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Hey there anon! Here is a snippet from part 2 of Show Me that I still haven't gotten around to finishing 🙈
“Right there?”
“Yeah,” you respond. Then, you cringe slightly. “Maybe a little to the left.”
“Like this?” Bradley asks.
“Better,” you respond. Then, you add, “Slower.”
Bradley looks up at you pointedly. “Are you fucking with me?” he says in a low voice.
“What are you talking about?” you ask innocently.
“Rooster,” Jake calls from a seat near the back. “It’s not rocket science.”
Bradley throws him a cold glare before looking back at you and raising his eyebrows.
“I’m just saying,” Jake continues while Bradley rolls his eyes. “It’s not that hard.”
You grimace at Bradley because you know exactly what’s on his mind. “If it’s not hard then what’s even the point?” you mutter under your breath, so that only Bradley could hear you.
Bradley lets out a sigh and slowly lowers the model planes he’s been holding up at the front of the briefing room.
“Wait, I wasn’t done,” Bob chimes in from one of the desks nearby. “Can you show me the position again?” He leans forward in his seat with his notebook in hand.
Bradley is watching you steadily. His face looks flushed and he pulls at the collar of his uniform as if he’s having trouble regulating his temperature. “I need to talk to you,” he says hoarsely.
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take my breath away
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.
a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy
wc: 1.3k
warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff
“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”
“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”
“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”
“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”
“You never did sports as a kid?”
“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”
Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”
“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”
“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”
Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.
You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.
(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)
Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.
His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.
“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”
“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”
“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”
Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”
“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”
You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”
“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”
“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.
He nodded. “How’d you know?”
“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”
Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”
“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”
“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.
“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”
“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”
He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”
“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”
“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”
“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.
“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”
“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”
Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”
You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”
“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”
For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”
“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”
You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.
When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.
“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.
“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”
Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”
“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.
“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”
“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”
Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”
“But my teasing’s okay?”
He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”
“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”
His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.
“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”
“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”
Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”
You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
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The fact that Vaggie knew it was a HORRIBLE idea for her to go to Heaven because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many bad memories there, but her girlfriend needed her and she couldn't say no to her cute face; the fact that the headstrong, optimistic, determined, powerful Princess of Hell knew she couldn't handle taking this huge step alone and the only one person she could imagine being by her side in that critical moment was Vaggie.
The fact that even when she felt so hurt, heartbroken, and betrayed and tried for a second to deny it, Charlie never stopped loving Vaggie, still referred to her as her girlfriend, and had full faith that she was completely succeeding in her task (getting detailed sensitive information from a weapons-dealing Overlord) while Charlie herself was struggling and failing with her own.
The fact that even with Charlie so upset that she intentionally threw a painful commentbat her (a comment with a subtle double meaning, though Charlie herself was definitely NOT thinking clearly enough to realize that implication and only meant to make a jab at the secret-keeping), Vaggie still wanted so desperately to protect Charlie out of love that she regrew angelic wings despite having been in Hell for years.
The fact that one gesture from Charlie told Vaggie everything she wanted to say to her, and that mutual understanding was so complete that she didn't hesitate to run to her knowing she would be accepted because her girlfriend still loved her and forgave her.
The support, love, and intimate understanding these two share even when things are hard and painful is so beautiful. They've been together for years; they've been through so much; and it's wonderful to have that respected and portrayed canonically instead of dipping into that easy, fan-craved trope of dramatically heavy relationship angst. I'm glad they left that angst itch to be scratched by fanworks instead, because these ladies aren't that type.
They are powerful; they are determined; they balance and complete each other; and most importantly, they are so head-over-heels and experienced in their love for each other that it took one day for Charlie to deeply consider everything and fully reconcile with Vaggie, who never doubted her even for a second. Their relationship isn't just established; it's stable, and I love to see that for a wlw couple. <3
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