#Human Resource assignment help

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[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere academic rival who really, really wishes he could just get you out of the way.

Dead dove Do Not Eat! MDNI ! NSFW !

Tw. Dubcon/Noncon, bullying, academic pressures, blackmail, oral sex, explicit photos, mentions of baby trapping, yandere, stalking, forced relationship, AFAB reader

Elias had a certain level of respect for you.

You both attended a prestigious university crammed full of students vying to make connections and nab a cushy position for themselves in the future, and while it was easy for him to be on top of the social and academic scenes, he knew you had to work a bit harder. He came from a very wealthy household, one where needing something was merely a concept and not something he ever actually encountered. You, on the other hand, definitely come from a lesser background than him and his circle. Your scholarship and just above the average academics seemed to have pushed you into a good spot to be hoisted into the same realm as him.

But he didn't really think of you much at first.

You were some nameless face that wasn't really worthy of being around him. Maybe he would catch glimpses of your hair, or someone woud mention you in passing and he'd pretend to be intruiged.

It was really when you started to be compared to him of all people that he started to really pay attention.

You were smart, cunning, and ruthless when it came to your assignments. Just like him. Normally he worked overtime, paid industry professionals to help review his papers, his study materials and poured blood sweat and tears into his academics. And yet you somehow managed to be on his level with less than half the resources. It drove him up a wall because if you were nearly as good as him now, then what could you be like if you had the chance?

Elias was like a man obsessed after your sudden, explosive rise in the minds of professors and lecturers alike. He spent hours studying, shirking his friends and other responsibilities just to make sure he was still better than you, to keep you in your place.

He started to focus in more on your personal life, too.

Where on earth did you come from? He's half convinced that you were genetically designed in a lab to piss him off. But the more he glares at the back of your head when you're not looking, the more he's transfixed. You're like a black hole, or some kind of other abyss like metaphor. Fuck, you had him writing poetry in his head. He hated poetry. He hated you. Or at least, he would really like to hate you, but he couldn't. You had the same amount of drive as him, maybe even a little more. No matter what he did, he was forced to acknowledge you, forced to be aware of every twitch of your hand or every flutter of your eyelids. To him, you were something that demanded attention, even if it was taken from him through gritted teeth.

The only reprieve from his spiraling was the fact that you felt the same way about him. He liked to imagine that you were just as obsessed with him, sitting there in the late hours of the night writing down equations with him as your sole motivator.

But then he finds out that he's not even occupying your mind, and he loses his shit.

"Oh Elias? Yeah I guess he's fine. Huh? Rivals? What the- no way I just want good grades. He has nothing to do with it haha."

You just said it in passing when someone teased you about it, and he knew that he shouldn't linger on your words for too long. If anything, it should make him feel better. You had nothing against him, so it meant everything was fine, right? Wrong. It was so wrong.

Elias was seething, nearly throwing a tantrum. How could you not even think about him. Him! You were some piddling, pathetic excuse for a human being, and you had the audacity to not even regard him when he spent nearly every waking moment thinking about you.

He was fine just watching you from the corner of his eye. He was fine knowing that on some level, the two of you had a respectable if not distant relationship. Just because in some aspect, he wanted a piece of you all to himself. And if you weren't going to let him just have a little bit of your life, your passion, your drive, he would just take all of you instead.

He follows you into the library late one night. You're sitting there, glowing in the warmth of the nearest lamp while your pen makes soft scratching noises against the paper. You look pretty. You've always looked pretty to him. You don't notice him as he approaches, and he feels any vestiges of doubt or restraint float away. Even now, as he loomed over you, you didn't even spare him a glance.

The library was empty. He made sure it was so before hand, and he's glad he did. The quite air was shattered by the sound of him shoving you over the priceless lacquered wood desk. Your eyes go wide as you take him in, and his hands fly up to your throat.

"Augh! What are you-?"

"Shut up." He hisses and narrows his gaze. Your pulse is racing underneath his fingers, and he has half a mind not to crush your windpipe into oblivion so that he can be the last one to feel it. "You have no idea," He mutters and leans in close. Your frightened breath ghosts over his skin, and he shudders. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first time he's ever been so close to you. It feels so right. He never wants to be away from you again. Not when you look so damn alluring with tears rolling down your cheeks and your clothes rumpled on the floor by his feet.

He wants you like this always, with your twitching cunt stuffed full of his fingers and your cries filling his ears. Soft, wet squelching noises met each of his ministrations, and a cruel, wonder filled grin spread across his face.

"You have no idea how much you've driven me wild," He laughs. It's a sharp sound that grates on your ears. "How much you infuriate me," Each word is punctured by a thrust, by a curling motion that has you gasping and seeing stars.

If this is what he has to do so that you notice him, so you will just fucking care about his existence more than you would any other speck of dust on the street, then so be it.

It only gets worse from there.

Elias takes photos of you. So many. Ones of your crying face, ones of your leaking pussy, some of him shoving his dick past your puffy lips. Once the camera shuttered and they were in his hands, it was all over.

He played the role of your boyfriend after that.

There wasn't a moment where he wasn't hovering over your shoulder, whispering threats into your ears. He gets you to start doing worse in your classes and on your assignments, and for once, he's happy. He finally has your eyes on him, and if you ever try to leave him or say anything, then he'll make sure you can never show your face around here again. Don't worry, though. He's kind enough to keep it so you won't fail outright. In fact, he'll just slip some money to some of the professors so you don't have to do anything other than sit on his lap and pay attention to him while he actually works for the top spot.

Elias takes you out on fancy dates as if it's any way to soothe the sting of having your life ruined. He pays for everything and practically preens under the feeling of finally getting what he wants. He's such a brat, and he doesn't even care about hiding it when he's with you. Part of the reason why he likes you is he can be his nasty, awful and conniving self and you have no choice but to accept it. He doesn't mind if you're reluctant or stubborn. In fact, he kind of likes it because in the end, you still gave in to have a chance to graduate from a prestigious school. And plus, now you're living the high life with him! It's kind of a win win if you think about it.

He loves having you sit on your knees (a cushion underneath them of course. He wouldn't want you to ever actually get hurt) and taking his cock in your mouth while he studies. You look so cute like that, with your eyes all narrowed in mildly hidden frustration, and he loves it even more when he thrusts into your throat. You always make these little spluttering noises that just drive him wild, and he clamps his thighs around your head to keep you there.

Elias who soon becomes the university's beloved model student. He's not going to let anyone get in his way ever again, especially not after he has you to provide for now. After all, he's got plans for you. Once he manages to put a baby in you, he'll know that your future family is secured, and he's got to support all of you. There's no way he can fail now!

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[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini, what about vampire Fyodor x vampire hunter reader (〜^∇^)〜 like you’ve been assigned to hunt down and bring the head of Fyodor Dostoevsky to uhh.. a king idk.

So you track Fyodor down and instead make a deal with him. You won’t kill him and actually let him feed off you and he lets you fuck him (ゝз╹)

At first he’s hesitant. A well ranked hunter coming to him and proposing a friends with benefits arrangement sounds pretty suspicious, but hearing the offer that you let him feed off you makes him agree since it’s an easy meal and he was planning on betraying you later on.

Thats until he’s bent down on all fours and being pounded like wild animals in heat. The vampire is so touch starved that he can’t handle the pleasure and tries biting anything he can (let’s just say you were left with a bunch of bite marks) After that experience he traps you in his manor and begs you to stay with him, maybe he turns you into a vampire as well

-🍮

I had so much fun writing this haha, and I had to brainstorm trying to fill in some plot holes

Dom!reader x sub!vampire!fyodor

Warning: teasing, pet name (lil’ vamp), pegging (I use dick), a tiny bit of dacryphilia, biting, hierophilia (blood), vampirism, contract sex

Edit: I think I’m based towards fyodor, this ended up so long again-

You were a mercenary, one specified in hunting down those bloodsucking monsters known as vampires. Your name was infamous among the humans and vampire race, known for your amazing methods and efficient execution. Though you don’t care much about fame, the only good things about it is it lands you many missions. Which is why you’ve been summoned to the castle of a faraway country, one that resides close to a forbidden forest.

These mysterious forests are strictly forbidden due to vampires living within them. It’s always dark and quiet in those places, befitting their taste. So you might think it’s alright if people just don’t go into the woods. Sadly something like that can’t be prevented. There are many valuable resources beneath these trees, and everyone is dying to get their hands on those. The price for material from the forest is also really high, and sometimes that’s the only hope for the commoners.

Even though it’s been agreed upon that humans shall not disturb the vampires for they own safety, your client, the king, wanted to raid the forest. He had his eyes set on the wood planted around the mansion of the monster, it had a beautiful dark colour and was very sturdy. Yet out of fear for the power of the entity, he didn’t dare set a single foot into the woods. That’s when you come into the spotlight, he wanted you, the most famous vampire hunter, to take care of this. Once the vampire is gone, he won’t be breaking any rules, right?

This was a common case for you, everyone used you to do their dirty work. That’s the life of a mercenary, disposable and self-destructive.

You walked through the lavish halls of the king, meeting him in his throne hall. He didn’t spare you more then one glance, shouting loud enough for his voice to bounce off the walls, “y/n, vampire hunter. I have an honorary task for you. I want you to bring me the head of the demon Fyodor Dostoyevsky and for that you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Despite it sounding grandiose and imposing you knew how to stand your ground, asking for the exact amount you’ll be rewarded and an advance payment. The king on the other hand refused to answer, saying he doesn’t want you to run off with the money. What a joke, your previous feats aren’t just for show after all. There was no helping it, that’s life. You swallowed your anger and left, rolling your eyes as you prepared to set off.

The home of that demon was grande, almost as huge as the castle, he sure loved luxury. You circled around the house to secure your escape route before heading inside, the door opened with a climatic creak. What a cliche, does vampires not know how to take care of their home? Without sparing it too much thought, you stepped inside and called out for that monster, wondering why the ruler knew his name. They must have a long history between them.

“Fyodor! Heyyy, come out, do me a favour and make this easy.” You yelled, and soon enough, a shadow emerged from behind you. Before you got the chance to turn around, he mumbled with grace and elegance, “Y/n, the vampire’s greatest enemy. The one who pulled out the fangs of Dracula with your bare hand, and forced him to drink the blood of his comrades.” A shiver ran down your spine at his voice, it was low and pretty, enough to stir something inside you.

“That’s an exaggeration, I never did such things.” You turned around and chuckled, staring into his purple eyes. Before you stood a black haired young man with a puffy shirt and fitted pants. He wore many silver accessories, tons of necklaces hung around his neck. His appearance was very eye-catching, pretty features and pale skin, sickly so. “…but I may have a record of flirting with the enemy.” After seeing how beautiful he was, you decided to indulge yourself, flirting with him.

He didn’t pay your words any attention, instead he continued with his speech, “Mortal children strived to be like you, while we use your stories to scare the kids.” You stopped, a sense of pride engulfing you from the inside. “My, I am quite famous after all.” Fyodor furrowed his brows, as if he’s agitated, then he relaxed his expression and said, “I knew you’d come for me one day. And, I’m dying to try out your blood.” After saying that, he licked his lips before covering his mouth with his hand.

You laughed, catching him off guard. The sound of your voice was annoying, he felt like you were mocking him. Then you teased, “dear, do you really think you can touch my blood?” That was clearly a provocation, you looked down on him. He clicked his tongue, glaring at you. The moment you blinked, he rushed over to you, planning on taking you out with one swoop attack. You dodged him with ease, commenting, “not bad, but is this all?” And he ignored your remarks once more.

Seeing how serious he was, you’ll have to stop the joking soon as well. To be honest you weren’t in the mood for fighting, which is why you suggested, “How about this, fyodor-” “I didn’t give you permission to use my name.” He snapped, showing his fangs. “…then, lil’ vamp it is.” You chuckled, noticing how that pet name annoyed him further. “How about a deal? I’ll spare your life and you can have as much of my blood as I’m able to give you.” His pointy ears perked, intrigued by this proposal. It sounded enticing, but there’s nothing for free in this world.

“And what do you get out of this?” Fyodor asked, keeping his distance. He wasn’t going to heed the rules of a deal anyway, especially when made with a human. “Allow me to be a bit crude, but I want you to sell your body to me.” The boy froze in place, eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Were you aware of the implications of your own words? Was this another one of your mockery, your way of insulting him? “What makes you think I’d agree?” He questioned you, staring at your face with his scarlet eyes, trying to read you.

“I’m simply proposing a deal, you can decline or agree, it’s up to you.” Somehow you managed to sound unbothered and cheery despite the situation. No matter how fyodor wanted to decline, he knew this was his chance. If you fought with him seriously, he would eventually lose. Now, with you giving him new opportunities, he had to take them and put it to good use. “I’ll accept this for now, so, show me how sincere you are.” The demon demanded, and you answered with, “my pleasure, please show me to your room.”

Who would have known a day like this would come, where he got shoved into his own room, pinned to his own bed and humiliated in front of a human. It didn’t take long until you got him bend over on all fours, face pressed into his soft pillows. Any of his attempts to overpower you were futile, because you were physically stronger than him. That allowed you to pretty much manhandle him, denying him access to your neck. Once you got him into this vulnerable position, you didn’t held yourself back, asking him one last time if your deal still stands. After he nodded, you went all in.

Now you were breathing heavily while slowly entering his hole. His rim was tight and didn’t allow you any entrance, but you stayed stubborn, gently pushing your way in. “You are so tight, lil’ vamp.” You muttered, occasionally glancing over at him to see how well his reaction is. “Nghhh…! S-slow down, it hurts!” Fyodor groaned, cheeks flushed red as he realized the situation he was in, and that he never shared such intimate moments with anyone before. “…if I go any slower I wouldn’t be moving anymore.” You tried to reason with him, leaning down to press your body against his.

“HnnGh… t-then pull out…” He snarled, glaring at you while he felt your skin against his back, pressing him down, reminding him of your presence. How did things turn out like this? Why was he participating in such vulgar acts with his greatest enemy…? “Do you want me to? Then you won’t get my blood as well.” You whispered into his ear, licking his earlobe and the earring he wore. “Ha-haahhhH…! No, d-don’t.” The boy gasped, and you weren’t sure what he meant. But he seems to be enjoying himself, so you continued.

His hands gripped the white sheets with all the remaining strength he had, his ass reddened as he struggled to take you whole. That poor guy’s entire body was shivering, shaking as he tried to get used to this pressing sensation inside him. He could feel you stretching him apart, rubbing against his squishy walls. You smiled as you observed his efforts, one hand clasped over his hand as you intertwining your fingers with his. He had sharp nails, you could even call them claws. So you were worried that he’d poke holes into his sheets.

Your other hand explored his body, trailing down his spine with your fingertips, brushing over his body as if you were caressing a flower. “Hmm..! Uh-uhhng..! It f-feels weird..” It tickled him, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least he thinks it wasn’t. Next, you stroke his silky hair before grabbing his hip and mumbling tenderly, “you are doing good, don’t worry I plan on being nice for today.” What do you mean for today…?

Soon, your hips met with his, and you stopped moving until you were sure he was alright. “Good job.” You said, rubbing his blushing cheeks slightly. Then you held your wrist right in front of him, inviting him to bite you, giving him your approval. Without any once of hesitation, he sunk his teeth into your flesh, sucking viciously. He was feeling so weak from your actions, he needed that replenishment. Since he was distracted, you took that chance to start moving again, making sure to take your sweet time. Well, he looked like he’d break if you weren’t gentle with him. He had such a slim and frail physic after all. Just look at his waist, it’s so skinny you fear you could accidentally break him into two pieces.

Fyodor suck on your wrist, mind getting cloudy from the taste of your sweet blood. It tasted amazing, and it made him feel all foggy inside. As if he was getting drunk on it, addicted even. He made sure not to waste a single drop, lips pressed against your skin while he gulped down more and more of your vitality. Apparently he was so distracted he didn’t notice you pounding his cute ass, not until it was too late. You fucked him slowly but roughly, each time you’d thrust yourself as deep inside him as you could, feeling him clench around you so sweetly.

“HnMnh, nghh…” the vampire only whimpered meekly as he sipped your blood contently, feeling pleasure blossom everywhere inside him. You eventually quickened your pace, now rutting into him without any care in the world. It was instantly met with his mewling, a high pitched noise as he screamed in ecstasy. Fyodor couldn’t pull his thoughts together, tongue hanging out as some tears rolled down his face.

Then you pulled your wrist away from him, saying, “that’s enough for now. If you want more, you gotta work hard.” His eyes bore such a pitiful look as he begged you for more, face melting as he moaned around you, some of your blood sticking to his lips. “Ahhh… it felt so good, I-i don’t wanna stop..” he admit, hands shaking underneath you, his primal urges kicking in, infesting his desires and hunger.

“What is it that you want, fyodor?” The way you voiced his name made his knees go weak, tremble even. He panted heavily, trying to fill his lungs with air, to keep his composure. “I-I want more blood… I want your blood.” You smiled, seeing him so desperate fed into your own desires. And you felt like if you denied him any longer he was going to cry, considering his eyes were getting watery already. “Then come here, lil’ vamp.” You told him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sat up, positioning him in your lap.

His first response was to whine as he arched his back forwards, legs turning into pudding as his hands shakily let go of the sheets, now clutching your thighs. “Ah-nGhh.. it’s so- so deep inside me.. it’s so foreign..?” Out of nowhere you turned him over, and he wanted to immediately bite your neck, but you covered his mouth with your palm. “Not yet.” As soon as he understood what you wanted, he wrapped his arms around your neck, bouncing up and down your dick like he was in heat. Your hand was still over his lips, so his moans all got muffled as they seeped through, “mHhnff, HnnGh, hmm…!!”

He rode you with fever and need. On one hand because he needed you and your blood on a carnal level, on the other hand due to him starting to enjoy getting fucked by you. After a while you took your hand away from him, now squeezing his waist with both hands, guiding his movements. Fyodor nuzzled against your neck, pleading with you, hoping you’d let him have some of that delicious red liquid again. “Y/n.. ah-huuHhn~ l-let me fed off you..? P-please..♡♥︎～?” You giggled to yourself, entertained and delighted, duty all pushed to the side as you said, “go on, take as much as you need.”

Needless of say, you two shared a long night together, and somehow, both of you ended up in endless love bites. Ops, what’s this? Oh no, his door is stuck! It must be because it’s so old~ oh no, seems you’ll have to stay at the mansion longer than expected… and his impending heat is coming up ♡

My friend send me this after I told them what I was writing haha

[reidmarieprentiss]

A Reid Christmas

Summary: A few Christmas prompts mashed up from this link !!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: holidays, fluff

Warnings/Includes: a kiss maybe..., this is sooo chesy

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: i am in a christmas mood and i want to spend it with Spencer Reid

main masterlist

The first time you stepped into the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. Despite your experience in Human Resources, this assignment was a significant departure from the typical office conflicts you mediated. Erin Strauss herself had requested your assistance in an internal investigation involving the BAU’s Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner. Apparently, accusations had surfaced suggesting Hotchner had bent a few rules, presumably in an effort to protect his team.

You walked into the bullpen wearing your usual crisp blazer and pencil skirt, clipboard in hand, determined to remain impartial and professional. You could feel the tension in the air, a mix of curiosity and apprehension from the team as they watched you approach Hotchner's office. They were used to being scrutinized by external forces, but having HR conduct an investigation in their workspace was a new one.

Hotch, as they called him, was calm, collected, and unwaveringly professional throughout the entire process. You conducted your interviews meticulously, documenting every detail while observing the dynamics of the team. You spoke with Morgan, whose easy charm and casual demeanor couldn’t completely mask his wariness; with JJ, whose warmth was tinged with protectiveness for her team; and with Rossi, whose years of experience made him sharp and insightful. Emily Prentiss was direct but guarded, and Penelope Garcia was her colorful, effervescent self, despite clearly disliking your presence in their sanctum.

And then there was Spencer Reid.

Your first meeting with him was brief, almost rushed. He’d walked into the conference room where you were working, a stack of files in hand, his tie slightly askew. He apologized for interrupting, his voice quick and soft, as though he was already analyzing you and your purpose there. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he said, extending a hand. You shook it, surprised by the firm but gentle grip. “I, um, wasn’t aware we had a guest this week. Are you working with the team?”

“Not exactly,” you replied with a polite smile, offering your name. “I’m here conducting an internal investigation on behalf of Erin Strauss.”

His eyebrows raised in recognition of the name, but he didn’t say anything further. Instead, he nodded, offered a fleeting smile, and excused himself. It was brief, yet something about his presence lingered in your mind.

Over the course of the week, you caught glimpses of Spencer in action. He moved like his mind was always three steps ahead of everyone else, which, based on his IQ and eidetic memory, it probably was. You couldn’t help but admire his passion for his work, his encyclopedic knowledge of nearly everything, and the quiet, almost awkward way he interacted with his colleagues. 

By the end of your investigation, you’d gathered enough evidence to conclude that Hotch was innocent of the accusations. It was clear that his actions, while unconventional at times, were always in the best interest of his team and the cases they pursued. You presented your findings to Strauss, ensuring that your report was thorough and unbiased.

On your last day in the BAU, Spencer stopped by your temporary desk. He held a book in his hands, a slim volume with a worn cover.

“I noticed you reading during your breaks,” he began, his voice soft but clear. “You, uh, seemed to favor non-fiction, so I thought you might like this. It’s one of my favorites.” He handed the book to you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment.

You looked at the cover and smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Just Spencer,” he corrected quickly, his ears tinged pink. “And, um, thank you. For, you know… being fair. To Hotch. To all of us.”

“It’s my job,” you replied warmly. “But you’re welcome.”

As you left the BAU that evening, book in hand, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your week there had been more than just another assignment. Meeting Spencer Reid had been… unexpected. You didn’t yet know how much that brief encounter would change things, but something about it made you smile all the way home.

The next Monday started like any other. Your morning coffee sat steaming on your desk as you sifted through a stack of paperwork, preparing for a meeting. Everything was perfectly routine until you noticed an envelope that hadn’t been there earlier. It was plain white, slightly creased, and unmarked except for your name, written in a careful, slightly curled scrawl that instantly brought a smile to your lips.

You picked it up, already curious, and slid a nail under the seal to open it. Inside was a neatly folded piece of stationery. The handwriting, now familiar after that week in the BAU, made your heart skip just a little. It was undeniably Spencer Reid’s.

You unfolded the paper, eager to see what he’d written.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter doesn’t come across as strange. I’ve never been particularly skilled at expressing myself in person, especially when it comes to matters that make me nervous, so I thought writing might be a better option.

I wanted to thank you again for the work you did with the BAU last week. You were fair, professional, and kind—qualities that are sometimes hard to come by in situations like that. It’s clear that you’re exceptional at what you do, and it was genuinely nice to have you around.

That brings me to the reason for this letter. I’ve been debating whether to write it all weekend, and if you’re reading this, it means I finally worked up the courage. I was wondering if you might like to join me for dinner sometime. There’s a little Italian restaurant near the Smithsonian that I think you’d enjoy. Of course, if Italian isn’t your preference, I’m more than happy to go somewhere else.

If this isn’t something you’re interested in, I completely understand, and I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Either way, I wanted to let you know that I enjoyed meeting you and hope our paths cross again.

Sincerely,  

Spencer Reid

You finished reading the letter, your cheeks warm and a soft smile tugging at your lips. The fact that he’d taken the time to write a letter—so formal, so earnest—touched you deeply. It wasn’t every day that someone asked you on a date in such a thoughtful way. 

You glanced at the clock, debating how to respond. After a moment, you pulled out a piece of your own stationery and began writing back.  

Spencer,  

Thank you for your letter—it was a lovely surprise to find it on my desk this morning. I’d be delighted to join you for dinner. Italian sounds perfect, and I trust your recommendation.  

Let me know what day works best for you. I’m looking forward to it.  

Y/N

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

As you finished the note, a small thrill ran through you. You had no idea where this might lead, but one thing was certain: you couldn’t wait to see him again. You tucked your response into an envelope, sealed it, and headed toward the BAU to deliver it personally.

The bullpen was bustling with activity when you arrived, the second you stepped through the doors, though, the atmosphere shifted. A few heads turned, and you could feel the curious glances of Derek and Emily as you offered them a polite smile and a quick “Good morning.”  

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you approached Spencer’s desk, your heart pounding against your ribs. He was seated, deeply engrossed in a stack of case files, his long fingers flipping through pages with a precision that somehow made you more nervous. The moment he looked up and his gaze locked with yours, you saw it—a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, as if bracing himself for rejection.

For a split second, you wondered if this was a mistake, if he would regret asking you out or if you’d misread the sweetness in his letter. But then you reminded yourself why you were here and smiled, a warm, sweet smile you hoped would ease his worry.  

“Hi, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice carrying just enough to reach him. He blinked at you, his lips parting slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there.

“H-hi,” he managed, his voice just as soft, laced with nervous energy. His hands fidgeted with the papers in front of him, then quickly stilled when he realized he was doing it.

You held out the envelope, the edges of your smile turning playful as you added a wink. “I think this belongs to you,” you said lightly. The moment he reached out and his fingers brushed yours to take the note, you turned, leaving before the heat of his gaze and your own nerves could make you second-guess yourself.

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, a sensation that made your stomach flutter in the best way. You glanced back briefly, catching the way his expression had shifted—his brows slightly raised, his lips parted in surprise, and the smallest hint of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Spencer sat frozen for a moment, still staring at the envelope in his hands. Slowly, he opened it, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded the note inside. He recognized your handwriting instantly, and his eyes scanned the words with a growing sense of disbelief and elation.

By the time he finished reading, Spencer was grinning—an unrestrained, joyful smile that lit up his whole face.  

“Yo, Reid,” Derek called out from his desk, his voice breaking through Spencer’s trance. “You okay, man? You look like you just won the lottery.”  

Spencer quickly folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I—I’m fine,” he stammered, his tone betraying just how far from fine he really was.  

But Derek wasn’t buying it, and neither was Emily, who leaned over with an amused smirk. “Spill, Boy Wonder. What did she give you?”  

Spencer shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him as he stood, smoothing down his tie. “It’s nothing,” he said, but the way his smile lingered betrayed just how much it wasn’t nothing.  

As he turned back to his desk, his mind was already racing—planning, anticipating, and counting down the minutes until he could see you again.

—

The air was crisp, with just the right hint of winter’s chill, as you walked alongside Spencer toward the town square. The streets were lined with twinkling lights and festive decorations, a soft buzz of excitement filling the air as families, couples, and friends gathered for the annual tree lighting celebration. You had been looking forward to this for days, the idea of experiencing a classic Christmas event stirring a childlike giddiness in you.

Spencer, on the other hand, had been skeptical. When you’d first suggested the tree lighting for your date, he’d tilted his head, his brow furrowed slightly. “It sounds… kind of cheesy,” he had admitted, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s the point,” you’d replied with a laugh. “It’s supposed to be cheesy. I never got to celebrate Christmas growing up. My parents didn’t believe in it, so… I want to see what the buzz is about. Please, Spencer?”

And how could he say no to that? The way your eyes lit up at the mere suggestion of the event made it impossible for him to resist. So here you were, bundled up in scarves and gloves, your breath visible in the frosty air as you made your way through the growing crowd.

The square was alive with activity, a large tree standing proudly in the center, its bare branches waiting to be illuminated. A choir sang carols near the base of the tree, their voices weaving through the laughter and chatter of the crowd. Vendors lined the sidewalks, selling hot cocoa, roasted chestnuts, and handmade ornaments.

“Let’s get some cocoa,” you suggested, tugging him toward one of the stands. Spencer let himself be pulled along, his long legs easily keeping pace with yours.

As you waited in line, he turned to you, his expression curious. “So, no Christmas growing up? Not even a tree?”

You shook your head, your breath puffing in the cold air. “Not a single ornament or candy cane. My parents thought it was frivolous. But I always loved the idea of it—the lights, the warmth, the magic. I’d watch Christmas movies and dream about what it would be like.”

Spencer’s face softened, and he reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours. “Then I’m glad we’re here tonight. You deserve to experience all of it.”

You smiled up at him, grateful for his understanding. After getting your cocoa, the two of you found a spot near the tree, the anticipation in the crowd growing as the time for the lighting drew near.

When the countdown began, you turned to Spencer, your excitement bubbling over. “This is it!” you whispered, your eyes sparkling with joy.

He couldn’t help but smile at your enthusiasm, his heart squeezing in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for. As the crowd shouted, “Three… two… one!” the tree came to life, thousands of lights twinkling in vibrant colors, casting a warm glow over the square.

You gasped, your face lighting up in awe as you took it all in. “It’s beautiful,” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the cheers around you.

Spencer wasn’t looking at the tree. He was looking at you, your expression radiant in the glow of the lights. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

When you turned back to him, catching his gaze, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. The moment was perfect, the air between you filled with something unspoken but undeniable.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said, your voice warm. “Even if it’s a little cheesy.”

Spencer smiled, his hand finding yours. “Cheesy isn’t so bad,” he admitted. “Especially if it makes you this happy.”

The two of you strolled through the square, your hands brushing occasionally as you walked. The festive lights cast a warm glow on the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with the sound of carolers and the gentle hum of happy conversations. Your cocoa had cooled by now, but neither of you seemed to mind, too caught up in the magic of the evening.

Spencer pointed out the intricacies of the hand-carved ornaments displayed at one of the vendor stalls, his voice soft but animated as he explained the origins of some of the designs. You listened intently, charmed by the passion in his words, the way his eyes lit up when he shared something he found fascinating.

And then, as if the universe itself decided to add its own touch of perfection to the night, a soft flurry of snow began to fall. You looked up in surprise, a delighted laugh escaping your lips as the delicate flakes drifted down from the sky. The crowd around you buzzed with excitement, children darting through the snow and couples huddling closer together.

“The first snow of the season,” you murmured, holding your hand out to catch a flake. It melted instantly against your glove, but the chill lingered, making you shiver slightly.

Spencer tilted his head back, his gaze following the snowflakes as they fell. “It’s beautiful,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His breath clouded the air in front of him, and when he looked back at you, his expression softened.

You stood there for a moment, the world around you fading into the background. The square, the lights, the music—all of it seemed to blur into a quiet hum as your eyes locked with his. The snow gathered lightly on his hair, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he looked, standing there with a kind of wonder in his eyes.

“I think…” Spencer began, his voice tentative as he took a small step closer. “I think I’ve wanted to do this all night.”

You felt your breath hitch, your heart pounding as he reached out, his gloved hand brushing a stray snowflake from your cheek. The touch was gentle, his fingers lingering for just a moment before he let them drop.

“Then maybe you should,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, but not from the cold.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, shy smile, and he leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You stood on your toes to meet him halfway, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips brushed against yours.

The kiss was warm, tender, and filled with a kind of sweetness that made your chest ache. It wasn’t rushed or practiced—it was soft and genuine, as though neither of you wanted to break the spell the moment had cast.

The snow fell gently around you, dusting your shoulders and hair, but you barely noticed. All you could feel was Spencer’s hand coming to rest lightly on your waist, anchoring you to him as the world seemed to stand still.

When you finally pulled back, the tips of your noses brushing, you opened your eyes to find Spencer gazing at you with an expression that made your heart skip. His cheeks were pink, whether from the cold or the kiss, you couldn’t be sure, but his smile was unmistakable.

“That was…” He paused, searching for the right word. “That was perfect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound carrying in the crisp winter air. “It really was.”

Spencer reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering for just a moment longer. “You, um… you’ve made tonight unforgettable.”

“So have you,” you replied, your voice warm. And as the snow continued to fall, you found yourself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something truly magical.

—

As the days turned into weeks and the holiday season picked up pace, you and Spencer began spending more and more time together. It started with casual dinners and coffee dates but quickly grew into a comfortable rhythm of late-night conversations, spontaneous plans, and shared moments that brought a new kind of warmth to both your lives. 

Spencer, ever observant and thoughtful, seemed to remember every little thing you’d said about wanting to experience Christmas the way you’d always dreamed. He took it upon himself to make this season unforgettable for you, and the results were nothing short of magical.

One evening, he showed up at your apartment with a small stack of DVDs in hand, a proud but slightly sheepish smile on his face. "I thought maybe we could have a Christmas movie night," he said, holding up the collection like a peace offering. "You mentioned you didn’t get to watch a lot of them growing up, so I picked out a few classics."

You couldn’t help but grin, already charmed by the effort he’d put into it. "That sounds perfect. What did you bring?"

As you flipped through the stack, your smile widened. There was It’s a Wonderful Life, Home Alone, Elf, and A Christmas Story, among others. But when you got to Die Hard, you raised an eyebrow and held it up with a laugh. "Seriously? Die Hard?"

Spencer adjusted his glasses, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "It’s set during Christmas. That technically makes it a Christmas movie."

"Oh, you’re one of those people," you teased, poking his side as he squirmed slightly under your touch. "I’m not sure I can agree with you on that."

He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "It’s a classic. You’ll see."

The evening was spent curled up on the couch under a cozy blanket, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously between the two of you. Spencer had insisted on starting with It’s a Wonderful Life, claiming it was the quintessential Christmas movie. You had agreed, though not without playfully poking fun at his almost academic defense of its merits.

By the time Elf rolled around, the bickering had reached a friendly crescendo. "Will Ferrell as a grown man in an elf costume? Really?" Spencer asked, his tone skeptical but his eyes betraying his amusement.

"Yes, really," you shot back, grinning. "It’s hilarious and heartwarming, and if you don’t laugh at the ‘angry elf’ scene, I might have to reevaluate this relationship."

"Fair warning," he replied with a small chuckle, "I don’t laugh easily at slapstick humor."

But when the scene came, and Buddy the Elf called Miles Finch an "angry elf," Spencer let out a laugh so unexpected and genuine that it made you laugh harder just from hearing it.

"See?" you said triumphantly, nudging his shoulder. "I told you it’s funny."

Spencer shook his head, still chuckling. "Fine, you win this round."

The debates over Christmas movies became a running theme for the season. He swore by the timeless elegance of White Christmas, while you couldn’t get enough of the chaotic hilarity of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. You both agreed, however, that Love Actually had its moments but was wildly overrated.

"Okay, but Die Hard is still the best Christmas movie," Spencer would insist every time, earning a dramatic groan from you.

"You’re impossible," you’d reply with mock exasperation, though the smile on your face gave away just how much you loved these little arguments.

Between the movie nights, the impromptu snowball fights, and the endless discussions over which holiday tradition to try next, Spencer was determined to give you the perfect Christmas season. And with every laugh, every shared glance, and every stolen kiss under the mistletoe, you couldn’t help but think he was succeeding.

—

The evening began with Spencer showing up at your door, his arms overflowing with bags of oddly-shaped gifts and rolls of colorful wrapping paper. His sheepish grin was enough to make your heart melt before the night even started.

“I may have overestimated my ability to wrap these on my own,” he admitted as he stepped inside, carefully setting everything down on your living room floor.

You arched an eyebrow at the assortment of gifts spilling out of the bags. “Spencer, how many people are you shopping for?”

“Not many,” he replied defensively. “Just my mom, the team, Henry… and you.”

Your face warmed at the last part, but you decided to tease him instead of letting it show. “Well, let’s see what we’re working with. But just so you know, if you’re terrible at this, I reserve the right to laugh.”

“I expected nothing less,” he quipped, his grin widening.

It didn’t take long for the chaos to unfold. Spencer’s approach to wrapping gifts was as meticulous as his research, but unfortunately, precision didn’t translate to skill. By the time he’d managed to tape one corner of a box, you were already stifling a laugh, your hand pressed to your mouth.

“What?” he asked, looking genuinely perplexed as he held up his first attempt. The paper was unevenly cut, the tape crisscrossed in random directions, and the edges bulged where they shouldn’t.

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” you said between giggles, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “A true work of art.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “I don’t think art is supposed to be this lopsided.”

“Okay, okay,” you said, sitting down beside him and taking the gift gently from his hands. “Let me help you. Watch and learn.”

You walked him through the process, showing him how to fold the edges neatly and tape them discreetly. He tried to mimic your movements, but somehow his wrapping attempts still ended up slightly crooked. You didn’t mind, though—it was endearing, watching him try so hard.

“You’re too nice to laugh at me again,” he said after his third attempt, glancing at you with mock suspicion.

“Oh, I’m laughing on the inside,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “But you’re improving. Kind of.”

When the gifts were finally wrapped (with a mix of your expertise and his earnest efforts), you moved on to building a gingerbread house for Henry. Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet as he carefully held up the walls of the tiny structure, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re doing great,” you said encouragingly, but when one of the walls started to tilt, you couldn’t resist stepping in. You walked over and gently placed your hands over his, steadying the gingerbread walls.

Spencer froze at your touch, his heart skipping a beat. He glanced at you, his eyes softening as he took in the patience and warmth in your expression. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something that made your own heart flutter.

“Teamwork,” you said with a small smile. “That’s what Christmas is all about, right?”

“Something like that,” he murmured, still looking at you.

Once the house was haphazardly assembled—complete with a slightly leaning roof and more icing than structurally necessary—Spencer produced a box of ornaments and tinsel for your tree. “I thought we could decorate your tree, too,” he said, his tone hopeful.

The idea was sweet, but execution? Not Spencer’s strong suit. Within minutes, there was tinsel tangled in his hair, a rogue strand of lights coiled around his wrist, and more glitter on the floor than on the ornaments.

“There is tinsel. Everywhere,” you said, dissolving into laughter as you surveyed the chaotic scene. “I think you got more of it on yourself than the tree.”

Spencer pouted, brushing a strand of tinsel off his shoulder. “I guess I’m not very good at Christmas.”

“Aw, don’t be such a Scrooge,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he shot back, but his faux irritation was betrayed by the smile tugging at his lips.

By the time the night ended, the gifts were wrapped, the gingerbread house was (miraculously) intact, and the tree was decorated—albeit slightly crooked and glitter-covered. But to you, it was perfect, because it was filled with moments like these: Spencer’s quiet laughter, his shy smiles, and the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you. 

“You’re not bad at Christmas, Spencer,” you said as the two of you stood by the tree, admiring your work. “You’re just… uniquely festive.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said with a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

And as you leaned into him, the glow of the tree casting a warm light over the room, you realized this was the kind of Christmas you’d always dreamed of—and it was all thanks to Spencer.

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