you, sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

You step out and head to your door, turning around before walking inside to give him a wave. Aaron grins and waves back, watching you walk inside.

He stays parked by the curb until he sees a light flick on a couple of floors up.

There’s a reason that Hotch is Unit Chief. He thinks quickly, keeps his head straight even with what he deals with every day. There’s also a reason his leadership has been questioned before, but never revoked.

He can be reckless, throwing himself into situations when he knows he probably should’ve waited for backup. This time, it only got him a split eyebrow and a few stitches. It’s been worse; this is nothing.

It is, however, proving to be an inconvenience. He’d gotten stitched up in the ER of whatever hospital was closest to where the team had caught their unsub. It had to be quick, from the hospital straight to the jet.

They’d told him to clean it up again and put a new bandage on it when he got back, which is what he’s trying to do now, in his office, with his laptop’s grainy camera as a mirror. He has the supplies the hospital gave him on his desk, but he can’t really see what he’s doing, and the task is taking much longer than he’d like.

His hands are a little shaky from the adrenaline of his day, and every time his arm comes up to reach his stitches, it blocks his view.

Then, he sees you walking up to his office.

Usually, you’d already be home by now, but you’d been yourself and messed up some of your paperwork, so you had to stay late to re-do it. When you catch sight of Hotch in his office, you’re not so annoyed with yourself.

You notice the things on his desk, the blood on the front of his shirt. Your feet carry you to his doorway easily. Last time you’d really spoken to him was that night in his car, and ever since, there’s been something boiling, a noticeable shift.

You tap your knuckles on his open door twice, “you okay?”

He gives up on dealing with his cut and looks at you instead, the slightly rumpled state of your clothes from a long day, the smile you wear that doesn’t exactly hide the concern in your eyes, the light from the hallway a halo around you. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m alright. Just can't seem to do this right,” he says, gesturing to his eyebrow.

“Do you need help?”

Aaron has never been one to accept help easily, always one to do things on his own. But, when you’re offering so sweetly, when your help means your hands on his skin, how could he ever say no?

“That would be great.”

He pushes his chair back to give you room to stand in front of him. Your legs between his, leaning against the edge of his desk. His knees bump into the sides of your legs, little bursts of the kind of warmth sunlight emits on skin.

You reach for the wipes first, holding them in one hand and reaching up to his eyebrow, the other grasping his chin gently to keep his head steady.

His hand reaches up to hold your elbow. It could so easily be innocent, be almost nothing, but it feels like more. His thumb running back and forth, your face close enough to his to have your breaths mingling. It really feels like more.

“You’re here late,” he says, low and quiet.

“Spilled coffee all over my work. Had to start over. Can you believe it?” You speak just as quietly, eyes flicking from his cut down to his, just for a second.

“I can, actually. You’re sort of clumsy.”

“Hey!” He’s right, of course, but the warm chuckle he lets out is worth your dramatic gasp.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you, squeezing your elbow. “I think it’s cute.”

“Well, thank you, then.”

You set the wipe aside and reach for the bandage next, placing it over his eyebrow and smoothing down the edges with a light touch. When you’re done, you pull back but don’t go far. Your hands fall from his face to grasp the edge of his desk instead.

“All done,” you say.

Aaron’s hands have shifted to your waist. His touch is so delicate, but you’d never ignore it. It might as well be bruising, the way his hands affect you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Hotch.”

Now would be the time to walk out the door, to say ‘goodnight’ and head home, but you’re in no hurry. Not when his eyes are shining in the dimmed light of his office, soft and practically melting.

They seem to beckon you closer, and though you don’t have a reason this time, your face ends up near his, noses almost touching. It’s as far as you go, afraid you’re misreading things, afraid you’ll be wrong about this.

Hotch closes the space for you.

His chin tilts up, his mouth catching yours softly at first. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips slightly chapped and completely perfect against yours.

You think your knees might buckle, so you put your hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his skin, like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. You’re not sure how you manage to kiss him back but you do, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when you push back.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, but it doesn’t have to. You can feel plenty in it already.

It’s not long before Hotch pulls away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to look up at you. He removes one of your hands from his shoulder and holds it in his.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You look down at your feet, at his legs next to yours. The hand still on his shoulder falls to your side, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You’re right, I’m so-”

“But,” he stops your apology before you can say it. As if you’d ever need to apologize for kissing him. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. If you’d want that.”

You look back at his face, eyes searching. He smiles so softly at you, it’s the kind of smile you could only ever give someone you like in this way. Someone you like enough to kiss.

“I’d really like that, Hotch.”

“Good,” he stands, but his hands don’t leave you. “And sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Call me Aaron.”

When you test it out, he’s sure of it; his name on your lips is his absolute favorite sound.

༄

thank you so much for reading!!! please please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps a whole bunch more than you’d think and would mean a lot!! <3

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spencereidluver · 5 months

Text

B is for Boy Genius?

summary: You outsmart Spencer in one of his most talented subjects: Poker. Derek officially removes his "Boy Genius" title, effectively aggravating sans-poker-champ Spencer. And someone is a little hot when he's angry...

word count: 2k

warnings: none really, some friendly bullying of Spencer by Derek but nothing that isn't normal in the show.

“Straight flush.” Spencer says with a grin. He’s been in the BAU going on 5 years, and has yet to be beaten at poker by anyone.

“Oh, Spencer,” you lean in toward him and flatten your cards on the table. “Royal. Flush.”

“What? No way.” He speaks before he can even look at your cards. “Oh my god.”

“How’s it feel to be beaten at your own game?”

“I want a rematch. Outside dealer.” He passes the deck to Derek, who is sitting at his desk across the aisle.

“Pretty boy got beat, huh?” Derek says, beginning to shuffle the cards. He deals them out, planting a little kiss on the last card he hands you. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart is what Derek has called you since you joined the team. At first you thought it was a little weird, but by now you’re used to it. And to be honest, it’s one of the more normal names he calls his coworkers. So you lucked out there.

You see Spencer smirk, he probably has a good hand. Well, maybe not. He’s always had a pretty good poker face, no pun intended.

“What’s going on?” Rossi says as he makes his way out of his office to see Derek, JJ, and Emily all surrounding you and Spencer.

“Oh, pretty boy and girl genius here are having a poker-off.” Derek says. That’s the first time you’ve ever been called girl genius, it makes you feel a small tingle in your stomach. You look up at the former boy genius in front of you, he’s got a rosy blush on his cheeks and spreading across his nose and down his neck. His pupils have dilated. Oh... Maybe he’s just nervous. . .

“Spencer here just lost his first poker game.” Emily says, giving him a pat on the shoulder. It makes him jump.

“First and only.” Spencer testified. He clenches his jaw, making a small dimple appear. “Full house.” He slams his cards down and looks toward you with a smile.

You click your tongue. Rossi has now appeared and is watching from behind Spencer’s shoulder. Locking eyes with him, you slide his cards to the side. “Four of a kind.” you say as you sit each card down one by one.

Spencer’s eyes all but come out of his skull. Derek erupts in laughter, “Dethroned,” he manages to say. He ruffles Spencer’s hair. “How’s it feel having a new genius around?”

“I’m impressed.” Spencer tells you, ignoring Derek’s provoking remarks. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Oh you know, picked it up during my college years.” You say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a half-mouthed smirk.

The crowd of your coworkers fades out, and everyone gets back to work. Your desk being directly across from Spencer’s, you see him studying the cards through the pile of binders and Manilla folders between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe you won. Twice,” he looks up from his desk to say.

“You just can’t give up the crown, can you, Spence?” You respond.

_____

You get up from your desk to go get your lunch from the breakroom. With a morning filled with poker and getting a solid new nickname, you’ve worked up quite an appetite. Upon opening the door, you bump shoulders with JJ, who is making her way out.

“Woah there, girl genius,” she says. “Watch where you’re going there.”

“Sorry JJ, the genius doesn’t come equipped with self-steering.” You joked.

Spencer is standing at the counter stirring a coffee. His head turned toward you as you walked in the room, causing him to lose control of his hands and the coffee-coated spoon went flying.

“Nor hand eye coordination.” Emily laughs from the table in the corner.

“Shut up.” Spencer mumbles, wiping the small mess he made up with a paper towel. “You know, the average win rate for professional poker players is only 47%.”

“Well, as of right now, y/n’s is 100.” Emily pats his shoulder once again as she walks past him and out the door, leaving you and Spencer alone.

“I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal of this little poker thing.” He says, a little annoyed.

You walk behind him and open the fridge. “It’s all in good fun, Spence. We all know you’re still the smartest by a long shot.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Like, why has everyone been bringing it back up. I lost a game, big deal.”

“I think everyone is just surprised is all. I mean, you haven’t lost a game in five years, Spence. That's a long time.”

“Not really. Considering most of the people here are in their thirties, that’s only 1.5% of their life-“

You interrupt him. “But, they’ve only worked here since they were about 25, making that their entire time here.”

Spencer’s mouth drops wide open. He cannot believe you caught that. Especially before him. “I- Wow. I guess you’re right." He looks defeated, tensing his shoulders and taking a heavy breath.

"You're still the smartest person I know, Spence." You try to make him feel better. The corners of his mouth turn up in what would not quite be classified as a smile. "And the whole team agrees with me, they're just trying to get under your skin."

He giggles and makes a disgusted face. "Ew. You didn't have to word it like that, y/n. I've lost my appetite." He pushes his coffee away and grins.

You quickly grab a straw from the small four compartment organizer to your right, sticking it in the cup and taking a sip out of it. You swallow, blinking aggressively. "Spencer, how many sugars did you put in here?" He'd been autonomously opening and pouring in sugar packets since the conversation began.

He glances in the small garbage bin beneath his feet. "Um, thirteen." He says, pressing his lips together forming the "white people" smile.

_____

You walk in the office slightly later than your normal time. You took a detour to the local supermarket in order to pick up some yogurt for lunch, getting sidetracked by a t-shirt you found on the end-cap of an isle.

You grabbed the t-shirt and two bottles of coffee and hurried to the register, completely forgetting the yogurt you made the trip for in the first place.

As you reach your car, you toss your knitted bag, now filled with coffee and a t-shirt, into your passenger seat and quickly climb inside.

The office is about 2 minutes from the supermarket. As you drive, you play with the fabric of the black shirt peeking out of the bag. You wonder when you're going to have a chance to put it on.

As you pull into the parking lot of the BAU, you see Spencer hustling in. He must be running late. Odd. He was never late. Never. You saw Spencer’s rare fault as the perfect moment, and slipped your sweater off in the driver’s seat of your car. You slid the black tshirt over your bra, pulling the button up sweater over your shoulders and fastening all but the top button. You grabbed your bag, sliding it over your left shoulder and exited your car, shuffling in.

You met Spencer at the elevator, unsure how you both got there at the same time as he’d entered the building a good two minutes before you.

“Good morning, Spence,” you said and smiled at him.

“Mornin’, y/n. How are you?” He responded.

“I’m good, how about you?”

“I’m okay, I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to get my coffee, but other than that I’m doing well.”

You thought about the glass bottle in your bag. You knew grabbing two would be a good idea. You looked up at the tall man, feeling small as he glanced down toward you. “I stopped by the market this morning, I picked up an extra coffee. I was going to just save it for tomorrow, but you’re welcome to have it.”

“Oh, are you sure, y/n? Don’t feel like you have to give up your coffee because I was up all night.”

You wondered why he was up all night. What could’ve been on his mind that kept him up so late? You gestured the bottle over to him, smiling as he took it from your grasp.

“Thank you, y/n. I owe you for this one.”

The elevator door opened and the two of you began walking down the hall to the BAU room. Spencer opens his coffee, a satisfying “pop” sound as the seal of the lid breaks. You pull the glass door open and hold it for him as he takes his first sip. He scurries through and you follow, pulling your own coffee from your bag.

“Well, well, well,” Derek announced loud enough the whole building could hear. “Look who finally decided to show up to work.”

“Shut up,” Spencer retaliated.

“I didn’t know coffee was on the new genius this morning. Where’s mine, y/n?” Derek joked, smirking at Spencer.

You could tell this one stung a little bit. Spencer knew it was all fun and games, but having his one strong suit, in his mind anyways, be taken away from him hurt. You rolled your eyes and hurried over to your desk, sitting your bag down on the files you’d yet to fill out. You looked up, expecting Spencer to be at the table across from you, but he wasn’t. He’d walked away. You sighed and got to work.

Spencer returned about half an hour later, sitting down at his desk without even acknowledging you. He began aggressively writing on his paperwork, so aggressively that his hand veins protruded and knuckles turned white. By the clench of his jaw, you knew he was probably a little upset by the interaction with Derek earlier, so you decided now would be the perfect time to unveil your purchase from this morning.

You stood up, unbuttoning your sweater and slowly worked your way toward Spencer. You grabbed the deck of playing cards from his desk, drawing the man’s attention. He glanced up at you with a slightly raised eyebrow. Leaning down close to his ear, you whispered, “follow me.”

He shivered as the heat of your voice hit the back of his neck, but obliged. You took him up the stairs to the half floor located in front of Hotch’s office. “Just go with it, okay?” You said to him. He looked confused, but nodded in agreement despite.

You loudly cleared your throat, attention from the floor below turned toward you. You held up the deck of cards. You made sure your shirt was visible and gently brushed your side against the man who stood next to you.

“I would like to re-declare Dr. Spencer Reid as certified office genius. After further research, he has proven himself worthy of the title.” You announced to the rest of the team who had their full attention on you. Spencer smiled.

“You’re too kind,” Spencer said, leaning down to take a peek at your shirt that he’d noticed you’d paid extra attention to. He couldn’t quite see it as half of it was wrinkled from the curves of your body and the guard rail was disturbing his view as he leaned forward. He grabbed your shoulders and gently twisted them to face him. His eyes met your breasts, despite knowing he was just reading the vinyl words, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little bit. You knew everyone in the office was watching you guys as well, making you even warmer. Spencer’s cheeks had a small hint of rose to them as well as he mouthed the words on your shirt.

“I’m with genius,” he whispered under his breath. A smile took over his face, but it slowly faded as he realized he was still holding on to your shoulders. He felt his cheeks grow red and he quickly pulled his arms back down to his side.

You opened your mouth to begin speaking, but right when the words were about to come out, the door to Hotch’s office swung open and he came barreling through, files in hand.

“Sorry to ruin the fun guys, but we have a case.”

_____

next chapter: C is for Case by Case

_____

a/n: okay i guess that one was kind of boring too.. but i kinda wanna set some tension and some story lines before we just jump in you know... since this chapter was pretty long, the next chapter is going to be a short little filler chapter of a conversation with you, spencer, and hotch. I hope you guys are enjoying so far :)

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

Hellooo!!! I have a Spencer Reid request, but feel free to ignore it if you're not up for it hahaha! I was thinking about BAU!Reader and maybe her and Spencer starting to mimic each other because they've been together for a while and spend so much time together? Like the way they talk, etc! I think it could be so so cute, especially if they don't realize they're doing it and the team noticing it for them? Thank you so much, I love everything that you write 🤍

Thanks gorgeous!

cw: discussion of tongue preservation methods? sorry in advance

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 560 words

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriend as he goes into detail about how to preserve severed tongues.

“So the fact that this unsub is purchasing equipment actually shows a lack of medical expertise, since he seems to be going overboard with preservation measures.” Spencer’s nodding as he talks, a tiny scrunch between his brows. “It’s pretty silly actually. It’s probably only a matter of time until he figures out he just needs to keep them on ice.”

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Morgan chuckles quietly.

Spencer blinks, eyes refocusing as he comes out of his brain and back into the conference room. “What?”

“Did you just say the unsub was silly?” Prentiss asks, and his eyebrows refurrow.

“Did I?”

“Let’s stay on task.” Hotch is all business. “If he were as inexperienced as that would suggest, he probably wouldn’t make clean cuts. This skill level indicates some level of expertise.”

“Well, actually, I’m not sure it would necessarily be medical expertise,” you say, cringing at your own knowledge. “The process he’s using doesn’t sound dissimilar to how I think they preserve cow tongues. Maybe he’s preparing them to eat.”

You’re doing your best not to squirm, and Spencer can likely tell, placing a slender hand on your leg under the table. “That’s a good point,” he says, “he could have experience as a chef or in the meatpacking business.”

Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but how many chefs know how to preserve tongues?”

“Maybe we could start by looking into restaurants that serve those kinds of delicacies,” JJ suggests.

“Good.” Hotch closes his binder, standing. “Garcia, you get started on that and we’ll touch base with you from Atlanta. Wheels up in two hours.”

“Yes sir.” Garcia looks a bit green—you sympathize—as she hurries out of the conference room.

Morgan’s giving you one of his knowing looks, collecting his things extra slow, until finally you sigh. “What?”

“Well, actually,” he mimics, lips curving into a grin. “You and pretty boy must be getting serious if you’re taking on his signature phrase.”

You roll your eyes, but Spencer smiles, looping his crossbody bag over his head. “Actually, language style matching is only one form of mirroring. If you’re paying attention, people who spend a lot of time together can mirror each other down to their breathing rhythms or how many times they blink within a minute.”

You look at him interestedly. “So what does that mean? Just that we’re spending too much time together?”

The look Spencer gives you threatens to liquefy you with its softness. “There’s never too much time.”

Morgan’s laughter is hooting, and you want to find that as cheesy as he does, you really do, but the place within yourself where you usually reach for sarcasm has gone mushy and useless. You rearrange some things in your bag unnecessarily, head down to hide your blush.

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.”

This would normally be your opportunity to think of a retort, but luckily you don’t have to. JJ pops back into the room, looking frowny.

“We just got a call from Atlanta. The unsub killed again overnight.”

Spencer grows serious. “He’s accelerating?”

“Yup.” She nods. “Hotch wants us there now, so it’s wheels up in twenty.”

You and Spencer nod in tandem. “Sick.”

Morgan’s eyes roll straight up to the ceiling.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

Text

Vice.

Synopsis - Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Pairing - Luke Alvez x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. luke has a gorgeous filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1.6k

Author's Note - my baby my baby my BAAAAAABY!! I have been in love with this man for years and years and I can't believe I haven't written more for him. if you ever have a luke request, please send it to me. love him with my whole heart <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Vice - a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit. "Cigars happen to be my father's vice."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Italian food."

The entire team laughs, faces illuminated by the warm yellow lights in Rossi's backyard.

"Yeah, no shit," Tara retorts, looking pointedly at Dave. "Doesn't take a behavioural analyst to figure that one out."

"Look, you asked the question, I answered."

He reclines back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine, looking around the table.

"Okay Tara, you go. What's your vice?"

She chuckles to herself before confessing.

"Super steamy period romances."

Everyone bursts into more laughter.

"Wait, what?"

"What kind?"

She's clutching at her sides as she answers.

"All kinds! Movies, books, TV shows. If it has corsets and sex, I'm in."

Your cheeks are aching from smiling so hard. You're not sure who first raised the initial question, but it's really allowed you to get to know each other a little bit deeper.

"Okay, enough about me. Simmons, what's your vice?"

"I have six kids. I don't have time for a vice."

He sounds serious, but he's grinning as he says it.

"I think the six kids are a result of an old vice."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, several glasses of wine almost obliterating your verbal filter. Your team howl with laughter.

"No comment," Matt wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "Golfing is a safer option now. No risk of unplanned surprises."

"I had to change mine after kids, too," JJ chimes in. "I used to smoke cigarettes after bad cases, but I can't anymore. What kinda mom would I be if I lectured the boys about the dangers of nicotine, and then got caught chain smoking in the backyard?"

"A cool one," you shrug, yelping when she jokingly punches you in the arm.

"What about you, hotshot?" she asks, the whole team turning their attention to you. "What's your vice?"

You desperately avoid any eye contact, trying to play it cool. You just know Luke has that glint in his eye as he looks at you pointedly.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh, fuck," you groan, fingers threading into the dark curls of his hair.

"Shhh, honey," he murmurs, lifting his head from between your legs to look up at you. "You and I both know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught."

He dives back in, tongue gliding and flicking all the spots that make you keen. You slap one hand over your mouth, the other grappling to hold onto the leather beneath you.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts, condescension dripping from his tone. "The thrill turns you on, doesn't it, baby? The risk of getting caught only makes you hotter."

You whine against your palm, bucking your hips to urge him to keep going.

"What do you want, princesa? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

He loves this. Loves hearing you beg. Loves having you relinquish complete control and let him take care of you. Loves that he can turn you, the most independent, headstrong woman he knows, into a whining, needy mess.

"Fingers," you croak out. "Make me come, Luke, please."

He grins up at you like the cat who got the cream, self satisfied smirk never leaving his lips.

"Okay, baby," he soothes. "Since you asked so pretty."

He slides two fingers into you with embarrassing ease, crooking them in the way he knows you like.

"Oh, sweet girl, what would the team think? Huh? What do you think they'd say if they saw you like this, letting me finger fuck you in the backseat of my car in the parking garage?"

He's muttering lowly, under his breath, but you hear him clear as day. He loves to patronise you, tease you, get under your skin. In everyday life, he treats you with the utmost respect. In bed, not so much. You love it.

"Couldn't even wait until we got home. Poor baby, just had to take the edge off."

His eyes meet yours, like a magnetic force. His gaze is so dark, it has you squirming in place.

"It was the shirt," you choke out. "Fucking shirt."

"Hmm?" he hums against you, the vibrations pulling you closer to the edge.

"Your shirt," you moan as his thumb finds your clit. "Makes your arms look so, fuck, so big."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that. You can practically see his ego inflating.

"I'll let you wear it tomorrow morning, if you want. If you can still walk by then, that is."

You're right on the precipice, orgasm almost within reach. If he keeps talking to you like this, you'll be at the finish line in no time.

"Oh, I've got a better idea. Why don't I fuck you in it?"

The idea makes your head spin, sending you straight into your climax. Sharp white heat licks up your spine, curling your toes and arching your back. Your grip tightens in his hair and he groans, low and honeyed.

"That's it, baby," he's murmuring. "Ride it out. Good girl."

You finally relax, melting into the leather seats. Luke crawls from his position to lean over you, resting his body onto yours. He kisses you gently at first, then dirtier as you come back to yourself.

"My place or yours?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yours is closer."

"Mine it is."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hello? Earth to Hotshot?"

JJ nudges you playfully, grinning at you from ear to ear.

"What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," you stutter, clearing your throat. "Nothing at all."

You make the mistake of lifting your gaze from your lap. There, staring at you from across the table, is Luke Alvez. You almost wish you could slap that smug smirk off of his face.

"Come on, girl!" Tara hollers.

"Everyone has a vice," Spencer begins. "You have to. Especially in our line of work. We have to have some kind of outlet. Some sort of release."

Release. You almost choke on your wine, patting yourself on the chest.

"Yeah, no. I, uh, I like British reality TV. I guess that's mine."

The team laugh, everyone teasing you relentlessly. You risk a glance at Luke, and regret it immediately. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and chuckles, knowing look in his eye. You're petrified for a moment that he can read your mind.

"Okay then Spence. Your turn," you prompt, desperate to take the attention off yourself.

Spencer starts rambling about quantum physics, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Relief.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Yeah, this is what you needed, isn't it baby?"

You try to respond, but Luke's huge hands wrapped around your throat are making it a little difficult.

"My poor sweet girl, just needed some relief huh? You sick of being in charge all the time? You want me to take care of you?"

His tone is low and melted, the timbre of it settling into your bones. All you can do is whine and nod your head in response.

His hips repeatedly snap into yours, his body melded to you. He's completely smothering you with his weight, but you don't mind. You like the closeness.

You lean up to kiss him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He's swallowing your moans, leaning his head forward to rest against yours.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty," he groans. "You gonna come for me, mama? Give me what I want?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes. Please, baby. Please."

"Who am I to deny you when you beg so fucking sweet?"

The hand that's not around your throat snakes between your sweat slicked bodies to rub circles on your clit, throwing you over the edge.

Your back arches, hips writhing on Luke's soft cotton sheets. You're squeezing him so tight he's seeing stars.

"Oh fuck baby, oh fuck."

Luke goes boneless, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He releases his grip on your throat and wraps both arms around you, pressing you together impossibly closer.

"We get better at this every time," he chuckles.

You smack him jokingly, before bursting into laughter. Soon, the two of you are crying happy tears, revelling in the afterglow.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"I'm gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything from the kitchen?"

You stand from your seat and make your way inside, taking note of the replies.

"I'll help you," Luke says, rising to join you. Neither of you see the way everyone at the table looks at each other knowingly.

You're barely through the door when you feel him against you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, murmuring in your ear.

"I'm your vice, aren't I?"

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh.

"In your dreams, Alvez."

He nips at your neck before continuing.

"Admit it. I'm your dirty little bad habit that you just can't kick."

You turn in his arms to face him, running your fingers through his hair.

"Talk the talk all you want, Luke. You and I both know this works both ways."

Your quirk your brow at him, and he leans in and kisses you chastely.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he grins.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," you smirk back.

Outside, the team decide they'll continue to let you both lie to them for a little while longer. It's more fun for everyone that way.

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