#criminal minds x reader
Wherever I'm going, I'm happy you're coming
A/n: This was requested by @lhhluvr, based on the song 'Pretty Boy' by The Neighbourhood, which was written about Spencer Reid (I refuse to believe otherwise) Requests are still open
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
CW: nothing ??
"Hey, baby, I'm home!" Y/n yelled out as she walked into their shared apartment, dropping her bag on the floor and her keys on the sideboard.
"In here, my love," Spencer replied. Y/n took the few steps into the lounge/dining room.
Their apartment was far from big, a bathroom, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room they had a small dining room table in. But, it was comfortable and only a few blocks from Caltech, close enough for Spencer to walk.
It was the place that they had lived together since the start of Y/n's junior year at college, half a year after they started dating. To most people, it would have seemed rushed. But they met a semester into Y/n's freshman year at UCLA. Spencer had been a teacher's assistant for Y/n's undergraduate mathematics class. Despite the fact, his degrees came from a different college, Y/n's professor was once his at Caltech.
Y/n had made the fortunate decision to go to his office hours before her midterm with a concept she didn't get. She was met with the incredibly young-looking TA, who she had wrongly assumed was her professor's high school-aged son.
She was so used to the frat boys who didn't care about her that Spencer was a breath of fresh air at first. As she got to know him, she realized how amazing he was. Funny, intelligent, quirky, and really handsome.
When she learned they were the same age, she knew she was interested in being more than friends. His nervousness only made him more endearing. It took him 3 dates to touch her, but after that, he hadn't stopped.
They were absolutely, hopelessly in love.
Spencer was sat at the table, looking over some paperwork, what she assumed was another paper he'd aced.
Y/n smiled involuntarily when she saw him, walking over to wrap her arms around his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"Missed you today." She mumbled absentmindedly. Despite whatever short amount of time they spent apart, Y/n always missed him.
Spencer turned to place a kiss on her cheek. "Missed you too."
"What did you want to talk about?" She asked him quietly, still wrapped up in the warm atmosphere they had. It was theirs, away from all the tests, exams, classmates, parents, bills, and stresses of their lives.
Spencer flipped the paper over so she could see the front page. Written across it was 'employment contract.' Y/n pulled away from him, furrowing her eyebrows, not remembering when Spencer applied for a job.
Spencer looked up at her apologetically, but Y/n wasn't sure why. "What's happening?" She asked him, growing nervous with every moment he didn't speak.
The worst conclusion she jumped to was that he wanted to break up, and she had no idea how she'd deal with that. She wasn't sure why she thought that. Maybe because it was the worst thing that could ever happen to her.
"Can we sit?" Spencer requested, gesturing to the couch.
Y/n nodded, her heart starting to race as she prepared for the bad news. She sat down, and Spencer sat next to her, his contract in hand.
"Are we breaking up?" She spluttered out before she could stop herself.
Her heart was thumping in her chest, feeling like the walls were closing in on her.
Spencer shook his head, giving her instant relief. "What? No. Not at all. Wait, do you want to?" His own doubt started to show.
"No, not at all." Y/n breathed out. "I love you." She reminded him.
"I love you too," Spencer replied, gazingly lovingly into her eyes.
He leaned in gently to place his lips to hers, always so delicate like he was going to break her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lovingly kissing him back.
With both of them fully reassured of each other's love, Y/n turned her attention back to the paper in Spencer's hand, putting her own hands on top of his. "So, what's happening?"
"Oh right," Spencer remembered, drawing his eyes off Y/n with some difficulty. "Do you remember last month when I met with Jason Gideon?" He asked her. Y/n nodded. How could she forget? Spencer tried on a hundred different shirt and tie combinations, Y/n reassuring him each one looked nice. She had only seen him that nervous a handful of times. "He wants me to join the FBI," Spencer announced, the secret finally out.
Y/n's eyes widened in shock as her mouth dropped open. "Really? Spence, that's amazing!" She exclaimed happily. "You'd get to help people every day."
Spencer was thankful her reaction was so positive. He thought it would be, but he was nervous she'd take it the wrong way. Plus, he had conveniently not told her the full story. He felt guilty and horrible that he was about to ask her to uproot her whole life to move across the country with him.
And if she said no, he wasn't sure how he could live without her. All his bad thoughts were playing on a loop in his head.
Y/n's face dropped slightly when she noticed Spencer's troubled look. "Spencer, what's wrong?" She asked.
"The job is in Quantico. In Virginia." He stammered out.
Y/n almost looked like she was about to cry. "So we are breaking up?" She choked out, on the verge of tears.
Spencer let out a sigh, not sure if he should break up with her and save her the pain, or ask her to come with him. "I don't want to." He carefully stated, dancing around the facts.
"So you're about to ask me if I want to come?" Y/n preempted.
Spencer sighed, placing his head in his hands. "Y/n, I love you. More than I ever thought one person could love another." He started. "And I want you to come with me." He gently told her.
"So, we're good then? I'll come with you." Y/n figured, unsure about what had him so freaked out.
Spencer lightly nodded. "That's all I want." He replied. "But, I feel terrible about asking you to move across the country with me." He confessed.
Y/n shook her head, placing a finger under Spencer's chin, making him look at her. "Spencer, I hope you know that wherever you're going, I'm coming." She reminded him. "So long as you want me to."
"I do. You're the only thing I want to take with me." Spencer affirmed. "But I'm not sure I want to take the job." She remembered how excited Spencer had been once he came back from talking with Gideon.
Y/n stopped him for just a second, reaching out to grab his hands. "Spencer, there isn't one thing that could deter me from wanting to be with you." She reassured him. "Seriously, I'm there through thick and thin. Whatever challenge we might face. What's giving you doubts?"
Spencer had never been more grateful for her, squeezing her hands before speaking. "The job is in Quantico, but I'd be traveling around the country to catch criminals." He confessed. "I wouldn't be with you much of the time."
"Okay, you finally invested in a cellphone, so we can talk whenever you have time." Y/n figured out loud.
Spencer nodded, that was one thing ticked off his list. "You've still got half of your senior year left." He reminded her, aware of how hard she'd worked for the undergraduate degree. "Not to mention you're doing your master's degree starting next year. They want me there as soon as I can be."
Y/n nodded, thinking through the problem. "I'm sure I can transfer my credits."
"There is Georgetown University," Spencer mentioned, slightly smiling. It was like he had granted himself a moment to live out the dream in his head.
"See, so that'll be okay," Y/n said, seeing she had convinced him. "What else is bothering you, sweet boy?" She asked, sweeping stray hair off his forehead.
Spencer took a deep breath in, trying to calm the nerves that had been growing for far too long. He knew the adrenaline and cortisol were racing around his body, driving him to make a decision.
He'd felt like that before, during final exams, or around Y/n. But it had never been as bad as it was at that moment. His heart was beating so loud he wanted to puke.
Spencer let go of her hands, putting his contract down and reaching into his back pocket. It was his fight, flight, or freeze moment. And for once, he wasn't going to freeze.
He knew it couldn't have been nicer, but he didn't want to wait any longer.
When he looked back at Y/n, she had tears in her eyes. There was only one explanation for him being down on one knee, twisting a red velvet box in his slender fingers.
Sucking in a breath, he started. "I've known about what love actually is, scientifically, for years. And I wasn't sure I'd ever feel it. Y/n, you're the first person I've ever loved. You've taught me more important lessons than any book. And I'm not sure of anything in my future, but I know I want you in it." Spencer had thought about what he'd say for weeks, ever since he acquired the ring. "I'm going to stop myself before I start rambling." He stated, eliciting a slight giggle from Y/n, who was crying lightly. "So, uh, Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He finally asked, opening the ring box so she could see the silver band topped with a pear-shaped diamond.
"Yes, Spencer, a million times yes!" She declared, throwing her arms around his neck.
Spencer stood up, pulling her up off the couch and into a tight hug, his arms firmly around her waist. Y/n leaned back, holding his face as she admired his features. She paused for a moment before placing a kiss on his lips. Warm and full of love.
When they pulled back, Spencer was giggling, shaking his head. "That would have been really awkward if you didn't want to move with me." He joked, making Y/n laugh through her tears. With the pads of his thumbs, he wiped them away. "I hate making you cry." He mentioned, thinking back to the 3 occasions he'd made her cry and the numerous times he'd seen her crying.
Y/n shook her head, tears still falling. "They're happy tears." She assured him, grinning a little bit more.
"Good," Spencer whispered, kissing her again.
Y/n smiled against his lips, pulling back and laughing. Spencer frowned at her. "You didn't give me my ring." She offered as an explanation.
"Ohh, right." Spencer let out, unsure of how he could have forgotten when it was still in his hand. "Here." He told her, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it on her finger.
Y/n couldn't take her eyes off it. It wasn't big or showy, more simple and elegant. The band where the diamond was attached was littered with tiny little gemstones.
"Spence, are these?" Y/n asked, eyes filling with tears again.
"A mix of your birthstone and mine," Spencer replied, anticipating the rest of her question.
Y/n shook her head. "Spencer, it's so beautiful." She couldn't believe it, completely in awe as she moved her finger around to admire every inch of it. "I love it. Thank you."
"Thank you," Spencer replied. He had been so unsure whether or not she was going to agree that the ring had sat in his pocket for a week.
And now he'd done it. The ring was in its rightful place.
"I'm just so lucky," Spencer said, twirling a strand of her hair in his fingers.
"Spencer, I'm the lucky one," Y/n replied, finally looking up at him with a smile. "I do have something to ask, though." She requested.
Spencer wasn't worried about what she was about to ask. The ring was on her finger. "Yeah?"
"Can we wait to get married? Like a year or two?" Y/n asked.
Spencer nodded, smiling at her. "Yeah, of course. We can wait until you have a Ph.D. even." He told her.
Y/n rolled her eyes, not enrolled in a doctorate program. Spencer had been urging her to since she got accepted into her master's degree.
"It would be cool if we're Dr. and Dr. Reid." Y/n figured with a laugh.
"Hi, darling." Spencer hummed, wrapping his arms tightly around Y/n's waist, resting his head on her shoulder. Her back was flush against his front.
Dressed in a mini, sparkly silver dress, Y/n stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in the lounge room of their penthouse apartment in Dupont Circle, looking out at the view of dark DC.
"Hi," Y/n murmured, her hands resting on top of his. "Is it time to go?" She asked, still not able to take her eyes off the city skyline.
Despite having lived in DC for 12 years, it was still just as beautiful, especially with the twinkling lights of the city.
"Uh, check." Spencer directed, twisting his wrist around so she could see the time on his watch.
"6:48," Y/n announced. "You're early for once." She joked, feeling the vibrations of Spencer's chest as he laughed.
She had thought it would have taken him more than 23 minutes to get changed into his black tuxedo and white shirt.
"Do you ever think about this?" Y/n asked, her mind thinking as they stood there.
She would never get sick of the feeling of being in Spencer's arms, even as they got stronger over the years.
"Think about what, baby?" Spencer asked her, absentmindedly toying with the ring on her finger.
Y/n shrugged shyly. "Just us. We used to be so young. Now we're here." She attempted to explain.
"I know." Spencer agreed. "Just look where we made it."
She was looking, pinching herself every day that she had the life she'd dreamed of. A life she could only imagine when Spencer asked her to marry him.
"Daddy!" The cheers came, followed by tiny footsteps. Spencer's hands released from her waist as he spun around, Y/n doing the same thing.
Spencer bent down, opening his arms for 6-year-old Ethan and 4-year-old Sienna to run into. He placed a kiss on their curly brown hair while Y/n awed at them. Spencer had always been the best father to their 3 children. He truly was the perfect man.
"They wanted to come and say goodbye," Penelope explained, following the couple's children into the room, bundled blankets in her arms.
Y/n nodded, walking over at placing a kiss on the forehead of the newest member of the Reid family, sweet baby Willow. Both of them had promised it would be their last. They both wanted another after Spencer got out of prison.
"She's so beautiful," Penelope commented, cooing at the baby in her arms.
Y/n nodded. "Finally, the first one that looks like I was involved." She joked, nodding towards Spencer and the two 'big' kids who were identical to him.
"You're all so perfect," Penelope mentioned, tracing a finger over Willow's cheek. "Thanks for letting me watch them."
Y/n giggled, shaking her head. "I should be thanking you." She reminded her. "We'll be back around 11 if that's alright?" She mentioned.
Doctor Reid and Doctor Reid were going out for dinner with Spencer's teaching colleagues at his university as an end-of-semester celebration.
Penelope nodded. "It's absolutely never a problem to watch my angels." She told Y/n.
As if they were summonsed by their godmother's words, Sienna and Ethan attached themselves to her legs. Spencer appearing beside her, all 3 of them admiring the baby.
Y/n leaned down, placing a kiss on both of their foreheads. "Daddy and I will be back later on, okay?" She told them.
Ethan and Sienna nodded, matching brown curls bouncing as they looked at their mother.
"Okay, now be good for Auntie P," Y/n warned them, flashing stern eyes before smiling again, wrapping them in a hug.
"Love you, Mommy."
"I love you both too, so, so, so much," Y/n replied, placing a kiss on each of their foreheads before standing up. They took that as their cue to run off to the playroom.
Spencer took her head, both of them placing a kiss on Willow's head before making their way to the door.
"Bye, P, love you." Y/n waved goodbye to Penelope, standing with their daughter to see the couple off.
"Thank you, Garcia," Spencer called.
"Have fun!" Penelope yelled back, slightly bouncing the baby in her arms.
@anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx @spencers-dria @hardpartybasketballshepherd @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mrsobrien888 @parahmur @averyhotchner @honkroselyn @randomwriter1021 @bunnyweasley23 @rebeccasoutlook @teenwaywardasgardian @spencersnotdeadgirlfriend @bubb1eana1ee @icequeen6666 @are-y0u-sirius @psychomanias @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @jswessie187 @k-gallacher @fantasynerd09 @morganwilliams @vaella1821 @ndubes04 @talalok @juneballoon999 @tiaras-amongst-trash @onceinadifferentdimension @criminal-reid @yikesyikesyikes95 @80strashbag @ilovespencerreidmarryme @citylights31 @ssavanessa22 @thedancingnerdmermaid @Beatriz-barnes @doctorspenceryeet @gooblur @alfonsais @camreid @canadailluminate @lethpartridge @ssagube @spencerreid-mgg @nightlockcornucopia @loveeee2134 @karinareid @allexthakatt @alfonsais @silverhetdanes @aperrywilliams @g-l-pierce @lizziebeeokay @reidswhoree @beepbooptoop @silverhetdanes @kyanyakya @katiejozeisler @matthewwhore @megnotfound @80strashbag @mrsobrien888 @fanntasynerd09 @morganwilliams @j-cat @440mxs-wife @hueycat2004 @gspenc @icurasthefallenangel @iheartspence @ssavanessa22 @bisexual-virgin @thecraziestcrayon @theycallmepapasmurf @katesreading @cance1medaddy @kuolonsyoja @alexlovescriminalminds @kahootlobbymusic @nomajdetective @idonotexiste @xxgilmoregirl @drayshadow @justalittleweirdoo @wildflowersvibes @a-little-bit-of-everything19 @spencesscarf @lhhluvr @holding-on-to-my-youth @averyhotchner @mugi-chwan95 @gspenc @navs-bhat @sewagegirl @lhhluvr @idkbubs @mochionly
@happymangospot @bunny-script @pauline5525mgg @fanf1ctionwrit1n
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hold onto me 'cause I'm a little unsteady
Word Count: 2047
Summary: Y/N's OCD is triggered while on a case and Hotch is there to help.
Characters: Hotch x GN!Reader
Warnings: Anxiety, description of a panic attack, reader suffers from OCD, description of a pretty gross house, emotional hurt/comfort
A/N: Yeah so I'll be honest I'm not entirely sure what this is. It's really just a vent piece I guess, everything included in this is really just my own personal experience and probably isn't accurate for everyone. I'm not even sure if this will appeal to many people but I thought I'd post it for those who may want to read it :)
Prompt(s): "I don't care if I don't get any sleep tonight. As long as I can be there for you."
Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.
Taglist is open!
This was the worst place you'd had to search in a while, maybe not the worst on the scale of mentally scarring unsub torture houses you'd dug through but the worst in the terms of filth. It became apparent the second you walked in that keeping his house clean was not at the top of this unsubs list. There was a thick layer of dust across every surface and a mountain of plates, glasses and take away containers had been left out to mould in most rooms, the worst of it concentrated in the kitchen.
The feeling of uneasiness crept into your chest as you made your way around, conscious of your movements as you tried your best not to touch off anything. The field was no place for your anxieties and you always did your best to keep them at bay as much as you could but sometimes - times like this - something just got under your skin and you couldn't shake the feeling. The precinct received an anonymous tip naming this house as the home base of your unsub and you rode out with Morgan and Hotch to check it out.
You'd since spilt up to search around after clearing the house and you were now standing alone in the middle of what seemed to have once been a study. You made your way over to the desk to examine an old journal in hopes that it could give you some insight into the life of your unsub. The journal didn't seem helpful as you quickly skimmed over the page it was left open on, it more than likely belonged to the previous owners of the house and not your unsub at all.
You moved to turn the page over wanting to make sure there wasn't anything useful but as you did your wrist brushed against something on the table, the sudden feeling making you drop the journal back onto the table. You weren't entirely sure what it was that you'd touched but it left an uncomfortable feeling against your skin.
"Y/L/N, you alright?" You pulled your gaze away from your wrist and turned to see Hotch standing in the doorway, watching you curiously.
"I um, yeah, sorry I just I thought I found something but it's nothing." You stuttered out trying to refocus yourself on the task at hand instead of on the way your skin now felt like it was crawling, or the growing urge to run to the nearest bathroom and scrub your hands clean. Not that you'd actually be able to clean anything in this house, in fact, you guessed that the bathroom was probably in worse condition than this room.
"Okay well I think we're done here, there's nothing else we can find. It's time to head home for the night, we can regroup in the morning." That was the one good thing about this case, it was based close enough to Quantico that you could go home to your own apartment rather than to some hotel every night. You most certainly needed that right now. All you wanted to do was get home to somewhere that felt safe.
You nodded and followed Hotch downstairs as you made your way outside, staying quiet as you went. Working with profilers it was hard to keep anything a secret and most of the time someone would always pick up on it when something was wrong. You could tell that was happening now as Hotch let you walk ahead of him, his eyes watching you closely as you went. He didn't say anything, clearly not wanting to press the issue and you appreciated that.
"Y/N, ride with me." Hotch insisted once you got outside, pulling the passenger door open for you. "I'm heading your way anyway so I'll drop you home."
"Sure, thank you, Hotch." You agreed after a moment's hesitation. You were sure you wouldn't be great company with the growing panic in your chest- that only seemed to be getting worse but frustratingly slowly - but you could use the distraction.
The drive to your apartment wasn't that long, twenty minutes at max but now that you had stopped and allowed your brain a moment to catch up with itself every minute seemed to drag out forever. Your initial fears had just continued to grow sending you into a tailspin of anxiety until it felt like it was pushing down on your chest, making it hard for you to breathe. While you'd enjoyed the silence at first it was now only making you feel worse as you had no way to shut out any of your thoughts. You were so focused on keeping your hands away from your clothes, not wanting to have to worry about changing completely once you got inside that you'd barely noticed the SUV coming to a stop.
Hotch unbuckled his seat belt and turned in his seat to face you. He must have been able to read everything that was building inside you on your face as he started to reach a hand out towards you before stopping himself, instead, resting it on the edge of your seat.
"Can I come up with?" He asked gently. "I can tell somethings wrong and I don't want to leave you alone like this."
You just nodded your head, not trusting your voice to answer him. It happened every time you spiralled into a panic attack, slowly you started to shut down until you weren't even able to speak with shaking uncontrollably. You climbed out of the car and headed towards your apartment, letting Hotch trail behind you as you went. You felt like your body was on autopilot as you reached into your bag and pulled out your keys, unlocking your door with shakey hands.
You dropped everything the second you stepped into your apartment and darted towards the bathroom leaving Hotch standing awkwardly in your hallway. Once the bathroom door shut behind you, you started the tap running the warm water over your hands. You scrubbed where your wrist had touched against the object, rinsing the soap away before repeating the process again and again until the repetition finally started to calm your nerves.
It was enough to stop the feeling of your skin crawling but the anxiety that had built up still weighted down on you and refused to budge as you fought back tears, finally meeting your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and watery with unshed tears. You tried to swallow the feeling, stepping out of the bathroom to return to Hotch. When you found him he'd made his way into your living room and was standing next to your couch.
"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice laced with concern when he turned to meet your eyes.
You shook your head not even sure how to begin to explain to Hotch how you were feeling. You'd never told any of the team the true extent of what you dealt with and while you were sure they'd picked up on pieces of it nobody really knew the truth. It felt no matter how hard you tried to explain it, you could never find the right words. You walked towards the couch but instead of taking a seat, you sunk to the floor in front of it, leaning back against it. The feeling of the hard floor beneath your hands helping to ground you. Hotch moved around the couch to join you, sitting close but not quite close enough to touch.
"How can I help?" He questioned watching as you tried to hold in the sob that threatened to spill out. Some of your comforts felt silly now that you were faced with the idea of explaining them to Hotch. You were always afraid of being judged for the things you needed in moments like these but you needed at least a small comfort right now.
"Can you um, can you light the candle on the fireplace?" You asked nervously gesturing towards one of your larger scented candles that sat on your fireplace. Hotch nodded and reached for the nearby lighter before lighting the candle. It took a few tries for the flame to take but once it did he returned to his place next to you.
You took a deep breath, focusing on the rich scent that filled your nose. Sometimes when your body went into sensory overload like this the candles helped. The focus on one major sense that you could control helped to settle your body. You were very aware of Hotch's presence next to you and the need for comfort resurfaced stronger than ever when his hand brushed against yours on the floor. Hotch had always been a comforting presence in your life, while maybe you weren't incredibly close he was there for you when you needed him.
Before you could stop yourself you turned and buried your face in the crook of his neck, finally letting out the sob you had been holding back. You felt Hotch tense at first, clearly taken aback by your sudden movement but in less than second his arms were wrapped around you pulling you closer to him. The feeling of his arms around you was overwhelming as you finally let out everything you'd been feeling. You tightened your arms around his waist as you clung to him, your whole body shaking with the force of your sobs. Hotch brought one hand to rest on the back of your head while he tangled his fingers in your hair holding you tight against his chest. His other hand smoothed across your back, rhythmically running up and down your spine as he whispered comforting words in your ear.
"Shush Y/N, it's okay. I'm right here." He mumbled next to your ear, his voice quiet as he tried to calm you. His voice was soothing, every word helping you catch your breath just that little bit more. "You're safe here."
When your sobs finally stopped, reduced to sniffles as you tried your best to catch your breath, you slumped against Hotch's chest. You weren't sure if you were calmer now or simply becoming numb. You let him hold you, too exhausted both mentally and physically to even try and move away.
"It's hard sometimes." You started, your voice was hoarse from crying as slightly muffled as you kept your face buried in the crook of his neck. "To feel safe when that happens, when my own brain won't let me stop out of fear of something as minor as germs and dirt hurting me. So thank you. Thank you for staying."
"Of course, Y/N." Hotch nodded, his hand still stroking through your hair as your breath fanned against his neck. "If you ever need to talk or if you ever need time off you can always come to me. I want to help."
"I don't want to keep you all night." You said as you finally pushed yourself away from Hotch and rubbed at your teary eyes. You could feel the pressure of a headache building and all you wanted was to crawl into your bed and to forget the world. You didn't want to keep Hotch up all night just because you were having a rough night. "You should go home, get some rest."
You went to stand, pushing yourself up from where you were sitting but just before you got to your feet you felt Hotch gently grasp your hand in his. He tugged you back down next to him and cupped your cheek in his free hand.
"I don't care if I don't get any sleep tonight. As long as I can be there for you." You were surprised by the sincerity in his voice but there was something in his eyes, a determination to help that had you melting back into the contact. You stopped fighting it and let him.
"Can we just, stay here for a while?" You whispered.
He nodded at you and wrapped you up in his arms again, helping you settle comfortably into his lap. You rested your head against his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut as you listened to the steady beat of his heart as you eventually drifted off to sleep.
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spencer: sweetheart, care to explain why we have 6 dogs in our apartment?
y/n: they're golden retrievers. they retrieve gold. i did this for us, my love.
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Aaron Hotchner x Male reader
request: can you do hotch x male reader with long hair and is a little bit younger than him who is the complete opposite of him and hotch introduces him to the team
You looked into the mirror as you tried to make your hair look like something. Having long hair wasn’t always but you liked your hair and your boyfriend did too. You were kinda stressed about your appearance since Aaron was gonna introduce you to his team tonight. You had been together for a long time and even moved in together a few months ago. The team had agreed to eat out and Aaron thought it would be time to tell them. You were a little bit younger than the unit chief but that didn’t matter. Hotch had told you a lot of stories about his friends and you were really curious to meet them.
Aaron had told you to come at 7 o’clock since he would already be there with the team. You took a deep breath as you walked into the cozy bar. You immediately spotted your boyfriend and his team. Hotch had been glancing at the door from the moment the team settled down so they knew their chief was expecting someone. Since it was their job to profile people they had known someone had entered Aaron’s life, but they weren’t expecting...you.
You waved at your boyfriend, he came over to give you a hug and he led you to his table. “Everyone, I want you to meet my boyfriend Y/N.” Penelope yelped as she went to hug you, telling you how she loved your hair. Morgan shook your hand grinning, Reid gave a little wave while Emily and JJ followed Penelope’s example. Rossi smiled widely as he slapped your back.
You sat down next to Aaron and ordered your favorite drink. Meanwhile, the team (mainly Penelope) were overwhelming you with questions. They were pretty surprised to find out you were the complete opposite of your boyfriend. The rest of the evening was nice, you talked a lot and the team adored you. . You talked about your interests, Spencer gave you some interesting facts, Penelope gave some hair advice and Rossi even gave cooking tips.
When you all said your goodbyes you went back to your flat with your amazing boyfriend. “They loved you” he smiled. You kissed him tenderly “They love you too.”
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Guys when the team mentions someone’s unstable I think of things like schizophrenia and psychosis but then sometimes they’ll say “depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, ptsd” and it really makes me realize that I’m unstable. Like ya bitch has all that and more. I-
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Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader
Warnings: Angst, arguing, tears/break down, mentions of being stressed from school, mentions of partying, mentions of alcohol/being drunk, a curse word or two let me know if i forgot something
Summary: After Emily becomes more and more distant, not seeming to care anymore about school or your relationship - and you decide to confront her
A/N: This was a request for my 200 follower celebration, from my lovely friend Iv @sweetprentiss who requested the following: “happy 400 again! can i request emily x reader, college au with angst and fluff!!!” So here you go Iv, thank you for this request and i hope you like it <3
Also a big thanks to my babe Jas @tsiamosley who helped me out with this one, ily <3
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You stretch out your arm to Emily’s side of the bed and you’re met with a cold mattress once again. You sigh and roll back over and pick up your phone, the time showing 2.36 am. Both you and Emily have class at 9, so you start to wonder when she’ll get home. This had become kind of a habit by now, you having dinner together but then she would leave. And every time you asked where she was going it was the same answer:
“I’m going to Jordan’s for a party”
“Me and Tara are meeting up”
“I’m just going out for a while, I won’t be long”
But the thing was, she was always gone for long. Coming home around 1 or 2 in the morning and not going to class the next day. So eventually you stopped asking, and saw how she just didn’t seem to care about anything anymore. Not about her grades and school or even about you and your relationship. As you settle down in bed again you hear keys jingling in the lock, the door opening and Emily tripping over a pair of her shoes as she walks in
“Damn it” you hear her whisper to herself
She walks into your bathroom and as she walks by your bed she whispers once again:
“Y/N babe are you awake?”
But you don’t answer her, you don’t have the energy. When you don’t reply she sighs and walks into the bathroom and closes the door quietly. As she has closed the door you stare into the ceiling, even though you can’t see anything in the pitchblack room. You just lay there staring in the dark and think. Think about Emily and how you want to help her, but don’t know how. You lay on your side again and try to go back to sleep, deciding on how to approach Emily and try to see why she’s acting the way she is.
When you get back in your dorm at 11 after your 9 am class - Emily’s laying in bed scrolling through her phone, looking like she just woke up. You put down your bags and pick up your books and laptop, getting ready to do the homework for the day. You sit down at your desk and start up the laptop and pick up one of the books, start reading and taking notes.
“Good morning” Emily suddenly says
“Morning” you reply, not looking up from your book
“Where were you?” she asks “you weren’t here when I woke up”
“Class” you reply shortly
You put down the book and look at her “Emily why aren’t you going to class anymore?”
“Not this talk again Y/N” she says and gets out of bed “Can you just stop being in my business? It’s getting annoying”
“I’m sorry that me caring about you is annoying” you say with a low tone
“Babe, that’s not how I meant”
“Well you said it” you say and turn back to your book
It’s quiet for a while, the only thing you can hear are the keyboards on your laptop as you type until Emily speaks:
“What’s with you anyway?”
“What do you mean what’s with me?” you ask
“I mean you’re always nagging me about class and stuff, like you always ask where I’m going when I’m going somewhere”
You put down the book and turn around to her again “It’s called caring Emily, I care about you that’s why I ask”
“Well I don’t need you to care, I can fend for myself”
“It’s not that easy Emily, you are my girlfriend so of course I care”
“Well you don’t have to!” she suddenly yells, and you’re taken back by her harsh tone
You’re not sure how to reply, so you stand up and start walking towards her where she’s sitting on the bed
“Em” you start “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She doesn’t reply, just lets out a quiet sob and you see how her body starts shaking. You walk up to her and crouch next to her:
“Can I touch you?” you ask gently and she just nods as an answer
You sit down next to her and take her hand and start rubbing circles on top of her hand, and you sit for a while until she shifts her position - hugging you tightly and sobbing once again.
“I’m sorry” she whispers
“It’s okay baby” you reply “But please talk to me, I’m here to listen”
She pulls away, looking down in her hands and sighs before speaking “It’s my mom. She puts so much pressure on me and expects so much of me, and I can’t handle it” her voice breaking
She collects herself before speaking again “So I decided to just give up, on everything. School, my grades and you, just to show my mom that she’s right about me - that I am a failure”
You place your finger under her chin and make her look up at you “Emily listen to me” you start “No matter what your mom says, you are not and will never ever be a failure”
“But I am” she protests “I just showed my mom that she was right, and I have been horrible towards you”
“None of that now” you stop her, you lay down on the bed and pat on the spot next to you and she lies down - and you wrap your arms around her.
“I’m sorry” she whispers again
“You don’t have to apologize” you say
“I do though” she replies “I have been a horrible girlfriend, when all you did was caring about me”
“Thank you” you say, and you lay in silence for a while, you stroking her back
“You will get back on your feet again” you say suddenly
“How am I supposed to do that?” she asks “I am so far behind in every class”
“I’ll help you”
She sits up “Really?
You sit up as well “Really” you smile at her
“You truly are the best girlfriend in the world Y/N” she says
“Well you’re not too bad yourself”
The both of you burst into laughter and lay down again, and you just lay there in silence - looking into each other's eyes. She moves suddenly and gives you a kiss, and you kiss her back.
“I love you” she says
“I love you too” you reply
Taglist: @tsiamosley / @ssa-sapphic / @sweetprentiss / @alexbllake / @emilyprsntiss / @sapphic-stress / @sleep-deprived-athlete / @jemilyssecretlover / @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos / @cmslvtt / @phatcrackdad
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summary: spencer’s neighbor happens to believe he has the best hands in the world. one night, she asks if she can feature them on her only fans page
a/n: based on this request from @subspencer
category: smut, 18+, spencer reid x fem!reader
warnings: fingering, light choking, spencer’s praise kink, minor alcohol consumption, slightly sub!spencer
word count: 3k
Without a doubt, Spencer Reid has the best hands she's ever seen. She'd be ashamed of how often she thinks about them if they happened to be any less perfect than they are.
The first time she noticed them was when she walked into the mailroom of her apartment building. He was checking his letter box which was so conveniently placed in the slot next to hers. As he stood in front of his mail cubby and scanned the letters he received, he was tracing over the words with his fingers.
She was instantly drawn. They were long and thin, and she hand no idea how they managed to look so delicate yet so strong at the same time.
There's a good chance he's caught her looking at them once or twice. But he has only himself to blame, really, because he can't stop using his hands when he speaks. They're always brushing his lip, pressing into his chin when he's deep in thought, or waving in front of his pretty face.
It's like he wanted her to stop and look. Dangling the forbidden fruit in her face like that.
But he had no idea how often she thought of them. It became harder to ignore the more they saw each other, which as of lately, has been a lot. In the name of "neighborly spirit", she's invited him to hang out after work a few times in the past couple of weeks.
With the invitation comes a few drinks. With a few drinks comes reduced inhibitions.
"You have really nice hands, you know," she slurs, smiling around the lip of her beer bottle as she takes another sip.
He merely raises a brow as she sets her bottle onto the coffee table and takes his hand into hers. She starts to play with his fingers, admiring how much larger they look next to hers. As she traces along the length of his middle finger, he blushes and tries not to pull away on instinct.
"Uh. Thank you, I guess?" he chuckles.
"Can I borrow them sometime?" she thinks to herself, lost in a sea of thoughts about what all those hands could do.
"Excuse me?" Spencer chokes around his beverage when he hears that and has to set it down to make sure he heard right.
She laughs. "What I meant to say was, could you model them for me sometime? There's... a few pictures that these would be good for."
She wiggles her brows at him. Her statement was intentionally vague; she figured asking Could you pose for my Only Fans profile would've been a bit more of an intimidating way to put it. But he shares a wall with her; he’s heard her recording her videos. He's well aware of her job and why she wants those pictures.
He's reluctant to do it, but she's still playing with his fingers and stroking his hands so tenderly. Spencer just likes to be appreciated, to be both paid attention to and praised, and this feels quite nice. So he agrees.
Five minutes later, she comes back into the living room with a couple pieces from her own jewelry box that might work for him. Really, anything would've looked good but she needed some that looked like they could be his size.She finds that a couple of the gold ones look good on him. Dainty and ornate to compliment the slender, sculpted nature of his fingers. His fingernails are neat and almost feminine, but the back of his hands show off veins under the thin skin.
He dances his newly decorated fingers against her palm and clears his throat, waiting for instruction.
"Here, put your hands like... this." She picks up his wrists and rests his hands in his lap, pushing him to lean back on the couch in a relaxed pose. He has on dark black pants that contrast his skin.
As a courtesy, she leaves his face out of frame and focuses solely on the main attraction. "That's good. Now..." she trails off as she thinks. Then, taking his hand again, settles on placing it on her own thigh.
Spencer's shoulders tense slightly and she can feel it with the way his fingers go rigid. In another situation, with his hands in another place, that would've been more desirable.
"Is this ok?" she asks. His lips pull into a sheepish grin and he nods, reprimanding himself inside. To reassure that he's fine, he relaxes his hands and rubs her thigh a little. His fingers tighten around her as she clicks a few pictures.
She's clad in comfy sweats, and though the pictures come off slightly scandalous and suggestive, they have a domestic quality about them. Way too easily she can picture laying in bed next to Spencer, cuddling up to him on a lazy morning. One full of pillow talk and soft kisses as he roams his hands over her, taking his time to appreciate every inch of her body. The way she fits into his palms and the warmth of her skin against his...
Shaking that thought from her head, she takes the opportunity to slip her hand on top of his. She's about two seconds away from telling him how big his hand looks, but refrains as she takes the pictures.
Instead, she wraps her fingers around his two middle ones. The same ones she's imagined him using on her countless times.
No doubt he knows what she's thinking about. He starts coughing and sputtering because he starts thinking about it, too.
"Sorry, go on," he blushes. He's embarrassed of his reaction, not by the photos, and wonders how she could keep such a professional front during this. As if she was truly unaffected by it like she seemed to be. He sure wasn't.
"Do you think we can take a few... more playful ones?" she asks shyly. He finds himself agreeing before he even questions what playful meant.
But she smiles at him and he discovers that he doesn't really care what it entails, he's just happy to have made her smile like that.
She pushes his shoulder even deeper into the couch until he's reclined against the armrest with his legs stretched out. Carefully, she scoots into a seat between his legs and leans her back onto his chest. Nestled perfectly against him, she places one of his hands at a safe, conservative starting place. Right on top of her tummy, fingers pushing under the hemline of her tank top.
Just so he could get a feel for it – for her - before she had him venture further.
With a quick look to Spencer, she assured him he should relax, get more familiar. He lets go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding and loosens his hand. His fingers splay out over her waist. The tips of his fingers find little exposed patches of warm, bare skin. Time moves by so slowly as they stay together like that.
"That's good!" she praises, clicking a dozen pictures in that position. "Could you move your hand a bit?"
He misinterpreted her request. Choosing to be on the safe side, he removed his hand from her body entirely.
"No, Spencer," she laughs, "I meant can you move it around on me."
He gulps. Probably at an audible volume, and hopes that she doesn't feel his heart beating out of her chest. It's probably thumping against her back as he touches her again.
The heel of his palm rests flat against her hip while his fingers graze lazy circles over the sliver of bare skin. She giggles at the way it tickles, squirming in his lap to get away. She snatches his hand away when he finds the weakest spot, catching her breath again after her fit of laughter.
He tries his best to ignore what the squirming does to his body. As she settles down, the first place she can think of putting his hand is on her chest. She did so before thinking twice about it.
"That's - that's your -" he stammers, unable to finish that thought. "Are - are you sure?"
He doesn't know if removing his hand is the polite thing to do, or if it's actually more rude - what if she take offense to his refusal to touch her? He's too conflicted. His brain is doing olympic gymnastics as he tries to process what to do.
In the end, he lifts up his hand and then puts it back down about three times, unable to decide what the right thing to do is. Effectively doing nothing but pawing at her, repeatedly.
"Spencer!" she squeals with laughter, trapping his hand against her chest with her own to get him to stop.
"Sorry." He goes bright red when he realizes what he's just done. She smiles and shakes her head.
She raises her phone to take another picture as Spencer readjusts his grip to cups the underside of her tits. Quickly, he makes the astute observation that under that thin white tank top, she is not, in fact, wearing a bra.
Forget olympic gymnastics, his brain just pulled a muscle and is now out of service.
Right as she takes the photo, he tests out if he's right about it. He ever so slightly kneads her chest, feeling for a distinct lack of underwire. A soft moan escapes her lips.
Spencer's hands still, as does she. Until he grants her the grace of ignoring it. She continues taking her pictures in silence, throat feeling a little tighter now, as he holds that pose. Her nipples harden and Spencer watches through her phone screen as they begin to bud through the fabric. He can't help his curiosity.
He watches the frames clicking by as he slowly, carefully shifts one of his thumbs along the curve of her breast. He brushes over the sensitive peak and another small sound escapes her. She nearly drops her phone.
Spencer's prepared to apologize for it, when she turns her face to him with a sheepish request.
"Could you... keep that hand there, and move the other to my neck?" His surprise to that ask is clear, but he does it anyway.
One hand kneads her chest while the other tightens around her throat. His long fingers wrap nearly the whole way around. The veins running through his sculpted hands are fully on display as he gently restricts her airways. He’s never done this before, hold someone’s neck like this. But from the look on her face, he’s doing a good job of it.
She was nice enough to keep Spencer's face out of the pictures, but he sees hers perfectly when he looks at her phone screen. Her head is tucked under his chin, brows are slightly drawn together. Her eyes close gently and her mouth begins to part. The image of total bliss.
Not for the first time tonight, an idea pops into his head. He lets go of her neck and instead brings to fingers - his middle and ring, the same two she spotlighted earlier - to her lips. Just to see what she'd do.
Eyes still closed, she feels them tap against her bottom lip. She readily accepts them into her mouth and suctions around his delicate fingertips, nibbling lightly on the pads of them with her teeth.
Spencer's hips press subtly up to her ass, providing the briefest relief to his hard dick. She slides her mouth down the length of his digits, flattening her tongue against the underside of his fingers with a pleased hum.
"Oh, fuck," he whispers to himself. He questions how in the fuck he ended up in this situation. With his neighbor on top of him, sucking on his fingers and asking him to play with her tits. And he has no idea how to proceed from here like everything's normal. Lucky for him, she doesn't plan to.
She topped taking pictures a while ago. But she takes the extra measure to toss her phone onto the floor to let him know that this was just for the two of them now.
His grip travels from her chest to her waist, tightening around her hips. His fingers knot up the waistband of her sweats, pushing and pulling the fabric until her hips start to rock against him.
She gasps his name in broken syllables, muffled by his fingers, and rolls her hips down to him. She pushes his hand lower until he cups her cunt over her sweats. His long fingers wrap around her curves and stop right at her entrance while his palm rests right against her clit.
She lets out a whine when she feels him grind his palm against her. Her grip on him tightens to press him impossibly closer as she grinds against his hand. His nose brushes against her neck as he cranes to peer over her shoulder and watch as she bucks desperately into his palm.
Her neck bends to give him access and he teasingly skims his lips against her throat. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she sighs, eyes closed. His tongue darts over his lips before he presses them in an open kiss at the junction of her neck and shoulder.
As he draws the skin into his mouth, using his teeth to graze and tongue to soothe, she whines and ruts against him. His hips buck to hers and he slings his arm over her waist, holding her against his dick as she squirms.
"Spencer," she gasps. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her sweats and tugs it down to her thighs.
His eyes fall straight to her cunt, clothed in a pair of simple white cotton panties. He wonders if they're damp, and presses a finger to her center. She's completely soaked them through.
He kisses a line along the side of her jaw, up to her ear. His words come out mumbled and breathy, "Want me to?" She whines and nods yes.
He pushes his fingers down the waistband of her panties. The tight elastic band shortens his range of motion, trapping his fingers flush against her as he finds her clit and begins to rub in concentrated circles. Her knees press together as she gets more whiny, thighs starting to shift against each other as she tries to calm down.
His fingers slip out of her panties. Before she can begin to miss them, he tugs the fabric of the panties to the side. He runs a finger through her wet folds, teasing over her entrance.
"Fuck, please fuck me," she pleas. He dips two fingers at her entrance, teasing before inserting them painfully slowly. He hooks his legs between hers and uses them to spread her out, giving himself better access. His fingers sink inside, down to the knuckle. Fully inside, he spreads his fingers a little bit at the time, feeling her walls resist the stretch.
She can't stop moving. Her feet plant firmly onto the sofa cushions as she writhes on top of him. Her hand digs into his forearm and holds him close as she moves against him, fucking herself with his fingers. As she moves, he quickly curls them upwards, hitting that spot inside her.
He wonders if he can come just from this. From watching her gasp and moan at his movements, hearing her sing little praises for him under her breath. From having her grinding her soft ass against his dick each time she rolls into his fingers.
Her hand flies to his hair as he starts pumping his fingers rapidly. She runs them all through his waves, tugging carefully in all the right places. He brings his free hand back to her throat and wraps his fingers around it. Her eyes clamp shut even harder, a low mewl drawing out from her. His thumb moves to rub patterns over her clit as his fingers pump relentlessly. Her fingers screw into his strands as he brings her closer.
"So good, Spencer, so good, so..." she rambles nonsense. Her thighs begin to tremble when his thumb picks up pace, his hold on her throat tightening. Her walls begin to flutter around his fingers and she groans loudly as she comes. Only a small portion of it is heard through Spencer’s hand around her neck.
She cries when he keeps going, wanting to draw her orgasm out as long as possible. His fingers retreat from inside her and focus solely on o her clit, working rapid motions up and down over the bundle of nerves. Her hips move uncontrollably against his. Spencer's hand leaves her throat and flies to her waist, holding and steadying her as she grinds on his aching dick.
Her hands duck between their bodies and tug at his waistband, signaling him to take them off. She lifts her hips up just slightly, enough for Spencer to fit his hand between and work off the button and zip of his slacks. She takes his cock into one hand and carefully guides him between her legs, running the head of his cock through her folds. His shaft slicks with her arousal as her hips move up and down on his length, enveloping him in the warm wetness.
He retracts his fingers as she nestles his cock flush against her, her fingertips holding him firmly there. As she moves over him, the tip of his cock nudges her clit with each pass. Her tummy tightens, an orgasm bursting quickly after the first one. Another string of praises fall from her – so good, such perfect hands, perfect cock, feels so fucking good - as she meets it, and Spencer's hips stutter.
His movements get sloppier and he feels his control slip away. He can feel her throbbing against the base of his dick as he grinds on the outside of her pussy. His grip tightens as he rocks harder against her, faster. His mouth hangs open and he cranes his neck to watch as he spurts his release all over her, coating her folds with his come. It spreads all over her as she keeps sliding on him, drawing out his orgasm as long as possible. She twitches each time she accidentally nudges her clit with his cock, still sensitive after he made her come twice.
His breathing pans out slowly. She stops her motions and lays against him as they both recover. Something between shyness and embarrassment creeps up on Spencer as he lays there, until she cuts in.
"Wow, um. That wasn't what I planned to happen," she laughs, "But can I borrow your hands again sometime?"
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can you write something with a touchstarved!spence with a reader always playing with his hair/hands and mutual pining? ty<3
blurb time bc i don’t like to sleep!
TW: hair touching, cuddling?, mutual pining, kissing
cute as shit watch ur toes!
It’s an unspoken rule that Spencer gets to invite himself over to your apartment after work. The two of you have become good friends over the year, and he’s expressed his shameful loneliness multiple times to you— so you put an end to it by offering company 24/7.
Spencer was never irritating and never a bore. Synergy flowed freely between the two of you, never a moment of tension.
Spencer enjoys your company more than he should. He feels safe, warm, and welcomed when he’s with you. You’re nothing but kind and caring to him, a nice contrast from your semi-abrasive personality at work.
And as your friendship blossomed, you slowly let your guard down around him. Recently, you’d become comfortable enough to cuddle up to Spencer while watching TV, resting your head on his shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair, holding his hand.
He’d never expected you to be this... touchy. But here you are yet again, snuggled into Spencer’s side as Jeopardy plays on the TV. Your fingers massage at his scalp and twirl bundles of curls every so often. Spencer’s barely listening to the show; his eyes are closed, relishing in the feeling of your hand in his hair.
He’s starting to fall in love with you— hard. You’re so intelligent and beautiful and unique; how could he not? Spencer’s never had someone be this touchy with him; it’s relatively new. But he likes it a lot.
“You should be on a game show.” You laugh, looking up at him. “You’d get all the answers right.”
“I don’t know.” Spencer shrugs. “Isn’t having an eidetic memory an unfair advantage?”
“I mean... the best player wins, right?”
You stifle a yawn, and your eyes begin to flutter shut.
“Alright, sleepy-head.” He chuckles. “It’s time for you to go to bed.”
“I’m not even that tired.” You reply, another yawn getting caught in your throat.
“Lies.” Spencer chuckles, yanking you up from the couch by the hand. “You need to rest up.”
“Fine. But only because the doctor told me to.”
“You know it, doctor’s orders!”
Once Spencer opens to door to your bedroom, you’re crashing onto the mattress, burying yourself adorably underneath the blankets.
“Are you leaving?” You mumble.
He shrugs, hesitantly asking “Can I stay?”
“Of course you can.” You smile. “This is practically your home too.”
“O-okay, thank you.” And with that, Spencer’s pivoting to walk back to the living room.
“Where are you going?”
He stops and turns back around, “The couch...?”
“No, stay with me.” You order, patting the space on the bed next to you.
Spencer doesn’t really have the opportunity to protest before he’s crawling next to you. You point out how his feet don’t fit under the blanket, so you offer to cuddle him extra to keep him warm.
“You always smell nice.” You sigh. “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable, Spencer.”
“You’re not. Don’t worry.” He replies, rubbing your back lightly. “No one’s ever been this nice to me before.”
“That’s awful, considering you’re the nicest person I know.”
You brush the curls away from his forehead with your palm, placing a gentle kiss on his skin. You’re lips make his face tingle, leaving goosebumps all over his body.
“Goodnight Spencer, I love you.”
Just before you’re about turn away, Spencer pulls you in by the neck, his lifts softly capturing yours in a proper kiss. You gasp at first, but eventually sigh with content.
A flush covers his face when he pulls away, “I’m sorry... I uh don’t know why I—“
You silence him by kissing his lips again, stroking his face lovingly. “Shhh... Goodnight, Spence. We can talk about this in the morning.”
“Okay, yeah, in the morning.” He hums as you stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you too, you know.”
“I know.” You smile.
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Girl-Of-Many Fandoms: Criminal Minds Masterlist
Who’s The Kid?
Always Been You
Stay With Me
Go for it
I’ll Always Find You
By Your Side
No More Secrets
Cuddles Over Criminals
BAU x Reader
Note that I don't own any of these CM characters only Y/N or reader. Do not steal or copywrite my work. GIF credits to the respected owners!
* - mentions of smut
**- definite smut
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Summary: Hotch jumps in front of a bullet for you. The pieces fall together.
Warnings: Mild violence, language, Spencer Reid being sweet, smut—fingering, PiV, praise kink, daddy kink (pretty mild). WC—+8.3k
A/N: And here we have it, another oneshot that reveals my desire for men twice my age. Sigh.
You told yourself it was a quirk—like Reid with his obsession with Dr. Who or Penelope with her love of steamy romance novels. You just loved a good high-stakes raid; sure, if it could be avoided you weren’t bothered, but if it was necessary—well, the rush of adrenaline during the preparation, the intense focus that settled over you when you climbed out of the SUV, you were a sucker for it all.
When you first joined the BAU it was the quickest way for you to prove yourself to your new teammates, impressing even Derek Morgan when you wrangled a man twice your size to the ground and had him in cuffs before your colleagues could assist. Once you had established trust with the team, you were able to fill your role more effectively as the expert on tracking and capturing suspects. Drawing up unique plans for each case once the person was identified and then working with your boss, Aaron Hotchner, to ensure they were organized and followed.
You had been in this role for just over two years now and the BAU was basically your family; Spencer was your best friend—you spent most of your social time outside of work with him, usually at his place or the bookstore nearby. You did girls’ nights with JJ, Emily and Penelope, some of which got so wonderfully out of hand that Spencer would pick you up, then tease you endlessly for the next few days as you suffered through a hangover. You liked training with Derek because he pushed you, made sure you worked your ass off whether it was for recertification or just a workout, and he had a calm way of talking about life, often giving you wise advice like whether you should invest in a condo as a rental unit (you did and it worked out amazingly), or if you should give in to JJ’s desire to set you up with a cop friend of Will’s.
That advice you...had not taken. He told you to go for it, that saying yes to a date one time didn’t mean you were obligated to do more than that even if the date went well. The problem was—and you’d never admit this to Derek—that you were already sort of head over heels for someone. The idea of going on a date when you just knew you’d be spending the entire time imagining, wishing it were, a different person across the table from you just didn’t feel right or fair.
So you’d told JJ no thank you. That had been over a year ago and you were in no different of a place in your life, still pining for a man you couldn’t have and whining about it over Ben and Jerry’s during movie nights at Spencer’s, the only person who knew your secret. He was such a good friend that he never stopped you from the inevitable venting that happened every month, usually after a case that had you working closely with the man in question for a few days too long. After being holed up together in a conference room planning and theorizing and then always, always pairing together in the field. You made it up to Spencer by making sure he was never interrupted while in the middle of a ramble unless he got too far off-topic.
Being in love with Aaron Hotchner was no way to live, yet you simply couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t care about the age gap, nor did you mind that he had a child; you adored Jack. But you knew that those would be barriers for Hotch, and you’d seen the last two women he’d dated. They were nearer to his age, soft and sweet and nothing like you at all. It didn’t matter that his relationships didn’t last long, you still gleaned enough information from their brief existence to understand that he wasn’t looking to date another agent, let alone his own, younger, subordinate.
When you had first started with the team, you had wondered if Hotch disliked you. You often found yourself going to Rossi; the warm veteran Profiler always had his door open for you and made sure your onboarding and first few months with the team were smooth and comfortable. It wasn’t that Hotch was rude or cold, it was more like he was wary of you—he would only make brief eye contact, take measured steps away if you happened to be standing near him, and a few times he’d seen the empty seat next to you on the jet and ended up spinning on the spot to take the lone seat at the rear of the cabin, then stand awkwardly if he needed to address the team at any point during the flight.
You tried not to read into it too much but made the mistake of mentioning it to Spencer one movie night. He’d nodded vigorously as you’d spoken and then agreed, saying he’d noticed the odd behaviour as well.
Things were like that until a case in Texas where you saved Hotch’s life.
You remembered that in the moment what you were doing didn’t feel very heroic or grand. It felt terrifying; you had breached a small cabin together on the back of a property where the rest of the team was turning over the main house after having arrested the main suspect. Hotch had gone in ahead of you, standard formation, and at first, it seemed routine and easy.
It was the ease that made the hairs on the back of your neck raise as a chill ran down your spine.
You credited spending so much time with Derek the weeks before learning about his expertise in explosives for how you were able to recognize something was off. You had halted in your tracks and told Hotch to stop and he’d glanced at you uncertainly, stilling nonetheless, and watched you as you stared around the sparse, open room. The spike in adrenaline running through you tipped you over the edge, engaged your fight or flight instincts. You think the only reason Hotch didn’t move or speak was due to the expression on your face, that he realized you were sensing something he wasn’t, and you were grateful for just how good of a profiler, a boss, that he was.
It had clicked as you heard the slow squeak of the cabin’s rickety door falling closed behind you—it had been easy to open, the hinges oiled, so why was it closing slowly and making noise? It was then that you had jumped backward, stopping the door and at the same time you had gripped the back of Hotch’s vest and tugged hard, screaming for him to retreat and he had listened, hurrying to follow you. He’d watched as you grabbed a log off the stack of firewood set just outside the cabin door, taking care to leave it propped opened and unmoving.
You had called for Morgan through the comms while rushing away from the cabin with Hotch. He was regarding you with an expression you never did understand. It was thanks to your quick thinking that you and Hotch weren’t blown to bits. The Bomb Squad had verified the door had been rigged to set off an explosion once it closed behind you.
After that day, that case, Hotch treated you differently. He was warmer, seemed to be more comfortable sitting nearer to you and holding conversations that went beyond the workplace. And in the field, you knew you’d earned his trust and he was arguably the most difficult person to win over; for good reason as he was the Unit Chief.
That trust in you had grown over these past two years working together. It had lead to a friendly relationship that went beyond the workplace, which did nothing to help with your feelings. It was usually a group setting; a party at Rossi’s or a birthday celebration at a nice restaurant. But Hotch would still spend a lot of time talking with you, always made a point of wishing you goodnight warmly when he inevitably ended up leaving first to get home to Jack. Sometimes you swore there was something else he wanted to say to you in those brief moments when he would give you a light hug, but he never did. You convinced yourself it was just your imagination.
And speaking of his son, you had met Jack more than a few times—in fact, Jack often texted you when he had a homework question that he knew his dad would pull his hair out trying to assist with (seriously, Hotch was no good with English or drama, it made you laugh), or once even to tell you he’d been broken up with (that had been a fun one to read to Hotch, who’d expressed that a fifth grader shouldn’t even have a girlfriend and you’d had to break to Hotch that kids grew up too fast for their own good). You were also the third emergency contact for Jack at his school and with any camps or sports he played, but that was because you had the lightest schedule of everyone else on the BAU team, being a homebody. That was all.
Hotch trusted you, with his life, with his sons' life—which was why you were so confused at this very moment.
The world was sideways because he had tackled you.
The unsub you had both been chasing had sprung out from behind a dumpster with a firearm neither of you was aware he’d carried pointed directly at your chest, screaming for you to halt. You were one of the quickest shots on the team, though, and considering his aim was right at your bullet-proof vest, you didn’t even flinch when you’d aimed and pulled the trigger.
Only, Hotch had jumped in front of you at the last possible moment. For one horrifying second, you thought you might shoot him but just managed to jerk the gun higher, the shot going over his outstretched arm; instead of blasting into the suspect's arm as you had intended, it pierced through his skull.
He hit the ground before you did.
Though you weren’t far behind, and fuck you were confused. One moment things were going what you would label ‘standard’ for this type of run or die suspect. Hotch had stopped next to you, joining you in telling the man to lower his weapon-and then all of the sudden he was grabbing you, twisting his body in front of yours. It was the impact to his vest that made you realize the suspect had gotten off a shot as well.
You slammed to the ground with Hotch’s full weight over you, heard him grunt in pain when your head cracked off the concrete because his hand was wrapped protectively around your head—the cracking sound was his hand, rather than your skull. Before you could do more than gasp in surprise, his weight sagged onto you and all the air left your lungs as Hotch crushed you unexpectedly.
You looked down in panic to see Hotch slumped, limp against you, his head on the front of your vest and eyes closed, the pain from the impact of the bullet on his vest having knocked him out cold. You whimpered as you struggled fruitlessly to move him, your mind reeling over what had just happened.
Hotch was a field pro, always calm and calculated and precise. He never fumbled, and yet here he had just taken a very big risk to block a shot aimed at you. You didn’t have the strength to lift him and one of your arms was trapped between your bodies, so you pulled in as much air as you could and reached for his face with your free hand, dropping your gun next to you.
“HOTCH! Jesus—fucking, Hotch wake up!” You screamed, patting his cheek desperately, relief beginning to build as you saw his eyes moving under the lids before they snapped open and you moaned aloud, “Oh god, Hotch are you okay?”
He groaned in pain before lifting his head and meeting your worried gaze with wide eyes, “S-shit, Happy, are you alright?” He gasped, surprising you further by using the nickname you’d been dubbed with by the team because you were always smiling, always quick to laugh. He never called you that in the field. The hand he had under your head curled into your hair as he gazed at you in panic mirroring your own.
You gawked up at him, his face just inches from your own, “Hotch, what the fuck—I’m fine, you just, just,” There was a hysterical note in your voice, “You jumped in front of me! What the hell were you thinking?”
You saw it in his eyes at that moment, his body tensing at your exclamation but his face revealing the surprise, the shock at his actions. Like he hadn’t been thinking at all, but rather reacting. A mixture of emotions crossed his face before he schooled his features to neutral, but you were too worked up to understand any of them. You saw enough, you read what he wasn’t saying out loud—that he’d reacted on instinct, without thought.
He grunted as he adjusted his body and you hoped he hadn’t broken a rib, before he lifted his weight off of you carefully so that he was on all fours above you, the hand cradling your head pulling gently to help you sit up. You were sucking big breaths into your now weightless lungs and came to rest on your elbows, glaring up at him. Hotch barked into his radio to call for the team, his eyes on you with a burning intensity that made your stomach turn over.
Once Morgan confirmed they were coming to your location, Hotch released his hold on your head and surveyed you as if seeking out injuries. “He—I thought he had aimed higher,” He supplied rather lamely, not meeting your eyes. You narrowed yours at him, your adrenaline still pumping, and out of nowhere, it hit you that he had been protecting you, that he was currently acting completely out of character because he was afraid.
Afraid you were going to put it all together.
It was all casual touches, mild flirtatious banter-coffees on your desk in the mornings working at Quantico or passed from his warm hand to yours in the mornings in the hotel lobby’s when on a case. And then every moment together over the last year began to replay in your mind in quick succession. Something about your expression must have given away how you were connecting the dots because he was watching you now like he was witnessing a car accident.
Just last month, you recalled, he had lost his temper on a bartender that had, not knowing you were FBI agents undercover, tried to cop a feel as you passed him in a hallway that led to the main dance floor of the club. Hotch had thrown him into the wall and growled at him not to touch you, before turning to you as the bartender scrambled away and gently touching your arm, his eyes softening as he asked if you were alright.
And back during early spring last year, when you were walking with a search party together on a missing woman case in Denver and tripped over a root in the dense brush. You had gasped and Hotch had caught you so quickly you remembered thinking he must have already been watching you, his hand grasping the back of your jacket and hauling you back up before you could hit the ground. He had brushed some locks of hair that had fallen forward over your shoulder before looking away quickly and setting off to continue searching.
And the most recent memory, just last month at Rossi’s annual Christmas party. You had been sitting with Spencer at the kitchen island, listening to your genius best friend as he rambled off facts about why Christmas trees became a thing when you saw from over his shoulder as Hotch slipped quietly out the doors to the patio area, alone. Something inside you had driven you to excuse yourself, jerking your head toward the windows you could see Hotch through, and Spencer had smirked knowingly before you walked away.
You slipped outside into the cool night and Hotch hadn’t seemed to even notice, his arms resting on the balcony railing as he gazed out into the dark, deep in thought. When you leaned your back against the railing to stand next to him, he’d started slightly before shooting you a little smirk you’d grown to adore. It was something he did only with you and every time it sent butterflies through your stomach.
“Hi, Happy,” He had looked away as he’d spoken, back out at the night sky.
You had smiled up at him, “You may need to dip into more of Garcia’s very alcoholic egg nog if you’re feeling short of Christmas spirit,” He had chuckled at that, a sound that shot heat through you and ensured you didn’t feel the chill in the air, “I only had one glass and I feel it.”
You’d been kidding, though it had been pretty strong. But the way Hotch had glanced back down at you, that brief flash of concern as he searched your face, it had surprised you. “Are you feeling alright?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you, actually.”
Hotch blinked a few times, then sighed, “I am,” His eyes were so warm, you remember thinking. “I just have trouble turning off my brain sometimes.” He’d admitted a little shyly, looking away again.
You’d reacted on instinct, your hand sliding across the railing to lay over his own comfortingly. You looked towards the windows, seeing your friends inside all laughing and cheerful, and ignored how Hotch had stiffened in surprise next to you—he could pull his hand away if he wanted to.
“You want me to help sneak you out?”
His hand turned over beneath yours, twisting to capture it in a soft hold, and you had tilted your head to peer up at him, those warm eyes gazing at you with a sudden intensity you couldn’t understand. “No, I don’t want to leave yet.”
Struggling to quell the sudden nerves within, you’d looked away before replying, “I can’t always quiet mine down either. And I have considerably less trauma in my life compared to you,” You tacked on the joke, relieved when he’d laughed fully, his deep baritone cutting through the air in a rush of joy that made your heart thud hard against your rib cage.
“You have, uh,” He broke off, still laughing, and his hand squeezed yours again, “A real way with words, honey.”
Honey. You had liked that.
At what point in the last year had you fully convinced yourself he could never feel anything toward you like you did for him? Because as you laid there on the concrete it seemed almost glaringly obvious how wrong you were. You had thought all of those moments, most little and some a bit more were just signs of a close friendship, respect for one another as both Agents and individuals. It made you work better together, you’d thought, until right now.
Before you could say anything or even think of what the hell to say to him, voices and heavy footfalls filled the alley. Hotch was looking to your team and had lifted himself completely away from you.
Spencer was the first to grab you and pull you to your feet, his features twisted in concern.
“You okay, Happy?” He asked, smoothing back your hair as his eyes roved over your body to assess the damage-or, lack thereof.
You nodded, giving him a tight smile, “I’m fine Spence. Had to take him out though, he had a gun.” You jerked your chin in the direction of the dead suspect—Emily and Derek were already standing over the man, while Rossi was helping Aaron to his feet, leading him toward the street to the paramedics for assessment.
Spencer hugged you, a rare thing for him to do, “We heard the shots, thought you—I’m so relieved you’re alright,” You smiled up at him reassuringly when he pulled back, “Let’s go see the medics.”
“Oh, no need,” You grumbled, giving him a look the silenced any argument he might have otherwise made. With a careful shrug, Spencer led you from the alley with a hand at your back. He made you sit on a nearby bench within the blocked-off area for the investigation.
“So,” Spencer began, taking a seat next to you and fixing those kind eyes on you, “What happened? You’re angry.”
He knew you too well, you thought, shrugging and glancing away so that he couldn’t read you. Your eyes landed on the ambulance; Hotch was being given a once over and you found him glaring hard at the ground as he sat silently for the paramedic. Rossi was sitting next to him with a knowing expression on his face.
The anger and confusion you were feeling intensified as you replayed everything that had just occurred. Your boss had just broken basic protocol to jump in front of a fucking bullet for you, shoved you hard to ensure he caught the hit and then went so far as to protect your head when you hit the ground.
You could have shot the suspect in the shoulder, but Hotch prioritized you the moment he saw the man's gun.
You’d always had such high regard for Aaron Hotchner, even before you developed feelings for the older man. He was a storm, a man who could as easily and swiftly shift from calm and cool to harsh and powerful depending on what the situation warranted in the field and it had always impressed you. Today, he had quite literally taken your breath away but at the cost of his safety and the suspect's capture.
You were stunned.
Spencer was silent next to you, no doubt understanding from where you were looking that you weren’t going to elaborate. He knew you preferred to speak about personal matters outside of work, and being the amazing friend that he was he didn’t pressure you. A comforting arm did land around your shoulders, which you leaned into gratefully.
You weren’t sure how long you were glaring over at Hotch, but eventually, the paramedic moved away and he glanced up, his eyes finding yours. For a brief moment, he merely stared at you, though his gaze tightened after a beat as if he were annoyed.
That did it.
Without a word to Spence, you abruptly shot off the bench and stormed across the sidewalk and onto the partially cordoned-off road. A flash of understanding crossed his face and he glanced over to Rossi, speaking something quietly to him. Rossi nodded before stepping away, leaving you alone with Hotch by the time you were standing right in front of him where he sat at the back of the ambulance.
He was so much taller than you that standing before him you were only given a slight advantage now, but you allowed the fact that you were looking down your nose at him to encourage you. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking, Hotch?” You hissed, crossing your arms.
His expression still dark, Hotch met your gaze without faltering, “I reacted out of instinct, Agent—something that we’ve all done before. I prioritized your safety over that of the suspects.”
“You mean over your own safety, Hotch!” You stepped closer, your arms squeezing your torso so that you didn’t reach out and shake him, “We both know his shot wasn’t high. It would have hit my vest. It’s happened before, I can handle it.”
Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of agitation, though his stern voice didn’t waver as he replied. “I know that you can handle it, Agent. Nonetheless, what’s done is done and I won’t apologize for—”
He broke off when you leaned down so that your face was directly in front of his, your voice coming out choked as your fury reached its peak. “Don’t call me agent, Aaron, not when we both know you aren’t being honest about what that was about.” You didn’t even care that he was your boss at that moment, just like he hadn’t been thinking of you just as one of his agents back in the alley.
You spun away then, your eyes pricking with tears you desperately blinked back. When you looked around, you saw Spencer standing by one of the SUV’s and you made your way over to him. When he saw you coming, his expression fell at the pinched look on your face and he surprised you by pulling you in for another hug when you reached him.
If you had looked back at Hotch, you would have seen the pained expression flicker across his face as he watched you go to Spencer for the comfort he wished so badly he could have given you. You would have seen the way his hands clenched, his jaw ticking as he held himself back from following you, a mixed look of longing and jealousy burning in his dark eyes.
It was a late departure from the airport that night, the team arriving at the jet well past midnight with heavy eyes, all unusually quiet. The fact that it was also a long flight made you want to cry—you could never sleep on the jet. You weren’t sure why exactly, it was as though you were cursed, you were incapable of falling asleep when on any kind of airplane. And you weren’t afraid to fly, quite the contrary you enjoyed it, even found the cabin of the BAU jet to be one of your favourite places. Regardless, as everyone else settled in with headphones or earplugs, reclining their seats, or in Spencer’s case stretching out on the couch to fall asleep, you sat alone at the back of the plane with your legs curled up on the seat, gazing out the window.
You had your headphones on, though they weren’t connected to your phone. You had gone through the motions when you first sat down, but then gazed at the Spotify app on your phone and went blank, unable to decide if you wanted to listen to music or a podcast, your brain too tired and distracted. You pocketed your phone without selecting anything, then rested your head on your hand against the wall and stared out the window.
You hadn’t even looked at Hotch since walking away from him earlier, though you think you felt his gaze on you at times as you’d wrapped up on the scene and later when you’d climbed out of the SUV to clear the security at the airport. You had determinedly avoided him as best you could, fearing what you’d see on his face if you did look. Anger, disappointment, or worse—nothing at all.
It was maybe an hour later, the cabin dark and silent, that you shifted in your seat and realized you needed to pee. You stood slowly, pulling off your headphones and dropping them onto the seat, and then slipped through to the bathroom. When you were standing at the sink washing your hands, you felt a fresh wave of exhaustion roll through you and closed your eyes, resting them as you dried your hands. You kept them closed as you took a moment to breathe and then opened the door.
When you stepped out into the small galley area that was the rear of the plane, divided by only a curtain from the cabin area, you walked directly into something solid and your eyes flew open in surprise. Hotch’s large hands grabbed your arms to steady you when you bounced off of his chest, releasing you just as quickly once he’d ensured you weren’t going to fall.
“Wha—” Your mouth snapped shut at the expression on his face; it was torn, as though he weren’t certain he should be standing so close to you, yet unable to move away. Your eyes flicked down, noting how dishevelled he looked at that moment—his tie gone, shirt partially unbuttoned, hair messy enough that you knew he was running his hands through it.
For a long minute, he didn’t speak, he just stared at you, yet the air around you felt suddenly thick with tension you couldn’t help but shift nervously, your lower lip drawing between your teeth.
Hotch’s eyes were on your lips before he glanced away from you entirely, his eyes closing as if he were attempting to draw strength or patience. Words failed you because you had no idea what he wanted, what he was doing back here. You thought he had been asleep like the others in the seat across from Rossi, that he had been happy to let you ignore him.
He took a deep breath, “We should talk.” He murmured, eyes on you again and you nodded, nervous under his intense gaze. “I need to apologize to you. What I did today...I realized in after that it was the first time in a while where we’ve been in such a close call like that, where one well-placed shot would—well,” He paused, his pinched brow and dark eyes saying what he couldn’t so much in words, “It’s not an excuse, for my behaviour. But I—I feel, protective, of you. It’s not professional, or fair, or a reflection of any distrust in your capabilities.”
Stunned as you were at his honesty, at how much he was sharing, you couldn’t help but frown, “Hotch, you scared the hell out of me,” You whispered, needing him to understand how worried you had been, “Do you think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to see someone they care about get hurt? Not to mention if there had been any witnesses, then you’d be getting in a lot of trouble for breaking protocol like that!” Unable to raise your voice, you punctuated your words by prodding his shoulder and shooting him your best glare.
He looked away, his eyes landing somewhere over your head as he seemed to consider your words. When he started to nod, his eyes fell back to meet yours and you finally saw a glimpse past that stern exterior, a brief window to his vulnerability and fear and...there was something there you didn’t understand, but it made your legs a little weaker.
“I shouldn’t—fuck,” Hotch crowded you then, quietly pushing you back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him as he stood against you in the small, dimly lit space. Your breath caught in surprise when his hands suddenly came up to cup your cheeks gingerly, and you could see the colour rise from his neck as he struggled with himself, “I thought I could get past this. I—It’s inappropriate. It’s unfair to you, but I can’t seem to fight it anymore. Fight how I feel about—”
You felt all the air in your lungs evaporate as you realized what he was saying. With a burst of confidence you reached your hands up to take hold of Hotch by the front of his suit jacket, your voice a steady whisper as you breathed out, “I don’t want you to fight it anymore, Aaron,” He stiffened, pulling in a sharp breath as you sighed softly, “Please don’t fight it.”
And then you tilted your head, pushed up to your tiptoes, and captured his soft lips against yours in a passionate kiss.
You kept it light and brief, pulling back only slightly to meet his gaze after a minute. At first, he merely stood frozen before you, processing what had just happened. You were both keenly aware of the lines you’d both just crossed, at what was at stake, and you didn’t mind waiting for him. His eyebrows had risen high on his forehead as he gazed at you in wonder, and you had to resist the urge as you looked into his warm ochre eyes to tell him that he was beautiful.
When Hotch finally spoke, his voice shook more than you’d ever heard before, “Please know—you don’t have to pretend, I...this is so inappropriate of me and I promise you don’t have to even say—”
“Hotch,” You interjected, tugging him a little closer, “I feel the same, I really do.”
You turned your head to try and kiss along his jaw, only one of Hotch’s hands shot up and stopped you, gripping your chin, then pushing into your hair. You watched him take a steadying breath, your heart threatening to burst from your chest, and then he was everywhere—his lips on yours, his broad, muscular body pressing you into the sink counter, his other hand now trailing softly up your neck. It was almost frantic, and you matched his energy swiftly, each of you putting what you couldn’t say in words right now into the kiss.
Reaching up between your bodies, you slid your hands over his wide shoulders before pushing them into his short hair and pressing him harder against you, your tongues now dancing together as you each deepened the kiss. You were desperate for more, the heat in your belly settling low and you felt wetness pool between your thighs as Aaron Hotchner kissed the living hell out of you in the bathroom of the BAU jet.
You each pulled back at the same time, your bodies still tightly wound together, and gazed into each other’s eyes as you panted. You broke the silence first, giving a little laugh, “We sure picked the worst possible location to do this.”
Hotch chuckled, the smile that spread over his face so beautiful you felt your heart stutter in your chest. He brought the thumb of the hand on your chin to brush over your lips, “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time, honey,” His voice was low, the timbre of it sending heat through your veins, “I’m sorry I didn’t do it in a better location, though.” He added, laughing again.
“Don’t apologize, Hotch,” You murmured, smiling up at him, “This was perfect, I just...wish we could talk more somewhere comfortable.”
He nodded in understanding, then pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “We should go and get some sleep, and when we land I’ll take you for coffee anywhere you want to go and we can figure this out.”
You leaned back and gave him a sheepish smile, “Hotch I...I’ve never been able to sleep on airplanes. I might be dead on my feet by the time we land,” You admitted somewhat regretfully, “And if I’m honest, I’m a little too worked up right now to even try.” Hotch’s grip on you tightened slightly at your words, his eyes now searching your face with a mixture of curiosity and desire; the latter of which you were sure he recognized in your expression.
You saw him drink in the way you were now biting your lip, the not-so-subtle clenching of your thighs and the heat flaming your cheeks. “Hey now,” He murmured, his voice so husky you nearly whimpered, “Oh, I know just what you need, sweet little thing.”
You have to admit, you almost crumbled right on the spot at his words, the heat of them shooting straight to your throbbing core and you blinked up at him in surprise. Before you could say anything, Hotch pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue sliding over them hungrily. You immediately opened your mouth, allowing him to lick into you and moaning quietly at the sudden storm of intensity that was Hotch.
His hands dropped and gripped at your waist, thumbs sliding along the band of the leggings that you had changed into back at the station. You shuddered at the slight skin-to-skin and unconsciously rolled your hips. “Shit—Hotch!” You couldn’t help but mutter, the reality of Hotch touching you so much more arousing than you could have ever imagined.
He pulled back from you by only a whisper, “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” His warm eyes searched your face for any signs of discomfort.
“God, no!” You whimpered, and Hotch smirked at you in a way that made your insides turn to jelly before he was sliding his dominant hand below the waist of your leggings and seeking out where you needed him most.
He ghosted his fingers over the front of your panties, and you trembled in anticipation. His eyes were on your face, and you couldn’t look away from him even as he dipped below the cotton fabric and found the dripping mess that you were, though your face flushed in embarrassment.
Hotch grunted, “Is that all for me, pretty girl? Fuck,” He’d been teasing along your folds but now pressed up and expertly found your clit with his thumb at the same moment he sunk one finger inside of you. The low, desperate moan that ripped from your chest made him growl and he brought his free hand up to grip your jaw and kiss you firmly before pulling back to give you a mock-stern look, “Quiet. Stay nice and quiet for me and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”
You nodded eagerly, biting your lip, and his expression smoothed out before he started moving his fingers again. His thumb worked little circles over your clit, but it was his thick fingers that were making it hard to keep quiet. He pushed a second inside of you now, pumping them in and out and curling them in just the right way, so expertly that you were seeing spots in your vision before long.
“Oh, oh god, Hotch,” You whispered, slamming your hands against his chest and gripping at the fabric of his suit jacket, “S-so fucking good...”
“I know, pretty girl, you just need someone to take care of you,” He was still watching your face as he fucked you with his perfect fingers. You’d never been so turned on in your life, both never wanting him to stop and wishing you were somewhere more private. His voice wavered slightly when he spoke next, “I can’t believe this is happening, I never thought—”
“What?” You interjected softly, beaming at Hotch, “Was I really that good at hiding how I felt?”
His fingers were moving slowly now, dragging you along the edge as he surveyed you with surprise, “I thought...yes, you were very good.” He didn’t elaborate, and though you think he meant to say something more, you were too distracted by his touch to clarify his meaning. You would ask him about it during that coffee. You trembled and his eyes refocused, the pupils blowing back out, “Does this feel nice, pretty girl? You like being a good girl for me?”
Shit, he was fucking hot. His words were erotic and perfect and you had no idea you had such a praise kink but here you were, getting even wetter for him every time he spoke. You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and curling them exquisitely. “Fuck, I’m so close already—”
Hotch pressed his body closer to yours, making a sound in his throat of approval, but when his hips had ground against you involuntarily, you felt the hard length of him at your waist and that was what did it for you. Knowing he was enjoying this as much as you were, that he was so turned on by you coming apart at his fingers, it sent you over the edge. You felt yourself clamp down around his fingers, your hands pushing at his chest as your eyes fluttered closed and you had to bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from crying out.
He didn’t make it easy for you, though; Hotch grunted when he realized you were coming, his voice in your ear low and wrecked, “That’s it, such a good girl for m-me. So fucking sexy,” His movements slowed but didn’t stop completely, drawing out your bliss unexpectedly and making you whine quietly. “Fuck—feel how hard I am for you. Do you feel what you do to me?”
His commanding voice was almost enough to shoot you right over the edge again. You barely managed to access enough of your brainpower to drop one hand to his pants, palming over his thick erection before gasping at not only how hard he was, but how long—Hotch was packing. Holy shit.
You leaned forward desperately, wrapping your hand behind his neck and drawing him down to kiss you again. It was messy and delicious; he tasted masculine, warm, like a fucking summer evening, and you could have stayed wrapped around him forever.
When he finally pulled back, you were both flushed and panting, the pink on Hotch’s cheeks beautiful enough to make you stare. He smiled nervously and relaxed his posture before slowly sliding his hand from within you. You watched as he raised his fingers, soaked in your essence, and gazed at them for a moment before looking you straight in the eye as he brought them to his mouth.
Your jaw dropped as he smirked at you like he just knew you’d never had a lover or partner do something so bold. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as he sucked his fingers clean, closing his eyes as if appreciating the taste. Your taste.
“Holy shit, Hotch,” You murmured when he lowered his hand. He chuckled, reaching behind you for a paper towel and wiping his hands dry before cupping your face gently.
“Do you feel okay? Was that alright?”
There was that concern again; it was never gone for long, and you were starting to feel like an idiot for not realizing how often, just how much Aaron Hotchner cared for you. You felt your pussy throb again from the expression on his face and you knew you couldn’t stand another minute without him inside of you. “More,” You reached forward, grabbing at his belt, “I need you, Aaron. I need you inside me, please.”
You started to unbuckle him, only his hands pushed yours away. You looked up, afraid you’d gone too far, only to find Hotch wide-eyed and...and feral. He looked fucking wrecked, like what you had just said was the single hottest thing he’d ever heard, and his hands only expertly worked at undoing his belt and working his fly down.
“Are-are you sure?” He gasped out, pausing as he moved to push his pants down. You answered him by shoving your leggings and panties down, kicking them away from your feet and nodding eagerly as you looked up at him.
You’d never been in such a passionate situation, where every touch and movement felt meaningful and right, and you had to work hard to keep yourself quiet. When Hotch pushed his pants down and stood up straight, his hard cock sprung up and you slapped your hand over your mouth to hold in your gasp. Fuck, was he even going to fit? You could feel the slick running down your thighs now, grateful he’d already made you cum once—nonetheless, it would be no easy feat to take all of that.
Hotch reached up over your head, grabbing a towel from the shelf and throwing it on the counter behind you before he stooped and lifted you gently, settling you on the edge. He stepped right up to you, your bodies pressed together, his thick, long erection hot on your thigh. He then looked at you closely, “This is about more than sex for me. I have feelings for you, pretty girl, this isn’t a one-time thing.”
You think he needed you to understand this as much as he needed to be sure you felt the same. “I’m yours, Aaron,” You whispered back, gazing at him softly even as your body raged with a fire he had lit, “All yours, forever.”
His eyes softened, and he kissed you again before pulling back and gripping your hips with his strong hands. You reached one hand down to grasp his length, leaning back into the mirror, and put your other hand over your mouth again. You gave him two pumps, and Hotch hissed, his eyes on your bodies below as he let you line him up and then he was slowly thrusting forward.
The stretch was immediate, you had certainly never been with someone bigger, your eyes wide as you looked down at him splitting you open. He took his time, easing back every time he sunk another inch in to ensure you experienced no pain, the expression on his face focused. It took a few minutes before he was fully inside of you, and he just let you clench around him at first, his eyes falling shut in pleasure.
The full, stretched feeling was everything, your eyes rolled in your head as you bite back your moans.
“Fuck, pretty girl, you are so tight,” He whispered, adjusting his grip on you so that one hand splayed across your lower back, pressing your body into his. “Going to make this quick, okay? So we don’t get caught.”
The way he said it suggested he intended to take his time with you again soon, the implication driving you to clamp down on him in excitement, and Hotch groaned low. He hugged you close, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, and started to fuck you, hard. He set a pace that instantly had you biting into your own hand to ensure you didn’t scream, his cock hitting you in all the right places. You felt a rumbling in your neck and realized he was using you to muffle his sounds, unable to keep himself fully quiet.
“F-fuck,” You whimpered as you pulled your hand away to grab at his hips, the feel of his muscles flexing as he pounded into you turning you on even more. You pressed your face into his shoulder as you began to see bright lights behind your eyelids. “Going t-to cum again, oh shit—”
He turned his face slightly and breathed into your ear, hot and sinful, “Cum for me, little girl, cum for daddy.”
Oh god, you’d never hurled so fucking fast over the edge in your life. Your orgasm swept over you like the wave of a tsunami; Hotch must have realized what his words had done because he frantically slammed one hand over your mouth as you arched away from him and came. Your head tilted back and mouth opened against the skin of his palm in a cry you tried to contain, the only sounds escaping pathetic little mewl’s. Hotch was panting, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his peak, “Shit, I’m g-going to cum!”
You felt him begin to pull out, and even in the haze of your orgasm managed to wrap your legs around him and pull him so that he was deep inside of you. “IUD,” You murmured, desperately trying to open your eyes and watch his face. “Cum inside me, daddy, please.”
Hotch gave one last, strong thrust, his eyes wild as he started to cum, filling you deeply, “Fuck!” He hissed your name, biting his lip and then dropping both hands to your hips to pull you even closer against him, his eyes on where he was pumping you full of cum, yours watching his face.
The sight of Aaron coming undone for you so completely was captivating. You’d never known something could be so perfect and you soaked up every expression that crossed his handsome face like it was oxygen you needed to live by. When he stilled, the only sound was that of each of your heavy breathing. You relaxed your legs and slumped into the counter, exhausted, and he leaned over you to capture your mouth against his.
This kiss was slower, dizzying, delicious—you were blissed-out and nearly ready to pass out from it all, the intense emotions and explosive second orgasm exhausting everything you had left. “Aaron, Jesus Christ,” You giggled lightly, running your fingers over his cheeks as he smiled down at you. You could feel him beginning to soften within you, but he didn’t pull out right away and you found you liked the sensation, enjoyed keeping him warm within you as you each caught your breath in the cramped space of the bathroom.
Hotch pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his eyes gazing at you so lovingly you could have cried, and then brushed a hand across your face, pushing back some hair, “How are you? Was that too much?”
Your heart constricted again as he concerned over you, “That was amazing, Aaron. Might need you to help me down in a minute, though,” You admitted, giving him a sleepy smile, “Are you always going to worry over me so much?” You added, and he gave you a rueful smile.
“Yes pretty girl, I probably will.”
“Hmm, I think I could get used to you being so protective,” You replied, grinning and stroking your thumb over his cheek, “Just no more jumping in front of bullets, maybe?”
Hotch laughed warmly, slowly pulling away from your body and reaching for paper towels to help clean you up. “I’m making no promises there,” He paused, looking you in the eye and you stilled at the intensity there, “I love you too much.”
His confession brought tears of happiness to your tired eyes, and you let a few slip out as you sat up carefully, “I love you too, Aaron.”
You realized then that nothing in life had ever felt so thrilling and right as admitting you loved Aaron Hotchner.
You smiled warmly as he pulled you against him in a strong embrace, then let him take care of you before leading you to the seat next to him in the main cabin. Tucked into Hotch's side with your head on his chest, you slept for the first time in your life on an airplane. Surrounded by all the people you loved most while being held by the man of your dreams.
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the boyfriend trap — spencer reid
summary: like the hit film starring lindsay lohan, penelope schemes to get you and spencer back together before you leave for good
a/n: this is such a last minute idea but it’s cute despite all the angst i’m putting in this but fear not there is a FLUFF ending! i’m not cruel (?) but thank you to a lovely angst loving anon and the loml @cacoetheswriting for requesting and giving me the inspiration to write this <3 this is a two parter! part two will be out on the weekend
prompts: “stop making empty promises!” “it’s over, it’s done, just leave it be.”
pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader warnings: angst, tears, broken couple, lovers to enemies to lovers trope, insults (but in the form of banter), penelope having the wrong intentions, plenty of swearing words: 4.3k
Penelope Garcia prided herself in being such an optimist. It was a hard thing to be in her line of work, seeing all the horrors she does and still, she leaves every case with a hopeful smile on her lips that in some way, she had made a difference.
What comes hand in hand with her optimism is an unearthing sense of romanticism that was impossible to both keep up and imagine to deal with. There’s no blaming Penelope to want and wish for everything in her life and also for those she loves and holds close to her to live a life made for fairytales and romantic comedies she often indulges herself in consuming, but she is quick to forget just how both these things contain often a gruesome or painfully awful cautionary tale woven between the romance and happily ever afters.
Penelope was adamant in believing you and Spencer were It for each other. Two halves of one soul, eternal twin flames drawn to one another by fate and an attraction like no other. It was perfect; two of her best friends were dating each other and loving every single minute, and it completely blindsided the technical analyst when all of a sudden, it ended.
And it didn’t just end. It ended badly. You and Spencer could not stand the sight of one another after years of loving one another, and it was like a switch was flipped. A coin went from heads all the way to tails with no prior warning.
The breaking point for Penelope (who has frankly been a star so far in staying out of it all) was when you walked into her little lair on a Monday morning, unusually sullen. You’ve been pretty negative lately, really since you and Spencer broke up now almost six months ago. It was like a light had gone out in your soul.
“Can I sit? And...make sure you’re sitting, too.” You swallow thickly when you trickle into her room. Penelope’s heart has dropped and has landed at her feet, which are throbbing in her chosen shoes for the day, but she still plasters on the best smile she can pull off. There was always room for her cheer.
Penelope nods, ushering you to her own office chair while she looks around for the small stool she keeps in here when her and Derek have their lunch breaks. It was the best she can get with the appallingly low FBI budget. Your head is lowered into your chest, and you’re picking at your nails obsessively. She was no profiler, but Penelope knew by a mile off that it was your nervous tic.
She clears her throat, “Sure thing, sweet pea! What’s bothering you? Do you want me to get you a chamomile tea? Emily gave me one cup when I went to London and let me tell you, I am hooked.” The enthusiastic review of the calming beverage was most definitely a distraction from the inevitable bad news. The softening of your eyes when Penelope spoke told her so.
“So um...God, I don’t know how to say this,” you inhale, picking your nails harder. When tears started swimming in your eyes, Penelope knew she was done for. She clenches her hands together in anticipation. “I put in my transfer to Hotch this morning.”
Okay, Penelope was expecting bad, but this was the end of the world as she knew it. This was the worst thing possible. Worse than when JJ went to the Pentagon, because it wasn’t her choice, and she still came back. But this...you made the choice. You want to physically separate yourself from the team, this family, from Penelope especially, and she can’t process it at all.
Her mouth keeps opening and closing, no words being formed. No thoughts went through Penelope’s head, only the sheer pain of having to part with her best friend streaming through her mind. “I...I…”
You frown, “I know it’s a big thing to process, Penny, and I’m sorry. You’re the first to know, and you’re the only reason I’ve stayed here as long as I have.” A sniff is inhaled through your nose, Penelope knows you’re going to cry.
“As long as you have?” Penelope asks, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
You nod, it was sad and slow, and Penelope has decided this is the worst day ever. “I’m struggling to even be in the same room as Him, Pen. I almost left two weeks after we ended things.” your bleary eyes look up to Penelope and it’s a cry for help. “It’s...it’s too much. I need to go.”
You’re asking her to let you go. That’s why you broke the news to Penelope first.
Tears now belonging to Penelope are now clinging around her eyes, blurring her vision of you, her best friend, as she tries to process what’s happening. You’re leaving. Leaving this family because of the pain of Spencer and it’s slowly eating her alive. Penelope knows too much, especially from what both Spencer has told her directly and indirectly (she and Derek talk about it in bed from time to time).
She knows that she’s sworn to secrecy, but some words can’t help but slip out. “You...you never know! Spencer could miss you as much as you miss him-”
Penelope is interrupted by a scoff, and your tears have suddenly become bitter, wiping them hastily away from your face with the back of your hand. “No, no. There is no way in hell that’s the case, Pen. He can’t stand me.” You choke back a sob, shaking yourself out of it, focusing yourself once more on your best friend sitting opposite you.
“Where are you going?” Penelope asks as she clears her throat, feeling it croak and break under the weight of the morning news that’s now put a blanket on the rest of the day, and the way your face falls even further tells Penelope it definitely isn’t local.
You shift slightly in your seat, “New York.”
Penelope’s devastated face catches your eyes and they widen with urgency, hands flying to comfort her in a tight hug. “It’s an hour on a plane and I promise I’m gonna be here to visit you as much as I can, Penny.” Your sniffs have increased in volume and Penelope soon comes to the realisation through the damp patch that’s come to be in your shoulder that you’re fully sobbing along with her.
She coos, stroking your hair to tame it from its growing knots, sighing loudly. When she pulls apart from the infinite hug, a hug full of silent goodbye’s and I'll miss you’s, her eyes are wide with apology and sadness. Penelope almost can’t believe she is forcing herself to accept things so quickly, but she’s also aware of the distress the whole transfer is causing you. What distress the break up has caused you for the better part of half a year.
“I’m happy for you, Angel,” she says with an overwhelming regret, but you don’t hear it, only choosing to listen to the words instead, eyes lighting up with hopeful promise.
Your hand grips Penelope’s forearm, hopeful and excited for the future to come. Penelope is only fully aware of the strain that the break up with Spencer has put on your personal life, and how desperate you’ve become in trying to secure something worthwhile to fill that void that Spencer left behind in your heart. Whatever Penelope can name, you’ve tried; dance lessons, book clubs, becoming a movie enthusiast. None proved as worthy as the way you viewed Spencer Reid.
It’s only really taken Penelope this conversation on the now dreary and depressing Monday morning for you to realise the constant complaints she’s received from you about how boring or drab or lame any of these activities were had no actual relevance to them. You were trapped in an environment when once upon a time your work and social life lived and breathed Spencer. You needed a change, an out, and no matter how much Penelope wants to fight this right now, she won’t.
Giving you an unusually tight smile, Penelope grips your hands in return, biting the inside of her cheeks and she fights all the words that are racing up her throat. She knows so much, too much that can change your mind about moving, but she remembers that she’s your best friend. Penelope knows that blurting out everything she’s been internally storing in her brain, every conversation, text, accidental look, mumble under the breath, would send you into a tailspin you don’t deserve to experience right now. Not after finally seeing the sign of moving on. Penelope would just have to ease you into it instead.
Because yes, Penelope Garcia chose to keep a secret for now as you embraced her into a tight hug that said more than thank you ever could, but she knows that she’s not stopping at any cost to make sure you don’t go to New York.
Even if it meant reuniting you with a bitter ex boyfriend.
Spencer was exhausted when he arrived in the bullpen. Somehow, Tuesday felt worse than Monday ever did, and he started to grumble under the intensity of his fatigue as he strode toward the coffee machine. The need for the smell of the caffeine to fill his nose as he poured a fresh hot cup in his hands was almost animalistic.
There was one thing perking up his morning though, and that was Penelope Garcia standing by the break room, holding two cups in her hands from what looked like it was from Spencer’s favourite cafe near his apartment. He was too tired to profile why the heck Penelope would go so out of her way to give Spencer a coffee from his favourite shop in the whole city, eyes drawn in too intensely to the recyclable cup. Spencer takes the lid off and inhales a long, deep sip from it before even uttering a word to his friend, his thanks instead being given in the form of a grateful hum as the liquid slips down his throat, stinging it a little from the heat.
“Enjoying yourself, Doctor Reid? Want me to get a room for you and the coffee there?” Penelope giggles, and underneath Spencer’s slightly hooded eyes he spots the sort of mischievous glinted smile that bared her lips, and raised an eyebrow. The coffee is starting to wake up not only him, but also his brain cells.
Spencer takes another sip of his coffee, he couldn’t resist, and narrows his eyes ever so slightly at Penelope, watching him like a hawk and not actually going back to her office to do her job. “What do you want?” He suspiciously asks, and that’s when Penelope’s cheeks rush with some kind of heat that turns her fair skin pink, and he knows he’s on the right track.
Before Penelope could open her mouth and let Spencer into something he’s now entirely committed to finding out, he feels a friendly and familiar warm hand rest on his shoulder blades, seeing Derek’s face pop up beside him. His face is also riddled with something hidden and secretive, and Spencer has completely woken up now. His thinking brain is on.
“Hey man,” Derek says with some unease, his eyes flicking over to Penelope’s sternly every second, to which her own widen and scowl at him before walking away swiftly. Spencer almost whines at the loss of Penelope, because she was going to tell him something. Something important.
Spencer lifts his coffee to his lips before furrowing his brows at Derek, “Something’s happened. What happened?”
Derek sighs. His eyes now dart around the bullpen, most noticeably at your desk, somewhere Spencer also finds himself staring at when the chair is empty. Before you’re there and it seems like a crime to even look your way. “Is Y/N okay?” Was what Spencer blurted out loud before he could stop himself.
He’s taking Derek’s silence as something of a panicked situation regarding you, but his best friend notices his quickened breathing and the grip on his shoulder tightens, a reassuring move. “Not like that. She’s fine, physically.” Still, Derek wasn’t being convincing. He looks genuinely beaten up, and it’s making Spencer’s heart feel like it’s going to thump out of his chest. “She’s transferring. Asked Hotch to.”
“Oh.” Spencer replied flatly. Oh indeed. He’s already starting to imagine the team without you, the hole it will leave with him. He tries to keep an eye on you as best he can these days, even though he’s not meant to, and he understands why Derek looks like that. He feels a thousand times worse.
Then, he remembers. Remembers the pain that’s now sewn to your name, and it straightens his back. He is not meant to give a shit. “Good. For her.”
Derek doesn’t look slightly convinced, but shrugs anyway, taking Spencer’s word as Bible, which is something he’s never really taken to before in the past. “That’s what I’m saying to Penelope, I think she needs a fresh start,” Spencer isn’t an idiot, he knows that what Derek is referring to as a fresh start is actually being away from him, “And Penelope keeps trying to engage me into some scheme to get her to stay. If she tries to engage you too, and uses coffee bribes to do it, just make sure you remind her you don’t wanna get involved.” He says, patting Spencer’s back firmly twice before climbing the stairs to his office, leaving Spencer standing alone, his half-drunk coffee steaming in his hand.
Well, Spencer knows that Penelope is gonna use him to get you to stay, because even when drunk he still has an eidetic memory, and this wasn’t good news for whatever the next few weeks had in store for the genius.
His thoughts are cut off with a familiar heavy footing coming into earshot, followed by low tutting. Spencer knows who it is without even looking, you always bring a shiver to Spencer when you enter a room, and he says to himself it’s because you’re a witch. He’s been desperate in trying to lower his view of you.
“You know, Walter, I thought you had more brain cells to just be standing like a lemon when you have to go to court,” You say breezily as you busy yourself making your first hot beverage of the morning, not even attempting to hide your ridiculously smug smirk on your lips.
Just like that, Spencer’s worries about you leaving the team have dissipated into thin air. He no longer cares, and will take Derek’s advice and thoroughly avoid Penelope until you’ve left. He doesn’t even know he had to go to court today, but it’s something he partakes in with you regularly; trying to catch the other one out and make them look bad at their job. The last case he worked you had won and made him look like a fool by displaying a map of Arizona and not Texas when presenting the geographical profile; he was desperate to catch you out today, wipe that smug smirk off your face, and he had just the right information to do it.
Pouting dramatically, Spencer tsks under his breath, not even bothering to give a glance in your direction, something he knows you hate when talking to people. You’re incredibly uppity about maintaining eye contact when in conversation. “Unlike you, though, I’m actually good at sticking at what I do. Quitting doesn’t look very good on a resumé, does it?”
You huff with your nose angrily, giving Spencer such a furiously red stare. He’s won. There’s a pang in his chest that makes him wish he didn’t have to go so below the belt to do that. He knows you’re not quitting, you just want a break from him, and that’s what hurts the most about it all. But he can’t dwell too much on the pain seeping through his ribs. It was his turn to show off a smug curl of his lips, happily sipping his coffee as he made his way to his desk, now supposedly getting ready for court.
Penelope tries incredibly hard to bribe Spencer for the coming days, offering up gifts of baked goods, first edition novels, coffee in such a volume it could keep him up for several days, but he wouldn’t budge. With every single decline of said bribes, Penelope gets more upset, but for some reason, brings her more determination. It’s started to annoy Spencer beyond belief, because he’s meant to be disheartening her, not encouraging this. He’s spent these days since finding out about your transfer repeating to himself over and over again that once you’re gone, so will this stupid doubt that sits in the pits of his stomach. It’s ridiculous, you and him have been over for months. Close to a year broken up. And yet he knows every time he makes an insulting jab at you, he’s doing it to protect the silly little feelings that seem to not leave him, simply because he knows he’s not meant to feel that for you anymore.
But he just wants to have you in his life, and that was the realisation he hadn’t come to admit to himself yet. You once loved him, and it sucks that you now hate his guts, but that sucks a lot less than not being in his life at all. He’s embarrassingly addicted to you, and he reckons if he can’t let that go after nearly seven months, then he never will. He’ll always love you.
Now, Penelope is resorting to knocking loudly on Spencer’s apartment door at an hour that is very much a time not for interacting with co-workers, and he huffs, frustrated, before throwing open the door. He’s going to shut this down once and for all.
Spencer attempts to solve this before words start spewing out of Penelope’s open mouth at a blindingly annoying speed. “I don’t care if Y/N stays or goes, Garcia, but I am not going to try and persuade her to do the former. She made her decision.”
His friend pouts, stamping her foot down on the wooden floor, the basket of cookies in her hand shaking. “She’s my best friend! And believe it or not, she’s leaving because it kills her every single day knowing that you and her are done. So believe it or not, 187, you play an instrumental part in her decision. And you should care.” Tears are glazing her eyes, and Spencer swallows thickly, feeling regret fill him up. He does care, he cares so much.
He lets Penelope in, and sits on the edge of his sofa, clutching his hands like a sort of prayer, inadvertently praying for someone or something to show him what to do. “I…” He begins, feeling the emotion trap his voice box. He coughs it away as best as he can. “Maybe we both need to just be physically separate from each other.” Spencer realises he sounds on the brink of bursting into tears right now, he is, but he refuses to let them fall.
Penelope’s hardened gaze on him softens, cracking the start of a sympathy smile, her hand patting Spencer’s knee twice. “I think you two just need to talk, but I’m not gonna do that for you. Not directly anyway.” She rushes, mumbling the last sentence too quietly, so quiet Spencer assumes she said something else.
“I promised myself when we ended it, that was it. It’s way too sticky to get involved all over again and not even know what the outcome is.”
Penelope’s biting her lip, Spencer can tell it’s because she’s holding something down, but it didn’t prove much use, her mouth exploding once more. “Stop making empty promises! We both know how you still feel about Y/N, and to walk away like a coward isn’t something I’ve known Doctor Spencer Reid to ever do. He fights. Fights for what’s right.”
Spencer is looking down at his feet, shame now swimming in his head, conflict now racing in his head, “I don’t know if I can.” He admits, letting go of a fully held breath that took hold of every anxiety surrounding you for the last God knows how many months.
Penelope smiles softly, “Well I know you can, okay? Can I quickly use your bathroom?”
Spencer nods, barely registering the standing form of Penelope and noticing even less as she makes her way through his hallway and bedroom to reach the bathroom, because...well, wasn’t it obvious?
He was thinking about you.
It was weird how accepting everyone was of your transfer, and maybe that’s why this trip to New York to meet your new Unit Chief before your official move there in just under a fortnight had a little sour taste in your mouth.
The nerves that resided in the form of clammy sweat building up at the back of your neck and the palms of your hands were no indication of being scared to start a new job, that you were surprisingly settled with. You’ve just realised this is the first time you’ve gone to the FBI building in New York without the rest of your team entourage to blanket you, and it was stinging your throat as you tried to force it down.
Even worse, it was the first time you’ve been on a plane without Spencer.
As if your depressing thought had summoned the devil and brought him right to the doorstep of your personal bubble, your phone begins to ring, a certain tone that’s only ever been associated with one person. To be honest, you forgot to change it because he hasn’t called you directly in seven months.
You put the phone up into your ear, sighing. “I hope someone’s dead, otherwise I’m hanging up,” You say deadbeat into the microphone, and you could see the way Spencer becomes flustered with irritation at the very comment.
“Nobody’s dead, but this is a contender for being worse than death.”
A scoff leaves your lips, your head tilting slightly to one side as you stroll through the streets of Manhattan, dodging city commuters as you rifle through your purse, the building of your future workplace now in your eyeline. “What could possibly be worse than death, Walter? It isn’t cute to put that much sugar in your coffee anymore. It makes you delirious. You're in your thirties.”
You hear a grumble, and your lips are pursed to fight the giggle desperate to escape them.
“Y/N, I have your identification.”
“What? No, you don’t. I have it right here in my purse.” You say with a nervous laugh, the leather sitting down all the way in the bottom of your bag now haunting you with a devilish laugh.
Another sigh on the other end of the line, “Open it and you’ll see.”
You stop dead in your tracks in the crowded streets of New York, earning you more than several shoulder shoves and some shouts to tell you to hurry up and stop hangin’ around, but this was way more important. Your hand grabs the ID, out of now pure panic and urgency, using your thumb to open up the wallet.
Your face drops, “What the fuck! Is this some kind of fucking joke? Are you serious about playing this game with me right now, Reid? When I’m in a different state to you?” You hiss into the phone, using your other hand to grab the phone and place it firmly in your hand as to have better access to shout at Spencer at.
You know you’ve messed Spencer up more than enough times at the job and made him look like a fool, but carrying someone else’s ID is not only going to make you look like an imbecile, it would also make you look like an identity thief. You wouldn’t even be able to get through the door.
“I didn’t do it! I couldn’t get into work this morning because I opened up my ID and to security I most certainly don’t look like SSA Y/L/N.” Spencer replies, his voice raised an octave.
You were still seeing red, foot tapping on the grimy pavement impatiently, “Did you call Hotch and tell him?”
“Yeah. He um...He knows how important today is for you, so I have to give your ID back to you. He called the Unit Chief and let her know you’re gonna be delayed a few hours.”
None of this was making sense. “Is everyone suddenly stupid? How are we gonna swap our IDs when we’re in two different states?”
“Because I’m at the airport. Hotch gave me the details about where you’re staying. I’ll be there in two hours.”
Oh you really didn’t need this today.
In the few seconds of silence where Spencer awaits your reply, your brain processes every dumb, imagineable way you can do this without having to fly Spencer out all the way to New York just to exchange identification. Doing all this was a big gesture, Spencer was being made to partake in a big gesture and you were uncomfortable with it. If you found out that Spencer either dropped everything to run to the airport when Hotch told him to or, worse, suggested this idea, you’d be done for. That was too sentimental, it meant too much for whatever the fuck you call your relationship with him these days.
Alas, you couldn’t think of anything, and you needed to get today out of the way so you can move on from the team. Move on from Him.
"Okay, I'll meet you in the hotel lobby. Text me when you're here."
Now your sweaty hands are joined with the sudden feeling of acid approaching your throat, and it wasn't because of your new job.
taglist is here!
permanent taglist: @wheelsup @reidyoulikeabook @averyhotchner @drayshadow @kuolonsyoja @reidingmelodies @alltooreid @reblogsoffanfics @prentissology @takeyourleap-of-faith @softcabur @spacedikut @cacoetheswriting
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(broken tags, check visiblity settings x)
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"Why Are We Yelling?"
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: spoilers for seasons 5, 9, 12. mentions of past season trauma (dilaudid, prison, Spencer getting shot). angst with a happy ending.
Word Count: 2.9k
Summary: After a case makes Y/N and Spencer give each other the cold shoulder, Penelope meddles to get them to make up.
A/N: This is for @boldlyvoid 's 2k celebration. Sending a big congratulations to them <3
It didn’t take Penelope long to figure out that something was going on with Y/N and Spencer the moment they arrived back from their most recent case. There were no secret glances when the other wasn’t looking, there were no hugs exchanged between the two and there was no communication at all. What really solidified Penelope’s theory was when Y/N asked Penelope if she could spend the night with her.
“Penny, would I be able to spend the night with you?” Y/N questioned, making sure to talk loud enough so Spencer could overhear her.
Penelope’s gaze flicked between the two lovers, “Of course! But why?”
“I’d rather not talk about it now if that’s okay.” Y/N said, wanting nothing more than to look back to Spencer but refrained herself from doing so.
“Yeah that’s fine, you can tell me in your own time, or don’t tell me at all. Whatever you're comfortable with.” Penelope said, still occasionally glancing at Spencer who had slowed down packing his bag away for the weekend.
“Thanks, I owe you.” Y/N said.
“Oh my sweet girl, you don’t owe me anything.” Penelope said as the two left the bullpen, leaving Spencer to stare after them.
Once Y/N arrived at Penelope’s apartment, she headed straight to the guest room, deeming that she was tired and wanted to sleep. Penelope could easily tell that Y/N was far from tired as she could hear her crying through the walls of her apartment. Even though Penelope knocked on the door multiple times, Y/N only said that she didn’t want to be bothered. Penelope left her alone after that.
From knowing Y/N and Spencer so long, Penelope easily knew that there was something going on between them. They hardly ever gave each other what appeared to be the silent treatment. After cases the two would head home together and no one would hear from them until the next time they were back at work. To say that ignoring each other was strange would be an understatement.
Ever since Penelope had known the two, they always showed their love for each other, even if it was just through gentle touches or loving glances. If it was more of a stressful case, Spencer’s arms would always be securely around Y/N. Penelope just wanted to get to the source of the problem.
Picking up her phone, she dialed the number of the person she would know for definite what happened. It rang a few times before the person on the other end picked up.
“Hello?” The voice of Luke Alvez came through the phone.
“Do you know what happened between Y/N and Spencer?” Penelope asked, getting straight to the point.
“No one told you?” Luke questioned.
“No!” Penelope exclaimed, “What happened?”
She heard Luke sigh on the other end, “When we were hunting down the unsub, Y/N and Spencer headed into the house where we guessed the unsub would be,” He began to explain, “Reid found him first and took off his vest, probably trying to gain some trust or something. Y/N came into the room and Reid tried to make her leave but she refused. The unsub shot at Reid and Y/N pushed him out of the way. Apparently the bullet barely missed her head.”
“Oh god.” Penelope said quietly.
“The two of them haven’t spoken since it happened.” Luke said.
“Well we need to do something!” Penelope said, “We can’t just let them keep giving each other the silent treatment.”
“Garcia, we need to let them work it out in their own time,” Luke said, “It was pretty bad. Meddling will just make the whole situation worse.”
Penelope sighed, “I just don’t want them to split up, they are perfect for each other.”
“I know, but you need to let them work this out on their own.”
Penelope let out a long sigh, “I hate to admit you’re right.”
Luke let out a soft chuckle, “Bye Penelope.”
When Y/N and Penelope arrived at work two days later, there weren’t many people in the bullpen. Tara, Matt and JJ hadn’t arrived yet and Emily and Rossi were in their respective offices and Luke was sitting at his desk talking to Penelope. Unfortunately for Y/N, Spencer was sitting down at his desk which was directly opposite hers. Sucking it up, she sat down at her desk, avoiding any and all eye contact with Spencer.
As Y/N attempted to get on with her work, she noticed that Spencer continuously glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The first couple of times, she ignored it. After the fourth time she decided to say something.
“Can you stop that?” Y/N said, dropping her pen down on her desk.
“Stop what?” Spencer questioned.
“Looking at me out of the corner of your eye.”
Spencer scoffed, “Oh so I can’t look around the bullpen now?” He said, letting his pen drop to his desk as well, “Not everything is about you, you know?”
Y/N groaned, “Did I ever say that everything is about me? No I didn’t.” She exclaimed.
“Yeah but you made that perfectly clear when you were nearly shot the other day!” Spencer said, raising his voice, “Agent Y/N coming in to save the day when I specifically told you to leave!”
“You’re the one who took your vest off like an absolute idiot, if I wasn’t there you would’ve been shot!” Y/N said, standing up from her seat.
“I was getting through to him!” Spencer said, waving his hands about, “If you didn’t come barging in with your saviour complex, we wouldn’t have been in the situation where I could’ve been shot.”
“Please,” Y/N said, “You were in a situation where you could’ve been shot as soon as you took your vest off!”
By now everyone who was in the bullpen had abandoned their work to listen to the couples quarrel. As Y/N and Spencer stood in the middle of the bullpen shouting at each other, Emily finally came out of her office.
“Guys!” Emily shouted, interrupting their argument, “My office now.”
Both Y/N and Spencer sent a glare at one another as they both walked sheepishly up to Emily’s office. Once the two entered, Emily closed the door behind them.
“I am just going to get straight to the point,” Emily said, “This argument between the two of you needs to be sorted out otherwise I will have to write the both of you up for causing a disturbance in the workplace,” Emily paused for a moment, “Now I’m going to talk to you both as a friend,” She said, “I know you both care so deeply for one another and your love is a type of love you don’t come across often, it’s too rare to let go of.”
Y/N and Spencer shared a quick glance before they both looked away quickly.
“Now, get back to work.” Emeily said, dismissing the couple.
Y/N and Spencer walked out of Emily’s office in silence. Even after the talk with her, both Y/N and Spencer still needed to get a lot off of their chest. Once they got back to their desks, Y/N picked up all of her things before heading out of the bullpen.
“Hey, where you going?” Luke questioned.
“To work somewhere else,” Y/N answered, “I don’t think I can work in here today.”
Y/N sat in Penelope’s office in silence as they both completed work they needed to do for the day. Penelope tried to start multiple conversations but it was clear that Y/N wasn’t exactly up for talking when she only gave her one word answers in return. It wasn’t until Penelope asked one question that caused her to give a full answer.
“Do you still love him?”
Y/N’s head shot up at the question, “Of course I do,” She answered with no hesitation, “I love him so much it hurts.”
“Then why don’t the two of you make up?” Penelope questioned.
“It’s not like that Pen,” Y/N said, “I’m just so angry at him for taking his vest off when he was in immediate danger and I know that he’s mad at me because I pushed him out of the way, risking my own life.”
“You know what I think?” Penelope said, “I think that the two of you should make up. When you joined the BAU in 2005, I just knew that there would be something between you and Spencer. I had never seen him act the way he was around you with anyone else. I knew that you would be together forever after you helped him through his addiction.”
“Penelope, where is this going-”
“At your wedding, I began to believe that soulmates did exist, when he laid eyes on you when you walked down the aisle I had never seen such love in someone’s eyes before. The two of you are meant to be together.”
There was a moment of silence before Y/N shook her head slightly, “I’m just going to get back to my work Penny.”
Letting out a small sigh, Penelope headed out of her office.
“Where are you going?” Y/N questioned.
“To get myself a drink.”
When the door opened to Penelope’s office not even five minutes later, Y/N didn’t even lift her head up knowing that Penelope was back with her drink. What did take Y/N by surprise however, was the person who walked into Penelope’s office wasn’t Penelope.
“Y/N? What are you doing in here?” Spencer questioned.
“What does it look like?” Y/N said, gesturing to her work on the desk, “I’m doing my work.”
“I thought you left.” Spencer said.
“No, I just wanted to get away from you for a while,” Y/N said, “What are you doing in here anyway?”
“Garcia said she left some files in here and asked for me to get them,” Spencer said, “I’m sure that she lied.”
“Yes she did,” Y/N said, “Now can you leave please, I want to get my work done so I can go home.”
“Go home or go back to Garcia’s?” Spencer questioned, “Because that’s where you’ve been for the past few days, you haven’t even come home for a change of clothes.”
“I had spare clothes in my go bag that I used,” Y/N said, “There was no need for me to come home.”
“No need for you to come home?” Spencer questioned, “I was there.”
“But I was under the impression that you didn’t want to see me considering the silent treatment you gave me on the four hour plane journey home.” Y/N said, standing up from her seat.
“Of course I wanted you to come home!” Spencer said, raising his voice ever so slightly, “I was just mad at you.”
“Mad at me for pushing you out of the way of a bullet that could have easily killed you?” Y/N scoffed.
“It could have killed you just as easily,” Spencer said, “It was barely centimeters from your head, Y/N! You could have died just as easily as me. You don’t need to save me from everything.”
“I do not think that I’m saving you from everything!” Y/N exclaimed.
“Of course you do,” Spencer yelled, “You helped me when I was addicted to dilaudid, or- or when I was shot in the leg. Maybe when I was in prison and you did everything to try and get me out. You always try to save me!”
“If anything, it’s always you saving me!” Y/N snapped back.
“Oh don’t start that.”
“You saved me when I was taken by that unsub back in 2011, remember that? You saved me when I was shot and bleeding out on my apartment floor, literally keeping me alive until the paramedics got there. You even saved me when I was trapped in a burning fucking building!” Y/N shouted, pacing around the room.
Walking up to the door, Y/N tried to walk out but it was locked. Penelope had locked them both in the office.
“Great, we’re locked in here,” Y/N mumbled, “You can let us out now, whatever you were trying to accomplish clearly isn’t working!”
There was no responde. It was completely silent.
“Well I guess we’re stuck in here together.”
“That’s what ‘til death do us part’ means. You don’t get a free pass because I’ve nearly died several times. Like the time I was beaten up in prison, or the time I was shot in the fucking neck.” Spencer exclaimed.
“Hey, don’t joke about that! That messed me up,” Y/N shouted, stepping closer to Spencer. “All my damage comes from you!”
“Well all my pain comes from you.” Spencer added, stepping closer to Y/N.
“And I’m allowed to want to save you!” Y/N said. By now the two were nearly chest to chest although they were still yelling at one another.
“I’ll save you every time or I’ll die trying. I don’t care!” Spencer yelled.
“Me too, because I love you!”
“Yeah well I love you too!”
“Then why are we yelling?!”
“I don’t know!”
Y/N and Spencer ended their argument and they both panted as they stood chest to chest in the middle of Penelope’s office. Lifting her gaze to Spencer’s eyes, she found him already looking at her.
“I love you so much Y/N that it physically hurts me,” Spencer said, gently placing his hands on the side of her head, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones, "
“Spence, you are the one person I’ve ever truly loved,” Y/N said, placing her hands on his chest, “I’ve loved you for well over a decade. It just pains me when you put yourself in harm's way. I've seen you laying down in hospital beds and I just think to myself 'What if this is the last time I will see him alive?' That question goes through my mind every time and I can't help myself.”
"I want to have children with you, start a family, grow old together and I can't do that if you're dead." Y/N said.
"There's nothing more that I want in the world than to start a family and be with you for the rest of my life," Spencer said, "I don't plan to ever die on you. I will always fight to get back to you."
"I cannot begin to describe my love for you Spence," Y/N mumbled against his lips, "But if I had to, I would say that my love for you is as big as the universe as it's-"
"Continuously expanding." Spencer finished, a smile appearing on his face.
“I’m sorry I make you worry,” He muttered, “I’m so sorry that I got mad at you for saving me.”
“It’s okay Spence,” Y/N mumbled, “You’re here and that’s all that matters. That's the only thing that matters.”
Spencer leant forward and connected their lips. Y/N mentally let out a sigh of relief as their argument finally came to an end. The kiss was sweet and filled with pure love and adoration. Normally all of their kisses felt this way, however there was something about this kiss in particular that just filled Y/N and Spencer to the brim with love.
Spencer’s palms remained on the side of her face whole his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer to him. Y/N couldn’t help but let herself smile into the kiss. The man in her arms was a man she knew she would treasure for the rest of her life and she was beyond lucky to have him.
Spencer pulled away from the kiss to utter three very simple, but powerful words, “I love you.”
“And I love you too.”
Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to hers once again, gently backing her up to the desk.
Penelope and Luke were standing outside of her office, listening to Y/N and Spencer’s argument. They both knew that it was intrusive but neither of them cared at that moment.
“What happened to not meddling?” Penelope questioned, looking at Luke.
“I-I just thought that after their argument in the bullpen that a little bit of meddling wouldn’t hurt.” Luke said.
“Sure,” Penelope said, not too convinced, “How much longer are they going to argue for?”
“You can let us out now, whatever you were trying to accomplish clearly isn’t working!” Y/N’s voice came from the other side of the door.
Both Penelope and Luke stayed silent as their argument resumed.
“I give it another five minutes.” Luke said
The shouting between the loving couple resumed, although their voices were muffled, some words they said stuck out as clear as day.
“Me too, because I love you!”
“Yeah well I love you too!”
“Then why are we yelling?!”
“I don’t know!”
There was a long silence after Spencer yelled. Slowly turning their heads, Penelope and Luke made eye contact.
“Do you think it’s over now?” Luke questioned.
Penelope stepped up to her office door and silently unlocked it. As she stepped into her office her eyes immediately widened as she quickly backed out, closing the door behind her. Neither Y/N or Spencer even realised the door was opened in the first place, they were to wrapped up in one another to notice.
“Are they fighting again?” Luke questioned.
“Worse, they’re kissing.” Penelope said, eyes wide.
“Aww but you normally love that kind of stuff.” Luke teased as he followed Penelope down the hallway, leaving Y/N and Spencer alone in her office.
“You’re right but not when he had her backed up to the desk and kissing that passionately, I think I literally saw him grind on her! I don’t think I can ever look at them the same way again,” Penelope rambled, “I might have my office cleaned before I go in there just in case.”
Luke simply chuckled at her comment as they entered the bullpen, both relieved that their friends had finally made up.
Taglist: (add yourself here)
@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur @happymangospot @beepbooptoop @ilovespencerreidmarryme @spencesoulmate25 @bloodyxheaven @malindacath @nyx2021 @morganwilliams @pastelbabygirl19 @pinkdiamond1016 @doctorspenceryeet @reidsbookclub
- strike through could not be tagged -
- additional tags in reblog -
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With Fantober starting next Friday I thought I'd ask if anyone would like to be added to my taglist! Feel free to reply to this or send me an ask and tell me if you'd like to be tagged in all of them or specifically Hotch x reader or Hotchniss :)
As well there are still some days open if anyone wants to send in some more prompts! Don't be afraid to send some even if you already have. You can find all the current prompts here!
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spencer: mhm moon looks beautiful tonight don't you think?
penelope: yeah… but do you know what’s more beautiful?
spencer and penelope: *sighs* Y/N <33
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overview: the bau goes on a team building camping trip but reader and spencer spend most of their time together
a/n: ive been kicking myself for not posting in forever but i think this one is pretty cute! please lmk what yall think :)
the stuffy, eight person suv finally rolled to a stop, the overgrown children that call themselves the bau tumbling out as quickly and gracelessly as possible. Morgan and Reid nearing the end of a 2 and a half minute long slap fight that you happened to be caught directly in the middle of. you looked at jj, pleading to make them stop with her mom powers.
"boys behave or ill ground you both," she sighed, going to help out with taking things out of the trunk.
they immediately stopped, muttering under their breath that the other one started it. but before they could start again, Spencer caught a glance at you. you were taking a deep breath, smiling contently, very clearly happy to get some fresh, forest air. despite being in direct sunlight, your smile was far brighter than anything he'd seen in his whole life.
before he knew it he was being snapped out of his daze and asked to help set up the tents. he was really hoping to have a chance to share a tent with you, like you sometimes had done on cases when hotel rooms were scarce. but he knew that almost everyone wanted a spot in your tent because you're that much fun to be around. Penelope would win, obviously, and he would be paired up with morgan again.
he let out a sigh as he finished up pitching one of the tents, pulling the corner and nailing it into the ground. as he did so, something caught his eye: a pink, round, fat little worm crawled out of the dirt.
his attention was now fully on the worm, ecstatic to see it because he had been reading up on worms for a while. he called morgan and hotch over since they were the closest to him, rambling excitedly all hes learned about them so far. he looked up and could see the disinterest behind their polite smiles. his own smile faltered for a second, until he saw you finishing up pitching a tent.
"im gonna go show y/n. shes gonna love this!" spencer giggled, already walking towards you.
"hey kid i dont know if she-" morgan began.
"reid she might not-" hotch started as well.
but he had already reached you, sticking out his hand and revealing the worm. hotch and morgan looked at each other worriedly, concerned that the tiniest rejection from you, even about something as small as a worm, would tear his heart to pieces.
their faces changed from worry to confusion as they watched a wide grin crack on your face.
"oh! a worm!" you exclaimed gleefully.
they observed as you put your hand out and Spencer dropped the worm in your hand. you watched it wriggle around and would occasionally look up and nod along with his rambling, asking questions and listening intently. hotch and morgan were speechless, knowing full well if they offered a girl they liked a worm, she would not have the same reaction.
you and Spencer started walking back over to the tent, where hotch and morgan tried their best to seem busy. you two were laughing, something about putting the worm back where he found it so it gets home safely. if there was ever any doubt that you and Spencer would be the perfect couple, its completely disintegrated now.
you and Spencer were typically joined at the hip, but after the worm encounter, you two were especially inseparable.
the girls went down by the lake to tan while you and Spencer tried to build a hut out of random sticks and logs you found around the forest. and while the guys were fishing on that same lake, Spencer and you were rock skipping, and he was explaining to you the physics behind it. and you were both scaring away any potential fish for rossi, hotch, and morgan to catch. so you two were banished back into the forest for the time being. when the rest of the team came back, you and him were up in a tree, eating some of the snacks they'd packed, talking and laughing and subconsciously leaning into one another. you didn't need to be a profiler to see the signs. you two were head over heels already, even if you guys didn't know it yet.
after a bonfire full of roasted marshmallows and scary stories, laughs and giggles. it was a wonderful, but tiring night and before you knew it you were getting ready for bed, sharing highlights of the day back and fourth with Penelope.
"i'm picking up on a bit of a pattern," she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows.
you wracked your brain, "what pattern?"
"all of your highlights included a certain adorkable genius."
"what? no we just...he's my best friend so we-cause its fun and i just-" you stammered, feeling your face heat up with every passing second.
"relax my love, i was just teasing," she chuckled, turning over to go to sleep.
"yeah i know. goodnight pen."
"goodnight lovely," she sighed, "but give some thought to lover boy."
you chuckled lightly before whispering to yourself, "trust me i have."
you woke up and checked the time, it was 4:47am but you just could not fall asleep. you crawled out of the tent, grabbing your blanket when you felt the cool morning air rush at you. you didn't want to wake anyone, so you made your way over to the little hill that the suv was parked on, stealing the keys from hotch's bag and crossing to the other side that faced east. the sun would be rising soon, it would be nice to watch; you draped your blanket across your shoulders. you heard footsteps coming from behind you, your blood running cold, immediately assuming the worst.
you turned around and were met with Spencer's sleepy smile. his hair stuck up in all directions and he looked perfectly adorable. you had to resist your urge to give in and kiss him right then and there.
"you scared me!" you whispered, trying to stifle a smile.
"im sorry," he giggled, "why are you up?"
"im not sure i just couldnt fall back asleep. why are you up?" you echoed.
"morgan keeps farting."
you and him let out hearty laughs, quickly covering your mouths as to not wake up the rest of the team.
you faced the car for a second, legs growing tired from standing.
"look how pretty the fogged up windows look," you observed, facing back and fourth between the colorful sky and the muggy version reflecting on the suv. you pressed your hand against the window, leaving a print, "so cold!" you chuckled.
spencer put his hand next your handprint, quickly recoiling, "you werent lying," he laughed, shivering a little.
you looked at the two handprints, his comically larger than yours and you couldnt help but smile to yourself.
"do you want some blanket?" you asked, opening your arms.
"i think im too tall," he frowned, "maybe if i crouch?"
"how about," you dangled the keys infront of your face before opening the trunk of the suv, "front row seats to the sunrise and some blanket."
"that sounds perfect," he smiled, begging his body not to redden his cheeks.
you two crawled into the trunk, draping the blanket across both of your shoulders, being pulled together by the small piece of fabric. you two were completely cuddled together, getting maximum warmth from the blanket and each other's body heat. a comfortable silence floated between you, faint bird songs and the others breathing filling it with peace. you felt your eyelids droop, despite the breathtaking rebirth of the sun happing in front of you. spencer was just so comfortable.
he felt the same way, his head falling to rest on top of yours as sleep pulled at his eyes. he yawned lightly, pulling you closer and breathing you in. you smiled. perfectly content.
about an hour later, hotch woke up, searching frantically for his keys. he ran up to check if the suv was still there, only to be met with your sleeping figures in the open trunk, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, smiles on both of your faces despite being asleep. hotch was good at predicting things, he saw scenarios play out fully before they truly began.
he snapped a picture, knowing it would be put to good use in a few years, he smelled a wedding.
spencer and you spent the drive home smiling like a couple of idiots, grins growing wider each time the sun hit the window just right, revealing your handprints.
ultra mega super cool taglist:
@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc
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Passwords & Passionate Pecks
Summary: It’s time to change computer systems passwords at the BAU. To make things easier, Garcia tells Spencer to memorize the passwords, but for some reason Reader doesn’t want him to know.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
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Passwords and Passionate Pecks
There’s no such thing as a lazy day at the BAU. From flying all over the country to finalizing paperwork, it seems like there’s always something to do. Even if there isn’t anything to do— something will inevitably come up.
Today is no exception. After three weeks of non-stop cases taking the team as far as South Dakota, an easy housekeeping day at the bullpen seems like a vacation. It’s a consensus amongst the team that a paperwork day was needed— Derek hums quietly to himself with his earbuds in his ears, blocking out the world. Emily stares at her computer with a pen in her mouth, concentrating intently on a game of online scrabble with JJ. Penelope, always having something to do one way or another, flits in and out between her office and Hotch’s. Hotch, however, never seems to allow himself to enjoy a paperwork day.
Like the rest of the team, you attempt to appreciate the slow day of paperwork and filing by occupying your mind with something other than ballistics and bullet holes. You watch Spencer, or more like it, watch his hands as he fiddles with an old film canister, a tablet of Alka-Seltzer, and a bottle of day-old water. You find it almost too charming that Spencer thinks he’s being sneaky. You peer over your desk, across from Spencer’s, with your chin resting in your palms. Despite knowing that Derek is probably going to start throwing erasers at you, you continue staring at Spencer and his ridiculously magical hands.
“Y/N!” Spencer shouts, pulling you from your dazed stare, “come, quick it’s gonna happen,” he says, calling you over to his desk. You swivel over, gliding on your chair, “any second now,” Spencer says, wiggling his fingers above the canister for the full magic effect.
“Spence!” you say, peeking from his shoulder. Your hand rests on the arm of his chair and he’s so close to your face that you can see the small freckles on the back of his neck. You never thought that freckles on the back of someone’s neck could be cute until you saw them on Spencer.
“Be patient, Y/N,” Spencer teases, “besides, you didn’t say the magic word,” he tells you, looking over his shoulder as the canister fizzes rapidly. Water bubbles out from the sides, spilling over onto the desk, yet nothing happens.
Then, the canister, fizzing wildly, shoots into the air with an audible pop that ricochets throughout the bullpen. JJ, occupied by paperwork, looks up at the sound of the loud pop, only to find it falling straight towards her forehead.
“Ouch, aw, Spence, what the heck,” JJ says, “I thought Hotch said that you can’t do physics magic in the bullpen,” she scolds, unable to shed her parental tone that seems natural to both her and Hotch.
“Sorry,” Spencer says, looking bashful as JJ tosses the canister back at him. He scrambles to catch it, nearly falling out of his swivel chair, “Y/N likes physics magic,” he explains, as if your getting amusement from something as simple as a film canister and an Alka-Seltzer is enough for Spencer to ignore the rest of his work responsibilities.
Suddenly now in the spotlight, you decide that it’s probably best if you head back to your desk to avoid the nosy stares of your co-workers. It’s the BAU’s worst kept secret that you’re ridiculously in love with Spencer, who in turn is completely clueless of your affections.
Before Emily or Derek can make a smart comment about Spencer and you, Penelope Garcia, yet again, saves the day.
She comes bearing a large box of paperwork, which means it’s Computer Security Day at the BAU. Every 90 days, Penelope has to make sure that the team updates their security passwords for their desktops at headquarters. It’s a tedious process, namely because certain members of the team habitually forget their passwords.
“Get your notebooks out my fellow crime stoppers, because it’s Password Day!” Penelope says, sounding way too cheery for someone who’s going to spend the whole day helping the team change their passwords.
“What if we don’t use the computer, Garcia?” Spencer asks, “isn’t that the best security? Not indulging in technology. I read an article that highlighted the significant determinants when relying on modern technology—”
“Reid, for the last time,” Garcia says, slamming down the stack of papers, “you’re not going to change the entire FBI’s mind about implementing technology. Welcome to the modern age, my technophobe genius,” she says, placing the stack of papers on Derek’s desk.
“You all have to change your password. And keep in mind it needs to meet the security requirements. This means, it needs to be case sensitive, have at least one number or symbol. And it has to be at least 8 characters,” Penelope instructs, eyeing Spencer carefully as he twirls in his chair.
“You got it, baby girl,” Derek says, winking and flashing a winning smile as Garcia begins to sort through the stack of old cases on his desk.
Spencer, feigning annoyance, slumps into his seat and continues to spin around in the swivel chair. You watch from across your desk, thinking of what you should make your password. Within the team, you’ve been notorious for forgetting your password. Usually you’ll write it down somewhere in one of your many notebooks to help you remember. But sometimes even that doesn’t work.
Perhaps, you just never made up a password that you could always remember. The team could go weeks at a time without returning to their desks at Quantico and between the rough cases and the jet lag, remembering the password was the least of your worries.
You look through the photos on your desk, thinking of something different enough, yet easy enough to remember each time. Pictures of your cat, Theodore, your mom, and Spencer line up on your desk. Garcia always warns against using pet names as passwords. Apparently it’s too easy to detect. But suddenly, with a glance at Spencer’s bright smile captured with you planting a kiss on his cheek in the photograph, sparks an idea.
Clicking on the entry line for “new password” you quickly type out:
With a quick glance over at your teammates, you’re confident that none of them saw your fingers type out your new password. It’s certainly something that you’re never going to forget. To your amusement, Spencer, tries to distract himself from the misery of being forced to use technology, starts his physics magic trick up again. He’s almost successful, but before he can finish it Penelope snatched away his Alka-Seltzer tablets.
“Hey! Garcia!” Spencer whines, sounding rather annoyed as he tries to swipe back his tablets, “come on, I already reset my password,” he argues.
“But did you write it down?” Garcia asks, peering down at Spencer through her glasses.
“I think you forget that I can’t forget passwords, Garcia. I can’t forget anything,” Spencer says, cockily as he reaches forward again, trying to get his Alka-Seltzer tablets.
“That’s it!” Garcia says, like she’s having a personal eureka moment, “Reid you really are a genius, Wonder Boy!” she says, as she makes her way over to you.
“What’s it, Garcia?” you ask, waiting as your computer reboots from having it’s password reset.
“Tell Reid your password,” she explains, “You always forget your passwords. So tell Reid. You’ll never forget it because he’ll never forget it,” Garcia says excitedly.
Between her excitement of never having to help you reset another password, Garcia didn’t realize just how wide your eyes grew when Penelope told you to tell Spencer your password. You’d consider yourself a quick thinker, but in the seconds that you had to think of something to tell Penelope, nothing comes to mind.
“I can’t,” you say, cringing internally at your lack of answer. If there’s one thing that you know, it’s that Penelope Garcia can’t take no for an answer.
“I won’t tell, Y/N, I promise,” Spencer says, wheeling over to where Garcia and you sit.
Derek, realizing that an interesting conversation might be occurring, takes out his earbuds listening intently. JJ and Hotch, whose passwords were probably already changed before the rest of the team got in, sit in their own offices, unaware of the conversation happening below.
“I can’t,” you say again, just repeating what she said before over. Nothing new comes to mind. There’s nothing else she can say but the truth. And the truth. It just might kill her, “it’s I-I can’t tell you, Spence,” she says, hating the shake in your voice.
“Come on Y/N,” Garcia presses, “it’s Spencer. You tell him everything. You two are like twins. It’s freaky how much you know about each other. But sweet,” Garcia says, quickly recovering, but not saving the embarrassment from peppering along Spencer’s cheeks. He burns red from his nose to his eyes and his tongue flicks out along his lips. You’re reminded too late that Garcia is standing right there, because you find yourself staring at Spencer’s lips for too long. It’s his own fault really for having lips that look so soft and red. And god they aren’t even bitten yet—
“So what’s the big deal!” Garcia says, “Tell him the password, Y/N. The three of us know that you’re going to forget it,” she argues.
“I won’t forget this one, Penny. It would be pretty much impossible for me to forget this one,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with Spencer.
“I just can’t see why you can’t tell me,” Spencer whispers, keeping his voice low as Penelope walks away, who’s probably already filling in Derek on what’s happening, “it’s a password, Y/N. I’m not going to hack you or anything. I thought you could trust me. I thought-I thought I was your favorite person,” he says, going even lower, if it was possible, than a whisper.
You move closer to Spencer as he spoke, and feel your knees brush up against his. It’s nothing really, but then again even nothing with Spencer feels electric. You're feels alive with him. You can feel your heart beating in your chest. It thumps deep inside reminding you that he’s so close and it would just be so easy with him.
“I can’t do this here, Spencer,” you tell him, getting off your chair and heading straight for the stairwell before your nerves can come back to call you a coward.
You’re not even sure he’s following you, but when his hand catches the door before you can shut it, you know that you have to do this. You’ve spent too long tip-toeing around Spencer when loving him feels so right in the dark, you can only imagine what loving him in the daylight must be like.
“This must be pretty secret if you can’t do it in front of the team. I know I’m all for computer security. We don’t know when those things are going to take over—”
“I love you,” you interrupt, stopping Spencer as he rambles for probably the first time ever. You always let him finish what he has to say. You want him to know he’s important and what he has to say is important to you. He’s always been important to you.
You wonder one day, you’ll laugh at the irony of interrupting him to tell him that you love him when one of the biggest things you love about him is that he always has something to say.
“What?” Spencer says, “you what?” He repeats, speaking slowly like he needs to watch the world in slow-mo to fully grasp what he’s being told.
“I-I, uh. My password. It’s ‘Ilovespencerreid1028!’” you say, “I love you, Spencer. For a really long time,” you tell him, swaying on feet, hoping that maybe he’d want to steady you body with his.
“You love me?” Spencer asks, repeating it yet again in disbelief. He’s eye level to you, staring in your eyes as you stand on the top stair and him a couple down. He looks at you like he’s trying to solve a problem, and the solution, the one that was desired and dreamt of all along, is finally found.
Yet, Spencer falters. He presses his lips together again, his mind spinning around and around.
“You love me?” He asks, and the emphasis on me doesn’t go amiss.
“I’m sorry, Spence. I’m so sorry,” you say, covering your chest with your arms protectively. In all the dreams you’ve had about this moment, none of them ever ended in him rejecting you. For in your dreams, you could be the kind of lucky soul that Spencer would happily sweep off your feet. And he’d be the kind of man that would kiss you passionately as he tenderly holds you in his arms.
It’s all going wrong. You’re not one of the lucky ones that gets swept away and the man you love isn’t going to do any sweeping.
“You don’t think I love you?” Spencer asks, perhaps more confused that the love wouldn't be reciprocal than he was when you confessed, “because, Y/N. I love you. So much,” he says, taking a step toward you on the stairs. He reaches up, taking your cheek in his hand as he licks his lips.
“Really?” you ask, taking your turn to not believe what you desperately want to believe, “you didn’t seem so sure,”
“I really do love you, Y/N,” Spencer says, “and I’d very much like to kiss you,” he professes. And before he can even breathe again, you’re kissing him.
You’ve kissed a total of five people in your life. It’s not a particularly high number, but enough to know what good kissing and bad kissing is like. Yet when you kiss Spencer, it’s like your slate is clean again. But you’ll take all the good and bad kisses that lead you here, kissing your favorite person in the stairwell of work.
You knew his lips would be soft and that your fingers would find themselves tangled in his hair. You thought about kissing him so much that doing it for the first time seems more like practice. Spencer’s eyelashes flutter along your cheeks as he breaks the kiss. You want to be disappointed at the loss of contact, but you don’t have the time because he guides you into the wall. Your back is flush against the concrete and he presses up against you. Dreaming about kissing him is something that always floods your mind on lonely nights.
The first kiss was sweet and soft, barely scratching the surface of what could be. It was quiet and fleeting. Your lips brushed up against Spencer’s, hardly able to contain the energy that threatens to explode. It started off quiet and sweet, but then tension rose to the surface. Maybe you and Spencer both realized just how much you wanted this. But you always thought he’d be tender and gentle, but this is passionate.
You almost forget that you’re kissing him in the middle of the stairwell, until you feel the badge scanner against your back. You must have winced because Spencer breaks apart, his lips hovering above yours.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to..I-” Spencer says, suddenly genuinely concerned that a mistake has been made, “I mean I did want to kiss you, uh, what I mean to say is. Did you want to-” he says, his voice trailing off when you shut him up with another kiss.
Like the first one, this is light and sweet. You have to concentrate to feel his lips against yours, but you know they are there. You can feel his hands cup your cheek and his forehead rest against yours when you break apart again.
“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “And I wanted to kiss you, Spence,” you confess, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“I still can’t believe that you made your password that,” he jokes, kissing your cheek through a smile, “it’s cute,” he teases, planting a kiss on your other cheek.
“It’s probably not the most secure password, Spence,” you say, “Considering it’s like the worst kept secret here,” you joke, pushing past him and holding your hand out for him to grab. You’re ready to push through the door, knowing well that one way or another, you’ll never forget a password.
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y/n, fighting with Reid: FIGHT ME YOU NERD ASS SLUT
Spencer: at least try to sound somewhat sophisticated when you threaten someone
y/n: Dost thou want to engage in a dual, my good BITCH?!
Spencer: somehow that is worse
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Rule Breaker • Spencer Reid
Dom!Spencer x Fem!Reader
Summary: Reader breaks the rules, and Spencer gets his revenge.
Warnings: SMUT with like 0 plot!!!!! choking, oral (f), unprotected sex, slapping, spitting, daddy kink, mention of public teasing, spanking, degradation, bruising, orgasm denial, d/s undertones
Word Count: 2.7K! Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
You knew from the moment Spencer opened the door to your apartment that you were in big trouble. Truthfully you deserved the punishment that was coming your way, especially after breaking the rules and teasing him throughout the Academy Alumni Dinner you’d attended that evening.
To put it simply, you’d taken great pleasure in behaving like an insatiable brat the whole night…but who could blame you? He looked so good, all dressed in his fancy tux, hair gelled back but stray curls still falling out from their place. He looked absolutely delicious, and it sent you completely feral. So, you’d made it your mission to rile him up; placing your hand over his crotch and palming him under the table, purposely pressing hard when he began to speak - the sound he let out when he opened his mouth made you giggle and the look he gave you let you know he was mad.
That’s how you found yourself in this position, back pressed against the mattress, hands tied to the headboard and legs thrown across Spencer's shoulders. He’s enjoying himself, has been for the past 30 minutes - his lips latched to your clit and fingers pumping in and out of you almost robotically like he didn’t even have to think about his actions. He’s been getting you close to your orgasm, so so close before he pulls away. His lips make a crude popping sound as he removes himself from your core, chin shiny from your wetness. He wipes it away with his thumb before placing it in his mouth, watching as you rut against nothing, your mouth wide open - silently begging for a taste.
He laughs at this, shakes his head and gets close to you, “You taste so fucking good angel.” He moans as he cleans off his thumb. You’re whining, tongue falling out of your mouth slightly, and surprisingly he takes pity on you…. in his own way.
He quickly removes his fingers from your pussy before shoving them into your mouth, deep. You’re gagging around them, the taste of yourself filling your senses, almost overwhelming you, and he’s enjoying every minute of it - even wiggling his fingers down your throat, relishing in the sounds that leave you. He stops after a moment, retracting his fingers and holding your face in his hand, looking you in the eyes.
You feel his cock twitch against your thigh as you make eye contact, and you can only imagine how you look - hair messy from being pulled, makeup from that night smeared from the spit and tears, lips swollen from biting back moans. You looked like a mess - and he loved it. He holds your face in between his fingers a little longer, no words spoken as you maintain eye contact, only deep, shaky breathes and small whines.
“Spencer…” You whisper, but that’s all you can say before he’s kissing you. It’s soft, it’s slow, it’s romantic - the complete opposite of how he was staring at you - with an almost animalistic look behind his eyes and your own eyelids flutter shut, the feeling of his lips against yours too overwhelming.
You don’t keep them closed long; a sharp slap to the face lulls you from your daze, and you can barely feel the throbbing in your cheek over the butterflies that rushed to your core. You gasp, but you’re not sure if it's because of the impact or because of the way he slowly begins to kiss down your body, lips making their way back to where you needed him - leaving marks that will remain on your body along the way.
His tongue finds its home between your folds once again, and your thighs clench around his head. It’s pathetic how close you are after one motion, but it’s not your fault. He’d been teasing you for almost 45 minutes now - getting you close to your orgasm before cruelly pulling away. It would take absolutely nothing to get you over the edge, and you knew if you did - you would be in even bigger trouble.
But you can’t take it; you’re begging and pleading, his name mixed with a plethora of expletives leave your perfectly pink lips, and you pray to every upper being there is that he takes some mercy on you. He doesn’t; in fact, when he feels your legs clenching around his head - he brings his hand up to push them away - placing short slaps to the soft skin.
The word “No.” leaves his lips more times than you count, yet you can tell he’s putting all his effort into making you cum. Two fingers coming up to play with your nipples, the tight buds being given equal attention, as his other hand stays buried inside your pussy, fingers curling up to hit the exact spot that makes you weak every single time.
"Wanna cum... please." You whimper, feeling your legs begin to tremble. He shakes his head again, the motion sending waves throughout your body, and you can’t help but tug at the restraint holding your arms against the headboard. "I'm sorry daddy... p- oh fuck- please let me cum."
He stops again, crawling up your body to hold your face in his hands. "Do you deserve to cum?" He asks; it’s rhetorical - you both already know the answer, yet he waits patiently for your reply. You shake your head, feeling a tear roll down your face. He lets out an airy laugh before wiping it away, his thumb stroking your cheeks lovingly before slapping you once again. You cry out at the impact, to which he simply puts his thumb in your mouth, silencing any noises that threaten to hit the air around you both. "Then shut the fuck up and stop begging."
He sits back on his knees, watching your body tremble as his fingers tiptoe down your body. It’s light, almost non-existent, yet his touch sends your body into overdrive. As his fingers near your centre once again, you do the one thing you’ve been holding back on, desperately trying to avoid.
Your breath hitches, back arches....body tenses, and you swear your soul leaves your body. It’s intense, so intense your eyes are squeezed shut as your hips move against nothing, desperate for some friction to prolong this feeling. You can hear yourself whining, begging, pleading, but the sound feels distant, almost foreign. Shuddering out a breath, you try to bring yourself back to reality, all too aware of Spencer glaring down at you; your eyes don’t need to be open to be able to tell.
“I-I’m so-” You begin to apologise, hastily trying to get up - momentarily forgetting about your restrained arms and jelly-like legs. But he interrupts you before you can spit out the rest of your apology.
“Shhh…” He says, once again, far too gentle for what was happening. His hands run up and down your body, trying to soothe the aftershocks that tore through you. “It’s ok.”
You’re confused, almost sure you misheard him, so you speak up again. “I tried… I’m sorry daddy.” You whine, and he smiles, taking note of the way your lips form the perfect pout, your eyelashes slick with tears and the way your lips had swelled up. His hand came up to your face, brushing aside the stray hairs that lay flat against your sweaty forehead.
His lips press against your cheeks, leaving sweet kisses along the flushed skin as his hand reaches up, fingers slowly tugging at the silky tie being used to bound your wrist. The moment your hands are free, they are on him. All over him, running down his back, pushing into his hair… gently caressing his face. He smiles at you, sickeningly sweet, and if you’d blinked, you’d have missed the way his eyes darkened even more than you thought possible. “Oh baby…” His words were soft, but his tone was heavy. He grabbed your wrists, gently rubbing his thumb along the red marks his tie had left, digging in a little harder when he hurt your whimper in pain. “Don’t be sorry.”
Your jaw drops as he flips you over, so quick you don’t even process what’s happening until your face hits the pillow. “Spencer…” Your voice is muffled against the fabric, but he hums in acknowledgement of his name before shushing you again. You feel him climb back on top of you, cock pressed against your entrance and his body lying flat on top of yours; he’s heavy, but in the best way, the weight of him pushing you down, pinning you against the bed sends a new flood down to your core, and your thighs do their best to clench together.
He tuts when he feels it, hand coming down to grip your ass - holding it tight for a moment before bringing his hand against it, the sound of the impact ricocheting off the walls. You gasp, expecting another one to follow as it usually did, except it never happened. Instead, you felt him move further up your body until his lips were pressed against your ear… teeth nibbling against the soft skin before moving back to speak, “You did exactly what I wanted you to do.” Is all he says, and once again, the confusion overtakes you.
“Wh-what are you-.” You begin, only to be interrupted by him once again. He snakes a hand under your body, finger pressing itself against your overstimulated clit, and you writhe under him at the feeling. “Daddy…”
He pushes your hair from your face, moving it behind your ear so he can look at you whilst he speaks. “Do you know how fucking easy you are… didn’t even have to touch you for you to cum like a dirty whore hmm?” He watches as you shake your head, a small, sick smile plastered along his face as he kisses your cheek and begins to push his cock into you, slow. Your jaw drops, silent moans falling from your lips, and he laughs. His thumb finds a home in your mouth, and you suck on it...eyes fluttering shut from the intense pleasure. “Knew you’d never be able to follow instructions, knew you’d behave like a desperate little thing and cum without permission.”
“Da-fuck- Daddy, I tried….” It’s barely audible over the bed creaking and Spencer’s pants as he sped up his thrusts, still not going as hard as he could or wanted to. Your hand moves to wrap around his head, fingers wanting to tangle themselves up in his messy hair, but he stops you. He moves back to sit on his knees, lifting your hips up to arch your body before bringing your hands down behind your back.
“I know you did, princess, know you tried your best to be a good girl for me.” He pushes into you once again, going so deep you swear you can feel him pressing against your ribs, and you cry out once more. “But you’re not a good girl...I know that. In fact, oh fuck, I counted on it.” You try your best to remove your hands from his grip, fingers fighting to hold onto something, anything, but he’s strong. His hold on you tightens, and he presses you down further into the mattress, your body contorting in an almost painful way, and he can tell.
He grips your hair with one hand, pulling you closer to him, so your back is almost pressed against his chest. “Does it hurt?” He asks, words sincere, but his voice tells a different story; he knows what he wants the answer to be.
You nod fervently, mouth falling open as he angles his thrusts perfectly. He pulls you back a little more, so your head is leaning back… your eyes looking into his. He smiles down at you before spitting into your open mouth, the string of saliva hanging from his lips trails across your face. It’s nasty, filthy..disgusting and yet you feel euphoric. You smile giddily as he releases your wrists, his now free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Good.” He says, fucking you harder if possible.
Your hands trail down to your clit, fingers rubbing against the nub as if your life depended on it, and strangely Spencer didn’t stop you. In fact, he paid your actions no mind, simply squeezing harder against your throat and fucking you so deep you could see the outline of his cock pressing against your tummy. He notices this as well, his fingers coming down to brush against it. His cock twitches the second he makes contact, and before he can stop himself, he releases inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls triggers your second release, and moments later, your body falls limp against his hold.
He’s panting against your shoulder, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest. You reach around to hold him, wrap your arms around him, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pushes you back against the bed, his cock sliding right back into you... giving you no time to adjust after your second release. “Daddy…” Your throat is sore, voice hoarse from the screaming and whining.
“Give me one more sweet girl, just one more.” He gently holds your face in his hands before slapping you silly, relishing in the sight of your cheeks heating up from the sharp impact. “Can you do that for me baby?” Your body gives you no choice but to nod, desperate to redeem yourself...to prove you could be a good girl - his good girl.
“I want it daddy - fuck- want it so bad.” Your hands come up to cover your face, almost as though embarrassment was taking over you - embarrassment from being so inanely desperate for him that all you could think was Spencer. His name dancing through your mind taking up every thought, every fibre of your being was craving him… begging for him.
You can feel his fingers holding down your hips so tight, and you know without even looking that there’s going to be marks littered across the area for weeks. His thrusts are getting sloppy, yet somehow stronger… your body moves back with each movement, and the headboard sounds as though it’s about to break in half, but you don’t care. The crude sounds of your body meeting, mixed with his low voice telling you to “Take it, be a good girl and take it.” has you reeling. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he hisses as your pussy grips so tight he has no choice but to cum again, deep inside you...filling you up perfectly once again.
Your head falls back as the feeling of satisfaction overtakes your body; every inch of you is shaking, and you can barely catch a breath, but the feeling of being so full makes you smile. He notices your dazed state and clicks his fingers a couple times to bring you out from it, and when that doesn’t work, he pulls out of you... watching as you wince from the sensitivity. He sits back, and you take a moment to open your eyes and rest up on your elbows, looking down at where his eyes seem to be transfixed.
“Holy shit.” He says, watching as his cum falls from your cunt...slowly dripping down onto the bed below and as though he was under a spell, his hand comes up to push it back into you. Instinctively you swat his hand away, giggling at the feeling of his fingers trying to fill you up again and how easily he switches from being this mean, relentless dom back to your sweet, almost bashful boyfriend. “That’s so hot.”
You smile slyly as you bring your own hand down, fingers slowly rubbing against your entrance, collecting his release before bringing it up to your mouth. You hum as your mouth envelopes your fingers, moving them to the back of your throat to take it all in. His jaw drops as his eyes dart between your pussy and your face, unsure of what to focus on….”Tasty.” You joke, grinning up at him.
“How did I get so lucky.” He says, bringing you forward to kiss him, tongue slipping into your mouth and pressing against yours, uncaring of the fact that he could taste himself on it. It’s dirty, sloppy and truthfully messier than anything else you’d done that night, but it was perfect. His hands cupped your face as your arms wrapped against his neck; your sticky, sweaty bodies were so close it was like you were one, never able to let one other go and truthfully, neither of you wanted to.
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can i request a fic where the reader gets an injury from being in the field and doesn’t have clearance to fly so she is forced to stay back with penelope while spencer is worrying his ass off and lecturing pen on what to do? maybe with a love confession at the end?
Worth The Risk
Summary: Spencer let’s a secret slip during a worried rant about Reader’s injuries.
Pairing: SR x GN!BAU!Reader
Warnings: mentions of gunshot wound, fighting, broken bones, injured!reader, and spencer being so cute he is the cutest
It’s your first day back at the BAU in two weeks, and you couldn’t be more excited.
After an unfortunate scuffle with an unsub, resulting in two fractured ribs and a gunshot wound through your shoulder, Hotch ordered you to stay home for a minimum of two weeks.
You hated nothing more than being away from the BAU. Your job encompasses your whole life— you’re basically empty without it. You also fear loneliness. Being alone, in your plain apartment, for two weeks— you’d drive yourself insane after the first day.
Fortunately, Spencer announced that he’d be by your side every second he was available. At first, you were grateful that your best friend (and crush... not that you’d ever admit it) was going to be spending time with you.
But one night, he showed up at your door holding two large duffel bags in his hands.
“I’m staying with you for the next two weeks.”
You were puzzled, but let the genius in anyways. Apparently, Spencer requested two weeks off from work so he could take care of you. And according to him, Hotch thought it was an excellent idea.
He spent every moment being your best friend, nurse, chef, and entertainer. It was fun for the most part, but eventually, Spencer turned into a badgering caretaker.
“No! You shouldn’t be standing up so much! You wound will reopen!”
“Stop moving your arm! I’ll feed you!”
“No TV after midnight! Your body needs sleep to regenerate.”
You resented him, and his rules, and how much you wanted to kiss his stupid little face despite all of it. ‘Cause let’s face it, the most challenging part of living with Spencer for two weeks was the fact that you could hardly contain your feelings for him.
So, once your two weeks of bed rest finally finished, you were practically crawling to get back to Quantico (with Spencer following closely behind).
You’re unsure of what to expect when you returned to work. And by that, you mean you don’t know how big of a party Penelope Garcia will throw.
Your suspicions are confirmed as confetti is tossed through the air, signaling and celebrating you and Spencer’s return.
“Welcome back!” Penelope shouts, sprinting over in her bright pink Louboutins. “I missed you both so, so much! (Y/N) mostly, but you too, Spencer.”
Spencer rolls his eyes, suppressing his smile. “Oh, thank you, Garcia.” You chuckle at his sarcasm.
“Ugh, it is so good to be back.” You sigh. “Especially since living with Spencer is like having a doctor and a drill sergeant wrapped into one.”
You hear him gasp in offense towards your left. “I am not a drill sergeant.”
“Oh, please. You wouldn’t even let me feed myself— with my good arm!” You raise your left arm and shoulder, causing everyone else to laugh.
“W-Whatever. I’d rather have you hate me than have your injury heal any bit slower.”
“Aw, I could never hate you.” You pull him into your side, ruffling his hair despite his whining.
“How cute.” Penelope gushes, clasping her hands in awe at the sight of you two.
“Hardly.” You scoff, making your way to drop your things off on your desk.
Hotch emerges from his offices, clearing his throat. “(Y/N), Spencer, great to have you back.” He flashes you both a straight smile— classic Hotch. “And you know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a case.”
Emily and Morgan let out loud groans, but you smile. “Ooh, Hotch! Where are we going?”
You might as well be jumping up and down, so it pains Hotch to deliver this second piece of information. “Actually, (Y/N)... You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry— what?”
“You’re working the case from Quantico. The rest of us are headed to Cleveland, Ohio.”
Your brows knit together, and you toss your hands up in frustration. “Hotch! You said nothing about me not being cleared for the field.”
“I know. But I believe it’s in your best interest not to engage in physical activity for the next week.” He mutters.
You’re visibly upset. “Fine. But only one week, right?”
“You have my word. We’ll brief in the round table room, but you’ll stay back and work in Garcia's office.”
That puts a smile on your face.
“Yay! I get the beautiful (Y/N) (Y/L/N) all to myself!” Penelope squeals.
Morgan chuckles, “Try not to be too jealous, pretty boy.”
Spencer blushes and looks in the opposite direction nervously.
“Alright,” Hotch exclaims. “Let’s get started.”
You and Penelope bid goodbye to the rest of the team before making your way back to her office. It’s homey and decorated with the cutest stuffed animals— it’s a shame you don’t spend more time in here.
“You know, I don’t think I’d be nearly as happy if I were stuck here with anyone but you.”
Your words seem to put a genuine smile on her face. “You are so sweet. But don’t let Spencer hear you say that.”
You raise a brow, “Why is everyone acting so weird about Spencer and me?”
She shrugs, “We figured the two of you would be dating by now. Two weeks spent crammed in your tiny little apartment together— I bet you could feel the sexual tension brewing!”
“Garcia!” You groan, leaning back into your chair. “Stop it. Nothing is going on between Spencer and me. We're just best friends.”
“For now... for now.”
You chuckle, dismissing her antics. The two of you run some scans through her data systems, and you work on crafting some sort of a loose profile.
The phone rings, and Penelope claps with enthusiasm.
“It’s the rest of the crime fighters. I’m sure your Spencer will be so excited to hear your voice.”
Before you can object, she clicks the answer button with the back of her glitter gel pen. “Office of Penelope Garcia and (Y/N) (Y/L/N). To whom do we owe the pleasure?”
“H-Hi.” Spencer stammers over the phone. You figured Hotch would be the one to call, asking Penelope to run for IDs based off of new perimeters. “It’s Spencer.”
“We know.” You hope they can’t hear your smile through the phone. Despite being stuck with him and his rules for two weeks, you still loved the sound of his voice. “What’s up? Found anything new?”
“Uhh, no, n-not yet. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Spencer.” You scold. “You left thirteen minutes ago. That’s not nearly enough time for my wound to tear back open.”
“Hey, you never know. You could’ve... I don’t know... reached forward— or back— too hard. If you crane your neck too far to the opposite side, it could stretch the tissue—“
“Thank you, Spencer,” Penelope interjects. “But (Y/N) is completely and totally fine under the care of Penelope Garcia, MD. I won’t let her out of my sight.”
“Just... make sure she’s not in any pain. If your ribs start to bother you take 400 milligrams of Ibuprofen every four hours.” He states.
Penelope groans, “Spencer, (Y/N) will be fine. She’s a grown woman. I’m sure she knows her body well enough not to let her ribs crack open and her shoulder fall off. Do you not trust me?”
“No! No!” Spencer corrects. “I trust you, Garcia. But, I just— we can’t let anything bad happen to her.”
“I’m right here, guys.” You deadpan. “And I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Spencer sighs, “I know, (Y/N). I just wouldn’t want you to be in any pain or discomfort because of your injuries. I know how much getting shot sucks, and I can’t handle someone I’m in love with being in pain.”
Silence settles over everyone.
“You’re in love with me?” You whisper, far too shocked to care that your entire team is listening in on your conversation, and that your behavior is far too inappropriate for an agent working on a murder investigation.
“What? When did I say that.” His voice cracks mid-sentence. “I-I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.” You mutter. “You said you’re in love with me.”
“I-I don’t— I’m sorry.” You hear his embarrassment and anxiety through the phone. Knowing Spencer, he’s probably praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
You shake your head, biting your lower lip. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad.”
You let out an airy chuckle. “Of course not; I’m in love with you too, Spencer.”
You glance over to Penelope, whose palm is slapped over her mouth in pure excitement. You hear gasps coming from the other side of the phone as well.
“I’ll talk to you when you get back, okay.” You’re surprisingly calm despite your biggest dream coming true, mainly because everyone else is listening. “And please, do not call me unless you have new information about the case.”
Spencer gulps, “Y-yeah, the case, the case.”
You nod, “Okay... we’re going to go now. Goodbye, Spencer.”
“B-Bye, (Y/N).” He stutters.
With a shaky hand, you click the end call button on the phone, finally letting out a nervous breath you’d been holding for the entirety of the conversation.
“Oh my god!” Penelope screams, jumping up and out of her seat. “Dreams do come true! Oh my god! This is amazing. You and Spencer— Oh my god!”
“Relax, Garcia.” You shake your head in amusement. “You can celebrate when they finish the case.”
“Because then you and Spencer will talk and finally get together and then get married and have the smartest, toughest, most adorable babies ever. They’ll get the tough from you, obviously.”
You place a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. You have all the time in the world to be happy for me and Spencer.”
She nods, pointing her finger at you. “I can celebrate this forever?”
“Sure.” You shrug.
If anything, you’d be celebrating with her too— because Spencer fucking Reid in love with you.
Getting shot was totally worth it.
a/n: i decided that i liked this sm that i would add a proper summary and description and shit so i could actually call it a oneshot instead of a blurb bc it was already a fucking long you’re welcome
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for the birthday boy
summary: you’ve made spencer a very special birthday gift, one that you hope he’ll love
A/N: i know spencer’s birthday is in october, but i’ve had this idea forever! so i’m sharing it on mine :) <3 it’s festive!
category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader
“Open it!” You were bordering too close to squealing as you pushed the little gift bag across the dining room table, inching it closer to the birthday boy. Your knees were bouncing up and down as you tapped the balls of your feet against the hardwood floors; the morning chill of the surface on your bare feet went unnoticed in light of your excitement.
“But –– the cake?” Spencer paused, an intimidatingly large knife still raised in his hand. The tip of his tongue was poked out of the corner of his mouth, eyes still fixated on the cake as he retreated it back inside. Defeatedly dropping the knife back to the table as you pulled the untouched birthday cake out of the way.
“I can’t wait!” you shrugged, slamming your elbows onto the table and resting your chin on your hands, leaning into him. Leaning so close that your eyeballs were practically touching his face, nose brushing his cheek. Staring at him like a child does at an assortment of pastries behind a glass case; pressed too close, focused too hard, and breathing too heavily with excitement.
“Shouldn’t I be the impatient one?” he laughed, purposely bumping your invasive nose with his cheek.
“Hm,” you huffed, feigning offense. Your hands dropped to your lap and you leaned back, looking at him with contemplative, narrowed eyes. “You’re right. You should be more excited about this present.”
You tried to confiscate it, probably for the entire day, or until he learned to be as enthusiastic about receiving a wonderful gift from his loving girlfriend. But he was quicker than you. He swiped it right off the table, clutching the colorful reflective gift bag to his chest before you could snatch it.
“I’m opening it! I’m opening it!”
He carefully opened it up with a single finger, trying to be sneaky with a stealthy peek into it as if you weren’t literally begging for him to tear it open. Prying off the little strip of scotch tape that held the top of the bag closed, he took a look. Blocked by the volume of tissue paper, stuffed to the absolute brim. Not a single clue as to what lay underneath.
“Dump it out!” you prompted. Just for that, he decided to take his time. You had the jitters as he removed each individual layer of the tissue paper, one by one. So. Painfully. Slowly.
The second he started to neatly fold each sheet into small squares, lining the corners up perfectly and creasing the edges, you committed yourself to smudging the frosting on his cheeks once he blew out his birthday candles later on.
He pretended he was doing it for the environment. Saving the paper so it could be used again later. Really, he’s neither organized enough to keep track of the square tissue sheets, nor is he enough of a humanitarian to think of it. He’s just annoying (and aware that he’d be getting away with it, because it was his day).
After the final layer was removed, folded, creased, and stacked carefully atop the others, Spencer finally peered in. You bit your nails. He laughed and dumped the contents onto the table.
“Thank you, I love socks.” He pressed a peck right below your ear, whispering his gratitude right into it.
“Mhm.” you hummed warmly, gladly accepting the kiss and his arm now wrapped around your waist. “Did you notice something?” you looked pointedly at the heap of brightly colored, oddly patterned socks.
It took him a few moments to realize it. “There’s only one of each?” he wrinkled his button nose. You nodded your head, urging him to take a guess as to why that may be. A little confused, but with the right spirit in his heart as he said, “That’s nice, because I’ll never need the same two at once.”
“Uh-huh. I got them at the mix-and-match sock store.”
“Really? They have those?”
“No, you dunce!” you laughed, smacking the side of his head very gently with your palm. You may have put too much faith in your 187-IQ, genius profiler boyfriend to figure this one out on his own. Clambering out of your seat, you walked to the couch in your living room with Spencer needing a few moments to realize that he was meant to follow.
He took a seat on the cushions as you crouched onto the floor. His mouth opened to make a suggestive comment, when instead you pressed your shoulder to the ground and stuck your arm under the couch to search for something. You pulled out a slim gift box from your very clever hiding place, a twinkle in your eye as you stood up and dropped the box onto his lap.
“I get two presents?” He smiled dopily, spare hand coming up to rub your hip as he hugged your side.
“Yeah,” you scratched his hair, right behind his ear, “but not if you take a million years to open this one, too.”
Message received. He used both hands to quickly and roughly tear off the ribbon that held the box together. You watched every microexpression on his face, a mixture of excitement to finally show him and fear that he might hate it.
For the two longest seconds in human history, his face was blank. Stunned. He didn’t know what to make of it yet. In that blessed third second, the pieces clicked together, and he was painted with adoration. In another fraction of time, he flashed through different stages of joy, wonderment, and most importantly love.
His words barely came above a whisper as he turned it over in his hands, taking in every inch of it. “You made me a sweater…”
“Indeed I did,” you beamed down at him. Every second sock in the pairs you bought had been cut into little squares and hand-sewn together until they formed an absolute monstrosity of a sweater. Pink patches with chocolate-frosted donuts on them. Bright orange pumpkins on dark purple backgrounds. Dinosaurs, books, clowns and mushrooms. Everything he loved. It was hideous, and it was lovely.
As if he didn’t even notice the obvious flaws in it –– the tiny holes from where you forgot to put a stitch, the fact that one sleeve was an inch shorter than the other, a fleck of a coffee stain that of course fell on a white sock patch (with bugs on it!) –– he excitedly flung both arms around your waist, pulling you down to him with overeager force. (He noticed the sweater’s flaws, he simply didn’t care).
In the blink of an eye, he was completely crushed under you, pinned flat to the couch by your body falling over his. Completely by his choice, because he wound both his arms over you to hold you firmly in place, rocking you in a hug as he buried his nose into your shoulder. You giggled, despite feeling a bit bruised from the rough fall onto his bony body, and propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him.
“You like it?” As if you couldn’t tell.
He nodded fast, cheeks starting to feel sore from grinning so hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever struggled this much to describe how much I love something.” (Except maybe you). He got a second wind of excitement thinking about it again, squeezing you even tighter around your middle until you squeaked out the last bit of air in you. “Gonna wear it every day.”
“Hold your horses, cowboy,” you laughed, fishing for the sweater that got mangled up in the cushions after your tumble. “This thing is a beast. You can’t go out in this.”
“Oh yeah? Watch me.” He rolled you to the side, grasping the sweater and scrambling off the couch to slip it on over his pajama top. It was slightly too wide, the fabric hung loosely around his sides in a way that made him look incredibly small. Like you could hold him in your palm, he was so petite. And the sleeves went over his hands, just the tips of his fingers poking out.
“Spencer,” you grimaced at your own work, wiggling a finger through the small hole where you didn’t properly sew two patches together. Poking him right in the belly through that gap. You almost wanted to apologize for giving this to him at all.
He was having none of that. “It’s perfect. Got a little window for tickling, and everything.” He put his hand over yours. You looked at him, eyes welling slightly because he was being so sweet about this. Of course he was.
“Spencer, the sleeves – ”
“The fact that my wonderful girlfriend who I love very much made this for me?” He didn’t even blink as he said it. He was really, truly prepared to wear this out in public, proudly boasting that someone loved him enough to make him something – something that contained every last thing he loved, a list that only someone who loved him would bother to remember, made out of another thing he loved. (There was a whole lot of love going on).
“Okay, then,” you smiled. You thought of Spencer wearing this to work, at his very professional government job where this was sure to raise a few brows. Wearing it in line for his coffee, getting asked questions about it by the baristas who knew him well and telling them his girlfriend (who he apparently loves very much!) made it for him. Wearing it at home, on the couch while he reads his favorite book to you and sips on the perfect cup of coffee you made for him.
“Okay, then.” He gave your hand a small squeeze before taking up the other as well, pulling you up from the sofa to follow him back to the kitchen table. “Now, how about feeding me some cake?” He wiggled his brows, a tiny smirk on his lips.
“Anything for the birthday boy.” You happily pulled his chair out for him, waiting for him to sit before taking a seat in his lap and lighting his candles.
(And yes, as soon as he blew out the candles, he got several streaks of chocolate frosting smeared across his cheeks).
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