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#criminal minds
ropoto · 14 hours ago
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EMILY PRENTISS IN 5x06 “THE EYES HAVE IT”
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reidslibrarybook · 11 hours ago
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On The Mend
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Couple - Spencer x Fem!Reader
Warnings - Language, mentions of spencer’s prior drug abuse and Tobias Hankel, mentions of death by anthrax
Summary - Spencer’s fallen for you in possibly one of the worst cases he’s ever had to work, threatened by tiny little spores that ran through the air while his heart ran rampant for you. My interpretation of Amplification (4x24).
Category - fluff, hurt/comfort
Word Count - 5.6k
A/N - big thank you to @samuel-de-champagne-problems and @reidsacademia for helping me out, truly the best ppl ever. this was both fun and exhausting to write lmao. ik some parts of the story don’t match up with the episode but it’s fiction so….. :) big thanks to both
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—————————————-
He walked in with Derek and JJ, his heart thumping faster than it usually would for any case. Hotch had contacted everyone directly without any prior warning, JJ wasn’t even aware that there was a case. It had to be urgent, there had to be something so incredibly wrong for Hotch to call everyone in without consulting with JJ first.
Spencer’s gut was wrenching, churning from an anxious feeling gnawing away at his chest— afraid of what was to come. He placed his bag down and looked around as his vision began to slowly dizzy.
There were too many people buzzing around which drew his attention to too many places. It wasn’t until Hotch had ordered the room to silence, explaining the deadly situation of attack anthrax used on innocent people at the park, that his mind could finally focus on the life-threatening danger at hand.
Dr. Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC, came in to inform the team about the nature of the infectious disease. Everyone had come up with a preliminary profile in the short time it took for Spencer to clear his mind, organizing the rampant fears of a bad ending and filing them away into a cabinet for safekeeping.
He was too afraid to show his fear, completely speechless as he thought about his fate— about the fate of his mother. She had no one to care for her if he died via rod-shaped bacterial spores. There was a special place in his will for her, something he knew he needed to set up after his run-in with a certain unsub with DID who may or may not have killed him multiple times— saved and damned by the clear fluid injected into his veins.
Spencer’s ears perked up when he heard the clicking of someone’s heels coming from the door that was connected to the BAU hallway. An ethereal glow surrounded you as your feet padded across the carpet, placing the tray of Cipro on the table and looking up to Dr. Kimura with your clipboard in your hand.
You were absolutely breathtaking, his eyes widening so he could capture every detail about you as you nodded your head while Hotch gave you directions. You were exactly like him before the cruelties of the job stole the bright light in his heart— a wide smile that emitted an almost blinding sparkle as your eyes gleamed with the opportunity to be on the job with arguably the most successful female doctor of color at the CDC.
“reid...Reid.” He looked up as soon as the calling of his name registered in his brain, looking away from you to realize that everyone was staring at him.
“Y- yes, sir,” he cleared his throat and tried his best to avoid your amused smile and peering eyes that burned through the side of his head.
Hotch rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Did you get all that?”
Spencer shook his head, his messy, unbrushed brown curls bouncing around as inertia moved them with the gesture of his head shake. “No. Sorry, sir. I was um, I was thinking about something else.”
Derek nudged his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Were you thinking or were you feeling something, cuz I think there may be something hiding in your pants, kid.”
Spencer looked down quickly, afraid that something that he’d rather you not see until after the inconceivable third date he’d have to ask you on— a little fire burning inside him as he saw that there was nothing noticeable there.
Apparently, Derek hadn’t been whispering very well, Emily and JJ snickering from the other side of the room as you peeled your eyes off of him and stuck your gaze towards the little plastic cups on the table.
Dr. Kimura whispered something into your ear as you nodded, picking up the tray and passing around the plastic containers carrying the pills inside them— everyone thanking you as you made your way around. Spencer was nervous, trying to prepare himself for your presence in front of him. Your piercing eyes looking into his with beauty unknown to mankind.
You made it to him, holding the tray out in front of you as he stood there stunned. Spencer had no idea what to say or even the brainpower to mutter a quick ‘thank you’ that would have saved him the embarrassment and left the door open to further conversation, more so than silence.
The two of you were looking at each other intently, his cheek flushing a bright pink as you smiled and felt your face begin to heat.
Both of you looked towards Hotch as soon as his vocal chord began to echo his voice. “Prentiss and Rossi can interview the victims and head over to the crime scene, there’s a hazmat team waiting for you outside. Reid and Morgan, you can go with each other to Dr. Nichol’s house, the men from Fort Detrick believe that he may be a potential suspect, maybe you can find some kind of antidote there if you look far enough.”
Spencer nodded, reaching to grab his cup before Dr. Kimura began to speak. “Dr. Y/L/N can accompany the both of you.”
His heart beat faster than he ever thought he could when the sound of little tiny objects clashed onto a metal tray. Spencer looked down and saw that you had dropped it, the tray full of Cipro pills for the rest of the team.
“I- I’m so sorry,” you laughed with a slightly breathy tone, reaching down to salvage what was left of the pills that brought a cautionary optimism after ingestion.
Spencer instinctively reached down to help you pick them up, the little pills slipping out of his shaky fingers. He could feel the palm of his hands begin to sweat as he felt the warmth radiate from your body.
He could hear his pulse in his ears, distracted by your hands as they brushed against his fingers. Relief flushed through your system as you placed all the dropped pills onto the side of the tray, distributing the new ones into the cups. Spencer sighed, moving to stand up while his hands effectively worked to knock the newly set tray out of your hands— sending the pills onto the floor once again.
Silence had never been louder than it was then, everyone in the room entertained by the dance the two of you were doing around each other.
The two of you were about to lean back down to pick up the pills again and engage in the never-ending cyclical pattern of a dignity-draining performance before another pair of hands reached down to the floor.
“I got it,” Emily smiled with a knowing look on her face that she shot to the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid who couldn’t even stutter out one word like before.
“Um, I- I should go get another bottle of Cipro but I will meet you and Agent Morgan at the parking garage? I- if that’s alright with you, o- of course,” you stammered.
Spencer could do nothing but nod rapidly with his head, bobbing it up and down as you smiled and walked away with Dr. Kimura.
His eyes followed your figure until you left the room, sighing hopelessly while the rest of the team began to analyze the interaction between the two of you— quickly realizing how hard and fast the two of you had fallen for the other with just one passing glance.
—————————————-
His hands flopped against his bag, grabbing onto the strap as soon as he heard Derek walk up behind him as a defensive measure.
“So, you got the hots for Dr. Y/L/N?” Derek prodded, his shoulder bumping into Spencer as he rolled his eyes and steps to the side.
“I don’t.”
“C’mon man,” Derek pleaded, pulling the keys out of Spencer’s hand as his finger moved to push the lock button, “Are you mad at me?”
Spencer sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “No, I- I’m just frustrated I guess.”
“With Y/L/N?”
He nodded, leaning against the car and using the palm of his hands to rub his eyes. “I always screw things up whenever someone I lik-... am interested in is around.”
“Well you weren’t the only one that screwed up, she’s the one that dropped it first,” Derek offered.
“Yeah, then I knocked it over again,” he looked over to Derek, desperate for an iota of the charisma that he had naturally developed. Spencer wished for the luck that was imbued into his colleagues, longing for the ability to talk to someone even remotely normally.
Derek placed his hand on his shoulder, a placebo effect beginning to take place. “She likes you too, trust me.”
Spencer raised his eyebrow. “Trust you like the time I trusted you to read the unsub’s journals while I went to interview the witnesses?”
“C’mon kid, you don’t mean to tell me that you thought I’d actually read the ramblings of a psychotic serial killer.”
He rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips as his mind wandered back to think of you. Derek could tell Spencer’s infatuation had gotten to the point where the young genius was too enamored to be able to talk about anything but you.
“Reid, just ask her out,” Derek suggested, turning around and leaning against the car with Spencer.
“While we’re at risk of contracting anthrax?”
“If you want, but I think I’d wait until we’re in the clear from inhaling infectious spores.”
Spencer sighed, shaking his head as his fingers reached up to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeve. “I- I don’t even know if I have a chance to be alone with her. She’s a busy woman and god knows I’m flying all over the country every other week. There’s just… there’s no way we’d work let alone an opportunity to ask her out.”
Derek looked over to the man beside him, pity spewing from the look in his eyes as he turned to see Spencer’s face— hopeless and tormented by the monsters of the past. He immediately looked away and towards the source of the noise that reverberated through the parking garage.
“Well you have one now,” he smiled, patting Spencer’s chest while he walked away from the car towards you.
“Agent Morg-”
He held up his hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders which caused your giggles to fill the air. Spencer looked over right as the sound of your voice reached his ears, taking in the sight of you and Derek close together made his heart squeeze tighter with each impending contraction.
“Please, call me Derek,” he said as Spencer strode towards the both of them, stopping in front of them with a slight huff coming from his throat, “And you can call this little pixie stick of a man Spencer.”
He blushed slightly at the teasing nickname as you smiled and nodded politely when the two of you made eye contact.
Derek patted himself on the back mentally, untangling his arm around your shoulder and began to back away from the tooth-rotting moment that took place in front of him.
“Wait,” Spencer called, a fear of being alone with you swirling in his chest, “W- where are you going?”
“I’m gonna make sure the hazmat team is coming along just in case,” he shouted, reaching into his pocket to pull something out, “I’ll meet you two there.”
“But-”
Spencer reflexively closed his eyes as soon as a pair of keys came flying towards his face. Your hand had reached forward just in time to catch them in your hand, saving Spencer from a few little scratches on his face.
He opened his eyes slowly, his eyelids pretending to shield him from a danger he could have stopped. His eyes flew to you, standing in front of him with a shy smile on your face as he heard Derek walking away as laughs sounded from him.
“Th- thanks. I’m not good at um, at catching stuff,” Spencer gulped.
You nodded. “No problem. I couldn’t let it ruin your pretty face,” your eyes shot open, “I- I mean um, not that I think your face is pretty. I- it Is but I don’t know if that’s appropriate for me to say.”
His face flushed without a second thought, the floodgates of embarrassment and joy rushing through his veins. Spencer was giddy with reserved hope, his leg bouncing slightly.
“I- it’s fine… I think. I mean, I won’t tell if you don’t,” he smiled, a minutia of the beaming 22-year-old man shining through his hard, awkward exterior.
You grinned in agreement, holding up the keys slightly and placing them in his hands. You began to walk over to the passenger side door, a little fire of confidence lighting up inside him. He ran to the door before you could get there, opening the door a little too eagerly— hitting you with it and sending you flying back.
You giggled while he wrapped his hands to wrap around you as his back hit the car behind him.
“I- I’m sorry, are you hurt?” He steadied the both of you with his hands and used them to grab your shoulders, looking around with a need to make sure he didn’t injure you.
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his as you saw the worry settled deep within the hazel. “I’m alright, Dr- I mean Spencer. I’m alright, thank you.”
He nodded, awkwardly— learning from his mistakes and slowly pulling the door open for you to enter. He made sure that your legs were fully in the vehicle before shutting the door, swaying back and forth with his hands flailing by his sides as he rushed to hop into the driver’s side.
Spencer stuck the key into the ignition and closed the door, buckling his seat belt and pulling out of the parking spot. He wasn’t the best driver by any means but he was cautious enough to drive well on the road, expecting things that the average person wouldn’t be able to.
His eyes couldn’t help but drift over to you, impairing his ability to drive to the extent of almost killing the both of you.
“Spencer!” You yelled, using your hands to catch the steering wheel from drifting.
He ripped his eyes away from you reluctantly, albeit the danger he’d put you both in if he continued to stare at you from his seat, using his hands to direct the car back onto the road and away from the railing on the bridge.
“S- sorry. I was a little…”
“Distracted?”
He pressed his lip into a thin line as his face flushed again, his eyes glued to the road like they weren’t just glued to you. “Maybe.”
You laughed, “Yeah, you seem to wander off a lot.”
“It’s hard to focus when someone like you is around me,” he blurted, a burst of confidence igniting in his chest.
“That’s either a compliment or an insult, I don’t think I can tell.”
He smiled. “I- I don’t think I meant it as the latter.”
You could feel your cheeks heating up like they had so many times before, only this time, it was for someone who was worth the effort. You had heard of Spencer before, Dr. Kimura speaking words of good grace about him as she described his thesis papers while he sought out his Ph.D. in chemistry.
When she had told you that you would tag along on a case involving the BAU, your heart practically leaped out of your chest as you began to fantasize about the wonders of Dr. Spencer Reid.
It wasn’t until you dropped the tray of Cipro in front of him that you truly fell for the man, enamored by the handsome twinkle in his eye and untamed brown curls.
“So… do you get cases like this often?”
“Is there a reason why you’re asking?” He poked.
There was a reason you’d asked, trying to gauge whether or not your professional careers would ever cross paths again in the future. “No. Just curious,” you lied, the little harmless falsities falling from your lips easily.
He nodded. “Not very often, it’s usually a little more bloody and gruesome and a little less infectious disease that may not have a cure. Do you?”
You chuckled, “I mean, I do work with Dr. Kimura at the Center for Disease Control and Prevention so I’d say yes.”
“Right,” he sighed, internally slapping himself across the face for such a stupid question. If it wasn’t for the ringing that came from his phone, he knew he would’ve imploded right in his seat.
Spencer parked the car into the driveway of Dr. Nichol’s house, reaching for his phone as you waited outside the car for him to enter.
“Kid, where are you?” It was Derek, an impatient tone in his voice.
“I’m here, I just parked,” he said, grabbing his bag and the files he brought with him.
He heard an exhausted breath of air come from the other side of the phone. “I didn’t think there was any road congestion that would stall you for so long, did something else happen inside that car?”
Spencer shook his head, noticing the implicatory tone in his voice. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Derek, but nothing happened. I’m about to leave the car so we’ll see you inside.”
He hung up before Derek got to put in another word, afraid of what he’d say next.
You smiled at Spencer slightly before leading the way towards Derek who was waiting at the front of the house. “Derek,” you greeted.
“There you are, I thought I’d be waiting all day for the two of you to show up. Must be some really rough… traffic out there, huh?”
Spencer sighed, “You only got here 8 minutes before us.”
Derek raised his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders. “A lot can happen in 8 minutes.”
Your heart beat faster at his suggestion, thinking about all the things he could be hinting at— things that would involve both you and Spencer.
“I should go inside to see if I can identify anything that might be a cure to the strain,” you suggested, eager to get away from the heavy tension outside.
“I um, I can help if you’d like,” Spencer piped up from the side, looking over to you for approval. You nodded, praying to any deity that Derek wouldn’t want to join.
Spencer motioned for you to go first, probably anxious to get away from the teases that followed his every move when Derek was around.
“Here,” he opened the door for you to go in as you looked at him thankfully, stepping in as a breeze hit your face.
Spencer walked in behind you, a crunch sounding beneath your feet. The two of you looked down to notice a pile of broken glass on the floor… and a white powder surrounding it.
You made eye contact, a switch that flipped into your brain ran to close the door as Derek walked up to the glass.
He knocked on it with his hands. “Y/N? What’s going on.”
“Derek please,” you pleaded, “You need to get out of here.”
You fiddled with the lock, trying your hardest to keep the door shut for his sake.
“What are you doing? Y/N, let me in.”
Spencer walked up behind you to help you lock the door, the metal clicked as the two of you hoped that it was sealed closed enough.
“Reid?”
“Derek.”
They shared a look, a mutual understanding between them formed right as Derek looked at the broken glass on the floor.
A mutual understanding that you and Spencer were completely screwed.
—————————————-
The two of you had been sitting around for about half an hour, sitting in silence as the eerie sense of doom settled in between the both of you.
Derek had notified the team as Hotch decided that it was best if the two of you continued to work the case. With each other’s help, you found what you thought was the antidote in Dr. Nichol’s inhaler— keeping it on the table for safekeeping as you waited to be escorted out by people in large red suits.
A ring sounded from the table, Spencer reaching over to answer the call.
“Garcia?”
“Hey, Reid.”
“Wow,” he laughed without any sense of humor in his voice, “No witty Garcia greeting for me?”
She sighed, “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.”
He paused before continuing, “Do you think you could do something for me? Will you record a message for my mom, I can’t call her without alerting everyone at her hospital. I just… I need to have something for her just in case anything happens.”
You sat there in silence as he spilled his heart out through his lips, heartfelt words being recorded through the phone for, truly, the only person he had left.
Spencer was about to hang up before Penelope’s typically cheery voice sounded through. “Wait! Dr. Y/L/N, nothing’s going to happen to you, of course, but do you want to record something for someone too?”
You shook your head despite her not being able to see it, Spencer clearly analyzing your body language. “I’m good. I um, I have no one to call.”
Silence set in between the three of you, an ‘alright, I have to get back to Hotch now but I will be in touch’ coming from the other end before it went dead.
You could see the pity in Spencer’s eyes, his mother wasn’t lucid but at least he had someone to call.
“A- are you alright?” He asked carefully.
You nodded. “Fine. It’s nothing new,” you laughed, “I’ve been alone for a while so I’m used to it.”
“Right.” He couldn’t think of anything to say to fill the void that surrounded the both of you, a thick tension enveloped the room.
“Do you ever think that you could have done more in your life? Like there are too many shortcomings to count?” You commented, leaning your head back on the wall and closing your eyes.
“I do. All the time, it’s really all I think about.”
“There’s just been so many different things I wish I could have been able to do. I don’t think I’ll be able to do them now.”
He rolled his swivel chair closer to you, trying to catch your eye line. “We found the cure, we just have to wait until we get out of here.” A lens of cynicism shielding your eyes, unwilling to hear Spencer’s optimistic ramblings.
“I don’t know, Spencer. There’s a chance that the cure isn’t even in there.”
Spencer gave in to your glum, sighing and leaning back as if he was your reflection in the mirror. He tried to be like Penelope, he tried to think of the good things in life at his darkest times but how was he supposed to when everything you said rang true to his ears.
There was nothing more that he could do to turn the logical side of his brain off, completely lost in the despondent thoughts that plagued his mind. It was almost as if the spores whirling around the room weren’t the only thing that was infectious, your corrosive thoughts imposing themselves onto his.
It wasn’t until your laughs that were intended to cut the silence in the room shredded his inner monologue that began to describe his doom.
He looked over to see your shining smile as you shook your head with an unbelieving look on your face. “God, I’m just thinking about everything that’s happened in my life and I can’t imagine one thing more sorry than the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone in my entire life.”
“R- really?” Spencer’s shock seeped out from every pore on him, viewing the sadness on your face.
You shook your head. “Nope. I mean, I’ve just been so busy with everything. I haven’t found the time I guess.”
You turned your head so your eyes met his, his jaw still dragging on the floor. It was surprising that someone as stunning as you were a virgin to a simple kiss on the lips. You looked away, expecting some kind of pitiful response.
“I- I don’t even know why I said that,” you admitted, seeing that he was still sitting there motionless on his chair, “I think I’m just more inclined to now that I know there’s a high probability that I won’t make it out of here.”
He nodded along mindlessly, his brain choosing not to process the words that flew out of your mouth.
Spencer should’ve said something, left inarticulate and mute by your admission. He remembered his first time kissing someone, it was with Ethan— the man who also doubled as his first love. It was a memory that he would never give up, a moment he could never share.
It was pure and innocent and naive all balled up together and stuck in a little place in his heart and his mind… but this situation was far from any good thing that could be associated with it.
He made a split-second decision, grabbing your hands and pulling your chair towards him as he leaned forward so his lips met yours.
It was sultry in the beginning, your eyes still open in disbelief before you reciprocated his gesture— moving your mouth in tandem with his. Your brain began to imprint all the feelings, all the emotions that followed from a single interaction with the most unbelievable person.
His hands grabbed your waist as your thighs were flush up against his, your hands migrating and settling down in the cavernous forest of his hair. He used the tip of his thumb to pull down slightly on your chin, allowing him access to your tongue.
Spencer led you in a dance of tango, well-arranged with an intention to produce the most spectacular combination of your first and potentially your last kiss.
He pulled away from you, feeling that you were losing the breath in your lungs while intaking his. His eyes scanned your body, landing on your plump lips that were upturned and shiny from the events that had happened before.
Before either of you could say anything, Dr. Kimura entered in an unmissable bright red suit. She called for you both and ushered you out of the infected room to be hosed down and cleaned.
You weren’t looking forward to being hit with tho cold water, especially not after how hot you had gotten from the kiss that had graced your lips seconds before.
The sound of rushing water hit your ears as you and Spencer were sprayed simultaneously with just about the coldest thing you’ve felt in your entire life.
The two of you looked up as soon as Derek came into the room.
“I just talked to Hotch, I’m all clear to see the both of you to the hospital.”
Spencer shook his head immediately. “N- no. It’s alright, you don’t have to stay.”
“Kid, there’s no way I’m not staying,” he said, completely oblivious to what was about to happen next.
Soaked, you chimed in with your timid voice. “They’re um, they’re going to have us t- take our clothes off. S- so they can scrub us down.”
A knowing look dawned on his face as he smirked and quickly tried to make his way out of the room. “I see why you want me outta here, Pretty Boy.”
Spencer groaned with the line that dropped from the man who dipped so quickly to give him the best shot of seeing you naked, as if you weren’t surrounded by four other people— not exactly the most romantic… or sexy thing.
He looked over from where Derek was standing to you, his eyes averting their gaze right as he caught a glimpse. Your shirt had transformed from an opaque white to a sheer transparent film that clung onto your brightly colored bra.
His cheeks reddened with a dark crimson, completely flustered by your undressed state. There was no way he was going to survive seeing you fully naked, especially not with so many people around you.
You looked up from your downcast gaze on the rest of your body, noticing that he was trying his hardest to give you the utmost respect in the most awkward of situations.
You were about to speak before Dr. Kimura jumped in. “Dr. Reid. Did you cut yourself?”
The both of you looked down to the nick on the back of his hand, obtained from the thorn on the little rose bush on the side.
You began to panic internally. The man you fell so hard for in the beginning, the man that put aside the bad to give you one last shot of happiness before your inevitable downfall was directly exposed to anthrax via bloodstream.
The both of you knew the data, the statistics— keeping quiet while everyone rushed to scrub you down. You turned away from each other, your heart cracking with every cough that came from him.
The two of you were rushed out together after the scrub down was done, your mind and heart racing together as they hurt for the man beside you. There wasn’t any space for you in the ambulance, so you sat over the coughing mess of a man in the gurney.
“Y/N,” he called, “I- it lime choose.”
You looked over to Dr. Kimura, knowing full well the bacteria had spread to his brain, impairing his ability to speak— literally.
“It’s alright, Spencer. We’re getting you to the hospital, you’re going to be fine.”
“It…” he coughed, “lime choose.”
You nodded along to appease him, having no idea what he was saying or what he really meant to.
Your feet ran quickly to follow him in as they rushed him into a room.
“Y/N!”
You looked back and saw Derek running up to you.
“I need to go to him, Derek,” you whispered with the tiniest voice and the littlest teardrop on the cusp of breaking free, “I need to.”
“No,” he grabbed your arm and ran you towards the horde of doctors that ran along behind you, “what you need to do is get checked out.”
You shook your head and yanked your arm away from him. “No! Spencer needs me, I can’t leave him alone.”
“He’ll be fine. He has the best doctors in Virginia working on him. He’ll wake up in a couple of hours, good as new, but I don’t think he’d appreciate it if you were dead by the time he woke up. He’d flay me without any hesitance,” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Derek, please. I need to…” you coughed, “I um, I need to…”
You didn't get a chance to finish your words before your eyes fluttered close and the world fell dark, feeling the warmth of Derek’s arms around you as your body made its way to the ground.
—————————————-
“There she is,” a familiar voice cooed, a bright fluorescent light beaming on your eyes. You rubbed them with your fingers and noticed that your bed was right next to his, to Spencer’s.
You giggled at the sight of plastic cups stacked upon each other to form a castle of sorts. “How much jello have the two of you been eating?”
“‘Two of us’? I think you mean him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s 72% jello now,” Derek joked.
Spencer shrugged, a spoonful of red jello still in his mouth. “What? I like jello!”
The three of you laughed together before you began to speak. “Wh- why am I here? Um, in Spencer’s room?”
“Well I assumed that you’d want to be in here based on staying with him earlier,” Derek exposed.
You looked away, feeling Spencer’s eyes bore through the side of your face.
“Derek, can you get me some more jello cups?”
He nodded, catching his drift and winking at the two of you before leaving the room.
Spencer sighed nervously, “What if I gave you someone to call? You know, if you’re ever stuck in a room full of anthrax again?”
It was your turn to be speechless. “What?”
“‘I like you.’ That’s what I was trying to say on our way here. ‘I like you.’ I um, I have since I knocked those Cipro pills out of your hand,” he confessed, his fingers playing with the plastic spoon in his hand.
You breathed out an air of relief, solaced by Spencer’s declaration and reassured by how nervous he was to admit his feelings.
“Thank god, I was really hoping that kiss wasn’t the last one I had… especially with you.”
He looked up from his downward stare. “I didn’t want that to be my last with you either, but you never answered my question” he breathed.
You could see his face becoming almost as red as the cherry jello he was absent-mindedly poking at.
The palpitations of your heart became irregular as his words tugged at the strings that attached to the beating muscle in your chest. A tingly, numbing sensation filled your upper body and had you breathing faster than you were before.
“I would um,” you laughed, finding that you couldn’t express your feelings into words, “I’d really like to have someone to call next time I have to deal with a domestic bioterrorist attack.”
The thought of being put into the same position you had been in earlier made you cringe, but you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom around you when he reached over to grab your hand and gave it a squeeze.
It was an intimate act, appropriate and sensual at the same time.
You scooched over to his side, leaning your head onto his shoulder while looking up at him as he placed a quick kiss onto your lips…
The second of many more to come.
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Tying You To Me — Part 2
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Summary: Lonely hearts meet at a bar and one thing leads to another. Can broken hearts and burned bridges be mended while twisted up in bedsheets?
Content Warnings: MINORS DNI Casual drinking, mentions of hook-ups/one night stands, running themes of infidelity, sexual innuendo. SMUT: dom!Spencer sub!Reader (will be Switch for both eventually), Pet Names: Good Girl, Sweet Girl (don’t yell at me because I used that one 11 times, it’s my FAVORITE), Praise, Light humiliation/degradation (slut/whore), ingestion of cum, Oral Sex (female receiving), Penetrative Sex without a condom, Birth Control (Shots) mentioned
Word Count: 9,700 (it's my longest fic yet!!)
Author's Note: Well here's the next part!! Thank you to @reidslibrarybook for being the best beta I could ever ask for! And thank you to everyone who read the first part! This is where things start to speed up! As always, every comment & reblog makes me so happy! I hope you all enjoy this part, it was a lot of fun to write
Part I- Illicit Affairs | Series Masterlist | Part III - TBD |
PART II - Motion Sickness
“You are going to get hammered or laid. Or both. At least buzzed, Y/N,”
“Liz,” Y/N says, holding her temples in anticipation of a headache, “is a Divorce Party really necessary? I mean is it really a celebration that I wasted 10 years of my life on that douchebag?” she laments, flopping on the bed next to her sister.
“It’s been, what a year since you’ve known he was fucking your neighbor? And you’re finally done with him. Now it’s your turn, Y/N, your whole life, you’ve been perfect,” Liz eyeing a group of man playing darts in the corner of the bar, “You deserve to let loose and get with a hot guy who’s name you won’t remember in the morning,”
“Liz, I think you forget I’m a mother,” Y/N says, reminding her sister that she’s the only responsible parent her daughter has.
“So? That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love, Y/N,” Liz consoles, smirking when Y/N rolls her eyes at her, “or at least treated very generously for one night by an attractive stranger,”
“One drink,” Y/N barters, fixing her work blazer as she settles on to the barstool, “And only because mom agreed to be with Aster. James is too busy trying to get his dick up to even think about a plan for childcare. I mean, does he actually expect me to do this by myself,”
“Y/N, I love you. But let’s forget about James and what he did to you. Please, just get drunk and forget about that asshole,” Liz orders, waving over the waitress, “We’re so getting pretzel bites,”
“You give excellent advice, Liz,” Y/N says, sarcastically as she looks over the drink menu. Her sister means well, but doesn’t fully understand the complexity of a husband being unfaithful. On top of an already rocky marriage, it’s hard to explain that she’s almost happy he finally fucked up so badly that a divorce was acceptable.
Now she’s the sad little wife that got cheated on, but before she was the nagging wife who complained that her husband never did the dishes. Now, the world can sympathize with her. But before she would’ve been the villain. She'll have to be whatever version of herself that's most palatable to the world.
“Y/N here will have something strong. Lots and lots of alcohol,” Liz says as she orders their drinks and snacks, “Oooh how about a Mojito, you always liked those in college,”
College, the days when James’ impish smile and young spirit charmed her into believing that what she needed in her life was a little youth.
“Whiskey Sour, actually,” Y/N smiles, thanking the waitress, “Tonight is not a night that I want to be reminded by my college mistakes,”
“Sorry,” Liz apologies, realizing the misstep and what her sister was referencing, “I should have realized-”
“Lizzy, it’s fine. You mean well. You all mean well. You, mom, even dad. But it’s hard when you can’t actually feel what I feel. He humiliated me. Made me feel like I was crazy and I hate who I’ve become when I was with him,” Y/N whispers, circling her finger around the rim of the water glass.
Liz nods her head, unsure what to say to comfort Y/N, as she munches on the ruffled chips the waitress dropped off.
“ ‘Would Fuck My Dickhead Ex’ Shots fix this situation?” Liz asks, an coy smile, not unlike James’ on her face, but it’s a smile that’s more comforting than aggravating when it comes from her sister, “Indulge me, Y/N,”
“Fine,” Y/N says, pretending to be annoyed and give into Liz’s wishes, even though she knew it’s hard to resist her younger sister’s shenanigans, “but only because it’s you,” Y/N adds, smiling as she picks at the bar chips.
“First round is on you,” Liz says, holding her hands up in faux innocence, “Hey, you’re the corporate lawyer, I’m the artsy one in the family,” she laughs, “And there might be some cute lonely hearts at the bar that you can practice flirting with,”
“I’m not practicing flirting with anyone,” Y/N says, noticing the way Liz emphasized practice, “But what do you want? Peach Tart?”
“Whatever you want, you’re paying,” Liz says, “And hurry back, our pretzels are back!” she announces as the waitress brings over their pretzel bites and drinks.
Y/N had never been to this bar before. It was new, built in the last 2 years or so, which was just around the time when she became a partner at the law firm. An accomplishment that seemed to not even elicit a congratulations out of James, despite him being very excited about the pay raise. The bar’s soft lighting hung way above their heads. The Edison light bulbs gave it a quieter feel than louder bars. In a way it was even more lonely than a louder bar, kind of like how large parties are more private.
The bartender takes care of a couple of college kids, getting them their beer before asking Y/N what she wants. Two men sit a couple feet away from her, talking quietly amongst themselves. And a familiar mop of messy brown hair and hunched shoulders sit two seats away from her.
Spencer Reid, the only soul who knows exactly how complicated her life is.
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His shirt smells like expensive perfume. The kind that women wear when they want men to notice them. She doesn’t blame her for wearing it, it’s nice to be noticed. It’s nice to lock eyes across a crowded room and wait for everything to start to move in slow motion. You get motion sickness from it. The feeling of his eyes on you, only you. The rush, the adrenaline, the way you’ll cast your gaze down. Playful, bashful, sexy. You’ll be anything he wants you to be because he notices you.
She probably wore it just for him. Picked it out because he’d liked the scent of it on her skin as he kissed her neck, leaving her mark on a taken man. Was that part of the thrill? Like wild animals marking a tree, is this expensive perfume a sign?
Y/N wants to wash away the smell of it. The evidence of his infidelity on his clothes lingers even when the act has ended. All that remains is the smell of his treachery, the bonds broken and vows severed. She should be mad, scathing mad. She should be ready to burn bridges until they’re torched, just ashes.
But all she feels is humiliated. Her husband, the man that stood up in front of her promising love and loyalty to the very end, decided that those very same vows weren’t worth it anymore. Y/N throws the shirt on the floor. It burns in her hands, leaving invisible scars on her skin.
It’s all over her now. The smell of James’s infidelity. The humiliation of his mistakes. Y/N isn’t a cowering lily. She doesn’t back down from a fight. She won’t let James have the satisfaction of thinking he hurt her, even though he did.
Yet, when she sits down on their bed she feels like it can swallow her whole. She feels tiny in the sea of messy blankets and wrinkled sheets. The perfume scent, expensive and potent, stains her skin. It’s dizzying and that familiar motion sickness creeps up on her. Her throat goes tight, tears threaten to sting. She won’t let him have this power over her. She won’t let him have her spirit after destroying her heart.
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“Spencer Reid, in a bar,” Y/N says, quickly glancing over towards her sister before bringing her attention back to her neighbor, “that’s something I never thought I’d see,”
“Well neither was your husband fucking my wife, yet here we are,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. He grips the bottle like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing keeping him on this barstool. There’s a loneliness in his shoulders that Y/N recognizes, but it’s something they’ve both carried long before their spouses’ infidelity.
“Touché, Dr. Reid,” Y/N muses, sitting next to Spencer at the bar, “And she’s not your wife anymore?”
“The neighbors talk,” he observes, neither confirming or deny the status of his marriage, “and for the record, Y/N, you’re not the bar type either,”
“Alcoholic, workolichic, both end marriages. And I guess in the end it doesn’t really matter which one you are, does it?” Y/N speculates, thanking the bartender for her shots. The warm yellow and orange color is cheery and happy, a contrast to their dull and dim conversation. She slides Liz’s shot over to Spencer, thinking to herself that he probably needs it as much as she does.
“To workolichics whose spouses never quite understood them,” she says, looking Spencer straight in the eyes as she raises the shot to her lips. He mirrors her, bringing the glass to his lips, eyes never leaving her face. They burn as he stares, looking so intently at her. It’s like she’s under a microscope.
Neither of them say a word, yet they communicate. They notice each other. And it takes one to know one when you haven’t been noticed in a while. He drinks the shot with her, making a face at the tartness of the drink. The sweet peach flavor evens it out, coating her tongue with sweetness that masks the sourness of the lime juice.
“Is that what you think happened? Is that why you think they did what they did?” Spencer asks, his voice but a whisper. His finger runs around the rim of the shot glass, tracing it over and over as his mind races, “because I’ve been thinking about it. I actually can’t stop thinking about it. I thought I was a good husband, I thought she loved me,” he adds, his voice raising up an octave.
“I’m sure you were, Spencer. I’m sure you were the kind of husband that never forgot birthdays and gave gifts for anniversaries. Or the kind that would do the dishes and make dinner just because,” Y/N says, thinking her sister was right to get drunk tonight, “But have you considered that Rebecca was a shitty wife?”
“No,” Spencer says, waving the bartender over for another beer perhaps, “I love my wife. I love my wife so much that I was blind to how she was. I ruined our marriage. I hurt her by not being there,” Spencer murmurs, “Another Sierra Nevada, please,” he tells the bartender, thanking her as she takes away their empties.
“You give her too much credit,” Y/N remarks, “You’ve been through so much, more than I know. I’ve been through so much, more than you know. But do you know who does? Rebecca and James. They knew exactly what they were doing. Fucking us up let this. Fucking up our lives to what get laid?” she scoffs.
“Like we’re not already fucked up, Mrs. Young,” Spencer teases, an uncharacteristically dark smirk coming to life on his life.
“It’s not Mrs. Young anymore. Dr. Reid,” Y/N comments, staring directly at Spencer, similar to how he looked at her moments before, “but I don’t even feel like Y/N Y/L/N anymore. I’ve been with James since before law school. It’s hard to be my old self again when I don’t even know who she is,”
His eyes are dark with something that Y/N can’t quite pinpoint, but it draws her in. His hair is tousled, maybe he’s coming home from a case and hasn’t had a chance to shower yet. He licks his lips, studying Y/N’s face. She doesn’t know much about his job, except that he’s some sort of detective for the FBI. Spencer reads people. Reading their microexpressions, their body language, their silent expressions that reveal so much. It must be what he’s doing right now.
“Like you said, it takes one to know one,” he toasts her non-existent drink as he sips his beer. He’s cryptic and guarded. A very different man than the friendly neighbor that she’d cross paths with at late hours, both coming home late from their demanding jobs.
But under that dark glimmer in his eye, Y/N, if she looks hard enough, can see that man. The man that would bring her trash to the curb because James always forgot or helped her shovel the snow off her sidewalk when James would refuse to do it. He’s still there, he’s still neighbor Spencer and somehow, she’s still neighbor Y/N.
Maybe it’s the shots, Spencer’s dark glimmer pulls her in closer. Like a fish caught on a line, she’s reeled in closer and closer.
“And I didn’t qualify for the friends and family discount,” Spencer whispers, his voice breaking the silence and bringing her back to Earth.
“Oh really,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s playful tone as she leans in closer, his pink work shirt with the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbow, showing off his forearms. On his wrist is a tarnished watch, it’s so old that Y/N wonders if it’s more for sentimental value than everyday use, “I could swear that your wife sleeping with my husband would qualify you for at least 10% off,”
“Was that a joke?” Spencer deadpans, “From you, you’re even more serious than me,” Spencer muses, tapping his fingers rapidly on the counter. He still wears his wedding ring, even though the divorce has been finalized for weeks. Rings, like the vintage watches that don't work, are more sentimental than practical, despite not meaning that to Rebecca.
“There’s an awful lot you don’t know about me, Spencer,” she whispers, talking low in the quiet murmur of the bar. It’s well past 11, meaning the drunk college kids have left, probably searching for 24 hour diners to fill up on greasy cheese fries and sodas that help their inevitable hangovers.
It’s quiet in the bar, the regulars close their tabs and a few tables remain filled including Liz, who chats with a redheaded woman who sits alone at a high top table.
“You’ve always been one who’s hard to get to know,” Spencer observes, “I always thought you were lonely, like me. Never understood by James. Maybe that’s what it is, maybe they never got us,”
He’s not drunk enough to be having sober thoughts, but buzzed enough to be looser than he would anyway. Before Y/N can respond, Liz and a woman, following close behind her, rushes to Y/N and Spencer at the bar.
“Y/N, Y/N,” she says, “Ooo, so you are talking to a man, I knew a divorce party was what you needed-”
“I’m not talking to a man. This is just Spencer, he’s my...we’re uh. Spencer’s my neighbor,” Y/N stresses, hoping that her sister has enough clarity to realize what she’s implying.
“Divorce Party?” Spencer intjects, “Huh, Penny didn’t throw me one of those, and what I think Y/N is trying to say, without being impolite, is that woman James cheated with is, or rather, was my wife,”
“Oh,” Liz says, “So you’re Spencer,” she smiles, wearing her reactions on her sleeve, unlike Y/N, who hardly ever lets anyone in, “Well, uh, you good to drive? Gwen and I are going to go to her place,” Liz tells Y/N, giving her a sly look and looking directly at Spencer.
Liz has never been one for subtly, but at least Spencer is polite enough to ignore her antics.
“Be safe, Lizzy,” Y/N says, kissing her on the cheek, “And I’ll take your car to mom’s and you’ll have to Uber because I have to leave for work by 6,”
Waving away her sister’s constant worries, Liz turns, still holding the woman, Gwen’s hand as they walk out, “Love you and use protection!”
Feeling her face heat at Liz’s lack of filter, Y/N refuses to meet Spencer’s eyes. She doesn’t know him that well, but from what she does, he seems like a very reserved, quiet man. And reserved quiet men don’t particular care for sex jokes about the woman who’s husband slept with his wife. Even as complicated as their situation is, that would make it even more complicated.
“I am so sorry about my sister. She is, she’s just-” Y/N starts, looking for the right words to apologize for Liz.
“She has a point,”
“Excuse me,” Y/N says, her eyes going wide as his words process, “That’s highly inappropriate. That you would...that we would...-” she stammers, unable to even articulate what Spencer and Liz insinuated.
“That we would sleep together?” he asks, way too comfortable about this for a man that she assumed to be reserved and quiet. Maybe he’s hiding secrets under all those soft cardigans and kind eyes.
“Why not?” Spencer says, shrugging his shoulders. The dark glimmer in his eyes washes over his face again. It’s not threatening, but enticing and inviting, “We’re both single now, work terrible hours, and are ridiculously lonely. And what’s better than a little revenge,”
Revenge.
Sleeping with Spencer as one final screw you to James, and especially Rebecca. It's a slippery slope, but that glint in his eye latches on to her, pulling her in. He notices her. Spencer notices her because he recognizes himself in the shattered pieces of glass. He sees his own fractured heart in hers and for their last act to be revenge. It’s revenge against the person that hurt them with the other person that they hurt. For a moment, maybe they’d let go, pretend to recognize their old selves as jagged and broken as they are.
But she can’t
“You’re out of your mind, Dr. Reid,” Y/N says, taking her purse and tossing a couple five dollar bills on the counter for the bartender, “I’ll need to get you a cab, because there’s no one you can drive. You’re probably drunk out of your mind-”
“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” Spencer says, his voice steady and strong as he looks at her with that dark glint again, “And I’ve not been so sure of something in a very long time,”
“Spencer,” she starts, “You’re a kind man. And maybe if it wasn’t the way it is. Maybe if Rebecca wasn’t your wife. And fuck, maybe if we meet ten years ago, maybe things would be different. But I can’t. I can’t get involved in something with someone as broken as me. Not when Aster needs me,”
“Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, slipping his cardigan over his shoulders. He nods good night, but Y/N stops him before he can leave. She squeezes his hand in some sort of abandoned spouses solidarity and kisses his cheek. Her lips brush over his days old stubble, and it tickles her skin. Letting go as quickly as she held him, their eyes meet again, only for Spencer to squeeze her hand back again.
“Good night, neighbor,”
“Good night, neighbor,” he says, slipping past her and out into the misty night.
She’s alone again, sitting at the bar. Maybe it’s a bar thing because all she can think of is the regrets she has. Marrying James in the first place. But at least that gave her Aster. Letting James take tiny pieces away from her with each fight, each snide comment, each critique until all the pieces were gone. She has a lot of regrets, a lot of maybes, a lot of what ifs.
Maybe Liz is right. Maybe Spencer’s right. Maybe he’s exactly what she needs. And she won’t deny that the dark glint and controlled smirk made her want to know more about her mysterious, quiet neighbor. For a man who’s so controlled and quiet on the outside, she can’t help but wonder what makes him tick. What he would be like when the mask of composure comes off and the Spencer she’s never known comes out of hiding.
She’s on her feet and out the door before she can even realize. The buzz of liquid courage no longer coursed through her veins, only the temptation of something a little scandalous, a little daring.
He’s getting into his car, an old Volvo that’s parked in front of her house many times before. He must see her standing out in the rain because he slams his door shut, jogging over to her in the parking lot.
“Are you okay?” he asks, “Do you need a ride home?”
“Yes,” she says, her heart thumping in her chest. She doesn’t do things like this, but neither does Spencer Reid. And here they stand in the drizzling rain, “I need a ride. But to your place. So you can fuck me in the bed that you once shared with your wife,”
“Are you sure?” Spencer says, taking a step forward, not touching her as he gazes down at her, reading her micro-expressions for even the slightest bit of hesitance, “I want you to be very sure, Y/N,” he whispers, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“I’m sure, Spencer,” she says back, not backing down from his intense stare, “I’m not made of glass. So don’t treat me like it,”
“You’ll be eating your words, my dear,” he says, darkly, running his thumb over Y/N’s lips and across her jawline.
She’s not sure who leaned in first. And in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Spencer’s hand, large on her cheek, holds her steady. Just as his lips are ready to brush across her's in a heated kiss, he pulls away. Leaving her dizzy and desperate, a whimper of annoyance and frustration escapes her lips.
“I want you to be sure, Y/N,” he whispers, tracing her lips. Their almost kiss makes her head spin, making her wonder what kind of drunk she’ll be when he finally kisses her.
“I want you, Spencer,”
Nodding, Spencer drops his hand from her cheek. He gives her a small, almost shy, smile. Staring at each other, standing in the parking lot, neither of them are daring enough to make their way to the car. Spencer’s hand, the same one that warmed her cheek, makes its way to the small of her back, guiding her to his car. His steady hand and lingering tingle of the stubble on her cheek is tantalizing. And though James shattered her glass heart, something small, yet hopeful tells her it might be repaired again one day.
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She didn’t even get a chance to kick off her shoes before Spencer practically rammed her up against the wall. Behind is lanky stature, he hides a lot of strength. His hands wrap tightly into Y/N’s hair as his shoulders pin her against the wall. The pictures rattle when he moves. His fingers and hands gripping her face tightly to control the kiss. Everything about the way his lips move against her mouth is calculated. Spencer knows exactly when to nip at her bottom lip, tugging and biting in a way that sends shivers down her back. Somehow, despite barely knowing each other, it’s like Spencer has her body memorized.
In an effort to get his cardigan off, Y/N pushes against Spencer. No longer pinned against the wall, she waits as he slips off his cardigan, his shirt even more wrinkled now. His gaze, in the dark hallway, burns her. The way Spencer looks at her lights her aflame. His eyes burn into her skin, making the spots he touched miss his fingers and long for bruises to remember him by.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Spencer whispers, drawing his finger up the side of Y/N’s jawline. His eyes study her face, moving rapidly, proving that his mind that’s constantly on overtime, “Tell me what you want, sweet girl,”
She can’t help it. The pathetic little whimper that slips out of lips, which only seems to entertain Spencer even more. He grins devilishly, his fingers still lingering on her face, just giving her the tiniest taste of what’s to come.
Leaning in so her breath is hot against his ear, Y/N whispers, “I’m thinking about how you’re going to fuck me like you should’ve been fucking your wife,”
His reaction, though immediate, is calculated like everything he does. Slowly, he leans back down, blocking Y/N’s view of everything, except for him. He brushes his lips against hers, talking in a gravely tone that makes Y/N want nothing more than to obey him for the rest of the night.
“You sure about that?” he says, mirroring his words in the parking lot just minutes before. He smiles as Y/N nods, giving him even more confirmation, “Go sit on my bed and wait for me,” he orders, his hand catching Y/N’s as she walks away.
Spencer stops her, pulling her body flush against his as he kisses her again. It’s impossible to not get lost in the way Spencer kisses. He knows exactly where to rest his hands with one on her waist and the other on her cheek. She vows to herself that if it’s only tonight it's okay to let herself get swept up in the way Spencer’s fingers tickle her skin or the way his lips pressed up against burn into her heart.
“You’re very distracting,” Y/N says, their lips brushing, neither wanting to go too long without having some physical contact.
“You’re the one that’s distracting,” Spencer says, smiling widely as his hands sneak up Y/N’s shirt.
Slipping away from his grasp, Y/N finds her way to his bedroom. The layout is simple and she navigates her way around the books and clothes clutter the floor of his bedroom, but his bed is neatly made with a soft looking duvet. Carefully, she sits on the bed, trying to talk herself out of the plethora of nerves that threaten to send her running back to her mom’s.
“Well looks like you can listen, after all,” Spencer says, shutting his bedroom door behind him as he walks towards Y/N on his bed.
Just like in the bar, Spencer’s intense gaze makes her feel like she’s under a microscope. Except, she doesn’t feel judged, but noticed. And after a long time of not being noticed, it’s more than nice to be seen.
He kneels down, his hands resting on either side of Y/N’s thighs. Her work skirt and blazer make her feel so out of place with Spencer’s tousled hair and wrinkled button up. His watch catches the moonlight that drips in through the cracked blinds. Spencer looks up at her, his lips dark and swollen, begging for her to kiss them again.
He slips in hands under Y/N’s skirt. They are cold against her warm skin, the contrast making her lean her head forward against Spencer’s forehead. He must like that because he continues to graze her thighs with his hands. His calloused fingertips linger on skin long after he’s moved on.
“You don’t get touched often,” Spencer observes, not a single drop of judgement or even pity in his voice, but understanding, “How? God, you’re so beautiful like this. All needy for me, and I’ve hardly even touched you,” he muses, removing his hands from inside her skin. She’s cold without him, already hating being deprived of his touch.
“Spencer,” Y/N whines, dizzy from him and wondering what his next move is, “Please,”
“Shh, be patient, Y/N. I’m going to take my time with you,”
His words from before ring in her head.
You don’t get touched often.
The way he said it, it’s like he knew exactly how it feels to be neglected. To be so starved for intimacy that the tamest kiss will leave you desperately needing more. A taste, when it’s been so long going unnoticed, isn’t enough to quench the thirst. She wonders how he’ll react when she gets her hands on him. Will he call her name out, begging for her touch? Will he whimper sweetly as he comes undone all because of her? Will he forget the pain he’s been through, even if it’s just for a night. Will their broken hearts be shoved into drawers for the night, not neglected, but noticed.
“Let’s get that blazer off, Y/N,” Spencer says, sliding the navy blue jacket down Y/N’s arms and tossing it towards the pile of clothes in the corner of the bedroom. Now rid of the blazer, Spencer’s cold hands travel up her arms, down to her waist before untucking her silk shirt from the waistband of her skirt.
His frigid hands are icy on her hot skin. Spencer’s hands move up to her bra, squeezing her breast lightly through her bra. He closes his eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of his skin against his and the tiniest noises she makes as he continues to touch her.
“I’m on the shot,” she says, waiting on the bed for Spencer to do something, “And I’m clean,”
“Good,” he says, short and sweet. Unbuttoning her shirt, Y/N watches as Spencer moves with a quicker pace than before, his fingers fly down her shirt, unbuttoning before he helps her slip it off her shoulders.
“Come here,” Spencer orders, flicking her fingers forward in the wordless motion. She listens like a Marionette following the words of her puppeteer. He holds her chin, forcing her eyes to stay on him as she leans forward. He kisses her yet again, even more dizzying than the last. She can taste the faintest taste of peach and lime on his tongue, proving that this night is actually happening.
“So you can be a good girl,” Spencer observes, “here I thought you would be a little brat. But all you want is some to take care of you. Is that right, sweet girl?” he says, his voice laced with fake pity. One hand grips her wrist, holding her in place and the other remains on her chin, keeping her attention on him.
“Yes,” Y/N stutters out, her body growing hotter and hotter, the longer Spencer holds out on her, “please, just please,” she whines, no longer caring about keeping her composure. He unfastens her bra, watching as her bare breasts sit before him.
“Lean back, baby,” Spencer says, “and scoot up to the pillows,”
Following his directions, Y/N frantically slides up his bed. His soft duvet cover under her and his plush pillow under her head. Spencer slips off his shoes, still fully dressed compared to Y/N who remains only in her work skirt. Crawling up the bed, Spencer’s arms rest on either side of Y/N’s head. His lips dip down to her collarbone as he places wet, open mouth kisses all the way down her bare skin. Unlike his cold hands, his mouth is hot, drawing out moans of pleasure as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him most.
Fueled on by the promise of pleasure, Y/N grips onto his wild hair, hoping he’ll get the message to stay where he is. Leaning on his knees, Spencer slowly slides her skirt down her legs. Words of praise tumble from his lips as he peels back her skirt, leaving her only in her underwear.
“Spencer, please,” Y/N begs, feeling him spread open her legs when his hands grip her thighs. He draws shapeless shapes on the soft skin of her inner thighs, chuckling darkly as her breath hitches when he skims over her underwear.
“So responsive,” he coos, drawing with his finger along Y/N’s hip bone before looping her waistband around his finger, “you can be as loud as you want, sweet girl,” he whispers, leaning her head down to kiss her soft stomach. He peppers the lightest kisses along her belly, smirking proudly to himself at every whine and whimper.
“I need you, Spencer. Please, I need you,” she says, getting more and more desperate by the minute, “I need you,”
As much as it’s nice to be wanted, it’s even nicer to be needed. And from the familiar glint in Spencer’s eye, Y/N doesn’t doubt that Spencer needs her as much as she needs him. Her heart thumps in her chest, an unfamiliar pang of excitement and adrenaline brought on by another soul does something to her. Like it’s an instinct she picked up years ago, Y/N’s hands travel to Spencer’s hair, gripping tightly. He must like the sensation because as he kisses the inside of her thighs, he moans into her skin.
Kissing and nipping, he leaves marks for the morning, the only proof for tomorrow that tonight actually happened.
“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers, worried in his voice as his finger loosen their bruising grip on Y/N’s thighs. Her hands, still tight in his hair, loosen as well. Paralleling the way he gently stroked her cheek outside his bedroom door, Y/N’s index finger moves up and down his sharp jawline. His stubble tickles his fingers and his pink lips tempt her to touch them.
“I’m perfectly fine,”
“Good,” Spencer says, before drawing his finger along her inner thighs. His fingers ghost up towards her clit, rubbing small circles. He looks up at her, daring her to play a strange, adult staring contest. Spencer’s palm hovers over her pussy, encouraging her to rut against him as he smiles with delight. Despite being naked while Spencer is fully dressed, Y/N doesn’t mind.
“That’s it,” Spencer encourages, “But you look too good to not taste,” he mutters, lowering his head as his face grazes her sensitive clit. His large hands hover over her thighs, holding her in place as his tongue flickers, tasting her. Taking his time, Spencer nips and sucks, making his own sounds of pleasure as Y/N nears the edge herself.
“Oh, god,” she moans, gripping Spencer’s hair as another wave of pleasure crashes into her. She can feel it in her toes. The relief melts away the tension.
She’s not the sad single mother, she’s the overworked attorney, she’s not the neglected and ignored wife. She’s Y/N.
He’s not the lonely, mysterious neighbor who went to prison, he’s not the exhausted agent, he’s not the misunderstood husband. He’s Spencer.
They're broken hearts, fractured and jagged, seeking a ill-thought out, albeit, erotic rebellion against the people who promised to love and cherish them forever.
It’s twisted and sick that it takes another man to fuck her for Y/N remember her old self again. With the way Spencer’s groans of pleasure grow and his hardened dick rubs against her leg, it’s no hidden secret how this is going to end for both of them. It’s no secret that all people want is to be wanted, noticed, needed.
“Did your husband fuck you like this?” Spencer whispers, his voice cutting like shards in the room, otherwise quiet, except for whimpers and whines coming from Y/N.
No, he didn’t. He never wanted tasted her like this. He never tried to get her to come to the edge over and over. He never nipped and sucked and kissed her thighs before he ate her out like a starved man. He never wanted to, yet Spencer needs to.
“No,” Y/N says, honest to Spencer, because who can lie with a beautiful man in between her legs, “Never, he, ugh, Spencer,”
“God,” Spencer says, taking a break as he look her in the eyes, “I knew he was dumb, but that’s just fucking foolish,” he says before swirling her tongue over Y/N’s clit again and sucking softly. He searches for her hand, finding it in his hair. Holding her hand in his, he squeezes as her moans of pleasure grow more and more frequent.
“Are you going to come? Hmm, are you going to come all over my face like a good girl?” Spencer asks, the condescending tone fitting him surprisingly well, “good girls ask for permission, sweetheart,”
“P-please,” she whines, not caring how pathetic she sounds. She clutches onto Spencer’s hand, holding him like a liferaft, “Please, Spencer. Please let me come,”
“Come, Y/N. Come on my face, sweet girl. I know you can do it,” he says, humming encouragement. The vibrations spur her on, her legs shaking as she comes undone with Spencer’s mouth still working on her clit. His hands gather up her release, slick on his long fingers.
“What a good girl,” he muses, clicking his tongue, “You want to see how good you taste?” Spencer asks, bringing his slick finger to her lips.
Y/N takes his long middle and index fingers into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around it, tasting herself on him. Keeping eye contact with Spencer is hard, but especially when his fingers are buried in her mouth and his puffy lips still wear her release. A trail of spit ties her lips to his fingers as he removes his fingers.
Spencer’s eyes flicker up to Y/N’s. Her legs lay lazily on his and his hands hover hesitantly over her shoulders. Sitting with him in silence it’s awkward, but almost peaceful. They move in simultaneously, as if pulled by an invisible string. Eyes meet and then flicker away shyly, a touchless kiss shared even before lips meet. The distance grows shorter, spurred on by the promise of being wanted, of being noticed. It keeps that familiar motion sickness feeling away. In this quiet little bedroom far away from the mistakes of neglectful husbands and disloyal wives, steadiness and peace thrives.
“It’s not fair,” Y/N huffs, adding levity to the quiet, Spencer’s lips work down from her mouth to her shoulders and down her arms.
“What’s not fair, sweetheart,” he asks, still kissing her skin. Maybe it grounds him, maybe it reminds him that this is all real too. That there’s something after you lose everything.
“That you’re not naked,” Y/N says, bringing her fingers up to unbutton his shirt. Smiling, Spencer stands up from the bed, happy to rid himself from the confines of his clothes. His pink shirt and dark pants get tossed into the void, long forgotten with Y/N’s shirt and skirt, “You’re taking too long,” she says, pulling down his boxer briefs.
“Maybe you’re just impatient,” Spencer jokes, kicking his underwear down his legs and crawling back into bed. He attacks Y/N’s neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. She giggles at the sensation of his stubble tickling her neck. The momentarily sweet gesture is only that, before can feel Spencer’s ever pressing erection against her leg.
“We don’t have to go any further, Y/N,-” he starts, but is cut off by Y/N planting a kiss to shut him up. For someone that really short circuited her brain by barely touching her, Spencer is awfully unsure that she wants this as much as he does.
“I want you to fuck me Spencer. Fuck me like you wanted to fuck you wife. You don’t have to hold back,” she says, licking her lips in anticipation as Spencer’s eyes darken with something that looks like jealousy. He leans back, resting in between Y/N’s legs, pumping his erection.
He looks down at her with so much intensity that Y/N can’t help but feel like the bed is going to swallow her whole. She’s wonderstruck, watching him hover above her. She anticipates his every move, wondering exactly what he’s going to do next. His hands cover her stomach, ghosting over her skin.
“More,”
“More what?” Spencer asks, playing the fool, when they both know he’s the master of all, “You need to use your words, sweetheart,” he mumbles, mouth latching onto her breast as he swirls his tongue around her nipple. Proud of her response to his ministrations, Spencer decides to give into her wants, which elicits more whimpers.
“So good, baby,” Y/N says, finding home in his messy hair again, “So good, Spencer. Please, fuck me now,” she begs, the whimpers of pleasure tumbling from her lips as Spencer cuts her off with another kiss. She wonders if he can taste herself in the kiss and if that makes him want her more.
“Are you sure, you’re ready for me, sweet girl,” Spencer whispers, his mouth brushing against Y/N’s neck, leaving trails of marks that will be puffy by the morning when their little escapade is nothing but faint memories in the back of their heads.
“So ready, so ready, Spencer,” Y/N chants, not beyond begging for Spencer to fuck her. He smiles to himself, secretly enjoying the feelings of being wanted by someone you want.
He kisses Y/N as he buries himself deep inside her, letting the sensation of his mouth and the stillness of his movements make her dizzy with anticipation. It feels so good with him deep inside her, not moving, just breathing in slowly and steadily, that Y/N swears to herself she can get drunk off the feeling. It’s sweeter than motion sickness, which only leaves you empty with dread. But this- this makes her feel full, complete…
“Shh,” Spencer coos, slowly moving as he begins to thrust in and out, taking his time. He kisses up the side of Y/N’s face, leaving opened mouth kisses on her cheeks, collarbones and shoulders. Spencer leaves no stone unturned, kisses every inch of her body as she clutches his back, “Let me take care of you, sweet girl,” he mutters, seeming to finally lose himself in the feeling of her wrapped around him.
“Spencer,” Y/N cries out, unsure what to say exactly. Words can’t quite describe the feeling of his body flush against hers, holding her steady as he moves in and out from the place where their bodies join as one. Words don’t do him justice.
“Please don’t hold back,” she says, wondering if she’ll regret the words in an hour or so when she makes the awkward walk back to the bar.
It’s like a coil snapping. The shift between the slow, languid thrusts and sweet kisses that Spencer leaves. His hands hover over his waist, ghosting along her soft skin and moving quickly to latch onto her nipple. He sits up, resting on his heels as he gazes down at Y/N, spread out before him, wanting- no - needing his next command.
“Did your husband make love to you? Hmm,” Spencer says, dragging his fingers down to Y/N’s clit as he begins to rub dizzying circles, “Did James fuck you sweetly?”
“Yes, yes, he uh,” Y/N stammers, her face flushed with humiliation as James’ name slips between Spencer’s lips. She doesn’t want to think about him right now, because thinking about him will only make her realizes that James could never compare to Spencer, “not like this,”
“No, not like this. I’m not going to make love to you, sweet girl. I’m going to fuck you,” Spencer says, his voice oozing with false pity. His fingers don’t let up, as Y/N squirms in place, trying her best to get off without Spencer permission.
“Don’t be a brat,” Spencer orders, “I don’t like when good girls pretend to be brats. Your husband must have been so pathetic. I’m hardly even touching you. And look at you. You’re a messy, messy little whore,” Spencer observes, his finger sliding up her and much to her excitement all she can do is let out mangled cries of his name and curse words.
“Aww is it too much? Is it too much for you, slut? I can stop right now. I can stop right now and call James up. Maybe he can finish the job?” Spencer asks, saying the forbidden name yet again.
“No,” Y/N says, finding her voice amongst the dizzying sensation of Spencer’s fingers and voice, “I want you,” she cries, “I need your cock inside me, Spencer. Please I need it,” she begs, humiliation growing in her belly as Spencer taps her cheek patronizingly.
“What a good girl. Looks like I don’t even have to fuck the brat out of you. You’re so eager you do that without being told,” he coos, leaning down to kiss her cheek and forehead.
It’s a mixture of sweet and sadistic that she knows she can get drunk off. His searing kisses and his wandering fingers force all her energy to focus on him. The way his tongue flicks across her bare chest, giving her just enough to be hungry for more. Sex must be an adult version of the teacup ride. You know you’re going to be all dizzy and woozy, but somehow it’s worth it all. Her skin tingles and she swears that Spencer’s touches are electric.
“Please fuck me, I need it, I need it so bad. So bad,” she pants, gripping Spencer’s forearms, pleading with him to take mercy on her. He listens, for once, kisses her forehead sweetly before thrusting in exponentially more quicker and faster than before.
She can feel him everywhere. His hands on her scorched skin and his thrusting in her sensitive sex. Spencer is calculated. He knows exactly how powerful to make the thrusts, he knows how to make her squeal and squirm with delight. His arms are on either side of Y/N’s head like a protective shield. She wonders if he’ll hold her sweetly after this, as if that wouldn’t make their relationship even more complex.
“Oh, god, Spencer,” she stammers, “More, more,” she pleads, knowing she’s signing her name to the devil if he’s going to fuck her like this.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m taking it easy on you tonight. You’re a lucky girl,” Spencer whispers, his sweet, albeit patronizing words conflicting the way his hips snap meeting Y/N’s in fast paced, unrelenting thrusts or his fingers on her clit or his mouth against her skin, “My lucky whore,”
“No one can fuck you like this,”
The words- and their very salacious meaning- ring in Y/N’s ear. And even though her cheeks and chest flush with embarrassment, she knows that Spencer makes a point. Sex with James was more of a chore. Something Y/N felt compelled to do because maybe it would make him want her more.
Wanting. Being wanted. Wanting someone that wants you back. It’s what got her here in the first place, with her legs stretched out and her recently divorced neighbor fucking the life out of her.
“Say it,” Spencer orders, though it comes out more of a strained beg, his thrusts, once calculated and precise, grow more sloppy and slower as he reaches his climax, “Tell me no one has fucked you like this. Say it, I know no one could fuck you like the slut you are, sweet girl,”
“No one,” Y/N starts, trying to concentrate on stringing the words together. It proves to be difficult when Spencer is hell-bent on making walking difficult the next morning, “No one’s fucked me like this. Not James. No one can fuck me like you do, Spencer,” she calls out, clawing towards him and latching on to his hair.
Layers of sweat and tears cover their skin, a dizzying cocktail of desperation and despair. For a moment in time they forget about the heartbreak. For a moment, they let themselves simply feel good, even for just one night.
“Never forget that, sweetheart. It will be like no one else has ever fucked you after me. They won’t measure up,”
They won’t. It couldn’t even if they tried.
She’ll hate the way his fingerprints are shadows on her skin. Tattoo kisses, once wet and fresh, but now long forgotten. She’ll crave his touch more than her husband’s. She’ll rewind the tape, pausing at the moments when she sees them unmarred with neglect, but golden with temporary joy. She doesn’t particularly like the idea of “ruined for other men” but, again, Spencer has a point. Y/N wonders if that neighborhood gossip of him being a genius is actually true.
“I’m going to come, Spencer, please,” Y/N cries out, coming undone for a second time tonight. She can feel her toes tingle in anticipation. The alcohol far gone from her system, but drunk off Spencer. He’s worth the regret flavored hangover that she might nurse tomorrow, “I need you,”
“You’re so cute, all messy like this. Messy little slut for me. I bet you want to come all over my cock, huh? Gonna let me fill you? Fuck you so hard that you’ll always feel me there,” he whispers, his hot breath foggy up her mind.
“Yes, please. Oh god yes,” she chants, his name on her tongue like a prayer. She’s a sinner and if he got even an ounce of saintliness in his pinky, she’ll worship him in the dead of night.
“Look me in the eyes as you come, sweetheart. Remember how I fucked you,” he dares, his lips latching onto her neck leaving marks, “just like that, sweet girl. Such a good girl for me,” he praises. His words stick to her like glue, daring to burrow deep inside her heart.
“So fucking cute when you come,” he muses, his thumb rubbing quick circles around her clit, simpering as Y/N bites her bottom lip as her climax approaches. Spencer, leaning down so his lips capture her bitten bottom lip. He tugs, smiling when she whines at the sharp pain of his teeth against her puffy lip.
She lays blissed out in his bed transfixed as the white milky substance leaks out from Spencer’s cock onto her stomach. His large hand hovers over her hip bone keeping her still as he reaches his release. Like a domino effect, as soon as Spencer meets his climax, her second one of the night hits her like a tidal wave.
“Come for me, sweet girl,” he commands, yet again conducting their salacious dance, even to the very end.
Y/N can feel the coils loosen deep her belly and tingle all the way down to her toes. Her head spins, drunk off the smell of Spencer’s spicy cologne and the sight of him relaxed as he kisses along her shoulders, whispers sweet nothings as she comes undone at his hands.
“Oh, fuck,” she says, cursing as she feels her muscles ease and the tension from her neck melt away, “Holy fuck. I didn’t think you had that in you,” she teases, pushing Spencer’s hair from his forehead. It sticks to his skin with his sweat. And in the moonlight, he looks younger and more carefree than he actually is.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asks, back to the reserved, cautious neighbor that always made her wonder, “You should use the bathroom, you know while it’s not medically proven, it’s highly recommended that you urinate after engaging in penetrative sexual intercourse to prevent UTIs,” he states, rattle off the factoid like he’s reading from a sex-ed handbook.
Sexual intercourse. Didn’t this man just say she was a good girl when she came when told? And he’s too bashful to say sex.
“Is that true?” Y/N asks, silently wondering how much longer she has until he inevitably wants her to leave. While there’s no hand book for fucking your ex-husband’s mistress’s ex-husband, cuddling and waking up to pancakes isn’t the expectation, “as much as I’d like to avoid that, I think I need you to help me up. My bones feel like they’re made of jelly,”
“Guess I did fuck you that good,” Spencer whispers darkly, sliding his arm under Y/N’s back to help her out of his bed, “it was good for you though?” he asks, worry in his big, sad eyes.
“Are you kidding me? Spencer, I’m not kidding when I tell you that I’m struggling to walk here. You were more than fine, you’re hiding an awful lot behind those cardigans and sweater vests,” Y/N teases, standing up and putting her hands on Spencer’s shoulders as his legs dangle from the bed.
His hands find home on her waist and his eyes silently thank her for the reassurance.
“You can stay,” he whispers, “I’ll help you clean up and we can go to sleep. For the first time in a really long time, I’m not dreading going to sleep. And I think that has something to do with me not being alone,” he reveals, quietly retreating into himself.
“Of course,” she tells him, trying to conceal that staying the night is exactly what she hoped for, “I’ll be right back,”
“Let me get you a towel first,” Spencer says, squeezing her hand as she sits back down on the bed. He comes back in with a warm damp towel that he drags up and down Y/N’s legs and across her stomach.
Silently, brazenly, he places kisses that make her skin goosebump and prickle. She licks her lips, watching him care for her. The dark glint in his eyes, the one she noticed in the bar and then when he hovered over her, is gone. It’s replaced by something sweeter and a little sadder. Eyes, they say, are windows into the soul. She speculates that Spencer must be a sad one to have eyes that shine like glass and are bittersweet like haunted dreams.
“I think you’re good,” Spencer whispers, his voice breaking the silence, “the bathroom’s to the left. And I’ll have some clothes for you to put on,” he says, standing up to help her out of bed.
“Thanks,”
As she uses the bathroom, she doesn’t let herself think about the strangeness of this. She always wondered about the shy neighbor who she would stand near during neighborhood get-togethers and events. And especially after he went away for a while and came back quieter and even more secluded. Now, she supposes that lonely hearts find each other.
Finding her way back to Spencer, she finds him sitting on his bed. His lamp is on, lighting up his room with a warm glow. He leans back on his bed, his glasses resting on his nose. He looks at peace like that, relaxed in his own space that he offered to share with her, even if it’s for just one night.
“Hey there, neighbor,” Spencer says, “As much as I enjoy the view, I think you’d be more comfortable in some pajamas,” he offers, holding out a pair of men’s boxers and a faded gray tee-shirt, “And I have lots of cardigans if you get chilly,”
“We’re technically no longer neighbors,” she says, putting on the tee shirt and boxers, “But thanks for the shirt,”
“I guess so,” Spencer observes, watching her from under his glasses, “You’re getting the house, I presume,” he says, “I don’t mean to pry, but I am the person to talk about this stuff, you know,”
“You, me and like 35% of marriages,” Y/N teases, amused by Spencer’s baffled expression, “What? You’re not the only one who can memorize statistics.”
Spencer spreads the covers over Y/N’s shoulders and leans over to turn off the lamp on his nightstand. He lays flat on his back, his eyes refusing to meet Y/N’s as she turns over on her side. Neither of them dare to move, even though it’s like there’s an invisible magnet pulling them closer and closer together.
“Good night, neighbor,” she whispers into the dark, feeling that dizzying feeling again when Spencer finally turns to face the same way she does. His face hovers above hers, his hands ghosts on her waist, not touching even though she wants him too. It would be nice to be held as she sleeps.
“Good night, Y/N,” Spencer answers back, closing the gap and pulling Y/N in close.
He holds her in his arms, flush against his chest. She can feel his thumping heart on her back. Trying to steady her heart rate, she tries to count her breaths.
One. Two. Three.
In and out.
Slow and steady.
Pretending this is real. Pretending that she’ll wake up and this will all be real. His warm body against hers is real. And the teacup ride will stop, the motion sickness will melt away, and all that remains is the dizzying sensation of being wanted by the one you want.
The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep is the smell of Spencer's sheets. They smell like sea breeze and salt air. His breathing is like the ocean calling out her across the short, yet vast, distance between them. They're castaways lost at l
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She’s up before he wakes. Like he did last night, Spencer looks younger when he sleeps. His wrinkles from stress and worrying are less prominent, and a small smile is etched into his lips. Spencer’s arm is heavy against her upper torso. He’s warm and his shirt smells like clean cotton. Y/N wishes she can ignore her responsibilities and let herself melt into the sheets with Spencer’s arms wrapped around her waist.
But she can’t. She’s not his to want, he’s not hers to want either.
Slipping from the bed, she searches for her clothes that are scattered around the floor. Liz will know exactly what happened when she goes to her mom’s to get Aster wearing the same outfit she went out in. As much as she hates her sister being right, she doesn’t regret their night.
Before her fears get the best of her, Y/N scribbles her phone number on loose sticky-note on Spencer’s dresser. She’s not even sure if she wants him to call her. Or if this was a one time thing, and she’s nothing but a notch on his bedpost.
Turning the door, Y/N sneaks one look back at Spencer. His sleeping form threatens to call her back into the warm bed. Selfishly, she wants coffee-breath kisses and jokes shared while listening to morning news with the only man who can’t give her that. Painfully, she walks through the door, deepening the distance between them and ignoring the way her heart races at the sight of his curly brown hair messed up along his pillow case.
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ssahotchswife · 9 hours ago
Text
Falling for You
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Summary: Literally, just slice of life fun. A fluffy fall day with the Hotchner boys.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (fem!)reader!
Warning: FULLY SFW, PURE FLUFF.
Includes: Fluff, love, emotions, Halloween, candy, pregnancy
Word Count: 2k
A/N: This is posted on my ao3 (ssahotchswife)! Hi everyone!! Have some fun fall fluff on this Wednesday! I hope you guys like this one, it was a hoot and a half to write hehe. AO3 LINK
A soft thud sounded down the hall and made you look up from the mixing bowl and Jack’s sticky fingers in concern. The little boy was busy mixing the marshmallow and rice Krispy mess together to make a brain shape out of it while you whipped up a red frosting to decorate the treat and Aaron dug around in a closet looking for Halloween decorations. You opened your mouth to call out to your husband and ask if everything was alright, but before you could even get a word out, you heard a muffled, “Shit!”
“Oops,” Jack giggled up at you at the curse word. You grinned down at him, leaning over to smooch his forehead.
“You didn’t hear that,” You said.
“Yes, I did, momma,” His giggles warmed your heart more than the hot apple cider in your favorite mug ever could.
Every time your little boy called you ‘momma’ you felt like you were on the edge of bursting into tears. Jack had called you his momma since you and Aaron got engaged almost three years ago, and now two years into your marriage, your little boy was soon not going to be the only person in the world calling you momma. The pregnancy test you’d taken two days ago was still sitting in the drawer in your vanity.
You’d wanted to tell Aaron every two minutes since you first saw the lines on the stick show up, your heart squeezing painfully at the idea of your little Hotchner family growing by one more. Of course, you were nervous – having never been pregnant before you were scared about the whole process – but no matter how nervous you were about it, you were so unbelievably excited to be having a little baby Hotchner. And there was no doubt in your mind that Aaron was going to be ecstatic to learn that he was going to be a dad again and that Jack would be over the moon hearing that he would be getting a little sibling.
“We need to get your daddy a swear jar,” You laughed, grinning at Aaron’s playful glare that he sent your way as he made his way into the room with boxes of what you assumed were the Halloween decorations that he’d put away last year, stacked on top of each other.
He plopped the boxes on the floor beside the kitchen table, opening the first one to find a stuffed pumpkin you’d bought last year because it reminded you of Aaron. The face on the jack-o-lantern was turned down into a grumpy frown and the stuffed stem had a long leaf that stuck out the side just like the one piece of hair that always stuck up in the back of Aaron’s head until he smothered it with gel. On days like today, where he was simply puttering around the house with you and Jack, he didn’t bother with the gel, and you got to see that cute little tuft of hair that you cherished with every fiber of your being sticking straight up like an antenna.
“Where do we want this?” He asked, holding up the pumpkin.
“On the table by the door.”
Aaron gently placed the orange plush on the table like you said, leaning back to examine his work. When he turned back to see you still watching him, he smiled. That sweet Hotchner smile that had made butterflies take flight in your stomach since day one and still did every time you saw it grace your husband’s lips. He really was so handsome, and apparently, a very good mind reader because he was making his over to you not two seconds later to press a little kiss to your lips before swiping a finger through your bowl of frosting and sticking it in his mouth with a grin. That beautiful grin that he shared with Jack, and you hoped he’d share with your new little baby.
“Thief!” You laughed.
“It’s delicious,” He smirked.
“Thank you,” You huffed with fake exasperation while your husband smooched your cheek.
“Momma?” Jack asked, leaning his head against your hip, and making your heart melt.
“Mhm?” You smiled down at your little love.
“Can we go trick or treating with Henry this year?”
You and Aaron exchanged a glance, having a conversation purely through mental telepathy and the ability to read one another’s expressions. The talent had nothing to do with profiling, and everything to do with the fact that you knew one another so well. There was no one in the world that you knew more than Aaron Hotchner, and no one else on Earth knew you like Aaron did.
“I’ll talk to Auntie JJ,” You said. “But yeah, I think we can arrange that. Do you know what you want to go as?”
“Hmmm,” He hummed, concentrating very hard on your question while licking his sticky fingers – having finished molding his rice-Krispy treat brain. “No, not yet.”
Grabbing the wet nap that you’d laid next to you for this exact scenario, you slid the damp cloth over Jack’s hands to unstick them while he giggled that it tickled. Once he was clean, he was racing over to the boxes filled with Halloween decorations to help his dad pull out the festive trinkets one by one, giggling at every item that was pulled from the boxes. You had already decorated the apartment for fall, but given that Halloween was right around the corner, your Hotchner boys wanted a spookier theme throughout the house. So, while you finished up decorating a Halloween treat, your boys hung up fake spiders and pumpkins and the little witch that looks like she’s crashing on her broom into a wall that your nana had made you when you were younger.
“The place looks great, Hotchners,” You grinned when they finished, walking over to stand next to them. Aaron’s arms immediately went around your waist as they often did when you stood near one another.
“Momma,” Jack giggled. “You’re a Hotchner, too!”
“I am?” You asked the little boy, squishing his cheeks with your hands. He nodded up at you with a squished grin. “Well, aren’t I lucky?”
“We’re the lucky ones,” Aaron murmured, placing a soft kiss to the spot just below your earlobe.
You turned around to smooch your husband’s cheek before dragging him and Jack into the kitchen to help you decorate all the treats you had laid out. That afternoon had been spent mainly in the kitchen with your little shadow helping you bake cookies shaped like bats and pumpkins and cats and make rice-Krispy treats with a big grin on your favorite little boy’s face.
Jack, having spent the evening nibbling on black cat cookies, wanted to watch a Halloween movie that night, to properly get into the spirit of the season. And, while Linus and Lucy waited in the pumpkin patch for the Great Pumpkin, Jack stretched out over your and Aaron’s laps and promptly fell asleep despite his protests that he could stay up and watch a movie with you. You smiled down at your sweetest boy, gently sliding the blonde little hairs off his forehead while his chest rose and fell with the breaths that one can only get when deep in sleep. Jack was the sweetest boy in the world, you thanked the universe every damn day for bringing these boys into your life.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Aaron asked, making you look up at him to see the soft smile on his lips, that cute dimple that you loved so much making a late-night appearance.
“My boys,” You smiled, reaching over to smooth your thumb over Aaron’s cheek. He turned to press a kiss to your palm, making the skin tingle from the contact. “I love you guys so much, Aaron.”
“We love you too, sweetheart,” Aaron said softly.
“Good,” You smiled. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
“Not possible.”
Aaron kissed your palm again, his lips warm against your skin. You loved how physically affectionate your husband was; the man had his hands on you as much as he possibly could, and was always leaving tiny little kisses on you throughout the day, like little gifts, and every single one made your heart flutter as much now as they did when you were first together.
“What do you think he’ll want to go as?” Aaron asked, nodding at his son.
“I don’t know,” You sighed. “The other day he mentioned a group costume for the three of us, which could be fun.”
“Yeah?” Aaron asked with a smile.
“Mhm,” You hummed, pushing your hand through Aaron’s hair. “Maybe the Wizard of Oz, you’d be a pretty cute Tin Man.”
“Even cuter with my Dorothy by my side,” Aaron grinned.
“And our little lion,” You smiled down at your baby boy, and you couldn’t help but imagine a little Scarecrow joining your costume.
It warmed your heart to think of your little family of four. Your heart pulsed heavily with so much love for your Hotchner boys, and you had no idea how you got so lucky to live this life with them – and soon one more.
“You’re an amazing dad, Aaron,” You murmured.
He looked up at you in surprise, a light blush crawling over your cheeks along with a smile curling on his lips.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” You hummed. “Our kids are so lucky to have you.”
“Kids?” Aaron asked, his eyes widening. “You – are you –?”
“We’re having a baby, Aaron,” You said, feeling tears in your eyes. “One more little Hotchner.”
As carefully as he could, without waking his son, Aaron moved Jack from your lap to the other side of the couch so he could pull you into his arms. He hugged you tight against his body, kissing your cheeks over and over again.
“We’re having a baby,” Aaron whispered, his dark eyes filled with tears.
“We are,” You nodded with a tearful laugh. “Are you happy?”
“Sweetheart, I couldn’t be happier if I tried,” He grinned. At Jack’s tiny snore Aaron let out a breathy laugh. “He’s going to be so happy, (y/n).”
“I hope so.”
“He will, angel,” Aaron smiled. “He’s been asking us since the day we got married to give him a sibling.”
“I love you all so much,” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks. “All three of you.”
“I love you so much too, sweetheart,” Aaron said. “My babies and the love of my life.”
You laid snug in Aaron’s arms, his hand on your tummy under your shirt, stroking your belly that would start to grow as your baby did. Aaron whispered in your ear all of the things your family would get to do next Halloween as a family of four while you watched your first baby sleep on the couch across from you. You felt surrounded by so much love from your three Hotchners that filled your heart more than anything else in the world.
Taglist: @xstaywildmoonchild @stiles-argent24 @chelseyjoyce @torykjamie @wonderousnerd @doctorstethoscope @gspenc @geeky-daughter @aaronhotchie @enilledam @joyclubie @txtdreamss @madamsnape921 @hotchology @art-and-thoughts @rubym13 @anxious-enby @willowrose99 @themoontoyourshine  @averyhotchner @ssareidbby @ssamorganhotchner @jillys-feral-fandoms @ssahotchie @hushedlove @goldensonlyangel @angelic-kisses13  @multifandom-nsfw @hotchnersgirlfriend @meghannnnnn @ssahotchnerxx​ @cheasy-peasy-lemon-squeezy @itsmytimetoodream @usemelucifer @zetasaturno99 @silvermercy​ @0callme-mimi  My taglist is 18+, if you want to be added you’ll need to confirm that you are 18+ or have it in your bio. Thanks for understanding!
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reidingtheclassics · 11 hours ago
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a spencer and reader blurb inspired by the part in grey’s anatomy where derek saves meredith from drowning?
🩺 anon
this isn’t really a blurb bc it’s 1.3k words but oh well
warnings: drowning? almost??
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“If anyone detains Gardner then you say so over the comms, otherwise, we all meet back here in thirty.”
Everyone dispersed after Hotch’s last statement, leaving Y/N to start wandering down towards the harbor. The plan was simple. The team would travel to the recent ferry crash in the Boston Harbor, and go undercover as medical professionals helping with triage. They were to walk around-- look for any signs of the man that was last seen at the crash, and arrest if possible.
It all seemed too simple. Y/N noticed the pit in her stomach from the second the mission was stated, and yet she hadn’t said anything. Despite this sinking feeling in her gut, she was to do her duty.
Looking around, it was hard to see anything other than crying and screaming citizens, all battered and bruised from the recent disaster. She was a criminal profiler for God’s sake, she should be able to handle this. She should be able to witness this, but she couldn’t. This was more than a helpless deceased victim. These were real, alive people screaming for their mother’s or children. So she took a breath, only giving one last glance before she would find isolated areas where their unsub could be hiding, but she didn’t get a full look because barely a second after she saw a small child hugging her knees, obviously crying for some sort of guardian.
Taking a tentative step forward, Y/N let out a whisper, trying not to scare the girl. “Hey, sweetie. Are you looking for mommy or daddy?”
The young girl whipped her head up, eyes puffy as a result from crying, and she didn’t say anything, just giving Y/N the smallest of nods.
“Okay, okay…” Y/N straightened her back, now desperately looking for any distressed parent in the area, but nothing. Everyone had been tended to, no one seemed to be frantically searching for someone. Giving a sigh, Y/N held out her hand, giving the small girl a pleading look. “Can you come with me? I promise, we will find whoever you’re looking for and I won’t give up until we do.”
It took a moment before the small hand grasped onto Y/N’s, and once it did, Y/N carefully lifted her to her feet, making sure to check for any obvious injuries before moving along.
The two hadn’t gotten too far when Y/N spotted Spencer. He was looking around different walls, checking for any signs of the man they were trying to get, and when she walked up to him, he almost immediately noticed her, and gave a relieved look.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked, noticing the tension in his shoulders.
“Yeah, yeah, we just don’t normally split up like this and the last time that happened I-” he cut himself off before finishing the sentence, obviously noticing the girl to Y/N’s left. “Oh, uh, who- who is this?”
“She’s looking for her mom or dad. I’m going to help her and if no one says anything over the comms I’ll go back to looking for Gardner.”
There was a slight look of fear in Spencer’s eyes and he pursed his lips before speaking in a hushed tone only you would hear, “just please be careful. You know how much I hate it when you go off script.”
Y/N wanted to laugh. She did know how much he hated it, but that’s what their jobs were half of the time-- improve. “I will be. I’m going to go down closer to the water to see if anyone is down there and could help her.”
She heard his faint “okay” before she started walking with the girl.
Y/N had been looking everywhere-- down by some rocks, over and under scrappage from the wreck, around the corner every now and then. She found nothing. She found nothing until she saw a man hunched over closer by the edge of the dock.
“You can stay back here and I’m going to see if he knows you, okay?” Y/N looked down at the girl, giving her hand a soft squeeze before leaving her side. “Sir, are you okay? Do I need to get you some assistance?”
When the man turned around, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. That was the unsub. She was face to face with the usub, and a child no older than eight was ten feet away.
Clearing her throat, Y/N walked closer to the man, slowly bringing her hand to where her gun sat under the scrubs she adorned. “Lewis Gardner?” she asked, and she knew it was the wrong move when his face contorted into panic. “We can do this calmly and without a scene. There’s no need to make this a big thing in front of a child.”
Lewis shook his head, moving closer to the water, giving Y/N no choice but to follow. “You’re right. A child shouldn’t see something terrible happen.” The unsub paused, taking the opportunity to go to the very edge of the dock. “But if I had to see bad things, maybe she should see something too.”
Y/N had no time to ask questions, all she felt was Lewis’ strong arms spin her around, and pushing her into the freezing waters of the harbor.
She was in shock. Y/N had no idea what had happened, and because of this shock, she felt paralzed as she sunk deeper into the water.
She tried to move-- she wanted to move, but she couldn’t. The burning sensation throughout her muscles was too much. And despite this fiery burn that went from her arms to legs, The iciness of the Boston Harbor was still apparent. While her insides were similar to what she might assume the fiery pits of Hell would be, on the outside, she might as well have been in the Arctic ocean.
She hated it-- hated this, she couldn’t move, talk, see, or hear. God, it was like someone put pressure on both sides of her head, continuing to press hard and harder. Everything was muffled. She couldn’t hear the screaming or crying of injured patrons. She couldn’t hear the sirens of the ambulances and police cars that were oh-so apparent not even five minutes ago. She couldn’t hear her team. Her team. She couldn’t hear anything through her earpiece, as it was most likely ruined. She couldn’t hear Hotch tell them that Emily had made the arrest, how when they gathered back together, they all looked around for her, or the shouts Spencer graced everyone when he went running around looking for her.
She didn’t hear him rush over to where the little girl stayed, and didn’t hear the calm yet slightly demanding questions about her whereabouts, and she certainly didn’t hear the gasp Spencer elicited when the child pointed out towards the water when the question “where did the woman who was with you go?” She didn’t hear the splash that came from his body when he jumped in. She didn’t hear anything-- at least, not until the pressure that flooded her ears had dissipated.
She felt the pop of water release from her ear canals, and felt her body go into shock when finally hearing the sobs that came from Spencer.
“Hotch! Morgan! Get over here!”
She could hear him. She could hear everything, and she wanted to yell out that she was fine, but she couldn’t. She still felt the heat and cold battling each other. She could feel her lungs being greedy, wanting more, and they got just that.
She felt air expanding into her lungs and the pressure of someone else’s lips onto hers. Despite her concept of time being completely shifted in the moment, she knew it took some time. It took some time before she could see again. It took some time before her breath became even. It took some time before Spencer’s arms wrapped around her, hugging her into his chest.
“You’re going to be okay. Y/N you’re going to be fine.”
She was finally back to them, to him. She was going to be okay.
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catsadams · 8 hours ago
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SPENCER REID — 1x22 THE FISHER KING
if you save please like/reblog
TAGLIST: @prentissology @scaryisa @emilyprsntiss @quietmisery @goldensonlyangel @sapphicalexblake @tarajareau @gnater87 @altsvu @penelopesgf @gayboyjay @p3pperm1nttea @andineverwould @unmitigatedsuperiority @simmonsmilf @natasharomanoffisbaebby @northmammon @reidsacademia @hotchgan @spenxerslut @xoxospencerreid @delilahjareau @neonheart1244 @wannabeforensicpsycologist @lesbeebs @thealoofmystery @fbivestreid @reidspoet @ready-4-spencie @spookyspemilyreid @rachaelswrites @lilacprentiss @sweetandsunny @clairenovaksgf @alfonsais @ropoto @moderatelydelusional @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @st4n-the-m4n @spence-der @spencerirnanorja @mrsspookygreenaway @elmaxrights @sterekawesomness @super-sexy-agent-hotchner @matthewgraygublerwife
if you want to be added to my taglist please click -> HERE
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ropoto · 15 hours ago
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CMMCW: Day 4 - Roxy
choice inspirated by @brilliantbimbo -Sergio and Roxy deserve more love!
@simmonsmilf @delilahjareau
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hotch-stufff · 5 hours ago
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Hold My Hand and I Won't Let Go
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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings!: mentions of death, gunshots, hospitals, crying, lots of angst!, grief, yelling, seriously loads of angst, but ofc a fluffy ending because its me
Description: Hotch loses the woman he loves for a second time, he doesn't know how he can keep going on, now with two kids. What happens when he learns the truth about what happened to you?
A/n: I know I posted like, yesterday, but I'm quarantined and have waaaaay too much spare time, hope you guys like it :)
---------------
His heart pounds in his ears as he waits for the doctor to come out with some news. It had been hours, of not knowing your condition, of not knowing whether his wife was going to live or not. 
It had been a tough case. Violent and gruesome. The unsub, a young man in his twenties with a grudge, was killing women in every possible way he could find. Stabbing, shooting, torture,  everything in the book. It had been next to impossible to track him down. But the team had caught a break. They had a location and they were out of the precinct as quickly as possible.
If only they would have known about the trap.
You had, unwillingly, pissed off this unsub. He had taken a liking to you and told you that he would stop killing if he could have you. Your husband was quick to shut down any ideas of undercover or bait. It was too risky and you had hurriedly agreed with him. Your two children at home were enough for you to side with him.
And because you hadn't agreed to the unsubs terms, he had decided he would take you himself. He was deranged and on the verge of a psychotic break. It wasn't a good mix.
When you all reached the house Aaron barked out instructions and you all split up, unknowingly following exactly what the unsub wanted. You had taken the upstairs with Reid. You took one hallway, he took the other. You had crept down the hall and slowly opened the last door, an empty room surrounded you, and you quickly moved onto the next. But not before the unsub jumped from behind you and shot you three times. Once in the chest, which your vest caught. Another on your side, that slipped through the vest straps. And a third that landed in the back of your neck. 
You passed out immediately and the unsub scrambled away through a secret exit. He disappeared into the night before anyone even knew you were injured. 
Reid was the one to find you, bending over you to apply pressure to your wounds.
"Agent down!" Was yelled across the comms and a swarm of agents surrounded you in an instant. You felt yourself open your eyes, becoming conscious for only a second before your vision swam again.
Aaron had appeared before your eyes before they shut. You could barely make out his words.
"Hold on." He was pleading, that much you could tell. "Hold on." And then it was black.
And now here Hotch sat, his head in his hands as he waited for what felt like days. JJ sat next to an unconsolable Reid, who believed it to be his fault. Prentiss and Morgan both sat away from the group, trying their best to keep on a strong face. Rossi sat with Hotch, doing anything he could to help keep him calm. 
But all Hotch could picture was the morning before this case.
You two had woken up to peaceful silence that you both knew wouldn't last for long. He had curled his arms around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer. You had hummed softly as you snuggled closer into his warmth. 
He could still feel your lips pressing softly to his chest as you each whispered I love yous. 
And then Addie and Jack had come bounding in the room, hopping on you both, causing you to giggle. He had smiled at his small family as the kids begged for mommy's special pancakes.
The spell broke as he heard a familiar sound of heels walk in the room. He had looked up, surprised at his boss strolling through the hospital doors.
"Strauss?" He hears himself question and she looks at him apologetically. 
"I'm sorry about Agent Y/l/n." She begins and Hotch is about to thank her, but she keeps going. "But you all should be searching for the unsub." Tear stained faces turned into shocked and angry looks as the team processed Strauss' words. 
"With all due respect mam, that's our team mate in there, we aren't going anywhere." She glares at Morgan as he talks back, but then she shifts her gaze to Hotch.
"Ma'am, I'm not going anywhere until I know my wife is okay." She rolls her eyes, but nods and walks over to the nurse station. She sits on the opposite side of the waiting room, constantly talking on the phone.
"Ignore her Aaron." Rossi says and Hotch nods. 
A doctor comes out a few minutes later and calls your name. Hotch is up and out of his chair before anyone can say another word.
"Are you Agent Y/l/n's husband?" He asks and Hotch nods his head. "Sir, you may want to sit down for this." The words stop his lungs from working properly and he collapses into the chair behind him.
"No, no, no. Please no." He whispers as he buries his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry sir, but your wife's injuries were too severe. She didn't make it off the table." Hotch can barely hear the cries of his team over his own sobs.
"No, please. Please no." Aaron is shaking with grief and barely registers Rossi helping him stand and walking him out to the SUVs. 
The case had been local and everyone headed to their own homes to grieve the loss of their friend. Rossi drives Hotch home, and calls Jess to come over. He stays with Hotch until Jess arrives. 
"Daddy!" Jack and Addie both yell as they come bounding in the house. He squeezes them extra tight and then sends them back to their rooms. Jack can tell something is wrong and he only gets more worried when he sees that you aren't there. But he takes Addie back to their rooms to distract her for a bit. Rossi leaves to give the family privacy. 
"Jess…" Hotch's voice cracks as he begins to tell her and he can barely utter the words. She had become close with you in the years that you and Aaron had been married, and she was heartbroken to learn this news. 
"Aaron, I'm so sorry." She hugs him and they sit there crying together. 
"I don't know how to tell the kids. I-I've already had to do this once. I don't know how I can do it again." He sobs as Jess comforts him. He eventually tells her she can go and that he will be okay. And he starts the long walk to his children's bedrooms, to tell them that their mommy isn't coming home.
* * * 
Days went by and Aaron found himself unable to do anything. He couldn't eat, or sleep, or work. The most he could do was hold his crying children. He made sure they were fed and comforted. He would never abandon his children in a time like this.
But he would lay awake at night waiting for you to crawl into bed next to him. He would wait for your soft sigh as you got comfortable. 
And when it wouldn't come, he would cry himself to sleep, curled in a ball, holding the pillow that still smelt like you.
* * * 
The funeral came and went quickly. It was a beautiful, but small service. You didn't have a big family, an only child, your parents had passed away when you were little. Hotch and Jack had become your family, and then little Addie.
Everyone wore black and the sun was shining, just how you would have wanted it.
Hotch held in his tears, he didn't want to break down in front of his kids. 
Jack held his hand as Aaron held Addie in his arms while they walked to the grave. The gravestone was beautifully picked out, and you were buried with the honor of dying to protect the people you loved.
* * * 
Weeks went by and Hotch wasn't any better. At work, he didn't smile, he didn't laugh, he didn't joke. He was the stern, strict until chief.
He tried for his kids though. He would be as happy as he could force himself to be around his children. 
Jack had closed himself off, and Addie didn't quite know what was happening. She didn't understand, she just wanted her mommy. It broke Hotch's heart every time she asked when you were coming home. 
The family was struggling greatly. But Aaron did everything he could to make his children feel better. Because he knew you would do the same.
Work was becoming too hard however. Strauss was breathing down his neck to catch your killer. And his teammates wouldn't stop trying to make him feel better. He needed to get away. 
"Rossi, can I talk to you for a moment?" Hotch asks, knocking on his friend's door.
"Of course Aaron, come in." He walks over and sits in front of Rossi's desk.
"I need to take some time. To spend with the kids. I can't keep working, not like this." Rossi nods in understanding.
"Take all the time you need."
* * * 
"Please Strauss. I need to go back. I have two children at home. One who has already lost his mother. I can't keep living like this!" You pleaded with the stony woman before you. "What about Aaron? He needs to know I'm okay!" 
"Absolutely not Agnet Y/l/n, not until we catch him. We have been over this." She says back. The Marshalls stand by your front door as she begins walking out. 
"Strauss, no!" You grab her arm. "Please. That's my family, my team, my kids. Please." Tears fill your eyes but she shakes you off and walks out the door. You fall to the floor in a fit of tears.
Someone needed to catch that son of a bitch.
* * * 
Hotch gets the call in the middle of the night. Morgan tells him that they caught your killer and that he needs to get to the office as soon as possible, with the kids.
Hotch is up and dressed before Morgan even hangs up and he grabs his half asleep children before loading them in the car and speeding to the office. 
He unloaded Addie and Jack quickly, carrying a sleepy little girl in his arms up the elevator. What was so urgent, he didn't know.
When he steps through the glass doors of the BAU he stops breathing. He cannot believe his eyes.
Jack notices before Addie and he takes off at a sprint, tears already falling down his face. He collides with you as you both wrap your arms around each other.
"Mama!" He cries into your shoulder and its then that Addie sees you too. Aaron sets her down and she too sprints over to you. You move an arm away from Jack and hold your daughter as tight as you can. 
"I'm so sorry, my loves. I'm so, so sorry." You cry as you hold your children that you haven't seen in weeks. You can feel Jack's tears as they hit your shoulder. You pull back to look him in the eyes.
"You promised you would never leave." He sobs and you nod.
"I know baby, I'm so sorry." You kiss his foehead and turn to Addie. "Sweetie, can you and Jack go with Aunt JJ and Uncle Spence for a couple minutes?" She nods and takes Jack's hand as they walk away.
Hotch stands off to the side, still trying to process that his wife, his dead wife, is very much alive. You stand up from the ground and look at him. He doesn't move and neither do you.
"Aaron…" you whisper and he shakes his head.
"No. No you're dead. You died." He stutters and takes a step back. "Y-you died." 
"I know. I know honey. I'm so sorry." He shakes his head in disbelief as you step closer again. "I didn't have a choice. I begged them not to. Aaron, I begged every time she came to see me." That catches attention.
"She?" He asks and you wince.
"Strauss. She made me, and baby, I swear, I begged her to let me come home." He tried to be mad at you, but now he knows he can blame someone else. It wasn't your idea. And you're alive.
He doesn't waste another second before crashing into your arms. He holds you so close he's scared you might stop breathing. But he can't let go. Not yet. 
You press a kiss to his shoulder as he slowly releases you. You're crying now and so is he.
"I'm sorry Aaron." You whisper and he nods in understanding.
"I know. I know." He cups your face and you press your forehead against his, just breathing him in. He kisses you then. You can taste the saltiness of your tears on his lips, but you can't be bothered to care. You had dreamt of kissing this man for weeks. A piece of your hair falls in your face and he brushes it away with the soft pads of his fingertips. Every touch feels like fire. Every stroke of his lips against your own feels like electricity sparking through your body.
He pulls away, and suddenly the warmth of his body is gone. He begins walking towards Strauss' office, but you grab his arms before he can go any further.
"Aaron. Not now. Let's go home, please?" Your eyes are big and he can't deny you anything right now. He nods and you sigh softly before going to retrieve Addie and Jack. You say goodbye to your team with promises of coming in tomorrow to explain everything.
You go home and start by tucking Addie into bed. 
"I love you mommy. Please don't leave again." Your heart breaks at her words and you nod.
"Of course sweetie. I won't ever leave again. I love you too." You pressed a kiss to the forehead and shut her door softly. You make your way to Jack's room next. 
"Hey buddy." You say as you sit on the edge of his bed.
"Hi." He whispers back.
"Listen Jack. I hope you know how much I love you. I know it hurt, but I had to go away to keep you safe." He nods, but doesn't move or look at you. "I'm so proud of you." This catches his attention and he finally meets your eyes. "You took such good care of Addie and your dad. You were so brave for me." Tears fill his eyes.
"I missed you mama." He wraps his arms around your neck and you hug him right back.
"I missed you too." He falls asleep like that, hugging you tight. When you hear his soft snores, you gently remove his arms, kiss his forehead, and whisper a quiet I love you before walking to yours and Aaron's room.
He is laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You hesitantly crawl up next to him and do the same.
It doesn't take him long to wrap his arms around you and pull you close. You wrap yourselves around eachother, no space between you. His nose is in your hair and he takes a deep breath, breathing you in.
"I need you to never do that again." He says and that's what pushes you over the edge. You start sobbing in his arms and he does the same.
"Aaron, I'm sorry. I-I wanted to come home everyday." He understands, he really does. But it doesn't make it hurt less.
"It must have been so hard. All by yourself." He whispers, and it isn't condescending, it's comforting. He is trying to understand how you felt.
"But I knew you were okay. You didn't know. You thought I was-" you couldn't finish the thought.
"But you aren't. You are safe, I'm safe, the kids are safe." He calms down enough to look you in the eyes and you nod. 
"I'm never leaving again. Never." He smiles. For the first time since that awful night, he genuinely smiles.
"Good." And you let out a watery laugh before he kisses you deeply. 
It was a reassuring kiss.
A kiss that meant you were alive.
Hotch fell asleep that night, and for the first time in months, it was with a smile on his face.
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Oh my god, I'm not even lying when I say I cried writing this. 
Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away!  They do take me a bit of time to get out, but I try to get to them all!! 
If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, which i just updated, so check out the new prompts!! and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.
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hoe4hotchner · 14 hours ago
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Congratulations on 600!!!
Can I request a blurb where the reader and Hotch are best friends and she just found out her partner cheated on her? So she came to work trying to keep it together but Hotch notices & comforts her? Like she crawls into his lap and he holds her and she breaks down? 🥺❤️
Tysm 💕
MORGAN MY HEART HURTS FROM WRITING THIS!!!
It was fitting, really. The rain pounding down on your windshield, the tears welling in your eyes, and staining your cheeks. Your hair was messy from the frustration that had come with finding out. It wasn't like you had been with them for 5 years or anything like that. It wasn't that you had talked about getting married and having kids with them.
You felt betrayed, used, like a piece of trash that could just be discarded once done with it, and that was exactly what had happened. They'd moved on to someone else, managing to neglect your relationship in the meantime.
Not knowing if it had been your fault or theirs, you didn't know how to react. All you wanted to do was scream, cry, punch something, but that wasn't an option, not when you were sitting outside the HQ needing to get yourself ready for work.
It was early, earlier than most of the team arriving, but you just wanted to get started. Wanted to forget about everything that had played out the following night.
Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you blew your nose and entered the building, shielding yourself from the rain as you ran.
You sat at your desk, trying to do anything but think about them, but it was hard. Your work lacked from your emotional state, finding it hard to concentrate long enough to actually get the words down on the paper.
"(Y/N)? You're here early." Hotch pointed out in surprise, seeing you at your desk as he emerged out of his office to grab another cup of coffee. You looked up at him for a split second, trying to avoid eye contact, as your eyes were wet with tears again.
"Yeah- I just thought it would be nice to get an early start today. I've got tons of reports to finish." You croaked, nodding towards the pile of papers on your desk.
Although you tried not to show any signs, Hotch noticed. He also noticed the distinctive sound of the elevator doors opening.
"Come on, my office. Now." It wasn't as much of an order as it was a request. You followed him up, clicking the door shut right as you heard Reid and JJ's voices fill the bullpen.
You stood in the middle of the office, head lowered as you tried to muffle your sniffles. Hotch had already taken a seat.
"You're not okay. What's bothering you? Do I need to beat someone up?" Hotch suggested. You smiled at his joke, even though you weren't sure whether it was a joke or not.
"It's...." You didn't manage to get much more out before you let a sob escape your lips involuntarily. Hotch looked at you with concern in his eyes. He'd never seen you this upset before, not even after a case gone wrong.
"Come here." He motioned, opening his arms. He knew that he was overstepping a boundary, but he couldn't stand seeing you like this. You rushed into his arms, crawling into his lap.
You felt safe in his strong embrace. Your head tucked under his chin as he held you, letting you cry for as long as you needed. He was sure that eventually, you'd warm up enough for him to help you with whatever you needed. Right now, all he wanted was for you to be happy again. And if that meant cuddling you in his arms, then so be it.
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all-tings-gubler · 17 hours ago
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🌊
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lilacprentiss · 13 hours ago
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emily prentiss — season two
requested by anon
taglist — @ropoto @cxllahan @simmonsmilf @hxtchniss @emilyprsntiss @meganskane @taes-guccibelt @tarajareau @spookyreid @delilahjareau @mrsspookygreenaway @ssa-sapphic @fightingdragonswithreid @minutestomidnight @spookyspemilyreid @spence-der @unmitigatedsuperiority @mrsmadelinepevensie @kyleehotchner
taglist link -> here
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lovinggubler · 15 hours ago
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respectfully, matthew gray gubler could rail me into a whole other dimension
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fightingdragonswithreid · 14 hours ago
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CMMCW: Day 4: Favorite Female Minor Character
↳ DIANA REID
@delilahjareau @simmonsmilf
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reidscanehand · 13 hours ago
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She’s Gonna Save Me
RCH 3K Celebration
Song Fic Inspired by “Jackie and Wilson” by Hozier
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem!Reader
Category: Fluff with a light smattering of angst
TW: mentions of typical CM violence, cursing, legal adults drinking alcohol
I was really nervous when I got this request because I fucking love this song and I was worried it would be too literal, but...it kinda worked perfectly? (Spoilers) So, this is kind of set in Season 11 and 12? I include Derek’s retirement, the stuff with SWAT from “The Storm”, and Hotch entering WITSEC with Jack in Season 12, and the end of that arc at the top of Season 13. This is exactly the ending I’d want for Agent Hotchner (also an implied (better; healthier) ending for Spencer). Thank you for the anon request and I hope you like it! xx
So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight So deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine For reasons wretched and divine
When Mateo Cruz replaces Erin Strauss as the Section Chief over the BAU, Aaron Hotchner is shocked to find him almost entirely confident in the abilities of the team. It's rare - incredibly rare, actually - that Aaron attends briefings where ‘concerns’ about the team’s behavior in the field or even just questions regarding behavioral analysis don’t come up. However, that all seems to change with Mateo Cruz. Until he calls Aaron into his office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Aaron asks, cringing inwardly at how relieved he is that he and Cruz are almost the same age. He’s been feeling sensitive about his age lately, a side effect of breaking up with Beth, even if it had been a long time coming. 
“Ah, yes, Agent,” Cruz motions to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit.” 
“Is something wrong?” Aaron asks cautiously as he sits in the chair. 
“No, not at all,” Cruz assures him, “I actually have sort of a favor to ask.”
Aaron can feel his body tense, “Wh-what kind of favor?”
“It’s hardly a favor, actually,” Cruz corrects himself, “if my intuition is right.”
“What do you mean?” 
Cruz fixes him with what even Aaron can admit is a convincing smile, “Her name is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s desperately underused in counter-terrorism and her scores in the profiling classes are quite high-”
“She’s already in the profiling classes?” Aaron asks, suspicious of how long this little idea of Cruz’s has been brewing. 
“Took them of her own accord,” Cruz says, still beaming. “Do you want to know why?”
“Um,” Aaron shifts in the uncomfortable chair, “sure.”
“She believed that behavioral analysis would help her understand the people she was chasing,” Cruz replies quietly with what he clearly believes to be a winning hand. 
To be fair, it kind of is; an impulse like that? To study human behavior? To improve her own work ethic? Aaron doubts he’s able to cover how intrigued he really is. 
“That is,” Aaron ruminates, choosing his words carefully, “promising. But-”
“Look,” Cruz leans forward, “it doesn’t have to be anything permanent. I know Callahan just left and Jareau’s out on maternity leave.”
“Well, yes, but I have interviews lined up-”
“Agent,” Cruz interrupts him, a little more imperious in tone, “just give her a shot.” 
She blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild Laughing away through my feeble disguise No other version of me I would rather be tonight. And, Lord, she found me just in time
Aaron still hires Dr. Tara Lewis in case you don’t work out. Luckily for him, you’re both stellar additions to the team. Even when JJ returns, it’s nice to suddenly have lots of options and opinions on the team again. 
It’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but if he’d seen you, Aaron would have brooked no arguments to you joining the team. Really, had he met you first he’d have absolutley no arguments either. You’re an insanely good profiler; in fact, he finds it rather stupid that you were placed in counter-terrorism ever. He knows that, logistically, his team can’t have all the good agents, but you’re just such a natural fit to the team that it seems silly you’ve only joined it now. 
The team is celebrating a successful case on the jet home when Derek asks, “Now, Y/N, how come Little Miss Profiler Extraordinaire didn’t find her way to us until now?”
“Oooh,” you reply, “that’s very sweet of you. To be honest, I don’t know. I guess I’m not exactly the stereotypical image of an FBI agent.”
That’s kind of true, Aaron reasons to himself. You’re rather absurdly pretty, if anything, which he’s sure had some misogynistic repercussions of which you’d (hopefully) been unaware when you graduated from the academy. You wear your hair long, loose and natural unless it’s necessary to pull it up. You wear a large amethyst ring on your right hand and, while you still dress professionally, you’re the closest thing to a hippie Aaron can recall seeing in the bureau walls. Since the moment you met him, Aaron’s decided that, to him, you are the embodiment of whatever is meant by “the divine feminine”; a womanly, bohemian goddess. But he doesn’t allow himself to focus on that revelation all to often. 
“If you think I’m a free spirit now, you should’ve seen me then,” you joke, sipping on your champagne. The team finishes up their celebratory champagne and, likely helped by the champagne, everyone is soon dozing off. You, however, are watching the clouds outside of the window, a wistful expression on your face. Ever so cautiously, Aaron takes the empty seat across from you, thankful for the semi-privacy of the sleeping team to talk to you. 
“You know,” he almost whispers, “I think I would’ve hired you when you first got out of the academy.”
“You’re being kind,” you laugh softly. “But I was barely bureau material then-”
“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a great profiler,” he shrugs. He meets your eyes only to see that you look slightly taken aback. 
“Thank you, Agent,” you say softly, genuinely. “That means a lot coming from you.” 
“You’re more than welcome,” he replies, almost shyly. “And you can call me Hotch.”
“Hotch,” you nod, smiling sweetly. And it sounds almost perfect...almost. 
“O-or you,” Aaron begins, furious with himself for suddenly deciding to go tongue-tied, “you could call me Aaron.” 
“Aaron?” you clarify quietly. “I really like your name, you know. It suits you.” 
“Thank you,” he whispers, a blush growing it’s way from his neck to his cheeks. 
“You’re more than welcome, Aaron,” you whisper, smiling. As you doze off, Aaron realizes that he’s well and truly fucked. Because nothing has ever sounded lovelier than his name on your tongue. 
'Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young She's gonna save me, Call me "baby" Run her hands through my hair She'll know me crazy Soothe me daily Better yet she wouldn't care
When you answer your hotel door, it’s all Aaron can do to keep from falling to his knees and begging for your forgiveness. After his actions today, he likely should. But when he meets your eyes, it’s clear you’ve been crying and he can barely stand the fact that he knows he’s the one that caused it. 
“Agent Hotchner,” you greet coldly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m an idiot,” he rasps, almost crying. “I never should have...I’m so sorry that I-”
“You know,” you interrupt, your voice still icy, “your inability to even admit the humiliation you put me through today is only making me realize how truly awful it was.” 
“I never meant to-”
“To what?” you ask, staring at him just as fiercely as you had today. “To insinuate that I’m fucking one of your agents in front of the team? To bench me when I won’t tell you the truth even though it’s none of your business?” 
“Yes,” Aaron swallows, “all of that. Y/N, I just-”
“Reid was craving,” you whisper darkly. 
Aaron stops mid-sentence, eyes widening in confusion, “What?”
You take a deep breath before meeting his eyes, “I’m not in a relationship with Spencer, sexual or otherwise. I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t mine to reveal, but Spencer gave me permission to tell you after...after what happened today.” 
Aaron continues to stare down at you, feeling tears gathering behind his eyes, “So...so last night when...”
“Last night,” you reply quietly, “I noticed that Reid didn’t seem okay. You sent us back here to rest and I just...had a feeling? I went to his room and the poor boy just...fell apart. The drug use in the case is reminding him of his-” you pause, taking a deep breath before continuing, “of his former addiction. He’s also going through a lot with his mom and it’s just...it’s too much. He just needed a friend.”
"I am so, so sorry,” he says quietly, feeling ashamed. 
You stare at him, the ice in your eyes breaking as you take a deep sigh, “Aaron, why on earth would you...freak out on me like that? I thought we were better friends than that, let alone teammates.”
“I, um,” Aaron bites his lip. He knows exactly why, but he can’t possibly tell you; not now. Not after he made a damn fool of himself by benching you at the police precinct and then implying that his choice to bench you was due to, what he’d believed to be, your sexual relationship with Spencer. Ever since he’d seen you leave Spencer’s room this morning, he’d seen red, only now realizing just how stupid he’s been. 
“Look, I get that a sexual relationship with Reid would be unprofessional,” you sigh, “but surely-”
“I was jealous,” Aaron admits. When you don’t say anything, he looks up and meets your wide eyes. 
“Jealous?” You blink twice. Three times. “Why?”
“Because I’m...” Aaron takes a deep breath, “because I like you. I like you more than I should and I was upset that you...and Reid-”
“Oh my god,” you gasp. 
“I’m sorry if-”
“Don’t apologize,” you say quickly. “Aaron, I’ve liked you for ages. I just thought you weren’t interested.”
Aaron can’t even process what you’ve said past the fact that you like him, too. 
“You liked me?”
“Correction,” you reply, “I like you.”
“Wait...you...you still like me?” Aaron looks down at you dumbfounded. 
“Well,” you smile, your tone almost teasing, “I’m not the biggest fan of what happened today, but...yes, I still like you.”
“I’m so incredibly sorry,” Aaron reitirates. 
“I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to me,” you whisper, almost shyly. 
“Could-could I maybe take you to dinner when we get home from the case?” Aaron asks, barely able to look at you. 
Unexpectedly, you cup his cheek in your hand, staring into his eyes for a moment before replying, “That’s a good start.” 
Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside Sit back and watch the world go by. Happy to lie back watch it burn and rust We tried the world, good God, it wasn't for us.
Aaron is pretty sure Spencer has known the entire time, but has kept it to himself out of a sense of privacy the rest of the team seems to lack when it comes to discussing their bosses’ personal life. All that goes out the window when a SWAT team enters his home and places him under arrest in front of his son. At this point, his job rarely surprises him, but he can’t remember a time he’s been more infuriated with bureaucratic bullshit than now. The fact that the Department of Justice decided to listen to the claims of Peter Lewis - an incarcerated serial killer - over the sound quality of Aaron’s reputation is beyond him. It’s levels of stupidity that Aaron can’t even contemplate. 
When it’s all said and done, he still feels like he’s on fire. He’s so angry and irritated that he feels like he could kill Peter Lewis with his bare hands and if not that then at least giving Timothy Ritchie, the ridiculous DOJ interrogater, a sound throttling and reporting him to any superior that would listen. 
However, his anger is the last thing on his mind the moment he enters his office. Because there, curled up asleep on the sofa, are you and Jack. And suddenly nothing else matters because his entire world is in front of him and safe. 
He sits next to Jack, caging him between the two of you. Your arm is wrapped around Jack’s shoulders, your head resting on top of his. Aaron’s mind has been made up for a while about you. From the moment you entered his orbit, really, but seeing you with Jack, even before you two were officially dating, just solidified it in his mind. 
“Hey,” your whisper takes him out of his reverie. 
“Hey,” he breathes. “How are you?”
“How am I?” you ask sarcastically. “What a question to ask after you were the one wrongfully arrested and interrogated all day. And, am I mistaken, or did you just take down a mass prison break?” 
“Thirteen serial killers across the country got away, including Peter Lewis-”
“But you still stopped most of it,” you correct him. “Even after being interrogated for hours over something you didn’t do.”
You laugh at his awestruck expression, but Aaron can’t manage to laugh. All he can say is, “Marry me.” 
You immediately stop laughing, eyes widening and eyebrows skyrocketing, “Aaron, w-what-”
“I know,” he continues, his free hand caressing your face, “that we’ve only been together for a year now, but Y/N, I’m deeply in love with you. I don’t tell you nearly enough. And after today, after this stupid, ridiculously upsetting day, all I want is you. Is this. Coming home to you treating my son like your own. Coming home to my family. Coming home to you.” 
You smile at him, tears brimming in your eyes. 
“Now, now,” Aaron whispers, a thumb brushing under your eyes to get rid of your tears, “none of that. I can’t have the love of my life crying.”
“The love of your life?” You whisper it so disbelievingly that Aaron almost grimaces.
“The love of my life,” he confirms. “And the fact that I haven’t made that clear is deeply upsetting to me.”
“Are you gonna marry dad?” asks a tiny, sleepy voice. You and Aaron look down in between your arms at the drowsy boy. 
“Hey, Jackers,” Aaron whispers. “How are you, buddy?”
“I’m okay,” he replies, stifling a yawn. He looks up at Aaron timidly, “Are you...are you okay, dad?”
“Yes,” Aaron breathes, “and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what happened this morning. It was all a mistake, a huge mistake and-”
“Did you do something wrong?” Jack asks innocently. 
“He really didn’t, sweetheart,” you reassure him. “It was all a huge misunderstanding.”
“I don’t want anyone to take you away,” Jack whispers, clearly trying not to cry, slowly encircling his arms around Aaron’s waist. 
“No one,” Aaron whispers, adjusting so that he can wrap one arm around Jack and one arm around you, “and I mean, no one is ever going to take me away. You two are the most important people in my life and I will do everything in my power to make sure that we are all safe and happy and together for as long as I can.”
“Does that mean you’re going to marry Y/N?” Jack asks, slightly more excited and relieved sounding than before. 
“If she’ll have me,” Aaron responds quietly, eyes meeting yours again. 
“Oh, please say yes, Y/N,” Jack begs you, puppy dog eyes staring up at you. 
“Yes,” says a teasing voice. The three of you jump, looking over at the doorway. The entire team, literally the entire team is there staring at you. Rossi is the one who spoke, his eyes positively gleaming, “Please say yes, Y/N.”
“If anything it’ll confirm what we’ve already suspected for months,” giggles JJ.
“Suspected?” exclaims an irate Spencer. “I knew. I told you all that they were just waiting to-”
“Just because you knew doesn’t mean you win the bet,” interrupts Penelope. “You wouldn’t let us tease them-”
“You all knew about us?” you ask incredulously.
“Of course,” Tara replies like it isn’t earth shattering news. 
“You moved in together, what, a month ago?” JJ asks. At your nod, she continues, “Yeah we’ve known since about three months before that.”
“How did you know?” Aaron asks.
“That’s not important,” Rossi replies, “what’s important is whether or not you’re going to say yes.” 
Aaron turns to you expectantly, “What do you say, angel?” 
You look at him, eyes sparkling and a small smile working it’s way onto your lips, “Well, of course, my answer is yes.” 
And as he leans over to kiss you over Jack’s cringing face, the team applauding and giggling behind you, he doubts he’s ever felt happier in his whole life. 
Cut clean from the dream at night let my mind reset Looking up from a cigarette, and she's already left I start digging up the yard for what's left of me and our little vignette For whatever poor soul is coming next
The universe has a habit of punching him in the gut. And as understanding as you’d been, as much as you’d helped him and Jack as they’d gone into WITSEC, hiding out anonymously in a US suburb, it didn’t really make up for the fact that, almost the moment you’d agreed to be his forever, Peter Lewis had reappeared, becoming a far more significant threat than he’d ever been before - even showing up at Jack’s school. The two of you said goodbye with the understanding that the moment Peter Lewis was no longer a threat, you’d be together again. 
And it wasn’t all bad. Homeschooling Jack and getting to be a full time dad for the first time made him realize how much he’d really missed out on. Spending time with his son all day every day was exactly the kind of life he wanted for himself. 
It’s a random Thursday, or, at least, random by his estimation. He’s a bit annoyed, really, that the grocery delivery he’d scheduled for later comes early. He’s in the middle of helping Jack with some math homework when there’s a knock at the door. 
“Just a minute,” he calls. The knock becomes more incessant. He grows suspicious, his hand finding it’s way to the glock he still keeps strapped to his hip every day. 
However, when he opens the door and it’s you, he finds himself incapable of movement. He stares at you, barely resisting the urge to pinch himself, convinced it’s a dream.
“Hi,” you rasp, your face already covered in tears. 
“Hi,” he manages to reply. “W-what are you-”
“Scratch is dead,” you whisper. “Scratch is dead and-and you’re safe now and-”
But Aaron cuts you off, pulling you to him and smashing his lips into yours. You smell the same, you’re just as beautiful as ever, but it’s as though he’s experiencing it all for the first time. 
“Aaron,” you breathe when you eventually pull away. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you more,” he insists. 
You smile up at him, “I never want to be away from you again.” 
“Same here,” he almost laughs. “You should come inside and see Jack, he-”
“Before we do anything else,” you say quietly, “I have to tell you...Aaron, these last few months have been so hard. There was so much and you weren’t there and I-”
“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he whispers, pulling you closer to him. 
“It’s not that, Aaron,” you assure him. “You have nothing to be sorry for, but...I think it’s time for me to leave the BAU. And I know that you’ll probably want to get right back to it, but I just-”
Aaron cuts you off again, kissing you harder than before. You kiss him back, but look awestruck when he finally pulls away, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 
“What on earth was that for?”
“Y/N,” he rasps, trying and failing to keep tears from falling out of his eyes. “My home is wherever you are. I want nothing more than to spend every single day of the rest of my life with you, no matter where we are or what jobs we have or-”
It’s your turn to cut him off with a kiss this time, a kiss Aaron happily smiles into as it deepens. 
She's gonna save me, Call me "baby" Run her hands through my hair She'll know me crazy, Soothe me daily Better yet she wouldn't care We'll steal her Lexus, Be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson Raise 'em on rhythm and blues
It’s been nearly a year since Aaron left the BAU and it has been one of the most fulfulling of his entire life in terms of being a father, despite being stuck in WITSEC. However, when he learns about Spencer’s prison experience and the death of Agent Stephen Walker, he feels genuinely terrible, standing by your side at the funeral as you weep for your former co-worker. They’re all thrilled to see the both of you and Jack, especially since the three of you have moved so far away. It’s a sad day, though. It makes Rossi all the happier then to fuel up his private jet when Aaron invites the team to your wedding. 
“Of all the places I thought you’d end up,” Spencer comments idly, “I don’t think I ever thought of Maine.” 
Aaron sidles closer to the younger man, aged from the wild year he’s had, but still youthfully wistful. He follows Spencer’s gaze as the genius stares out over your backyard, the guests from the small wedding you’ve just had milling about, eating hor d’oeuvres and drinking champagne. Jack and Henry are running around having an absolute blast as Michael and Hank dance with their respective parents on the small dance floor. You flit around speaking to friends, family, and colleagues, beleaguered, Aaron’s sure, by comments about your new home. It is kind of impressive. The river rushing gently just a little ways away, Aaron’s small, but healthy vegetable patch, the beautiful white pine tree sitting in the middle of the picturesque scene. Yes, Maine has treated the Hotchners well. 
“I told Y/N I wanted a place that felt fresh and new,” Aaron explains. “She wanted to move away from Virginia. We weren’t really looking at Maine specifically, but we wanted a bit of land and...we found this.”
“It’s a paradise,” Spencer whispers, so quietly Aaron’s not sure he’s meant to hear it. 
“You know,” Aaron says, “we have a guest house.” 
“What do you-”
“I know you can’t make any sort of permanent moves because of your mom,” Aaron assures him, “but please know that our door is always open.” 
A pair of familiar and warm arms wrap around his middle and Aaron looks over his shoulder to smile down at you. 
You beam up at him before turning to Spencer, “He truly means that, Spence.”
Spencer smiles at you both, pensively, before whispering “I have been thinking of...leaving the BAU.”
“There’s no shame in that,” you reassure your friend, unwrapping yourself from Aaron to grab Spencer’s hand. “After the year you’ve had.” 
“Yeah,” Spencer scrunches his nose, eyes casting down to his shoes.
You press your lips together before looking back at Aaron and then smiling deeply, “Besides, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Spencer’s head pops back up to stare at you in confusion, “Why?”
“It may be paradise,” Aaron answers, wrapping his arms around you, “but with an eleven year old and a newborn...it could get kind of chaotic.”
Spencer’s eyes grow wide and a smile breaks across his face, “You’re...you’re going to have-”
“I’m pregnant,” you announce quietly. “And I know you’ve already got some amazing godchildren, but I’d really like our kid to have an Uncle Spence and-”
Spencer cuts you off, throwing his arms around the both of you, “Nothing would make me happier.” He kisses you on the cheek and smiles at Aaron, running off to call his mom and tell her, and maybe come up with a plan to stay in Maine for a while. 
You smile up at Aaron and he can’t help but press a kiss to your nose. You giggle, “Did you ever think we’d get a happy ending like this one, Agent Hotchner?”
“Maybe not exactly like this one,” he wraps you in his arms, closer into his chest, “but I always knew you’d save my life.” 
~~~
Link to My Main Master List Link to RCH 3k Celebration Master List and Guidelines
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hoe4hotchner · 10 hours ago
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✨I’m a simple girl. I see Hotch. I must like.✨
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- Also me: Daddy please raw me 😍☺️🤤🥺
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deadravenclaw · 18 hours ago
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Reid: Why are people always fighting over top or bottom? I would be happy to have a bunkbed.
Emily:
Derek:
Emily: I'm gonna tell him.
Derek: Don't you dare.
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literaila · 3 hours ago
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Hey!!! Could you write a fic where like the reader has a new job and she has been spending a lot of time on it and with Spencer’s job… they don’t spend much time with each other and Spencer being a little sad and insecure that she is find a life on her own and he doesn’t even know what is happening in her life nowadays, cuz she has all this new friends and stuff and sometimes when he calls her when he’s on a case she is out having fun with her friends and then he thinks she doesn’t want him in her life anymore but she tells him that she will always want him and this shows how strong her love is because they have been spending no time with each other, yet they still love each other the same! And then like smut or sum (sorry this was long)
before the ringing starts
spencer reid x gn!reader 
warnings: communication troubles, descriptions of loneliness, angst (?)
a/n: wow. just. wow. (didnt match the request completely)
*
there was a moment of silence before the ringing started.
it was quiet, but then, there was the dial tone…
one second…
two…
but before it could get to three, spencer hung up.
he wasn't sure why, but he knew that you weren’t going to pick up. a part of him wondered why he was wasting the time, but the other part of him knew that he would waste all the time in the world for you.
that stupid part of him that couldn't think coherent thoughts when you were smiling at him.
he’d already gotten your voicemail twice. that was why he knew you weren't going to answer.
it wasn't concerning, he knew. he’d talked to you-- texted you --earlier in the day. you’d been going to get coffee and he’d been eating lunch.
so, he wasn't worried. just agitated.
irritated, because all he really wanted was to hear your voice but he was thousands of miles away, he was on the other side of the world surrounded by strangers and you were still back home. you were probably heading home by now, and he wasn't really even supposed to be taking a break.
that was made clear enough when hotch’s sharp voice broke the neverending gaze spencer had on his phone.
“we’re about to give the profile, you ready?” his boss asked not catching the sullen look in this eyes.
spencer breathed in, counted to three.
because it wasn't really a question and spencer didn't really have any more time to waste.
so he nodded, got up with the ease of someone who wasn't completely irritated and left his phone behind.
it rang three minutes after he left.
*
no, you didn't know when spencer was coming home.
you were sick of answering that question. sick of not having an answer to that question. a part of you thought spencer might be sick of it too, but then that part of you would also never utter that out loud.
at least, not when he was around.
but when you were waking up in the morning, grumbling before your eyes could open wide enough to feel the sting of the sun shining on your face, then, you would complain about how much you missed him. only during the cold, bleak mornings when loneliness was the only utterable word, only during those mornings would you complain at all.
and, of course, when that happened spencer was never home anyway. obviously, because if he was there, spooning you and breathing his warm breath against your neck, if he was home, you would have no reason at all to complain.
but now, standing in a group of people that you barely recognized anymore, you would complain about that question.
because, no, you didn't know. and, no, neither did he.
but you were tough, you were strong enough to last a week without him and you trusted him enough to last longer. his endless support was enough for you to provide yours.
or, at least, you were pretty sure.
it didn't matter, anyway, because the music was loud enough to drown out the sound of your phone ringing.
and these distractions were enough to fill that void that spencer left behind.
*
2 missed calls.
the notification was almost enough to make spencer laugh.
it was a calculated error now that he thought about it. because he knew that you would call back as soon as you checked your phone, and he knew that the average person looked at their phone every couple of minutes-- if not more --and you would’ve called back any second.
so, yes, he was trying to laugh.
but he was exhausted now, hours later, after screaming and gunshots rang in his ears instead of the pleasant sound of your voice. he was tired now, and agitation wasn't a word in his vocabulary.
there were no words in his vocabulary, just words he didn’t have the ability to describe.
and he almost didn't have the energy to wonder what you were doing, where you were, if you were laughing or not.
and he almost had the energy to laugh. except he didn't, and he couldn't.
he was tired of missing you, tired of not being home.
he was tired enough to fall asleep on the plane home, tired enough to forget to call you back.
*
that was why when he arrived home, it was to a quiet house.
your name rang out through the hallway, and spencer waited.
one second…
two…
but before he could count to three, he was already heading towards the bedroom. he had a small smile on his face, excited to surprise you, happy that he could at least sleep with you tonight.
happy that he could finally be here, that this familiar place he called home would always be here.
that he could sleep hand in hand with you.
but when he walked in the room, his bed was empty, and you weren't in the bathroom either.
spencer knew that you weren't anywhere else, somehow, in an instant that was nothing but blank, he could tell. maybe it was that feeling that hit him as soon as he walked through the door, that quiet feeling that he’d only felt in hotel rooms before.
you weren't home and the house was too quiet.
his head was buzzing and there was a distinct feeling in the back of his mind.
spencer sighed, rubbed his eyes, and sat at the foot of the bed, too tired to classify any of this.
*
43 minutes later, your keys were rattling against the door.
your eyes were halfway shut and your legs felt like jello from how long it’d been since you’d last sat down, but still, you managed to make it through the door.
any other time, you might’ve noticed spencer’s bag by the door, his shoes in the corner. you might’ve seen the lights on and might’ve known that he was home immediately.
but instead, you walked through the house much too loud, and erupted into your room ready to fall asleep in your cold bed.
even despite the stinging feeling that came with that thought.
but before you could even bother to start taking your jacket off, you noticed the figure on your bed, waiting.
your first instinct was to scream. to turn back until you were clear out of the house, but then, like a breath of fresh air, your eyes finally seemed to focus.
and, hey, you definitely knew that person.
the relief was palpable through your exhale, the buzzing in your stomach faded to a dull hum and your house seemed a little bit warmer already.
“you’re home,” you exclaimed, softly, exhaled again, and walked towards him. it was dark in the room, but you could see his eyes, the mess of his hair, his slouched shoulders. without a moment of hesitation, you were crawling into his lap, holding the two of you up with your smile alone.
spencer was home and this was a completely different feeling.
you complained when he was gone, but this, this moment when you were finally together, when you could finally feel him against your fingertips, when you could breathe in his smell and it wasn't tinted with a sad nostalgia, it was this moment when you enjoyed the time he spent away.
because, yes, it always meant that you were exhilarated to see him, again.
and now, you didn't have anything to complain about.
“i missed you,” you whispered, voice stronger than it’d been all day, and you were leaning into his neck, kissing the soft skin, clinging to the warmth.
you were overwhelmed by the dizziness that always came with touching him, with his presence in any room.
so overwhelmed that it took a few moments for you to realize the problem.
it took you a few moments to realize that spencer hadn’t moved.
he was still against your touch.
you leaned back, smile only slightly smaller. even with the small glance you’d gotten of him merely seconds ago, you knew that he was tired. he always was after a long case, so you’d already expected it to be true.
but he wasn't holding you, he wasn't kissing you back, he had no words and you could barely feel him breathing. there was no heartbeat beneath your fingertips.
nothing for you to feel.
“spencer?” you whispered, close enough to be staring right into his eyes, trying to gauge any reaction he might have. but the words didn't make him move, he was emotionless, quiet, against the rapid beating of your heart.
your smile was falling and the concern was appearing on your face like a storm. a grey sky enveloping the two of you in a brief instant.
everything was dark, all of the sudden.
both of you were silent for thirty seconds, you stared and he looked past you, straight through the wall, straight past all the clouds, straight past all the darkness that you could feel now.
but then his voice emerged from the quiet, a small uttering, barely enough to be heard.
“you weren't home,” was all he said, not looking at you, not moving his hands to feel your skin, not smiling, not breathing.
three words it took you too long of a moment to comprehend.
“i was out with friends,” you titled your head, trying to get him to look at you, wiggled in his lap so that he might finally feel you there. “i didn't realize you were going to be back tonight,” you tried to kiss his nose, tried to laugh even though you were shocked at his neutrality.
tried to do anything to get him to look at you.
it didn't work and neither of you moved, cold as ice, together.
“i tried to call you,” he muttered against the quiet, mouth stuck in a downturned expression. the words were soft, but there was a demand behind them that you couldn't recognize.
you paused, breathing out before saying, “i know, i called you back but you must’ve been busy,” you almost weren't sure why you were telling him this. not sure why you felt the need to answer a question he hadn't even asked. why this felt so much like an apology.
but then again, you also didn't know why he looked so upset. you didn't know when this moment had gotten so serious.
he stayed silent and you felt yourself move back only slightly, subconsciously, like you were scared.
nervous, maybe, to be here now.
“was it a bad case?” you questioned softly, moving your hand to graze your thumb across his cheek. you recognized these signs, but not enough to know what to do. not enough to understand what had happened during the time he’d been gone.
why he looked so lifeless even though you could feel his chest moving up and down?
he didn't respond and suddenly you felt cold next to him. suddenly the warmth, you’d thought you loved, was freezing.
he stared at the wall, a beautiful statue.
this feeling rolling up your stomach wasn't a positive one.
you said his name again, moved your head, tried to touch him some more, but he did nothing. there was no response and you briefly wondered if you were having a nightmare, if you'd fallen asleep before you'd even noticed you were home.
but no, because you could feel him against your skin.
and then, he was trying to lift you, trying to gently move you off of him. he was moving like you weren't there but somehow being careful at the same time. it was a different kind of overwhelming.
"we should go to bed," was all he said, and you were almost sure you saw his eyes flicker towards yours, almost sure you saw him staring. but, it was gone faster than it'd been there. his eyes were stuck staring away from you, again. glued to the wall.
and then he was making you stand up.
you didn't say a word as you watched him move away from you, he was leaving the room, going to grab something and you were frozen there.
the roles had reversed. the feelings had intensified to a level you couldn’t comprehend.
overstimulation, you knew, was a wretched enemy.
you just didn't understand what had happened-- usually, the two of you spent minutes just holding each other when he got home. usually, he was questioning you about what'd you'd done while he was gone, asking you questions he already knew the answer to just so that he could hear your voice.
usually, there was an expression in his gaze.
but now, now, there was nothing.
only silence.
and when he returned to the room again, he barely even looked to notice you standing in the same spot.
"spencer?" you asked again, your voice caught in your throat, this feeling unfamiliar, this shaking unrecognizable.
he hummed but didn't answer, he didn't look, didn't see you.
"are you okay?" you got the courage to walk towards him, wanting to make him look at you, wanting to know what was going on. you got the courage, but it fell as soon as you saw his face a little bit clearer.
this time, he chuckled only a little. it was an expression, it was an emotion he hadn't shown yet, but it still wasn't enough.
it wasnt familiar, wasnt comforting, wasnt anything.
"i'm just tired," he said, as if that was an answer, not breathing, not blinking.
"thats all?"
he sighed and your body fell. you slouched, suddenly irritated, annoyed, exhausted. you slouched because the concern had been replaced by something else. something you couldn't name.
you wanted to claw the emotion out of you.
and finally, you saw spencer feeling the same. you could finally recognize the irritation in his eyes.
it was a small realization but strong enough to push you forward, to demand something of the two of you.
there was a strange ringing in the room, a buzzing that hadnt been there before.
"are you mad?" you wondered, trying to peer at his eyes, to gauge anything, but failing.
and, spencer, spencer scoffed.
"i don-" he stopped himself from saying what he was thinking, seemed to collect himself, like he didnt trust what he was about to say. "i'm not mad."
you swallowed, watched his fists clench.
"why won't you look at me?" you werent daring him, werent demanding that he tell you, but your voice was softer, it was relentless in its curiosity.
and that perseverance was what finally made spencer look up.
and his eyes, the wonderful brown you'd fallen in love with, the warmth, the comfort, the melting colors that faded together when he laughed-- all of that was unrecognizable.
his expression was dull, like his touch, like his voice.
like everything else about this room.
you couldnt help the small gasp that slipped through your lips, the force pushing you towards him, the hand you reached out.
"whats wrong?" you asked, and you couldnt be sure if you'd actually managed to get the words out.
you were too busy staring at this unrecognizable thing.
when spencer didnt answer, your brows furrowed. "something happened," you accused, like a threat this time.
"no," spencer assured, firmly. his voice was nothing compared to the ringing in the room.
"you look..." you could barely finish the sentence, but your words seemed to be enough to get spencer to move back, to take a step away from you. “you look sad— angry.”
"god," he said, a small outburst you could barely hear. a small outburst that had ended the silence completely.
break the dam and it shall fall.
"i'm not mad at you," he wasnt talking to you, then. but, he continued, anyway.
"you didnt do anything wrong, but i’m still irritated at you." he seemed shocked the words himself, baffled at the thought. his hands were moving with his words, gesticulations that couldn’t prove his point.
emotions that you couldn’t describe, flowing through the walls like water.
you didnt understand.
"what happened?" you asked again, took one step forward, just enough to feel the buzzing in your stomach tighten. “what did i do?” you wondered, because now, there was fault.
spencer squeezed his eyes shut, his hand subconsciously moving towards his chest, gripping for something that wasnt there, gripping for an answer.
and then his eyes opened again, a different brown.
"i missed you," he said, voice caught against his own breath. you attempted to answer, but you couldnt. "and then, you werent here when i got home and-"
he moved the remaining step forward, body straightening with every motion.
"i missed you so much and you weren’t even here when i got back. i missed you," he repeated. he repeated and finally looked at you. "i was mad, before. i should've known you would've called back. i knew you were going to.”
it was silent for a moment.
and then, you couldnt hold back the question. "you were mad because you missed my call?"
you shook your head like it was ridiculous, but spencer's eyes remained serious, remained frozen on you, stuck, like they would never move away.
"we dont ever have the chance to talk anymore," he whispered, like he'd just realized it himself. "i miss you so much because i never see you when i'm home.” he breathed in, clutched at his chest, wrung his other hand like he was frightened. “and i missed your call.”
there was truth in the words but your eyes were focused on his hands.
your silence was louder than any answer you might've had would've been. your quiet breaths were interrupting the conversation.
but still, spencer didn’t seem to mind.
"you're always gone somewhere else..." spencer ran a hand through his hair. he didnt seem angry and his voice wasnt accusing, but your heart still shook with every word.
there was fault in this and it was feeling like it belonged to you.
"it feels like you dont need me when i'm here, like i'm getting in your way." he shook his head, a bitter laugh falling from his deflating chest. “it’s all i can think about when i’m gone.”
"spencer-"
"am i?" he asked, prided, eyes still focused on you. he was close enough, he had said enough, and his hand, his hand hand was finally meeting your skin in a gentle touch.
it was a blissful feeling. a dream to finally feel his touch.
but there was more, and so you couldn’t focus on that, instead, you stared at him.
and immediately, without a second of hesitation, you shook your head. "of course not, no, no, never." your voice shook with the exclamation but you were sure, sure that those words were true. “you’ve never gotten in my way.”
spencer’s hand twitched, a tingle spread across your face.
"i've been trying to get out more so that-" you paused there, unsure, scared to say the words.
but spencer, you knew, you thought, well, he needed the answer.
"i dont want to complain that you're gone so much, or," you swallowed, looking away. "i've been trying not to. so, i've been going out more, so that you dont think..." you trailed off, staring at the floor.
"think what?" spencer whispered.
"that i blame you for being gone, or that i dont support you," you look at him now, eyes clear as day. "because i do, i'm so proud of you."
it was a promise, but your eyes shut with the words. they didn’t feel like enough.
this wasn’t enough.
and so you moved back, away from him, a step farther so that you wouldn’t be distracted by the perfect stimulation he was providing. his hands, god, you would never get used to them.
“spencer,” you whispered, amazed to see him looking at you, amazed to see those melting colors once again.
there was a flood this time.
the clouds seemed to be shifting away.
“spencer” you repeated. “you have to trust me to choose to stay with you.”
his brows furrowed, like he didn’t understand, but the silence that filled the room was not terrifying. the silence was not loud. it was not an unanswered question.
it was understanding, this time.
“you have to trust me, love,” you whispered, smiling like you did before.
and spencer nodded. there was this stupid part of him that couldn’t think coherent thoughts when you were smiling at him like this, but somehow he still managed to laugh.
“i’m sorry,” he said, nodding still, replaying your words in his head like a record, unforgettable.
you laugh instead of answering, shake your head and move a step forward. you’re close enough to look up and meet his eyes now.
"poor communication leads to confusion and distress," you tell him, as if he didn’t already know that. “it’s often a determining factor in the outcome of a relationship,”
you’re really trying to focus on the words, but spencer seems to be leaning closer, and this time, he’s the one moving towards you.
its really quite distracting.
his smile breaks you out of that thought and you laugh again. “weren’t you the one that told me that?” you ask, grinning up at him even though you can still feel the remains of the storm in the room.
you can smell the rain.
“indeed,” he whispers, leaning a little bit further.
“let’s-“ you start but you have to take a breath in because he’s so close. he’s startled you with his charm, with his bliss. “let’s,” you swallow. “not forget that.”
you can smell the rain, and finally, finally spencer kisses you.
one second of bliss…
two seconds to pull back…
but there’s never a third because spencer leans right back in.
the rain smells wonderful.
my masterlist here. 
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lowensashleigh · 6 hours ago
Text
this is me trying
pairing: spencer reid and fem!reider
warnings: angst, hurt and comfort
wc: 226
author’s note: i wrote this little blurb tonight and i wanted to share it with you!
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Where did she go? She didn’t know where to go, no one knew the feeling, they didn’t know the aching, the feeling that her heart was ripped out of her chest, and torn to shreds — no one knew the feeling, no one but him.
She’d had the feelings for days, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors, why did this happen, why did this happen to her? She’s engaged to the love of her life, and then she’s picking out a dress for his funeral.
She can go to Spencer, she hopes she can go to him. Spencer knew the feeling, the feeling of losing a wife, a husband.
She knocked on the door, her cheeks tear-stained, and her curls unruly from the hard rain.
“Y/N?”
“I’m sorry, Spencer. I-I didn’t know where to go, I can’t be at the apartment, because he’s there, the memories of him, a-and you’re the only one who truly knows what I’m feeling — but my person, he’s the one I’d feel with, but he’s gone, and I-I didn’t know who to go to, so I chose you.”
Spencer wrapped his arms around her, and held her. He held her as she cried for her husband, for her unborn children, and for all the love she still had in her, the love she’d then feel with Spencer.
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@silverhetdanes @obislut @pervhotch @rigatonireid @sweetandsunny @heartmira @averyhotchner @cmily @reidslibrarybook @strawberryspence @jswessie187 @wheelsup @parahmur @holding-on-to-my-youth @thosecriminalminds @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @mimischaos @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @drayshadow @hxllprince
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