#CRIMINAL MINDS

[gf2bellamy]

I have no idea if I hallucinated that requested this or smt, so totally ignore this if i've already asked.

But could you ever do a fic where spencer is at the hospital from that time he got shot at, and reader gets his belongings while he's in surgery and she sees a ring box in between them. (Engagement ring ofc) And she talks with spencer after and tells him that she saw it.

That's kinda the idea, love your work and thanks in advance if you decide to write it. 🥰

ring — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer is in the hospital because of his neck injury , mention of a shooting, reader being worried / panicked , a/n: hii !! i loved this request so much that i ended up writing like 5 different versions of it - i hope you like this !! <33 ( also i definitely got carried away with this )

Blake had practically shoved you out of the hospital waiting room, insisting you go to Spencer’s apartment.

You didn’t want to leave—not when Spencer was still in surgery, not when every second felt like an eternity of uncertainty.

But Blake had been firm but kind. “He’s going to be okay, but he’ll need things when he wakes up.” 

You had resisted at first, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Garcia’s call hours earlier had sent your world spinning. “Spencer’s been shot,” she had said, her voice trembling.

You didn’t remember the drive to the hospital—only the blur of streetlights and the pounding of your heart. When you arrived, Blake had met you in the waiting room. She explained that a bullet had grazed Spencer’s neck, that it was serious but not life-threatening.

Still, the word “surgery” had lodged itself in your chest.

It wasn’t until the doctor emerged to tell you the surgery had gone well that you finally agreed to leave. Spencer was stable, but he wasn’t awake yet, and visiting hours were over. Blake had told you, “Go pack a bag for him. He’ll need clothes when he’s discharged.” 

Now, standing in the middle of Spencer’s apartment, you felt weird.

The space was so him—neatly organized bookshelves, a chessboard set up on the coffee table, and the faint scent of Earl Grey tea lingering in the air.

It was comforting, but it also made his absence feel more pronounced. You took a deep breath and got to work, pulling out a duffel bag from his closet and starting to pack. 

You began with the essentials: a few pairs of pants, sweaters , and socks. You couldn’t help but smile as you grabbed a handful of mismatched ones. But then you remembered his purple scarf, the one he always wore when the weather turned chilly. It was his favorite, and you knew he’d want it when he was discharged. 

The problem was, you couldn’t find it. 

 You opened drawer after drawer, your frustration growing with each one. Spencer was organized, but the scarf was nowhere to be found.

“Where is it?” you muttered under your breath, your hands moving faster as you rifled through his things. You checked the top shelf of the closet, the hooks by the door, even the laundry basket, but it wasn’t there. 

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you pushed aside the row of clothes hanging in the closet, your fingers brushing against something soft and familiar.

There it was—tucked away in the very back, as if it had been hidden on purpose.

But as you pulled the scarf free, something else tumbled out, landing softly on the carpet at your feet.

A small, rectangular white box.

Your breath hitched as you stared at it, your mind racing.

You carefully placed the scarf in the duffel bag, your hands trembling slightly as you bent down to pick up the box. 

The box was too small, too specific to be anything ordinary. You held it in your palm.Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lifted the lid. 

 And there it was. 

A ring.

A beautiful, delicate ring with a diamond that caught the dim light of the room, scattering tiny rainbows across your hand. It wasn’t just any ring—it was an engagement ring.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of your lungs. You sat down heavily on the edge of Spencer’s bed, your legs suddenly unable to support you. 

 “Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly open as you stared at the ring, unable to look away. The diamond sparkled, almost as if it were alive, and you reached out to touch it lightly, as if to confirm it was real. The metal was cool against your skin, the stone smooth and perfect.

Your mind raced, trying to process what this meant. You couldn’t help but already imagine the moment he might have planned—his nervous smile, his hands fidgeting, his voice soft as he asked the question. The image was so vivid it made your heart ache. 

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the ring cradled in your hand, your thoughts spiraling. But then, like a jolt, you remembered where you were supposed to be.

The hospital. Spencer.

He was still there, still recovering, and you were sitting here staring at a ring. 

Carefully, you placed the ring back in its box and closed the lid. Your hands were still shaking as you tucked the box into the duffel bag, burying it beneath the clothes and the scarf. You stood up, slinging the bag over your shoulder, and took one last look around the apartment.

 As you locked the door behind you and headed back to your car, your mind was still spinning.

The drive to the hospital was a daze. The streets blurred together.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot. You sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady your breathing.

The ring. It was all you could think about. 

Finally, you forced yourself to move, grabbing the duffel bag and stepping out into the cool night air. The walk to the entrance felt surreal, like you were moving through a dream. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and you made your way to the waiting room.

You sat down in one of the stiff chairs, the duffel bag resting heavily in your lap. Your thoughts were a swirling mess, replaying every moment, every interaction with Spencer over the past few weeks. Things that had seemed innocent at the time now took on a new meaning. 

A couple of weeks ago, he had dragged you into a jewelry store, casually asking what styles you liked. You had laughed it off, thinking he was just curious. Then there were the random dinners at different restaurants, him intently watching your reactions as you tried new dishes. “What kind of food do you like best?” he had asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. Now it all made sense. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice Blake walking in. She sat down across from you. It wasn’t until she spoke that you snapped back to reality. 

 “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice gentle. 

You blinked, finally noticing her presence. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” you mumbled, forcing an awkward smile.

Your voice sounded distant, even to yourself, and you could tell Blake wasn’t entirely convinced. She studied you for a moment, her gaze flickering to the bag in your lap. 

 “Did you get everything you needed?” she asked, her tone casual. 

You glanced down at the bag, your fingers tightening around the fabric. “Yeah, I got him some sweaters, pants, and just… clothes in general,” you said, your voice trailing off as your gaze drifted to the wall behind her. Your mind was already wandering again, back to Spencer, back to the ring, back to the unanswered questions that were swirling in your head. 

And then, almost casually, Blake added, “And scarves?” 

That got your attention. Your head snapped up, your eyes locking onto hers. She was smiling slightly, her gaze knowing. “You found it, didn’t you?” she asked. She took in your wide-eyed expression, the way your hands tightened around the duffel bag, and she didn’t need an answer.

She already knew. 

“He asked me for advice,” Blake continued, shaking her head as if recalling the memory. A soft laugh escaped her, and you could tell she was amused by the whole thing.

“He did?” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing to keep up with the conversation. 

“Yes,” Blake said, her smile widening. “He wanted to make sure he got it right. Spencer’s not the type to do anything halfway, you know that.” 

A smile tugged at your lips—maybe the first genuine one since Garcia’s call had shattered your world hours ago. You let out an emotional chuckle, the sound shaky. “It’s a beautiful ring,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“It is,” Blake agreed, her voice warm. “He spent weeks looking for the perfect one. Even spent hours in one store, agonizing over the details. You should’ve seen him.” 

You had to brush a tear from your eye as another chuckle escaped you. “That sounds like him,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

The thought of Spencer meticulously searching for the right ring, second-guessing himself, trying to make sure it was perfect—it was so him. So thoughtful, so Spencer. 

It was a lot to process and your mind was still spinning, when suddenly a nurse appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. 

 “Are you two here for Spencer Reid?” she asked.

You nodded immediately, jumping to your feet so quickly that the duffel bag slipped from your lap and landed on the floor with a soft thud. Blake reached down to pick it up, handing it to you with a small smile. “He’s awake,” the nurse continued. “You can see him now.” 

Your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of relief and nervousness flooding through you. You turned to Blake, expecting her to follow, but she stayed seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Are you not coming?” you asked, your voice tinged with confusion. 

Blake shook her head, her smile soft and knowing. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said gently. Her tone left no room for argument, and you realized she understood. The emotions were about to be high, the moment intimate, and Blake was giving you the space you needed. 

You smiled, gratitude washing over you. “Thanks, Blake,” you said, your voice sincere. She nodded, her eyes warm, and with that, you turned and hurried after the nurse, the duffel bag clutched tightly in your hands. 

The walk to Spencer’s room felt both endless and far too short.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand questions, but all of them faded into the background when the nurse stopped outside a door and gestured for you to go in. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before walking away, leaving you standing there, your hand hovering over the door handle. 

 You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and then pushed the door open. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Spencer was lying in the bed, his eyes closed, his face pale. For a moment, you just stood there, taking him in, relief flooding through you at the sight of him alive and breathing. 

 And then his eyes fluttered open, as if he could sense your presence. “Hi,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

 “Hi, Spence,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you closed the door behind you and stepped closer to his bed. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion and the bandage on his neck.

You set the duffel bag down on a nearby chair, your hands fidgeting nervously as you tried to find the right words.

But before you could say anything, Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You’re here,” he said, his voice soft.

“Of course I’m here,” you replied, your voice breaking slightly. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage. Spencer watched you with a weak smile, his eyes soft but tired.

You weren’t entirely sure how to approach the situation. Your hands hovered awkwardly at your sides, unsure whether to touch him or keep your distance.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice gentle as you stood right next to his bed, close but not quite touching. 

 “I’m okay,” Spencer said. He tried to sit up slightly, wincing as he shifted. You instinctively stepped forward, your hands reaching out but still not making contact. “You sure? Do you want me to get you something? Water? A pillow?” you offered, your voice tinged with worry. 

“No, no,” Spencer shook his head, managing a small smile as he finally settled against the raised bed. He glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, and then he whispered, “You can touch me.” 

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him. He had noticed—of course he had. Your hesitation and your fear of hurting him if you touched him.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You immediately rushed to sit down on the edge of the bed, where he had slightly patted the space beside him with as much energy as he could muster. Your hands found their way to his face, brushing the hair away from his forehead, your fingers trembling as they traced the lines of his face. 

“God, you scared me so much,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding in. Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as you continued to gently twist his hair between your fingers. Your hands eventually drifted down to his face, brushing over his cheekbones, your touch feather-light.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, his eyes still closed, his breathing steady but shallow. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

When he opened his eyes, you stared at him for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that he was really here, awake, and alive. The relief was overwhelming, but so was the flood of emotions you’d been holding back. You wanted to say so much, but the words felt tangled, caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. 

Instead, you forced a small smile and shifted the conversation to something lighter. “I got you some clothes,” you said, gesturing to the duffel bag. “I figured your hospital gown isn’t exactly comfortable.” 

“It’s not,” Spencer admitted, his voice still weak but with a hint of amusement. You set the bag on your lap and opened it slightly, pulling out a few items to show him. “I got you some books too,” you added, hoping to distract him—and maybe yourself—from the heaviness of the moment. 

Spencer’s interest was immediately piqued, his tired eyes lighting up just a little.

“Which ones did you—” he started to ask, but then he stopped mid-sentence. His gaze had landed on something in the bag, and his expression shifted.

You followed his eyes and realized what he was looking at: the purple scarf. It was peeking out from beneath the stack of clothes.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker.

Spencer’s mouth opened slightly, his eyes darting from the scarf to you and back again. You could see the realization dawning on his face, and your stomach dropped. 

“It was an accident,” you finally said nervously, breaking the silence. Your voice was rushed, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to find it. I was just grabbing your scarf because, you know, it’s freezing outside, and I thought you’d want it when you’re discharged, and—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were rambling. “I’m sorry,” you added, shaking your head and offering an awkward smile. 

Spencer, meanwhile, was full-on blushing, his pale cheeks now flushed with color. It was a stark contrast to how he’d looked just 20 seconds ago.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes darting nervously around the room before finally settling on the wall behind you. He looked completely lost in thought, his mind racing a mile a minute. 

“No—it’s… it’s okay,” Spencer finally managed to say, though his voice was quiet and hesitant. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Spence?” you asked softly, your slightly trembling hand reaching up to gently cup his face again. Your touch seemed to pull him back to the present, and his eyes slowly met yours.

“I’ve been planning this for a long time,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell from his face, but he caught it before it could retreat, his fingers intertwining with yours. His grip was firm, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. “I asked Blake for advice,” he admitted, his tone sheepish. 

“I know,” you whispered, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She told me.” 

Spencer didn’t seem surprised that Blake had shared that with you. Instead, he nodded, his eyes dropping to your joined hands.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I had a speech prepared, and I—I was going to have this whole routine on how I would ask you.” He tightened his hold on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry you found out like this,” he added, his voice hesitant.

He opened his mouth again, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away, as if he couldn’t bear to hold your gaze. 

The room fell silent. You could see the disappointment in his expression, the way he was beating himself up for not being able to execute his plan the way he’d envisioned. But to you, none of that mattered. What mattered was the love behind it, the thought and care he’d put into something so meaningful. 

After a beat of silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft.

“My answer is the same either way,” you whispered. 

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You want to…?” he started, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The hope in his eyes said it all. 

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yes,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes. “Of course I do, Spencer. How could I not?” 

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and pure joy. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire being. He squeezed your hand tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again.

You smiled, your own eyes slightly glossy as you looked at him. The room felt quieter now, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

“Now you have to heal faster,” you whispered, your voice teasing but tender as you brushed your thumb over his fingers, “so we can get working on our wedding preparations.” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the word wedding, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts shy and delighted.

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he were trying to process the reality of what you’d just said. Then he let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and genuine despite the hoarseness in his voice. 

“Wedding preparations,” he repeated, his tone a mix of awe and amusement. “I… I hadn’t even gotten that far in my planning yet.” He paused, his smile turning sheepish. “I was so focused on the proposal that I didn’t think much about what would come after.” 

You chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got plenty of ideas,” you said, your tone playful. “But first, you need to rest and get better. No more getting shot, okay? I can’t have my fiancé—” The word felt strange but wonderful on your tongue, and you paused, savoring it for a moment before continuing, “—running around getting himself hurt.” 

Spencer’s smile widened at the word fiancé, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fiancé,” he murmured, as if testing out how it sounded. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice soft. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment against his skin. When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, his expression peaceful. 

“I’ll heal faster,” he promised, his voice quiet. “I’ve got a wedding to plan now, after all.” 

[pathologicalreid]

twenty questions | s.r.

in which spencer has all of the answers for stoned!reader's questions

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: drug consumption in the form of edibles! they're emily's (canon compliant), snot, pavlov word count: 504 a/n: we are going to pretend this isn't a request from last summer and that this isn't something i originally wrote for margotober. i was peer pressured into posting this i want that immortalized.

“Exactly how much did you have?” Spencer asked, placing his hands on your shoulders when you started to sway.

You frowned at him, “Two Cheetos worth,” you answer him honestly.

Peering up at you, Spencer studied your expression curiously, “Do you know the milligram amount of cannabinoids in a Cheeto?”

Shaking your head dramatically, you leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, “Nope, they were Emily’s,” you told him honestly, recalling the fact that JJ had been the one to drop you off at home.

Spencer muttered something about not being surprised, sitting down next to you on the couch, “Why does Emily have edibles in the form of Cheetos?”

“Now that is a question for the masses! I haven’t the slightest idea,” you answered, carefully picking at the skin around your nails before leaning over until your head was resting in his lap. “Hi, Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him.

He smiled down at you, “Hi, pretty girl. How are you feeling?”

You sighed in his lap, “I’m high.” In your defense, you didn’t know what the Cheetos were until you had already eaten them. “Why is everything funnier when we’re tired?” You asked, leaning into his touch when he started smoothing your hair back with his fingertips.

“When you’re tired, your body is going through a state of stress. Your body is fighting the onset of sleep by changing the usual mix of adrenaline, endorphins, epinephrine, serotonin, and dopamine in the body and brain,” he continued his ministrations, gently keeping your hair out of your face. “Endorphins are the particular culprit when you feel slap happy.”

Squinting up at him, you nodded in response, “Right, endorphins.” You paused for a moment, “How are boogers made?”

He faltered for a moment, clearly unable to see how you got from point A to point B. “The lining in your nose has the mucous membrane. That’s what makes mucus, or snot. When air hits the mucus and starts to dry out, it becomes a booger.”

You shifted on the couch, “I’m so glad you know everything, it makes my life so much easier.”

“I definitely don’t know everything,” he laughed softly, tapping the tip of your nose with his index finger, “Come on, give me a question that I wouldn’t know.”

Groaning, you pursed your lips, “If someone ate a ton of popcorn kernels before they died, would the kernels pop in the cremation chamber?”

“No,” he answered, laughing at your attempt, “Cremation chambers reach up to 1800 degrees Fahrenheit. The kernels would turn to ash before they've had the chance to pop.”

You furrowed your brows, “Bummer,” you responded. “Hey,” you tried again, “Do you think Pavlov thought about feeding his dogs every time he heard a bell ring?”

A bright smile bloomed on your boyfriend’s face, “You know what, I’m not sure. I think it’s a definite possibility.”

Proud of yourself, you settle your head back into his lap, refocusing your attention on your fingers, “Cool,” you muttered.

[minswriting]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS - A.H x Reader

About: Aaron is served divorce papers after getting back from a case. The team goes out for drinks to decompress and you end up going home with Aaron.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, angst, smut, oral (f), fingering (f), unprotected sex, p in v, cheating?, insecurity problems, again this is angst, slightly intoxicated smut, mentions of a case, boss/employee dynamics, clawing at Aaron’s back, overstimulation, etc.

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: Hello! Please comment and reblog to support your creators! Borders made by @cafekitsune and thank you to @aureatelys for proofreading for me!!

When the team arrived back at the Bureau after a pretty tough case which included the abduction, burning, and mutilation of women, everyone was ready to decompress. It had been a tough case, hitting a bit too close to home for some of the team members. And so, when someone mentioned going out for drinks, everyone was happy to agree. Before you guys could leave, however, someone had stopped Aaron and handed him an envelope.

“Haley’s filing for divorce,” Aaron clarified, looking at the team. His gaze met yours, lingering briefly before he opened the envelope. He looked at the papers, sighed, and put them into his bag. “Shall we go?”

And so, you all were, in O’Keefe’s and drinking some alcoholic beverages. You were next to Aaron, sipping on a fruity cocktail of some sort while he drank a disgusting beer. Derek was dancing with some random women as Penelope watched, JJ and Emily were playing darts with some guys while Spencer sat with a few people, talking about whatever came to mind, and Rossi was outside smoking a cigar, leaving you and Aaron alone.

You had a good relationship with your boss. You both respected one another on a professional level. You were good at what you did and Aaron appreciated that. Just as you appreciated his authority and his ability to lead the team. He had always been someone you admired. The way he would balance leading the team, filing all the paperwork, and dealing with the bureaucracy that came with the position, all while having a wife and a child at home. You always knew it had to be tough and stressful on the man.

As you and Aaron sat at the table, you couldn’t help but look at him. Perhaps it was the fact that he looked so exhausted and worn out or maybe it’s the fact you’re attracted to sad and older men, but you couldn’t help but look at him. Part of you has always been attracted to Hotch. With his dark brown eyes, dark short hair, broad shoulders, how tall he was, and the way he was just so fit. Not to mention the way he was able to dominate a room. It often had you thinking about what it would be like to have sex with him. Was he as dominant in the bedroom as he was at work? Your imagination was endless with images of Aaron and all of the possibilities.

You knew it was wrong. He was a married man or at least would remain so until he signed his divorce papers. Not to mention the fact that he was also your boss. It broke many, many Bureau policies to even think of your boss in such a way. There’s also the fact that he was sad, going through such a tough time without anyone there for him.

“I can feel your eyes on me,” Aaron spoke, taking a sip of his beer, and keeping his gaze on the atmosphere in the bar.

You couldn’t help the small jump as Aaron’s voice, so soft and velvety that it never failed to have you clenching your thighs, kicked you out of your thoughts. Your cheeks felt hot, whether, from the alcohol or the embarrassment of getting caught, you weren’t sure. “Sorry,” You said, grabbing your drink and taking a sip from it, keeping your gaze on the table. “I just-” You paused for a second before reworking your sentence. “Are you alright?”

Aaron took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair as he turned his gaze to look at you. “I’m fine,” He said, his voice disingenuous as he spoke. You knew he wasn’t fine, no one would be in such a situation. Here Aaron was, building walls and avoiding the fact that he was going through such an emotional time. He was always like this. Hiding his true emotions to not let anyone in because if he lets someone in, it means admitting he’s not alright, admitting he’s weak, sustained by the abuse he endured by his father at a young age.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” You said softly, eyes softening as you looked at Aaron. “I mean divorce is a hard thing to go through.”

Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you, silence overcoming the two of you before he broke it. “Do you always do this?” He asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head. “Do what?”

“Try to fix sad men because you lack that control in your life?” He asked before taking another sip of his drink.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. It was the way Aaron coped, a defense to divert the attention away from himself. Aaron was entirely right, of course. It was something you had a bit of a habit of doing. Your previous relationships were brought upon the need to fix damaged goods. This was certainly no different. “Maybe,” You sighed, taking another sip of your drink. “Regardless, my point still stands. It’s okay to not be okay, Hotch,” You exclaimed.

Aaron hummed, placing his glass down. He called down a waiter, ordering you both another round of drinks before looking at you once more. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes raked over your body but as quickly as you had noticed, his gaze was on yours as if nothing had happened. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I suppose you’re right,” He exclaimed. “I’ll be alright though. It was bound to happen at some point.”

You shrugged, finishing off your drink. “Did she give a reason as to why she was divorcing you?” You asked as you placed the glass down.

“Not really,” He stated. “We’ve only talked in regards to Jack but other than that, not much else.” The new round of drinks was set on the table by the waiter, the both of you thanked him before he walked away. Aaron placed your drink in front of you before grabbing his own and placing it in front of him. “I know it’s due to this job.”

You nodded your head in understanding, unsure of what to say in response. It made the most sense. This job, as fulfilling as it was to put away the bad guys, also drained the life out of you. Having to drop anything and everything you’re doing at any given moment to save another city from a serial killer, really affected your day-to-day personal relationships. You couldn’t imagine how bad it was for Aaron, especially with his son involved. “I’m sorry,” You managed to reply, not wanting to leave Aaron’s words unacknowledged.

Aaron was silent for a few moments, looking into his glass, deep in thought. “This job, what we do, it’s important. We catch killers, we save lives, we are heroes. Until the time we go home and then everything changes. Then, I am nothing more than the father and the husband that is never there,” He took a deep breath before sighing.

You listened intently with sympathy. Hearing Hotch open up for the first time was a bit of a shock, the man had way too many defenses up that it made it hard to know anything about his private life other than what he wanted to share. “It’s incredibly lonesome,” you began, glancing around the room as your gaze caught onto each of the team members. “We work and work, trying to protect the citizens of this country, to make it a better place, and yet, no one outside of this team understands what we really go through in order to protect everyone.” You paused for a second, turning your gaze back to Aaron. “At the end of the day, no one will ever truly understand.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he looked at you, taking in your words. “Which is why we find comfort in each other,” he replied softly.

“Which is why we find comfort in each other.” You repeated back, nodding your head. You glanced over at Spencer, who was on the other side of the bar talking very animatedly about something with Penelope and Derek, his hands moving wildly as he rambled on. JJ and Emily had walked over to them, joining in on the conversation and even Rossi joined in as well. Everyone gravitates back to one another eventually, it always happens.

“So how come, instead of talking with the others, you’ve spent the night sitting with me?” Aaron asked suddenly. “I can’t be too joyous to be around right now.”

You looked back over at Aaron, catching his knowing gaze. “You looked like you didn’t want to be alone tonight,” was your response.

“So it’s your savior complex,” Aaron replied with a faint smirk, amusement in his gorgeous brown eyes.

You laughed softly, nodding your head in agreement. “I guess so,” you exclaimed.

At that moment, as the two of you looked at each other, you weren’t boss and employee. You were simply Aaron and Y/N. Two souls, one shamed by his failed marriage and the other ridden with loneliness, finding solace in one another.

What was a seemingly innocent conversation in the bar had quickly turned into something much more than that when in the middle of your conversation, Aaron put his hand on your thigh. You should have stopped it right then and there, told him you both had to keep things professional. But the moment he breathed into your ear, asking you to keep him company for the night, you couldn’t resist. Not when it has been something you’ve been dreaming about since you joined the team.

And now, here you were, in the back of a taxi with Aaron, as the driver made their way through the city to Aaron’s new apartment. The two of you were sitting next to each other, Aaron’s legs were spread, causing his thigh to press up against yours. Other than that, however, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

That was until you arrived outside of Aaron’s apartment complex. The moment the two of you stepped out of the car, Aaron grabbed you by your hips, slightly tentative, as he looked at you. “We don’t have to do this,” He murmured. “We can just pretend this didn’t happen and I can send you home.”

You shook your head, putting your hands on Aaron’s shoulders. “I want to,” you replied softly. “I shouldn’t but I do.”

And that was all Aaron needed before leaning in, his breath fanning your face as his lips inched closer to yours. You were standing on the sidewalk outside of Aaron’s apartment building, about to kiss your boss. The thought should frighten you; yet, the moment he pressed his lips against yours, all thoughts and fears disappeared. You could taste the faint cheap beer that coated Aaron’s mouth as you kissed. Your heart was beating fast and yet, you were calm at the same time. And when you both eventually pulled away, you could see the fire in Aaron’s eyes in the way he looked at you and you were sure he could see it in yours as well.

It was wrong, you both knew it was. But none of that didn’t matter when Aaron was guiding you inside the building, feeling you up in the elevator, kissing you in such a way that it felt almost intoxicating. The drinks you guys had earlier could not compare to the way Aaron kissed you. It was almost dizzying and yet, you couldn’t get enough of it. Aaron had his hands firmly placed on your hips, kissing you hungrily. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling his muscles through the fabric of his dress shirt. One of his hands slipped down to your ass, causing you to let out a soft noise against his lips, which in turn caused Aaron to let out a low, soft chuckle that went straight to your cunt.

When the elevator dinged, the two of you pulled away, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves by any passersby who may want to use the elevator this late at night. Aaron put a hand on your lower back as the two of you walked to his apartment down the hall, stopping once you reached his door. You had never been to Hotch’s apartment, especially because it’s been so recent since his separation from Haley. You had expected it to be completely bare as soon as you walked in but instead, you were met with a relatively furnished apartment decorated with photos and small antiques. It wasn’t anything special but it showed the refined tastes of an older man, not a bachelor pad like you had expected.

As soon as you stepped in, Aaron closed the door behind you. He reached for you once more, pulling you in for another kiss. This one was more intense, and more passionate, showing the growing need between the two of you. You hadn’t expected Hotch to be much of a kisser but you certainly weren’t complaining as he guided you through his apartment with his lips attached to yours.

You placed your hands on Aaron’s suit jacket, pushing the fabric off of him. He removed his hands off of you for just a moment, shrugging off the jacket and tossing it somewhere in the apartment. You pulled away from the kiss for just a moment to speak. But Aaron had other thoughts. “We,” Aaron interrupted you by kissing you again. “Really, shouldn’t,” another kiss. “Be doing this.”

Aaron simply hummed “Mhm,” while still kissing you, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt and trailing it upwards. “I know,” He began but you interrupted him by kissing him. “It’s wrong,” You did so again. “As your boss-” His words fell flat when you pulled away just enough to pull your shirt off and toss it somewhere, revealing a simple black lace bra. “You’re so beautiful,” He murmured, taking you in.

You felt the heat in your cheeks as Aaron looked at you. “I think we are far past worrying about our professional dynamics,” You exclaimed, unable to help the smirk that formed on your lips.

“You’re right,” He confirmed, nodding his head. Aaron’s fingers moved to undo his tie, taking the material and throwing it wherever your shirt landed. He grabbed you again, his lips going from yours to your jawline, pressing soft feather-like kisses along your skin until he got to your neck. Your breath hitched as Aaron kissed your neck, the area being a bit sensitive to the touch. Aaron licked your pulse point, causing you to let out a soft noise. He nipped at it, leaving a small mark, though careful to not make it noticeable as a mark like that could cost you your positions if anyone were to find out who you had gotten it from.

After leaving the small mark, Aaron pulled away, placing his hands on your hips. He guided you to the couch, sitting you down on the leather material. You looked up at him with the prettiest eyes, almost causing Aaron to just say fuck it and take you right then and there. But he controlled himself, wanting to make this good for you both, even if it is for his satisfaction.

He got onto his knees, kneeling before you. “I want to taste you,” Aaron said, putting his hands on your knees. “Is that alright?”

You let out a breathless chuckle, unable to help it. It was sweet that Aaron asked, almost scared that you’d ever deny him anything. If there was one thing he should know about you, it’s that you’ve never denied any of Aaron’s demands. “Yes, please,” you said.

Aaron gave you a small smirk before unbuttoning your jeans. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing Aaron to pull them down completely as he threw them somewhere, leaving you in a pair of matching black lace panties. “Fuck,” Aaron breathed out, licking his lips. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?” You asked, your heart racing at the idea. “For how long?”

Aaron gently grabbed the hem of your panties, pulling them down. “For far much longer than I should admit,” he replied.

That thought made you feel a bit guilty. He likely had been harboring some sort of attraction to you for quite some time and the fact that he’s still technically married dawned upon you. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this and yet, that need you felt growing inside of you outweighed the guilt, especially when Aaron spread your legs and began kissing your inner thigh.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “So perfect. I’m going to ravish you tonight.”

“Please,” you rasped softly, looking at Aaron with an almost pleading expression. You desperately wanted to feel him, to have him do something. You have wanted him for far too long and now that you had him, you didn’t want to let go. You knew that you were just a mere distraction. Perhaps that was your flaw. Being the woman that distracts men from their problems. But you couldn’t help it. Not when the man you’ve harbored an attraction to was sitting before you, on his knees, telling you how beautiful you were.

Without further hesitation, Aaron placed a kiss on your pubic bone before dipping his head lower. He pressed his lips against your cunt, causing you to gasp as he kissed your pussy lips. Then, he stuck his tongue out, licking a strip from your hole to your clit. You let out a moan, spreading your legs further for Aaron to give him better access. Aaron groaned against your pussy. “You’re so sweet,” he said before diving back in, running his tongue in figure eights around your pussy.

“Oh,” you moaned, bringing a hand to Aaron’s dark hair, entangling your fingers into it.

To say it was heavenly would be an understatement. The way Aaron’s tongue lapped around your cunt and how his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it gently. You were whining in pleasure, throwing your head back. You’ve had people go down on you before but it was always a chore to them. This, however, felt like Aaron truly loved going down on you, adoring your pussy. He wasn’t hesitant to dive right in, holding your thighs with his arms as he practically held your cunt against his face. This was a man who thrived eating pussy.

As Aaron sucked on your clit, he trailed his finger to your pussy, teasing your hole by spreading it around the wetness. You let out a whine, tugging at Aaron’s hair, eliciting a moan from the older man. He inserted a finger, thrusting it slowly in and out of you. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, breathing heavily. Aaron eventually added a second finger, curling them to hit your g-spot. You gave a choked moan, and an almost whiny “Aaron,” escaped your lips, causing him to groan against your cunt once more. The vibrations add to the pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you were cumming with your head thrown back against the leather of the couch, thighs clamping around Aaron’s face and hand, and toes curling. And when you finished and relaxed against the couch, Aaron pulled away. His face glistened with your juices, his pupils dilated, and his hair was tousled all over the place from your fingers. He looked so incredibly attractive.

Aaron licked his lips, looking up at you as he was still kneeling. You were breathing heavily, looking at him with a blissful expression on your face. And all of a sudden, Aaron dived back in, eating you out more like a starved and deprived man rather than with precision as he did before. It wasn’t a matter of whether you came or not, it was a matter of what Aaron wanted. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to live between your thighs. “Oh!” You moaned loudly, your hands going back to Aaron’s hair as he began licking your cunt all over.

You were whining and moaning, writhing around on the leather of Aaron’s couch as he ate you out desperately. He began sucking and slurping up your juices, burying his nose into your cunt. It wasn’t didn’t take long for you to cum all over his face once more as Aaron moaned against your cunt, relishing in the fact you were pulling his hair. This was the sign of a pussy drunk man. And you adored it.

When you finished a second time, Aaron pulled away completely, taking a second to gather his breath before standing up. You looked up at him, legs spread with just your bra still on. He began to undo his shirt, frantically undoing the buttons. He wanted you. He needed to be buried inside of your cunt. He threw his dress shirt somewhere in the living room, not caring as to where it landed. “Need you,” Aaron said hoarsely, moving to undo his pants.

You watched as Aaron moved with desperation you had never seen in such a normally composed man. You reached behind yourself, undoing your bra and tossing it next to you on the couch. Aaron kicked off his slacks, revealing his boxers and his obvious erection. The outline of his cock was seen perfectly and your mouth practically watered at the sight. He pulled down his boxers, stepping out of them as he made his way back to you. His cock was big, bigger than you’ve ever had, and it was girthy too. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips as your cunt fluttered around nothing at the idea of Aaron fucking you.

Aaron gave a deep chuckle as he saw the way you reacted to him. “Lay down for me,” He said, standing in front of you on the couch. You obeyed, moving your legs onto the couch as you lay down on your back on the cushions. Aaron crawled on top of you, taking a second to just look at you, really take you in. You, one of his best profilers, were lying underneath him, on his couch, ready for him to take you. All because you didn’t want him to be lonely tonight. Admittedly, he felt guilty. He felt as though he was using you with how his wife had just left him. But he couldn’t deny the attraction he has felt for you since you had joined the team. And now that he finally had an opportunity to have you, he wasn’t going to lose it.

“Beautiful,” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss onto your sternum before moving to kiss your boobs. He swirled his tongue along your nipple teasingly, eliciting a small moan from you, before kissing upwards to your neck and jawline. He reached between the two of you, gripping himself as he guided his cock to your folds. He rubbed the tip against your slit, spreading your wetness onto his cock before lining himself up against your hole. He slowly eased himself into you, causing both of your breaths to hitch.

“You’re so wet,” Aaron breathed out.

“Yeah, that tends to happen,” You replied, face contorting into slight pain as Aaron’s cock stretched you out. “You’re so big,” You whined slightly.

“I know, darling,” Aaron murmured, still taking his time to ease into you. When he was fully inside of you, he stayed still, giving you time to adjust.

After a few minutes, the pain subsided as you relaxed. The stretch turning from pain to pleasure. “Y-you can move,” you stuttered, looking up at Aaron as you bit your bottom lip.

Aaron didn’t hesitate to start moving his cock out of you before thrusting it back in, repeating those movements. “You’re so fucking tight,” He groaned.

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as Aaron began moving his cock inside of you. The feeling was rather dizzying, more so than the kiss from earlier. The feeling was electrifying. He was so much bigger than anyone you had ever slept with and already so much better. You were sure that Aaron had ruined sex for you forever and you knew that this was likely going to be the only time you’d sleep with the man.

Aaron began picking up the pace, causing you to moan louder. “Aaron,” you said his name loudly, bringing your hands to his back, clawing at the skin. Not enough to hurt him but enough to cause Aaron to hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He groaned, fucking you deeply. To say he was feeling good would be an understatement. You were so warm, so wet, and so tight. He hadn’t felt something as amazing as your pussy in such a long time. At this moment, if Aaron died feeling your cunt wrapped around him, he would die a happy man. The fact his marriage failed couldn’t bother him when he was buried deep inside of you. “You feel incredible,” Aaron said, slamming his hips against yours as he fucked you.

“Just like that,” You whimpered as Aaron’s thrusts got more frantic. You could feel yourself getting close as Aaron’s cock grazed your sweet spot, making you see stars. “Am so close, Aaron.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He grunted, moving inside of you. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

And that was all you needed before you were whining, arching your back as you clamped around Aaron’s length, moaning his name so prettily that he could’ve busted right then and there. And he did as he buried himself so deep inside of you and came, filling you up with his cum.

When you both were done, you expected to be finished, for Aaron to toss you to the side and tell you to go home. Instead, however, he maneuvered you into his lap as he sat on the couch, inserting himself back into you and using his cum as lube as he thrusts up into you, fucking you both into overstimulation.

The night was spent fucking each other in so many positions all over Aaron’s apartment. And by the end of the night, you were both spent, fully satisfied from the amount of orgasms you had. You were in Aaron’s bed after he came inside of you once more, lying next to him as you both breathed heavily. Once you had calmed down, you sat up in the bed, ready to get up and gather your things. But just as you stood up, Aaron grabbed your hand. You turned to look at him, seeing the almost pleading expression on his face. “Stay? Just for tonight?” He asked.

And how were you ever going to say no to that? “Sure,” You whispered, lying back down in the bed.

Aaron pressed a kiss onto your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. “Thank you,” He murmured against your skin, burying his face in your neck as he held you. You hadn’t expected Aaron to be much of a cuddler after sex and yet, here you were.

“There’s no need to thank me,” You murmured back, placing your hand on top of Aaron’s.

Eventually, sleep consumed you both, the exhaustion from the case and that night’s vigorous activities finally catching up to you.

In the morning, the sound of Aaron’s cell phone ringing awoke the both of you from your slumber. Aaron inhaled sharply before removing the arm that was wrapped around you. He reached for his phone, answering it with a deep, raspy morning voice that sent a shiver down your body. “Hotchner,” He rasped out. You turned from your side onto your back, the blanket drifting off of you and revealing your chest, causing Aaron to not so subtly look.

After a few minutes, Aaron hung up the phone, placing it back on his nightstand. “We have a case,” He said before getting up and out of bed.

You followed suit, shivering as the crisp air touched your skin. You took a second to gather your surroundings, stretching as you did so as Aaron walked over to his closet.

Neither of you spoke, not quite knowing what to say after last night's endeavors. You made your way out of his bedroom, going to the living room and gathering your clothes, getting dressed. You knew you were just a means to forget about the hardships Aaron was going through, nothing more and nothing less. At the end of the day, he was still your boss above all else.

And when you were completely dressed in yesterday’s clothes, Aaron came out dressed in a fresh suit. He looked at you for a moment before speaking. “Last night can’t happen again,” He said, his face and voice void of emotion as his walls were built up once more. “It was nothing more than a moment of weakness.”

You nodded your head in understanding, feeling your heart drop. “Of course, sir.” You agreed. Because of course, it was nothing more than that. And you would always be there to help in a moment of weakness.

Yet, that night, back at the hotel while on a case in Chula Vista, California, you found yourself in Hotch’s hotel room as he ravished you once more. By the next morning, he said the same thing as he had said the previous day. “It was nothing more than a moment of weakness,” in that soft, velvety, stoic tone. And thus began a strange arrangement where you’d sleep with your boss whenever he wanted it and you allowed it because you wanted it too.

[l0vergirlwrites]

the science of kisses ; spencer reid

synopsis: during a make out session, you & spencer explore the concept of erogenous zones.

warnings: established relationship with fem!reader, mentions of kissing & slight sexual suggestive content, spencer being smug af because he’s confident in your relationship, reader matching spencer’s vibe!!!

note: i just had to write this after having a psych lecture about it, so this is hella indulgent but i hope y’all enjoy 💋

minors dni with this post!

“did you like that?”.

nodding your head, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, but it sounded more like a mewl as it escaped your lips.

it was late.

both you & spencer were well aware of the how the time had dipped from the late night to absurdly early morning, but neither of you cared. at least, not when his body was draped over yours like this, lips moving across your neck in languid strokes like a painter.

“feels nice” you said real breathy & cute, causing spencer to press another kiss to the same spot just at the side of your neck below your ear, smiling into your skin when your hands gripped his sides a little tighter.

he couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of him being the reason why you were falling into bliss like this.

“do you want to know why it feels nice there?” he asked in a hushed tone due to the close proximity of his mouth to your ear.

you almost groaned in response because surely spencer knows what effect his words have on you, right?

“because it’s an erogenous zone?” you asked, shutting your eyes when his teeth lightly grazed your pulse point as if he was giving you a reward, feeling his thumb press harder into your hip on top of the mattress.

“good answer” he pulled back to get a good look at you, lips slightly swollen with pride as he looked down at you.

the way your chest rose up & down a little quicker, the hazy gaze in your eyes—you were enjoying every minute of it.

“erogenous zones feel so nice because the stimulation in those areas increase feelings of pleasure” your eyes stayed focused on the way his lips moved as he spoke, how they curled into a knowing smile when he realized your attention was locked in on them.

humming in response, you lifted a hand to cup spencer’s cheek, dipping your thumb to smooth over his bottom lip after a moment, relishing in its softness. “you’re real cute when you talk like that”.

latching a hand to yours, spencer pulled your hand back before pressing a few kisses to the inner part of your wrist, inching his way to your palm & back all innocently.

your jaw went slack as he maintained eye contact.

“everyone has multiple erogenous zones on their body, some are more heightened than others,” he spoke slowly as his lips touched the heel of your palm, noting how tightly you continued to grip his shirt.

that’s another one, he noted in his mind.

“why do you think that’s the case?” spencer pulled your hand away, gently placing it back onto the mattress before leaning closer to your face again, humming when your hand run through his hair, scraping his scalp in just the right way to make him preen.

you smirked with satisfaction.

“because the skin is the body’s largest organ, so it makes sense why there’d be multiple spots with—oh—uhm, heightened sensitivity” you tried keeping your composure as he made his way to the right side of your neck, continuing his kisses across you skin before sucking on a few spots, humming when you finished your sentence.

“i should give you a gold star for that one”.

“you basically already are”.

“you’re right”.

“i kno—shit, spence” you exhaled sharply when his lips sucked just above your right collarbone, aiming to leave a sweet mark as a memory.

you were sure you’d feel the slight bruise in the morning, but you didn’t mind.

not when it felt so good.

“you were saying?” he lifted his head up, ignoring the way you rolled your eyes & how your eyebrows were pinched together in relief.

“shut up” you let a smile slip loose, shoving him away weakly before reeling him back in, letting his nose nudge yours. “you’ve got a mouth on you, reid”.

“so i’ve been told. but i don’t think you mind it much, sweetheart” he said all suave, drifting a hand down to the crevice of your right knee to let him pull your thigh taut to his hip, caging him into your form without any protest.

spencer was turning you on with science, & you were falling for it. but what else were you supposed to do?

“if i say i like it, will you kiss me?” you asked, lips ghosting his own, his eyes trained on the way you bit your lip in anticipation for whatever is to come.

spencer shrugged his shoulders playfully, “i wouldn’t be against that”.

“okay, i like it. kiss me—“ he stole your breath away eagerly, chests pressed against the other as you sucked his top lip between yours, moaning at the feeling of his tongue swiping your mouth like he’s done so many times before, but the feeling never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“baby—“ you breathed, hands gripping his hair like a vice the longer he kissed you back, tummy flipping when his hips pressed firmly into yours in response to the pet name.

“yeah?” spencer licked his lips once he pulled away, pupils blown wide as his heart raced, staring at you like you were the woman only alive.

“show me where your erogenous zones are, please?”.

you’ve never seen his head nod so fast.

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[megumimania]

saw this thread of people showing off their engagement rings and thought this is so s6-7!spencer x fiancée!reader coded.

“good morning, everybody!” you chirped, rolling in with pastries and some fresh coffee for the team.

your unusual enthusiasm on a monday morning was met with looks of suspicion from the team. the unexpected coffee run that you were known to hate did nothing but further their suspicions.

“so i’m guessing valentines went really well for you, huh?” derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you. the implication making your skin run hot.

“if i have to sit through another hr seminar on appropriate discussions in the workplace, it’s all your fault.” you swatted his shoulder playfully (purposefully), laughing as he jerked back and soothed his achy shoulder. “this is your first strike morgan.”

“ouch! did pretty boy get you brass knuckles for valentines or something?” he momentarily frowned rubbing his now sore arm. his eyes lit up as he realised the rock that was sitting on your finger.

“well i’ll be damned, that is a rock.” he whistled lowly, taking your hand as he moved it closer to the light, to inspect it even more closely. emily, jj and penelope walked over to you and derek, intrigued by the shiny new thing on your finger.

“what are you guys doing—ooh!” penelope marvelled at the ring much to a disgruntled derek, who couldn’t believe spencer was going to get married before he did.

“oh it’s even more gorgeous in person, damn those crappy pixels.” she grumbled, as she moved your hand so the diamonds would glitter under the desk lights. It was an intricate design that had your birthstone adorned on it.

the girls shared the same level of enthusiasm and excitement as you did. with jj and emily asking for a play by play of how the proposal went down, from the restaurant to the date and finally to when spencer finally proposed.

“it looks like spencer is quite the romantic.” emily commented, seemingly surprised and happy for you both.

love wasn’t something all agents could afford to have—especially in their line of work. so the fact the two of her favourite people were getting married in spite of the odds made her happy.

“okay proposal talk aside, who is gonna be the maid of honor? who’s gonna be your bridesmaids? are you planning to hyphenate or are you gonna take the plunge and go all the way?” penelope asked, already thinking about the logistics of it all that made you chuckle.

the thought of it all was overwhelming, all of the eventual planning and budgeting you were going to have to do was threatening to crash the excitement of your wedding. it was jj’s calming voice that calmed the barrage of thoughts that were running through your head.

“pen, she just said yes to the man like four days ago.”jj giggled at her friends eagerness. “i’m sure they’ll iron out the details later.” she replied, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder which you were thankful for.

in the midst of the congratulations you were receiving from your fellow colleagues and associates alongside the pre wedding buzz, everyone failed to noticed to spencer walk in.

it wasn’t until morgan caught the familiar mop of brown hair was when he called out to him. “hey, pretty boy! why didn’t you say that you and bau barbie over here got engaged?”

you rolled your eyes at his nickname for you. it was born from your affinity to wear an assortment of stylishly impractical outfits that always made it past fbi standards because you always somehow made it functional for use. like the time you chased an unsub down in a park wearing designer jeans.

spencer sheepishly rubbed his neck that flushed a shade of light pink as the attention was now on him. “i thought the picture on her instagram story was already a dead giveaway.” he shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets.

the post couldn’t have been more obvious if you had tried. the shot of you posed up on the couch with your hand resting on your head as if you were nursing a mean headache, with the ring almost demanding to be the centre of attention. you and spencer agreed it was a pretty funny take on the traditional engagement announcements.

“oh, so you were letting the ring do all the talking. smart.” morgan nudged you playfully, before he turned to join the others who were busy fawning over pictures of henry that jj was showing them all.

spencer thought this would be the right time to steal a quick kiss from you. he wasn’t a fan of pda and preferred his quite intimate moments with you away from prying eyes.

he barely managed to press a swift kiss before morgan teased him, “hey loverboy! you better save that for the wedding night.” he said a bit too loudly as half of the office turned to the source of the noise. if there was anything spencer hated being the topic of bureau gossip, but that was less than his hatred for meaningless small talk.

he sighed knowing that he’d be subjected to hearing ‘congratulations’ or knowing glances all day or maybe week—depending if anything else more interesting happened like the one time there was a interdepartmental affair between the cybercrime and the counterterrorism unit.

morgan chuckled watching spencer’s face flush a light pink in response to getting caught. yeah it looked like the prank war treaty and truce that garcia made them both sign and agree to in her signature glittery pen, after she accidentally got flour-bombed in the midst of their prank war was about to be over with.

you just hoped that you’d be kept out of the crossfire this time and that they’d manage to pack it in before your upcoming wedding.

[katcantstopthinking]

PLS I LOVE THEM SM

the team is chasing the sickest murderers to ever live meanwhile these two on the phone sexually harassing each other

[gf2bellamy]

hi! love your fics so much <3 i was wondering what do you think of sunshine!reader and post-prison spencer... like that man is so wary about everything after what he'd been through and sunshine!reader was just being the goodness incarnate, breaking down his walls one by one 🙏🏻

sunshine — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer having a cut on his forehead , mention of spencer having nightmares , mention of germophobia a/n: hiii !! this made me realize how much i love writing sunshine!reader x postprison!spencer <3 hope you like this

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you laughed with Penelope, your bright energy filling the room like a warm sunrise. The corners of his mouth twitched—just barely—but as soon as he felt it, he forced himself to look away, focusing on the coffee he was pouring.

But then, like clockwork, you shattered through them. 

“Spencer!” Your voice was light, cheerful as you entered the breakroom. “Hi! Good morning! I haven’t seen you all day.” 

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing against his in an innocent touch, but one that sent a ripple of warmth through him. He straightened slightly, tightening his grip on the coffee cup.

“Morning,” he murmured. “Yeah, I woke up a little late today.” 

What he didn’t say—what he never really said—was that the nightmares had stolen his sleep again, twisting through his mind until exhaustion finally won out, making him oversleep. 

You tilted your head. “You know, my alarm clock is pretty amazing. Hasn’t failed me once,” you said, watching him take a sip of coffee. Then, almost as an afterthought, you mumbled, “Except maybe once or twice…” 

A sheepish grin spread across your lips before you perked up again. “But I can totally give you the brand name! You should definitely get one.” 

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The way you stood there, all warmth and light, as if the world hadn’t touched you with the same cruelty it had touched him. A part of him wanted to let that warmth in—just a little. 

Instead, he gave you a small, wary smile. “No, it’s fine… but thank you.” You flashed him a bright smile.

“Okay,” you said simply, turning to grab a cup and start making your own coffee. 

Spencer lingered for a moment, watching as you hummed softly to yourself, completely absorbed in your task.

He exhaled quietly, forcing himself to turn away. But as he reached the doorway, something pulled at him.

So he glanced back. 

Just for a second. 

You, still oblivious, stirred your coffee, completely unaware of the way his gaze softened—just barely—before he shook his head at himself and disappeared down the hall. 

He wasn’t sure why he looked back. Maybe that was the part that scared him the most. 

That wasn’t the first time moments like this had happened. 

Like that one evening on the jet. 

The case had been brutal. He sat in his usual spot, silent, lost in thought. 

And then there was you. 

Sliding into the seat next to him, your knee brushed against his, a casual, fleeting touch that sent a ripple of awareness through him. You didn’t pry or push—you never did.

You simply pulled a small Sudoku book from your bag and flipped it open. A quiet invitation. 

Spencer wasn’t sure why he kept sneaking glances at you as you worked through the puzzle, pencil tapping idly against the page. Maybe it was the way your lips quirked in concentration, or how you absentmindedly twirled the pencil between your fingers when you were thinking. 

You were stuck—long enough that he finally caved. 

“Four,” he murmured, tapping his finger lightly against the empty square, his arm brushing against yours in the process. 

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his, and then came that smile—the one that made something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.

“Thanks,” you said. For some reason, that made him feel lighter. You bit your lip surpressing an even bigger smile at the realization that your plan was working.

At some point, you shifted the book between the two of you, an unspoken offer to let him join in. He could have filled out the entire page in seconds—he already had the answers mapped out in his head—but he waited, watching you work through each number, patient in a way he rarely was. 

And when he saw it—that telltale little pout, the way your lips puckered just slightly when you were stumped. 

Without a word, he would lean in again, pencil grazing the page. 

“Seven,” he murmured. 

Your smile was even brighter this time. You always had a way of brightening his day, even when he least expected it. 

Some mornings, Spencer woke up convinced that smiling was out of the question. And yet, somehow, you always managed to prove him wrong. 

Like today. 

He stepped into the bullpen, his eyes catching Emily and JJ standing by a small pink bakery box, happily grabbing donuts from inside. By the time he walked closer, the box was already half-empty. 

Typical. 

Spencer barely had time to process his disappointment before your voice chimed in from behind him. 

“Spencer!” 

He turned just as you appeared, a small box in your hands. Without hesitation, you pressed it into his. 

“Here.” 

He blinked down at it, fingers curling around the edges. “Hi. What’s this?” 

“Open it,” you urged, practically bouncing on your feet. 

Lifting the lid, he found a single chocolate-sprinkled donut inside. His favorite. 

“I knew the team would finish them all,” you said, nodding toward JJ, who—right on cue—grabbed another donut with a sheepish grin. “So I thought I’d get you one in a separate box.” 

You smiled, and Spencer found himself just… staring. 

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” he said softly, offering a small but genuine smile before taking a bite. 

You and he both knew why you’d gone out of your way to do this. It wasn’t just because he was often late these days, dragging himself in after nights spent wrestling with his own mind. It wasn’t just because the team had a tendency to wipe out the treats before he even got a chance. 

It was because you’d noticed. 

Noticed the way he hesitated before grabbing food that others had already touched. Noticed that, despite his insistence that prison had forced him to overcome his germophobia, old habits still lingered. 

But neither of you said anything about it. 

Instead, you just smiled at each other before heading to your desks, like this was normal—like it wasn’t something small and kind and significant. 

And maybe, for the first time in a long while, Spencer started to believe that kindness didn’t always come with a catch. 

That's when things started to shift.

One morning, as you were settling in at your desk, a cup appeared in your line of sight. 

You blinked, looking up—only to find Spencer standing there, his expression unreadable but his gesture speaking louder than words. 

“Oh.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face before it melted into a bright smile. “Thank you.” 

You took the cup carefully, warmth seeping into your palms, trying to pretend like this wasn’t a big deal. Like your heart hadn’t skipped a little at the thought of Spencer Reid going out of his way for you. 

Spencer shifted slightly on his feet, glancing away as if regretting the decision to linger. “I, um… You always bring everyone else coffee. Thought I’d return the favor.” 

Your fingers curled around the cup a little tighter. 

“Oh, so you do notice,” you teased lightly, taking a sip. It was exactly how you liked it. Of course it was—Spencer noticed everything. 

He gave a small, almost imperceptible huff of amusement, shaking his head. “I notice a lot of things.” 

Something in the way he said it made your stomach flip. 

But before you could respond, he cleared his throat and tapped the file on your desk. “We have a briefing in five minutes.” 

And just like that, he was walking away, as if this was nothing. As if he hadn’t just let his walls slip, even for a second. 

You watched him go, a knowing smile playing on your lips. 

Little by little, he was letting you in. 

And he probably didn’t even realize it yet. 

The next instances were small, almost imperceptible, but to anyone paying attention, it was clear Spencer was letting his walls down bit by bit.

He’d consistently choose the seat next to you in the bullpen, even if there were other open spots. He’d find himself working alongside you—no matter what the task was.

And it wasn’t just in the office. Spencer’s schedule seemed to align with yours more often than not. He’d find himself finishing up work at the same time as you and walking out alongside you.

The way he would stand near your desk, leaning in just a bit to hear your voice, was becoming something he almost looked forward to. 

There was no grand moment of confession, no flashing neon sign that screamed, Spencer is letting you in, but it was happening in little gestures, in the softening of his gaze when he looked at you.

Maybe he wasn’t fully aware of it, or maybe he was too guarded to admit it, but it was happening, and that was enough for you. 

But one particular day, the usual rhythm shifted. The case they’d been working on had taken its toll on everyone, but Spencer had been especially distant.

No one had missed the way he’d brushed off the slight injury to his forehead, a thin cut from the struggle during the case.

It was barely noticeable at first, but under the harsh lighting of the bullpen, it was impossible to ignore. 

“Spencer.” Your voice was soft but firm. He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. 

You were already reaching into the drawer of your desk, fingers brushing over the familiar cool metal of your first aid kit.

It was instinct, really—an automatic response to someone else’s pain. 

“Come here,” you said, motioning toward the chair beside your desk. Your smile was warm and reassuring.

“I’m fine.” His voice was quiet, dismissive. A reflex, more than anything. 

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Spencer Reid,” you said gently, and something about the way you spoke his name made his resolve waver. “You’re not fine. Come here.” 

For a moment, he didn’t move. You saw the conflict flicker across his features, the instinct to withdraw battling against something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like longing. 

Then, with a quiet exhale, he relented. 

You resisted the urge to let out a relieved sigh as he sat down, watching as he brushed his hair back from his face.

“You should’ve taken care of this before we got on the jet,” you murmured, pulling out disinfectant and a clean cotton pad. Your hands worked steadily, but your heart was another matter entirely.

It always seemed to race when he was close like this. 

Spencer huffed a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. “There were more important things to worry about.” 

You frowned. “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to take care of yourself.” 

He didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you stepped closer, standing between his legs without thinking twice about it. It wasn’t until your fingers tilted his chin gently upward that you realized how close you were. 

Your breath hitched. 

Spencer, for his part, remained still. If he was aware of the proximity, he didn’t say anything. But you saw the way his lips parted slightly, how his gaze flickered from your hands to your face like he was memorizing the details of the moment. 

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. 

“This might sting,” you warned softly. 

He gave a small nod, but his eyes never left yours. 

The moment the antiseptic touched his skin, he barely reacted. But you felt the sharp intake of his breath, saw the slight twitch of his fingers where they rested on his lap. 

“You’re really bad at this whole ‘letting people take care of you’ thing, you know that?” you said, attempting to lighten the air between you. 

Spencer exhaled a small chuckle, and the sound made your chest feel warm. 

“I’m aware.” 

You smiled despite yourself, shaking your head as you pressed a bandage carefully over the cut. “Yeah, well. Lucky for you, I’m stubborn.” 

Something flickered in his eyes—something almost too vulnerable to name. 

“I’ve noticed,” he murmured. 

Your fingers lingered against his skin for just a second too long before you forced yourself to take a step back, clearing your throat. 

“There,” you said, suddenly feeling breathless. “Good as new.” 

Spencer didn’t move right away. He just sat there, watching you in a way that made your stomach twist into knots. 

Then, finally, he spoke. “Thank you.” 

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Anytime.” 

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, Spencer did something that surprised you. 

He stood up and reached out, hesitating only for a second before his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The contact was fleeting—just enough to make your breath catch—but then, in a single motion, he pulled you forward. 

Before you could fully process it, you found yourself wrapped in his arms. 

Spencer was hugging you. 

It wasn’t a quick, polite embrace. It was full-bodied, desperate in a way that made your heart ache. His arms tightened around you as if he was afraid you might slip away, and when you felt his lips rest against your shoulder, you thought you might actually break. 

You exhaled shakily, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around him in return. You felt the tension in his frame, the way he held onto you like he didn’t want to let go. 

One of your hands moved up, fingers threading softly through his hair in a soothing motion. You felt him exhale against your skin, the tension in his shoulders melting little by little as he leaned into your touch. 

When he finally pulled away, it was slow—like he wasn’t entirely ready to let go. His hands lingered at your waist, his fingers ghosting over the fabric of your shirt.

His eyes, usually guarded, were soft in a way you rarely got to see. 

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of it. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupted gently. “Not for that.” 

He blinked at you, something unreadable passing through his gaze. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded. 

And then, to your surprise, he lifted a hand, hesitating for only a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was barely there, fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine. 

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of just how close you still were. 

“I should probably—” Spencer started, but he didn’t move, his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, but you didn’t move either. 

Neither of you did. 

Not yet. 

And in that moment, you knew. 

The walls he’d spent so long building were finally beginning to come down. 

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you join the team as a replacement after jj's departure. despite the initial stress and difficulties adapting, you manage to fully connect with the rest of the team. more than that—you make friends. and fall in love. but after unexpected events and returns, your time with them comes to an end—because, in the end, you were only a placeholder.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x bau!female reader, reader is an anxious overthinker whom i want to hug so badly, my intention was not to antagonize jj and i don't want it to be perceived that way, possibly incorrect infodump about tiramisu—offended italians, please don’t come to my house with torches and forks, melancholic, sad ending aka matilda's standard

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.3k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request

6 months ago…

If you look at it in a certain way, almost everything started with tiramisu. Or rather, it started with your conversation with Penelope—overheard by Rossi—where you boasted about being an expert at making this Italian dessert. Or perhaps the most accurate statement would be that it started with JJ. After all, you were brought into the Behavioral Analysis Unit as her replacement — their new, young media liaison, meant to gain more experience through the role. 

Anyway, that Saturday evening, you felt a slight chill on your shoulders as you stepped out of the car, clutching a massive tray of freshly made tiramisu and silently praying not to drop it before making it inside. Rossi’s house—excuse me, his mansion—truly looked impressive.

 You couldn’t say you weren’t nervous. In fact, you were absolutely terrified—and not because of what the senior member of your new team might say about your baking skills. It was something else entirely.Eeryone had been invited that evening, including the team members you hadn’t yet gotten to know outside of work. Your relationship with them was strictly professional, and more often than not, you caught yourself wanting to appear flawless in their eyes. To prove that, despite your lack of experience, you were worthy of taking on this role. That, despite your relatively young age, you were mature and responsible.

So yes, you were nervous. In fact, the anxiety grew with every step you took toward the door, your grip on the tray tightening until your knuckles turned white.That didn’t stop you from almost dropping it when you suddenly jumped at the sound of your name spoken from behind.

 "Oh my—" you gasped, inhaling sharply, instinctively wanting to clutch your chest—except both your hands were occupied.

Spencer Reid's brown eyes widened as he realized just how badly he had startled you.

 "Sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s fine," you assured him, nodding a little too quickly. You took a slower breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. You worked with people who hunted serial killers for a living, delved into the darkest, most nightmarish cases—and yet, you nearly had a heart attack just because someone called your name.

 In your defense, you were a woman alone at night, and a tray of tiramisu wasn’t exactly the deadliest weapon.Noticing the guilt still lingering on his face, you forced a smile and lifted the tray slightly. "I mean it. As long as I didn’t drop the cake, everything’s fine."

He stood before you with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, a purple scarf draped around his neck. The corners of his lips lifted slightly at your response, but you knew it was just a polite gesture—there was nothing particularly amusing about what you’d said.

You suddenly became aware of the silence stretching between you, neither of you moving, the moment teetering on the edge of awkwardness. You cleared your throat. Maybe you should compliment the scarf. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him. 

After all, this was Dr. Spencer Reid—the man whose name had once reached your ears and settled somewhere in your thoughts, cementing itself under the label of genius. That was the lens through which you saw him, having yet to familiarize yourself with any of his other traits.

What you had noticed, however, was that he seemed to prefer keeping you at a distance. And yes, it all traced back to your first meeting—your first greeting, your first outstretched hand, and the first, slightly awkward:

It’s actually safer to kiss.

“You think we’re the first ones here?" you asked, just before pressing the doorbell. Then, hesitating, you bit the inside of your cheek. "Actually…maybe we’re a little too early." 

"I think we’re fine," he replied. "Rossi said eight."

You gave a small nod. The door swung open.

“What are you doing here so early?" You and Spencer exchanged a glance.

"If I remember correctly—and I do—you said eight. It’s eight."

"Decent people show up fashionably late."

"And then you’d complain that the younger generation doesn’t respect your time."

You watched the exchange in silence, noticing the flicker of amusement in both men’s eyes. Of course, they weren’t actually arguing—just friendly banter. Still, something about it caught your attention. You wondered if you’d ever feel comfortable enough around them to join in like that.

He stepped aside to let you both in, and as you crossed the threshold, you realized you hadn’t said a word yet. 

“As promised," you started, nodding toward the dessert in your hands. "My specialty."

Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

"We’ll see about that. “

But he did take the tray from you while you slipped off your coat. 

"I was actually about to make an important call," he announced. "Before someone decided to show up early. So, if you’ll excuse me, you’ll have to entertain yourselves for a bit. Be so kind as not to destroy my kitchen. Everyone else should be here soon."

And with that, he simply left you there. 

Reid clearly knew his way around the house—he had to—because without hesitation, he led you straight to the kitchen, where you set the dessert down on the black marble countertop. And just like that, the two of you were left alone, connected by a slightly awkward silence.

"Maybe I should cut it," you mused, your gaze falling on the tiramisu. "Rossi wouldn’t mind if I used his knives, right?" 

"I don’t think so," he said, standing on the other side of the kitchen island, made of white wood with plenty of drawers.

To your surprise, you realized he was watching your movements. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to realize that you noticed it from the corner of your eye. Or maybe you were imagining it, but you could swear you heard him swallow.

"You know, there are many theories about when and how tiramisu was actually invented," he remarked.

 "I don't think I've heard any of them," you admitted, glancing around for a knife. "I mean, I can make it, but I can’t explain…the historical context behind it" 

He leaned his elbows on the counter, briefly lowering his gaze to his hands. The sleeves of his purple shirt remained slightly rolled up, not quite reaching his wrists.

"It originated in Italy, of course. And the most popular version says it was invented in the 1960s in Treviso. At least, before that period, the name doesn’t appear in any sources."

Focused on cutting the cake evenly, unconsciously sticking out the tip of your tongue, you couldn’t muster any reaction, but you listened intently. Spencer, however, seemed to think otherwise—after briefly glancing at your face, he looked away, apparently deciding to drop the topic.

"What does it mean?" you asked. Your eyes met, and for a moment, he looked surprised. "I mean, what does the name mean?" you clarified with a gentle smile. "I should probably expand my knowledge. What if Rossi decides to quiz me?"

After a brief moment, a small, friendly smile bloomed on his lips.

"Well, in that case, I’ll do my best to prepare you."

You hadn’t been working together for long, but even so, you had already discovered—fascinated—that he was a true wellspring of knowledge, with no apparent limits to his mind. Sometimes, he would lose his train of thought—you had noticed that too. And sometimes, he would stumble when he realized it himself. You found it somewhat endearing. Or at the very least, well…you liked listening to it.

Somewhere around the time you had been acquainted with three theories about its origin, the etymology of its name, the original recipe and its variations, as well as a few interesting fun facts about tiramisu—which you listened to without even realizing that you were still holding the knife despite having finished cutting the cake—the sound of the host’s footsteps reached you. But they weren’t headed in your direction. Instead, he made his way to the door to let the other guests in.

You tried to relax your shoulders, aiming to appear at ease. Bodies are often treacherous and rarely care about how you wish to be perceived. Instead, they ignore your intentions and take cues from your subconscious—and subconsciously, you were stressed.

You quietly scolded yourself, shaking your head slightly. After all, they were all profilers—experts at reading body language. As if on cue, just as the thought crossed your mind, you accidentally caught Reid’s gaze fixed on you. You shrugged, the corners of your lips lifting slightly, feigning ignorance.

Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure what was going through your own head. Maybe it was that deep-seated belief that you always had to present yourself at your best—worthy of this job. Even though this was supposed to be a casual gathering, off the clock, in your free time.

“You guys already here?” Prentiss raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Spencer on opposite sides of the kitchen island. Hotch followed behind her, nodding in greeting. “We’re not late, are we?”

“We’re late?” Penelope’s voice rang out as she peeked into the room, her head appearing in the doorway. She stopped short, and Morgan, walking right behind her, gently grabbed her shoulders to keep from bumping into her.

“It’s just me, baby girl,” he reassured her, a faint smirk on his lips. “Or maybe too much me, judging by that jump. Hey, everyone. Reid. New girl. Good to see you. Not sick of us yet after this week, are you?"

"Oh, come on, don’t act like we’re that unbearable," Prentiss chided, shooting him a look.

By then, everyone had made their way inside, starting to take seats on the high bar stools. You stood there, returning smiles and greetings, and let Garcia pull you into a hug. Derek called you New girl. While you'd grown to like him, the nickname didn’t sit quite right with you. It highlighted your place in the team, making it clear that you weren’t quite like the rest of them.

"Actually, the way we perceive ourselves can be different from how we really are, simply because of how much time we spend together," Spencer mused aloud.

"You might be onto something," Morgan nodded at him, then turned his gaze back to you. "Let’s get an outside opinion. Are we unbearable?"

"You are," Rossi confirmed immediately, not even glancing up from the wine bottle in his hands, likely searching for the vintage.

"I said outside opinion."

Then, all the curious gazes had settled on you. Up until now, your hands had rested casually on the counter, but you pulled them away to hide how anxiously they were moving. Spencer tracked the motion with his eyes—something you caught in your peripheral vision, and you had to resist the urge to curse under your breath. Hiding your anxiety from these people, especially from him, was proving harder than you’d expected.

You hesitated, searching for the perfect answer. You often caught yourself doing this in social situations—as if this were a test question with only one correct response, rather than a casual conversation where anything you said would be fine as long as it was honest.

That evening, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. They were joking easily, teasing one another, and now that all their attention was focused on you, you wanted to say something that would blend you into the moment, something that would break the ice. This was your first time meeting outside of work.

But the longer you stayed silent, the more the right words slipped away from you. It was like a black curtain had suddenly dropped over your mind.

"Who wants to try the tiramisu?" you blurted out at last.

An unbearable awkwardness tightened around your chest—but then, to your surprise, Prentiss laughed, setting off the rest of the group.

"I’m not accepting this subject change," Morgan shook his head.

"I, on the other hand, think it was a good move. Almost diplomatic," Spencer countered. His gaze flickered toward you for a brief second, and you caught something there—though you weren’t entirely sure what. Understanding, maybe? Either way, you felt the urge to flash a grateful smile at both him and Emily.

But Spencer quickly refocused on Derek, directing his next words at him. "Because the real answer could be…” he lowered his voice dramatically,  "…mercilessly brutal."

“Oh, you’re all wrong," Penelope rolled her eyes. "Obviously, she was going to say she’s already fallen in love with all of us. Right, sweetheart?" She turned to you but didn’t wait for an answer—actually, you didn’t even have time to move, let alone speak. "See? Just like I said. Now, let’s try that cake, because I can’t stand the way it’s looking at me with those heavenly little eyes..."

The tight, complicated knot in your stomach started to loosen, little by little. Garcia’s suggestion was met with general enthusiasm and quickly turned into action. Naturally, Rossi had to be the first to take a bite. Everyone’s eyes locked onto him as he slowly swallowed a microscopic piece, as if he were some renowned food critic. You could see amusement on everyone’s faces—even Hotch’s—which was a completely new experience for you.

After a long, tension-filled moment, Rossi gave a slight nod of approval.

You placed a hand over your chest in mock relief.

“That’s the proudest I’ve felt since I got my diploma," you said casually—straightforward, natural, without overthinking.

Maybe you really were starting to open up.

Time moved forward at a gentle pace, and while you didn’t suddenly become the life of the party, the friendly atmosphere started to get to you. You all opened the bottle of wine the host had brought, raising your glasses in a toast to whatever came to mind—after all, there was no real occasion to celebrate.

You noticed that Spencer wasn’t drinking, but he still joined in, lifting a handful of chips instead. The sight made you smile softly before you could stop yourself.

He noticed you watching him. In the background, conversation buzzed, someone laughed loudly, but for a moment, it felt like the two of you were elsewhere.

“Well…” he started, swallowing nervously. You hoped he didn’t feel pressured into making conversation just because you were looking at him. Though, another thought crept in—what other reason could he have for feeling awkward? Only after a beat did you realize that you often felt that way too, for no particular reason. That was just how you were. Apparently, so was he.

“What did you do before?” he asked, then immediately backtracked. “I mean, I know what, of course I know—that’s public information, if you know what I mean. I just meant more like…” He sighed, lowering his gaze for a second, as if exhausted by his own rambling. Then, he tried again, slower this time. “I meant, how do you feel about it? And about the change?”

His question piqued the interest of the others, their gazes shifting back to you. Whatever had momentarily set the two of you apart from the group vanished in an instant.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, a sound cut through the conversation.

“That’s mine, sorry,” Prentiss apologized, reaching into her pocket for her ringing phone. She didn’t even glance at the screen at first, her thumb already poised to decline the call—until she hesitated. Her expression shifted in an instant, lighting up with surprise. “Oh my God, it’s JJ!”

Everyone reacted similarly, and you tried to mirror their excitement, summoning a smile to your face—though it lacked sincerity. It wasn’t out of any personal dislike toward Jareau; nothing like that. You had met her, of course—you were taking her place, after all, and she had to introduce you to everything quickly. But it hadn’t been enough to form a deep friendship, or any friendship at all. That made you the only one in this group who felt completely neutral about her.

“Oh, you have to answer,” Penelope urged, nodding enthusiastically. “Totally. And tell her I say hi!”

“And me,” Spencer and Morgan added almost simultaneously.

“From all of us,” Hotch clarified, with Rossi confirming it with a nod.

Prentiss stood from her seat, clearly intending to step out of the kitchen to take the call in private—it was meant for her, after all. But just before she left, she hesitated in the doorway, as if mentally going over the instructions.

“Say hi from everyone. Got it,” she muttered under her breath.

“Especially from Penelope.”

“And from—”

“Everyone. Got it.”

When Prentiss’ dark hair disappeared from view, a brief silence settled over the group, broken only by Garcia’s deep sigh.

“I miss her. A lot.”

“It’s not like she died, babygirl,” Derek responded with a teasing edge, though something in his tone—between the words—carried a similar feeling.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” Garcia huffed at him. “I miss having her with us. At work. In the team. Remember…remember how she always used to…”

She drifted into a story, weaving nostalgic but ultimately amused expressions onto her friends’ faces. You caught a glimpse of Spencer out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he still remembered the question he had asked you before the phone rang. But his gaze was fixed on Garcia, listening to her tale with a small smile forming at the corners of his lips.

You tuned out for a moment, lost in your own thoughts, only to be pulled back to reality by an outburst of laughter. You had missed a good chunk of the story—though you weren’t sure if it mattered. Some anecdotes, especially the ones built on shared memories, were meant for everyone’s ears but truly reached only those who had been there. You suspected this was one of them, but still, you joined in on the laughter. Even if you hadn’t caught the joke, you didn’t want to dampen the mood with a blank expression.

You tried to push away the feeling of not belonging. It was difficult at first, but then you realized—that wasn’t the way. You couldn’t push it away; you had to accept it. Because the truth was, you didn’t quite belong. Or rather, you hadn’t belonged long enough. That was natural. You would feel this way for who knows how long, but certainly for a while. As long as the nickname New Girl still clung to you.

Surprisingly, that very acceptance made the rest of the evening easier to get through. Prentiss returned after a while, briefly summarizing what JJ had been up to, but the conversation didn’t linger on her. The knot in your stomach didn’t tighten again. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was something else. Maybe, for the first time, you were starting to feel okay.

*

now 

You recalled that specific moment in your memories, simultaneously sinking into it as if it were happening in real time, yet with the suffocating weight of reality breathing down your neck—a voice whispering that it was just a memory.

If it were happening now, Emily wouldn’t have left the room to take the call. No phone would have even rung. Emily was gone. You had just been to her funeral.

At an hour when most people were deep in sleep, when street advertisements and billboards cut through the darkness, illuminating the city more effectively than the stars ever could, you were half-sitting, half-lying on your bed, your back pressed against the headboard. The dark room was filled with nothing but shapes, mere outlines of furniture—just like your mind was filled only with fragments and silhouettes of thoughts. Frayed, scattered, following no chronology or pattern.

It had been six months since you joined the BAU. Some might say that’s not enough time to form real friendships. But in a job where you could die any day, six months was plenty. In those circumstances, attachment only formed faster.

Your eyelids burned with exhaustion, but you couldn’t close them. With a heavy weight in your chest, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you kept replaying that moment—that evening at Rossi’s. Those conversations echoed vividly in your mind, but over time, they began to fade, pushed aside by another sound.

Breathing.

Not yours.

Oh. Right.

That night, you didn’t sleep alone.

While you sat on the bed, Spencer lay on his side, his back turned to you, his head resting somewhere near your hip. You weren’t sure how it had happened.

Sleeping in the same bed wasn’t something natural for the two of you—not as just friends. Though over the past two months, that label might have been debatable in the eyes of many. You had never really defined it between yourselves, so you kept calling it friendship.

You weren’t exactly sure how it had happened that night, specifically. After the funeral, after that entire exhausting day, when the sun had set, you had somehow, instinctively, ended up moving in the same direction—toward his apartment. And somehow, instinctively, you had kept postponing the moment of leaving. But when it finally came, his lips had somehow, instinctively, formed the word stay.

So you stayed, changing out of your funeral attire into one of his random T-shirts, the scent of it tickling your nose as you finally lay down, your back turned to him.

You knew he wasn’t asleep either, but what could you say? What could you do? In moments like these, everyone was alone in their own way. Maybe that was why it was so important to have someone there, physically—but even that didn’t quite apply to your situation. His bed wasn’t huge, but it was big enough that neither of you touched. So, in a way, you were alone in both senses, but it didn’t sting as much, mostly because of the scent surrounding you, wrapping around you like an embrace.

You even managed to close your eyes—not that it meant you’d actually sleep. In fact, you felt just as far from it as when they were wide open. At least they didn’t burn anymore.

At some point—after an amount of time you couldn’t track—the scent deepened, became stronger. You tensed, unsure why, until it finally dawned on you with a quiet exhale.

It wasn’t just the scent of his T-shirt. It was him.

Moving closer.

First just slightly, then more. Until eventually, his arm draped over your curled-up frame, his hand settling somewhere against your stomach, where the fabric of the blanket bunched up. 

A delicate tickle against your neck. His breath, his head almost nestled in the crook of it.

Definitely awake—you could tell by the rhythm.

And it was him. Spencer.

It’s actually safer to kiss Spencer.

"Are you awake?" he asked, so quietly the words barely brushed the air. There was a chance they hadn’t even spoken at all. Maybe it was just the sound of his breath, somehow resembling them. Maybe it was just your exhausted imagination.

Still, you chose to answer.

"No," you murmured. "I can't sleep."

"Me neither," he added, though that much was obvious. A shift of his head, an unconscious brush against your neck, sending the faintest shiver down your spine. “Does this bother you?"

"It’s nice," you said softly, unsure of what else you could add. You didn’t really want to speak. His words melted smoothly into the quiet, while yours cut through it—harsh, even when you tried to whisper.

Maybe he took it as hesitation, because his body tensed for a brief second before he started to pull away.

"No…" You tried to stop him, your hand catching his forearm—the one holding you. "Just…stay."

"Oh. Okay."

As if following your request to the letter, he stayed exactly where he was. More than that, he seemed to settle into it even further. The pressure of his chest against your back felt good. You heard him swallow, close to your ear. “Th-thank you. I don’t think…I don’t think I could—I don’t think I’d be able to fall asleep alone. Not tonight.”

You didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you just adjusted your grip, holding it more comfortably.

*

And just when you were starting to come to terms with it, you suddenly found out that Emily was still alive. You could say she had never died, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Well, in a way, yes—her body never stopped functioning, nor was it buried in a coffin. But in your minds, in your belief, in your feelings, it was different. You buried her and went through the grieving process. To you, she was dead.

When she reappeared, everything was too chaotic to dwell on it. There was no shock, no tears—you had your hands full, focused on capturing Doyle.

The realization of it all began to sink in for you, as well as for the rest of the team, only later. She had faked her death. She had allowed you to mourn her. And what was even more shocking to you—JJ had known all along. You knew the two of them trusted each other deeply, but in some way, you couldn't grasp it. How she could stand beside you at the funeral, shedding a few tears, offering comforting pats on the back. How she could keep up the act for days, weeks, and months.

You knew Spencer was furious with her. It was obvious—the anger was clear in his eyes. But even if he had tried to hide it, you would have known. Because ever since Emily's supposed death, the two of you had grown even closer.

Nights spent side by side had become something that no longer required a quiet request; they had become entirely natural for you both. That was how you saw it—a way for two friends to cope with grief and sleepless hours.

You probably should have talked about your relationship. It was something you thought about often—when his sleepy breath brushed against your neck, when his lips occasionally grazed it while he spoke. You should have talked, but that didn’t mean you did.

Maybe you were both too focused on other things to worry about your feelings for each other.

Either way, at first, he was furious with her. You accidentally overheard part of their argument about it, just as you were also an accidental witness to the embrace they pulled each other into when they finally decided to let it go.

A certain skepticism lingered within you. Of course, you didn’t want to dictate whom he could forgive or what he was allowed to demand—that was his decision alone. You understood that. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were the one who had watched what those past months had done to him. How close he had come to slipping back into that. 

When his relationship with JJ had finally returned to normal, you couldn’t hold back anymore—you tried to bring it up.

All you got in response was You wouldn’t understand.

And perhaps he was right. Some things simply weren’t yours to understand—not as someone who had only recently entered his life. Unlike JJ, you hadn’t been there for years.

As they quickly rebuilt their trust, their dynamic, their friendship, a strange, somber thought crossed your mind. You started wondering if, from the very beginning, you had only been filling the space she left behind—just as you had done with the team, stepping into her role.

Before, you had convinced yourself that his friendship with her was entirely different from what he had with you. Because with you, you had foolishly believed, it wasn’t just friendship.

But the more time passed, the more you started to realize that maybe—maybe that had only ever been wishful thinking.

These were the kind of worries you kept entirely to yourself, but at the same time, they gnawed at you from the inside, needing to be shared with someone.

You wanted to talk to someone about it, but there was no one to turn to. I mean, everything was the same as always. Everyone loved JJ—they never stopped—and you were the new, younger girl who might have seemed like she was speaking badly about her out of pure, immature jealousy.

Until now, aside from Spencer, the person you were closest to was Prentiss, but for obvious reasons, you couldn’t go to her. Besides, she would have chosen JJ over you too. That was undeniable.

And that’s how, somehow, you ended up standing outside Penelope’s office, telling yourself that maybe she would understand.

But just as you were about to open the door, doubt crept in. You sighed and leaned your back against the wall. Maybe, when it came to this, there was simply no one on the team you could turn to.

You abandoned the idea entirely, yet your feet refused to move. There was so much internal, mental exhaustion weighing you down. So many sleepless nights, so much stress and worry, so much uncertainty and so many questions.

You heard footsteps approaching. Turning your head to the side, you saw Hotch stopping just two steps away from you. For a moment, he simply looked at you in silence, studying your face.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," you replied flatly. You couldn’t breathe properly. You already knew—had known the moment he stopped—that he wasn’t here to ask about how you were feeling.

"Just tired."

He gave a slow nod.

"I need to have a word with you."

Pressing your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you nodded back.

*

You didn’t actually keep many personal things in the office.

You made sure the rest of the team had been sent out into the field before you started packing them into a small box. They fit easily—it wasn’t even heavy. And yet, as you stared at it sitting on your desk, it felt impossibly difficult to lift.

You guessed flawlessly what Hotch wanted to talk to you about because, in a way, it was obvious.

JJ was back. Emily was back. The team had too many members now, and someone had to go. And the choice was just as obvious.

Honestly, you weren’t even angry. It had to be you—the placeholder.

But if you were aware of that, why did something bitter nest in your throat?      

Before you could take even two steps forward toward the exit, Spencer had already reached you, hesitantly extending his hands.

 "Let me help—"

 "No need," you said, tucking the box under your arm, keeping it out of his reach.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other in silence. You had no idea what to say. In fact, it was hard to even look at him. That was why you wanted to do this alone—to just leave quietly. You didn't even know why he was there. You must have miscalculated something, or maybe they had simply come back earlier.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he, too, remained silent. Walking past him now would signal anger, resentment—but that wasn’t exactly what you felt. So you stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

"You're leaving," he finally said, swallowing hard. A statement of fact he could have easily left unsaid. Adjusting the box in your arms, you simply nodded.

"I mean—what I wanted to say is… just remember that you're my friend. And I hope you still will be, even…even if we’re not working together. This doesn’t really change anything."

But if you hadn’t worked together, you never would have met. Never would have grown close. Besides, it wasn’t even the job that had stood in your way. It was something else—something simpler, because it depended only on the two of you, yet for that very reason, it was also much more complicated. Specifically, communication.

"I know," you admitted with a slight nod, though without much conviction.

Spencer tried to smile, briefly catching your gaze—one you immediately dropped to the box in your hands before he could read anything from your eyes.

"I have to go now. This is starting to get a little heavy."

"You know, I can really help you—"

"It's fine," you cut him off firmly. "It's really fine, Spencer."

He let out a quiet sigh of surrender as you headed toward the exit.

[augustjoy]

The Color Pink

Based on the following ask: Hii, I was just wondering if you could do Aaron x reader but the team for some reason refuses to warm up to her for a while.  If you can please make the reader hyperfem only if you want to. Thank you!!!! I love the idea of Hotch with a hyperfem girlie – she’d be in pink ALWAYS, with a wardrobe and home full of ruffles! So, the BAU team is against this relationship of Hotch’s because 1. They assume she’s a bimbo due to the hyperfemininity and 2. She’s young. Basically, they are questioning Hotch’s judgement on this one. Flashbacks in italics.

Aaron Hotchner x HyperFem! Reader Angst/Fluff Word count: 2552

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is 20s/Hotch is 40s), female reader, np physical description (other than having hair long enough to curl and Aaron referring to her as little – which he’s big tall so everyone is small compared to him), hyperfeminine reader, explicit language, consultant reader, BAU being judgy overprotective, Morgan being rude, Spencer and Garcia defending the reader, Reader is a presumed Bimbo…but is actually really smart (Elle Woods-esque),  mentions of food/eating, reader has a flash of self-doubt, mention of Jack, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Meeting you had been an act of fate. At least, that’s how Aaron saw it. You were not the type of girl he’d typically go for…not ever. But that morning, you’d got a flat tire on your way to work, ironically on Aaron’s way to work. He had to do the right thing, any chivalrous man would, he was going to pull over no matter what, but when you stepped out of your car…that sealed the deal. He needed to pull over because if he didn’t, someone else would, someone potentially dangerous.

--

“Excuse me miss; do you need some help?” Aaron offered.

“Oh, I um – I got a flat. I called Triple A, but they said it be like forty-five minutes.” You explained.

You stepped out of your car and stole the breath from Aaron’s lungs. You were in a satin pink button-up blouse, with high-waisted white trousers, and strappy pink heels. Your hair was cascading over your shoulders in beautiful loose curls, your gaze lifted to his. Aaron had to release a light cough to pull himself out of the trance you had him in.

“Do you have a spare?” He asked.

“I don’ t think so. But like I said, Triple A is on the way, so I guess I will just sit and wait.” You shrugged.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable leaving you here on your own.” Aaron admitted.

You gave him a once over. He was in a well-fitted gray suit, his hair lightly slicked back, black dress shoes, and a silver Rolex resting on his left wrist. You took quick note of the absence of a wedding ring. A very brief rush of unease slid through you, but it was washed away as he moved his hand to his hip, unknowingly flashing the FBI badge that was clipped to his belt loop.

“I’d hate to be an imposition. Plus, we are strangers…” You eyed him once more.

“Right, I uh – I’m Aaron Hotchner.” He introduced himself and offered you his hand to shake.

You shook it gently, giving him your name. You couldn’t help the blush that crept over your cheeks at the warmth radiating from him. It was your turn to feel breathless. Taking him in once more, you had to admit to yourself that he was handsome. Clearly older than you, but you didn’t mind…and age didn’t define beauty.

Aaron had waited the whole forty-five minutes with you, once Triple A showed up, he waited for you to get everything squared away with them before turning to leave.

“So that’s it?”  You called after him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“You just sat and waited forty-five minutes with me and you’re just going to leave? Without asking me out? Or at least asking for my phone number?” You huffed.

Aaron was speechless. He had wanted to ask you out…truthfully he’d thought about it the moment you stepped out of your car, but he didn’t want you to fell that he was some sort of predator. But now here you were, this gorgeous little thing, asking him to ask you out.

“Would you go to dinner with me Friday? Provided my work doesn’t call me away.” He asks.

“Yes. Pick me up at seven.” You smiled, handing him a light pink business card.

--

Initially, Aaron didn’t introduce you to anyone because he wanted to see if your relationship would bloom into something real. As things did progress, he opened up to you about his life, his job, his family…and his demons. He hadn’t wanted to let his darkness taint your light, your sparkle, but one night while he was staying with you, he’d had a brutal nightmare, one that had him spewing all the information out to you while you held him close, your sparkle shining bright.

Another reason why Aaron had hesitated to really bring you into his world was because you were so different than the other women he’d dated. They were grown-up, mature (maybe even too mature), boring even, and here you were, this pastel princess whose home was filled with pink – ruffled pillows, lace curtains, fashion books, flowers, fluffy rugs, etc. you were the textbook definition of a girly-girl.

He was sure the BAU team would have some pretty strong opinions about his relationship with you, not only because of your differences, but also because of the almost 20-year age gap. It sounded silly, but he really wanted the team to like you.

The first time Aaron introduced you to the team hadn’t exactly gone as he had hoped. He had asked you to join them out at their favorite bar for drinks. They had put on quite the show in front of you, but when you stepped away to get a drink, the truth came out.

--

“Hey guys, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my girlfriend to join us.” Aaron mentioned casually.

A chorus of “what” and “you have a girlfriend” and “who is she” all rang out at once. He couldn’t help but chuckle at them. He figured he should answer some of their questions now so that way they could focus on getting to know you once you arrived.

“She and I have been together for about six months. It’s getting pretty serious and, uh – she uh…” Aaron smiles to himself. “She um, she’s different than the other girls I’ve dated, so just keep an open mind and get to know her.”

You arrived about ten minutes later, rendering everyone speechless. You walked in with a light pink mini puff dress on. It flowed around you in a cloud of tulle it rested against your upper thighs which were adorned in sparkly nude tights. You’d chosen to wear white lace up heels with it, and your hair was pulled back, pinned up with loose tendrils framing your face.

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, a client called last minute and, you totally do not want to hear about my boring work.” You sighed, meeting the gazes of the stunned agents seated before you.

Aaron had officially introduced you to everyone, they exchanged hesitant pleasantries, and you began making small talk. After a few awkward moments, you excused yourself to get a drink.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aaron asked.

“No, no. I got it honey. I’ll get you another whiskey.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked toward the bar.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the questions came rolling in. Most notably, Dereks.

“What the hell are you doing man?”

“I beg your pardon?” Aaron was shocked.

“Hotch, man, she’s young enough to be your daughter. And I mean, look at her.” Derek gestured toward where you stood at the bar.

“I am well aware of her age Morgan. She and I have discussed that at length and have both agreed that it didn’t matter. Age doesn’t change how we feel about one another.”

“Hotch, I’m more worried about the fact that she looks like she just walked off of sorority row.” Emily shook her head.

“Yeah, her outfit…Hotch she’s not serious. I mean she’s still a kid.” JJ added.

“That’s enough, she and I are serious. She’s not a kid; she runs a very successful consulting firm, she is kind and sweet, she takes care of me, she gets along with Jack, and I and…well. I love her.” Aaron concluded.

A muffled remark sounded from across the table. Morgan had more to say, and Aaron wasn’t going to let it go. He cared about you and the people across from him were his family, their opinions meant a lot to him…but right now they were letting him down.

“Say it out loud Morgan.” Aaron demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Say it.” Aaron hissed.

“I said she gets along with Jack because they’re closer in age.” Derek shot back.

The table went silent, tension filling the air. Aaron scoffed, shook his head in disbelief, and walked away. Moving towards you, coming up with some lame excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Look, I know that was a lot, but I didn’t say anything that we weren’t all thinking. That girl, she’s a bimbo. Hotch needs someone more serious…more like Beth.” Derek justified.

“Wow.” Penelope scoffed, pushing her chair away from the table. “You guys are terrible.”

“What are you talking about?

“Did you not see his face? Hotch is happy, his smile took over his entire face…because of that girl and you all tore him down so quickly. I mean come on. Spence when was the last time Hotch smiled like that?” Penelope asked.

“The last time Hotch has smiled like that in front of us was back in 2005 when he introduced Jack to the team as a newborn.”  Spencer rattled off.

--

That was about eight months ago. Aaron and you have grown even more serious since then, you moved in together – into a new house where you could set up a space that was all your own, full of pink and ruffles and lace.

Honestly, Aaron had gone as far as buying a ring for you. He wanted to propose and had the whole thing planned. He and Jack were going to take you on a picnic and then they’d ask you to become a permanent part of their family.

Despite the happiness he felt at the idea of marrying you, he couldn’t help the disappointment that crept in. He wanted his family to all be there in support of you two…and his family, well that was the BAU.

He knew he’d have to talk to them, to do something to prove to them how incredible you are.

--

Aaron had called everyone to the round table. He needed to tell them about how serious he really was about you, and he needed them to love you.

 “I asked you all here because today we will have a special guest for lunch.” Aaron went on to explain that you’d be coming in, bringing in lunch from one of the BAU’s favorites. “I know that when you all first met her, you were unsure. But I need you all to realize that I’ve been with her for over a year now, we live together, and…”

“You can’t be serious man. She’s naïve, just some young hot thing seeking an older man, presumably for his money.” Derek interrupted.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Aaron commanded. “I plan on marrying her, and you guys are my family. I need my family there when I marry this woman. If you can’t get on board…then I guess you aren’t the people I thought you were.” Aaron says with finality.

There was a collective nod and shrug amongst everyone.

--

When you walked in, you could feel the tension like a thick fog. It was all consuming, like picking a hangnail until that piece of skin runs further and further up your finger, bleeding and tender.

You needed this to go well.

Aaron had told you to be your usual self. He wanted the team to like you for you, but you knew it would be best to tone it down at least a little bit. You’d choose to wear light blue jeans, a chunky pink sweater, and some heeled ballet flats. Your arms were juggling multiple bags, filled with sandwiches and another one with drinks for everyone.

“Hi guys.” You offered a small wave as you entered the conference room.

“Hey sweetheart, let me help you with those.” Aaron was quick to grab the bags from you.

“You look stunning as always! It’s good to see you again!” Penelope greeted.

“Oh, thanks babe! I love the new hair; it is such a good color!” You complimented. “Oh, Spence, I got you something!” You pulled a wrapped book from your bag, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He asked, gently pulling at the wrapping. “The Narrative of John Smith, this is one of my favorites!” Spencer gushed.

“It’s a special edition, they only made 200 of them. But that’s not the best part…open the cover.” You were giddy with excitement.

Spencer opened the book to reveal that it had been signed. “Are you kidding me! This is amazing, thank you so much!”

“It’s really no problem.” You smiled.

Aaron was beaming at you, you had been so kind, showing them all who you really were, and he just hoped that they’d all finally see you for who you truly are.

As everyone finished their lunch, you began clearing the trash. Everyone offers thanks to you, the girls planning a day out with you. Each of them seemed to be coming around except for Derek. Aaron couldn’t figure out why he was so against you.

--

You said your goodbyes and made your way out. They had all filtered out of the conference room when Aaron decided to confront Derek once and for all.

“Everyone else has come around, so why can’t you? What is your problem with her?” Aaron asked.

“It’s not her that I have a problem with. Not really.” Derek shrugged. “Look man, I am sorry for how I have acted towards her. It’s unacceptable. But I don’t think you dating her is a good idea.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced Morgan. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You think that now Hotch. But what are you going to do when she up and walks away. That is the type of girl who will ruin your life and Hotch, you’ve been hurt too many times. You and Jack have lost far too much.”

“Derek, I know you are worried for me, but I have to see this through. I really love this girl, and she can handle herself, she makes good money, so I know that isn’t the motivation here. She is everything to me, and she has done nothing but prove that she feels the same for me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I have your back man, and if you love her, then I’m not going to stand in your way.”

--

Things began looking up after that. Derek had pushed his concerns aside and took the time to get to know you, which only made him feel like an idiot for his behavior. Aaron had been right, you could hold your own – you were smart and witty and far to quick with your words, giving him a run for his money. Derek started to see how big your heart was, and he saw the changes in Aaron thanks to your presence in his life. He started to actually appreciate you and your love for his boss.

Aaron told you about his interaction with Derek and you offered some valuable insight.

“Honey, Derek looks up to you. You have made a huge impact on his life, and he has seen you lose so much because of your work, he’s seen you in, quite literally, your lowest moment. He just wants to protect you from hurting like that once again.”

“You are the smartest person I know sweetheart.” Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple.

--

Months later, the BAU team stood and witnessed Aaron and you vowing to spend forever with one another. You had finally been welcomed into this family.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust@khxna@crimesthatnooneaskedfor

[mm-slashing-boy]

I'm bored and I don't really get asks, anonymous or not. Ask away, my gold dabloons!!

I will answer questions for Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner from Criminal Minds, Harley Sawyer from Poppy Playtime, and Ambrosius Goldenloin & Ballister Boldheart from Nimona.

Remember to ask in my inbox!! Do not comment on this post because it will only go to the original!!

(Sorry if this disturbs the original poster. 😭😭)

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!! 💫

Send a character + one or more of these question IN THE INBOX. Don't reply on the post!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

11. Would you date this character?

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

23. Favorite picture of this character?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

27. What is a color or colors that you think of when you think of this character, be it their canon color(s) or not?

28. If you could have this character meet another in another media, who would you have them meet?

29. Could you live as this character, would you? If not, what would you change so that you could?

30. FREEBIE QUESTION!!

[gf2bellamy]

Hello!

Can I please request Spencer waking up in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare that the reader got badly hurt by the unsub and either he sees her next to him and just hugs her tightly which wakes her up or he sees that her side of the bed is empty because she's in the kitchen or something and he panics and then just crushes her in a hug - either way, reader is just comforting him after a nightmare?

hold — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer being slightly panicked , no explicit mention of his nightmare but its implied that reader was hurt a/n: hiii !! loved this idea and i hope you like this <3

Spencer shot up in bed, his chest heaving. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm erratic and loud in the otherwise silent room.

The only source of light was the small, soft glow from the lamp on his nightstand, a gift you had given him for his birthday.

He turned his head to the side, expecting to find you there.

But the space beside him was empty.

His breath hitched, and without thinking, he threw the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stumbled toward the bedroom door.

His mind was still clouded, the fog of sleep and fear making it hard to think clearly. He moved on instinct, driven by a need to find you, to make sure you were okay.

The sound of movement in the kitchen reached his ears, and he followed it like a lifeline. 

When he stepped into the kitchen, he saw you standing by the counter, your back to him. The sight of you—safe, unharmed—made his chest tighten with relief.

Without a word, he crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You let out a small gasp, startled by the sudden contact, but he didn’t let go. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if he were afraid you might slip away if he loosened his hold even a little. 

It had only been an hour since Spencer fell asleep. You weren't able to fall asleep so fast, which is why you had been making yourself some tea.

 “Spencer?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern. You reached down to touch his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his hands trembled slightly against your stomach.

He didn’t answer right away, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart still racing from the adrenaline coursing through him. 

 “You’re okay,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder. The words were more for himself than for you, a reassurance that the nightmare wasn’t real, that you were here, safe in his arms.

His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke, and you could feel the faintest tremor in his body. 

You turned slowly in his embrace, your hands moving to his shoulders as you faced him. But before you could say anything, he pulled you close again, his arms tightening around you. His face found its way back to your neck.

You didn’t push him away or ask what was wrong. Instead, you let your hands drift up to his back, your fingers gently brushing over the fabric of his shirt in slow, soothing circles. 

 “Yeah, I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice soft and steady. You pressed a kiss to the side of his head, your lips lingering for a moment. “I’m here.” 

For a while, the kitchen was enveloped in a comforting silence, broken only by the soft sound of your hands moving in slow, soothing circles across Spencer’s back.

You didn’t let go, not even for a second, as you felt his breathing gradually even out. His face was still buried in the crook of your neck, his warm breaths brushing against your skin, and you could feel the faint tremble in his body beginning to subside. 

When you were sure he had calmed down enough, you finally spoke, your voice soft and gentle, as if you were afraid of startling him.

“Nightmare?” you asked, your hand drifting up to brush through his messy hair for a moment, your fingers tangling lightly in the strands. You kept your tone light, but there was an underlying concern that you couldn’t quite hide. 

Spencer pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes were wide, almost searching, as if he were trying to convince himself that you were really there, that you were safe.

His gaze roamed over your face, taking in every detail, as if he needed to memorize it all over again.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, his lips parting slightly as he struggled to find the words. Then, finally, he let out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. You—he just got to you, and I… I couldn’t do anything. And you—” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the images that were still fresh in his mind. 

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, at the way his hands tightened around you.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks. “Spencer,” you said softly, your voice reassuring. “I’m here. I’m okay.” You pulled him into another hug, this time wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. Your fingers lightly traced the nape of his neck.

Spencer let out another shaky breath, his arms tightening around your waist as he buried his face in your shoulder once more, clinging to you.

For a moment, he just stayed like that. But then, slowly, he let go, his hands sliding away from your waist as he took a small step back. 

“Why weren’t you in bed?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of worry. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back from his face, before brushing his fingers over his eyes.

 “Couldn’t fall asleep,” you admitted with a small shrug, leaning back against the counter behind you. Your arms crossed loosely over your chest as you watched him, your expression still tinged with concern.

“So I thought I’d make some tea. You sure you’re okay?” you asked again, your voice gentle.

 Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for you again, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer, closing the small distance between you. Your hands instinctively moved to rest on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your palms.

He let out a slow breath, his eyes closing for a moment as if he were trying to steady himself.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said finally, his voice quiet. He opened is eyes again, looking at you with a softness that made your heart ache. “Just… needed to make sure you were okay.” 

You smiled softly at him, your thumbs brushing lightly over his chest in a comforting gesture. “I’m okay,” you reassured him, your voice warm. “Do you want to go back to bed?” 

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his hands still resting on your waist. His fingers flexed slightly against your sides.

But then he nodded, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, his voice soft and a little rough around the edges. “Bed sounds good.” 

You gave him a reassuring smile, your hands dropping from his chest to gently take one of his in yours. His fingers laced through yours almost instinctively.

You left your half-finished tea cup on the counter, the steam still curling lazily into the air, and led him back toward the bedroom.

When you reached the bed, you pulled back the covers and climbed in, scooting over to make room for him. Spencer followed without hesitation.

“Come here,” you murmured. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Spencer let out a breath and melted into you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tucked his head into the curve of your neck. You ran your fingers through his curls, slow and soothing.

"I'm here," you whispered again, pressing a soft kiss into his hair. "You're safe. We both are." 

His grip on you tightened slightly, and after a few moments, his breathing finally began to slow, the tension in his body easing bit by bit. 

And this time, when he closed his eyes, sleep came easier. 

[minswriting]

LEOTARDS AND STRETCHES - A.H x Reader

About: You’re a ballerina and Aaron visits you in the dance studio.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, ballerina!reader, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, aaron talks you through it, fluff and smut fr

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Border is made by @esote-rika ! This one shot was a request from a LONG time ago and I finally got to writing it. It’s not the greatest but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Not proof read because that’s for losers, obviously.

Being a ballerina, you were used to moving your body around in different ways, ensuring to captured the essence of the dance you were doing. Rigorous days of training, breaking into different point shoes every time you danced, and moving your body in such a way that you moved with fluidity was hard sometimes. And yet, other times it was great.

And here you were, in the studio, practicing a dance to Swan Lake. Your body moved smoothly as you allowed the music to guide you, dancing on your toes and doing crazy spins that no one outside of this profession would be able to do. And when the song finished, you heard the sound of clapping. You looked in the mirror of the studio, seeing your handsome boyfriend standing in the doorway.

“Aaron,” You grinned, turning around to face him.

“You were wonderful as always, my dear,” Aaron spoke in that soft tone that you adored so much as he had a smile on his face. He looked exhausted, as he usually does after coming back from a case. He walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing your lips in greeting which you happily kissed back.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, tilting your head. “You don’t usually visit me in the studio.”

Aaron hummed, nodding his head. “I tried to call but you weren’t answering your phone. We finished a case early and I figured I’d just come here instead,” he said, kissing your lips once more.

You let out a low chuckle against Aaron’s lips, putting your arms around Aaron’s neck. His grip on you tightened, pulling you closer to him. What was a seemingly innocent kiss quickly turned into something more passionate as the two of you moved in sync. Truth be told, it had been a bit since the two of you had seen one another and had been intimate with one another. With Aaron working crazy hours and you currently practicing for a performance, it’s been hard for your schedules to line up other than phone calls and FaceTime sex. And while phone sex is very hot with Aaron, you wholeheartedly missed the real thing.

Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving his lips to your neck. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed against your skin, pressing himself against you.

You made a soft noise, your fingers moving to Aaron’s hair. “I’ve missed you too,” you murmured, tilting your head to give Aaron more access as you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. The two of you were needy for each other.

Aaron was careful not to mark you, keeping himself to only kissing your neck rather than nipping at it. You had a performance to get ready for, after all, and he didn’t want to hinder you in any way. “I want you,” he murmured.

“Then have me,” you replied.

And that’s how you ended up with your tights thrown somewhere in the room and your leotard pulled to the side with Aaron’s cock buried inside of you. You had one leg pointed upwards as your hand gripped the barre next to the mirror. Aaron had a hand on your hip, keeping you steady, while the other hand helped keep your leg up. Aaron’s pants were only opened enough for his cock to be free as he pounded into you.

The dance studio was filled with the sounds of your moans and slapping of skin. Luckily, you were the only person who had access to the studio this late otherwise, it would’ve been a wild scene for someone to stumble into. “Aaron,” you moaned as his cock plunged into you.

“My beautiful girl,” He groaned, thrusting his hips. “You feel so good wrapped around me.”

“Missed this so much,” You said shakily, eyes closing in pleasure.

“Me too, sweetheart,” Aaron replied, his breathing harsh.

After a few minutes, Aaron pulled out, causing you to whine from the loss of contact. But you knew it was simply due to him wanting to change positions. He helped you put your leg down before turning you around, tapping your other leg to go onto the barre and stretch out. Once you were in position, Aaron entered you once more, causing your breath to hitch.

The position allowed for a deeper penetration as his cock grazed your g-spot. Aaron gained a rhythm once more, fucking you faster and harder than before. “Oh fuck,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure of the new position. Your lips were parted in an “o” shape and your eyebrows furrowed.

Aaron groaned, pressing himself deep inside of you before pulling out and doing it again. “You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he said, licking his lips. He looked at you in the mirror, seeing the way your face contorted with pleasure. “Do you feel good, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding your head. You opened your eyes to see Aaron already looking at you. “Feels so good, Aaron, oh my god.”

Aaron grunted, feeling the way your walls tightened around him, signaling that you were close. “My sweet girl,” he said, moving a bit faster. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes,” you let out a choked moan, feeling that familiar heat building inside of you. “I’m so close, Aaron.”

“Good girl,” Aaron cooed. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

The nickname was all you needed before you moaned loudly, clamping your walls around Aaron’s cock. Your body tensed as your orgasm washed over you, moaning Aaron’s name in a mantra. After only giving yourself orgasms for the last two weeks, being able to cum from Aaron’s cock alone was needed. Aaron followed suit, his hips stuttering and cock stiffening inside of you before he began filling you with his cum, pressing himself further in you.

And when the two of you were finished, Aaron pulled out, putting your leotard back into place before helping you out of the position you were in. The two of you were in a state of bliss, finally grateful to have had one another after what felt like so long. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and basking in the post-orgasmic feeling, you turned to look at Aaron, a goofy smile on your lips. “We just had sex in a dance studio,” you giggled.

Aaron laughed, nodding his head. “Indeed we did.”

After that, late night rendezvous to the dance studio after a case became more frequent for Aaron and you certainly didn’t mind at all.

[grrwoof-woof]

"but the text never explicitly stated it!!!" hey, so that's actually what they tried to teach you in those english classes you barely passed 😁

[tomcriuse]

Criminal Minds 3.07 'Identity'