#derek morgan cup content

[maschotch]

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Hangovers and Hickeys

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: no idea rn lmao probably like 700

A/N: some Spence content before the new year (on the western calendar). Hope you all get to enjoy the day!

“Good morning sunshine.”

You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. “If I could, id shove you off of the roof Derek Morgan.”

“Fun night?”

You snorted and finally lifted your head off of the desk. “You should be a profiler.”

That caused Derek to laugh, which made you wince and close your eyes. The sunglasses perched on your nose were supposed to be helping. They weren’t.

“That’s a nice hickey you got there.”

You grunted in response and tried to adjust your sweater collar so it would cover the hickey you missed this morning when you didn’t look in the mirror. You had basically rolled out of bed, and into your car to make sure you got to work on time.

“Who gave it to you?” “Why don’t you use your super duper profiling skills to deduce it or whatever Sherlock shit you wanna do.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. ”or you could just….tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it Derek.” You grumbled.

When Derek realized he wasn’t going to get any answers out of you about it, he decided he was going to change tactics.

“Moving on from Boy Wonder?” It was no secret that you had a crush on a certain nerdy doctor. And so Derek tried to use this knowledge to his advantage.

You crossed your arms and just raised your eyebrows. “I’m not dignifying that with a response,”

“Pretty sure that was my answer.” He chuckled, sitting down in his chair and swiveling to look at you.

When you decided to just ignore Derek, and face your desk, he piped up again. “Where is he anyways?” “No idea.”

It was like he was waiting for his cue from you. Spencer pushed open the doors to the bull pen and strolled in. He had his purple scarf around his neck, over his new coat that Henry (JJ) had gotten him for Christmas. It was a beautiful grey pea coat that kept him warm during these freezing winter months. Spender was carrying a tray with two coffees on it and what seemed like a bag from McDonalds, which seemed to be for you, since he was headed in your direction.

The smell of the food caused you to groan with joy and smile at the man walking towards you.

“My knight in shining armor.” You muttered as he placed the whole tray in front of you. You placed a kiss on his cheek hasilty, causing him to blush a little.

“I got hashbrowns from both McDonald’s and Dunkin’, a little smorgasbord of grease for your pallet.” He whispered before taking one of the cups out of the tray.

“I’m going to marry you Doctor Spencer Reid.” You muttered, digging into the bag and pulling out one of the McDonald’s hash browns and biting into it. The groan you let out leaned a little on the pornographic side, which made Derek raise his eyebrows at the sound you let out, and then at tinge of pink on Spencer’s cheeks.

You continued eating, clueless about the silent interrogation happening to your left, enjoying every single bite and sip of your hangover cure.

“Derek I can hear you thinking and it’s making my head throb.”

Derek’s eyes snapped back to you, as your figure swiveled in the chair to face him, casually munching on some of the fries, in a completely different mood then from two minutes ago before Spencer had walked in the room.

“Sorry your highness. I’m just curious as to why Boy Genius here is bringing you hangover cures.”

“Well it’s his fault I’m this fucked up so he owes me.” You grumbled, swiveling around in your chair to face your desk. You pulled your lap top out of your canvas bag and started to set up for your work day.

“Wha-how is it his fault.”

That’s when Spencer turned bright red and tried to change the conversation, or at least get out of it. “I—well it’s not…I….hotch is…”

Spencer basically ran across the bullpen and up the stairs to Hotch’s office, avoiding the conversation he almost just had.

“I don’t think you wanna know.” You smirked and bit into the muffin from Dunks that Spencer had got you, not looking at the man behind you.

“I’m starting to think that too.” His eyes narrowed and he looked between where Spencer had run off to, and you.

Something was going on between the two of you, and Derek Morgan was going to figure it out.

[pathologicalreid]

newly creds | S.R.

in which the BAU team wants to see your newly issued credentials

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: marriage. changing your name. slightly suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.

word count: 498

a/n: first and foremost, thank you so much for 100 followers AND for almost 3k likes i am so astounded by this im just so grateful. i absolutely wrote this while i was supposed to be doing privacy law homework. very proud of the title too. also today is my birthday so legally you have to like and reblog this!!! please enjoy <3

“So, let’s see it,” Derek prodded as he leaned over your desk, obviously searching the surface of it for something.

You peered up at him, “Can I help you?”

Before he could properly answer you, Emily entered the bullpen. Her eyes found you and she hastily piled her things on her desk before joining Morgan next to yours. “Do you have it?” She asked, dark hair shining as she inspected your desk.

Obviously, you had missed some sort of memo about whatever ‘it’ is. “I have uh, half of a bagel?” You offered helplessly, gesturing to your unfinished breakfast that was waiting patiently for you on top of a napkin.

“Y/N!” Penelope called your name from the glass doors she was rushing through, “Did I miss it? I want to see!”

Spencer rounded the corner of your desk, slowly placing a mug of fresh coffee on your desk, next to your abandoned bagel. “What’s going on?” He asked, carefully bringing his cup of coffee to his mouth to take a sip.

You shrugged, “They all want to see something but won’t tell me what ‘it’ is.” You grumbled, holding out your left hand, “Is this it?” The whole team had seen your ring already, Emily, Penelope, and JJ had even helped Spencer pick it out. You wondered if maybe they all wanted to see the engagement ring with your wedding band.

“Y/N,” another voice called, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands as you turned to face JJ. “Did you get the envelope that was on your desk? It got delivered to me by mistake, but I kept it safe while you two were honeymooning.”

Your lips parted, “Oh!” Quickly, you realized what everyone was pestering you about. You and Spencer had just gotten back from your weeklong honeymoon. The both of you got to work first, just to find a package on your desk. Rolling your chair back slightly, you rolled your eyes, “You know, you all could’ve just said something.”

You reached into your desk drawer and pulled out your credentials before unclipping your badge from your belt loop. Handing your creds to Derek and your badge to Garcia, who squealed in excitement, you couldn’t help but smile at Spencer. “SSA Y/N Reid,” Derek said, sounding like a proud parent.

Spencer placed a hand on your shoulder, and you beamed, “I wasn’t expecting them so quickly, I don’t even have my new driver’s license yet.”

“Does this mean you’re both going to answer to Reid now?” Emily asked, smiling at the prospect of confusion.

Shaking your head, you took your badge back, “Not unless it’s a prank. Hotch actually specifically asked us not to do that.”

“Welcome back,” Rossi said, walking into the bullpen and passing your desk. “I sure hope the two of you had the same kind of fun I did on my third honeymoon,” he teased, winking as he continued up to his office.

Spencer choked on his coffee.

[ssahotchnerr]

BAHAH pls i need a fic where ellie’s cockblocking gets to the point where aaron is desperately asking auntie penelope or jj to babysit her and jack for a night.. he would even entrust spencer for a few hours if nobody else was available just for some alone time😫🤭

on hiatus

this concept is so funny i love it cw; mentions of sex (nothing explicit), brief suggestive content, bau teasing aaron, reader referred to as mom, dad!aaron wc; 1k

"Can't you ask?"

"Well, I could." Aaron's gaze shot to the side, through the blinds and down into the bullpen.

"It wouldn't hurt, right? Because I don't know about you, but I can't wait another night." You exhaled, a slight buzzing effect coming through the phone as a result.

"I'm right there with you." Aaron admitted, resisting the urge to squirm in his seat. "I'm seconds away from reinstalling that damn crib."

"So ask. Anyways, I gotta go. Jack will be home soon, and I should get Ellie up so she does sleep tonight."

Aaron chuckled softly, his eyes finding the family photo framed on his desk. "Why does it not surprise me that for nap time, she'll stay in her bed."

"Stubborn. Just like her father."

After saying goodbye to you, Aaron exited his office, heading to where JJ, Penelope and Derek were all congregating. Their eyes rose as he approached.

"What brings you down here?" JJ asked, using her feet to twist her chair back and forth. "We're not dawdling, I swear."

He brushed past her playful - and untrue - comment. "Need a favor."

Brief distress flashed on Derek's face. "If it requires more paperwork, just give it to Reid."

Like you had said, there was no harm in asking. "It has nothing to do with paperwork. Just in need of a babysitter for tonight."

Penelope's hand shot up, eyes brightening. "Me."

"Big Friday night eh?" Derek wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "What's on the agenda, where the two of you headin'?"

"Nowhere." Aaron shrugged nonchalantly, a smidge of embarrassment heating his face. He was hoping he could persuade with minimal details. "It'll only be for a few hours. We just need them out of the house."

"Oh," JJ smirked after a moment, accompanied with a touch of sympathy. Out of all people, she would understand. "I see."

Aaron met her eyes, keeping his face still but with subtle pleading, hoping she'd tune into it. One that read: I'm begging you not to elaborate.

They were adults. It wasn't a topic of taboo. He just wasn't just too partial on openly discussing his sex life with his colleagues. Doesn't matter how long he's known them.

"Need some, mommy and daddy time, don't you?"

Aaron's stern expression continued to linger, but gradually softened in confirmation. He was tired; tired of waiting and being on the brink.

"No wonder you've been so grumpy."

Aaron shot Morgan a look, before stating his case. "Ellie's out of her crib now. She's learned that the world still continues to go on past bedtime."

"She's out of her crib?" Penelope aww'ed, her bottom lip pouting in bittersweetness.

"And comes into our room," Aaron paused, "every night."

For the first few nights, Ellie had stayed put; the excitement and newness of it all enough to keep her in bed. However, it didn't take long for her to realize she could simply, get up.

She'd come into the living room - you'd usher her back into bed. Jack would come out a while later, complaining Ellie had gone into his room and awoken him - Aaron's turn to return her to bed.

Then came the excuses. She needed water (a sippy cup was given to her, and told this meant she had to go to sleep now). She wanted to watch a movie and "cuddle, please?" It took everything in Aaron to decline, especially after she played up the sweetness in her big, brown eyes.

You'd think after all that, she'd exhausted herself, but no. Next came her crawling into bed with the two of you.

That's where the matter currently stood. She didn't want to sleep in her new big girl bed, but rather, the big bed. Right in the middle, snug between the two of you, and keeping your plans on hiatus.

The next night, you had thought you were in the clear. But sure enough, the second Aaron was straddled atop you, his lips trailing your skin and leaving you breathless, did little footsteps make their way down the hall. Aaron would roll off you instead, supporting himself on an elbow, while you laid there defeatedly, anticipating the opening of your bedroom door.

And again the following night, the same occurrence of events. Admittedly it's been a while since the two of you have been intimate, due to a certain toddler and cases taking Aaron out of town.

Derek laughed, "She's a little menace. I love that kid."

Aaron sighed, both his frustration and need only growing more. His voice wavered on the desperate side, "So can one of you? Please. Just a few hours is all I'm asking."

"I'd be happy to relieve you two. For a full night even, Henry and Michael would love to have Jack and Ellie sleepover." JJ offered, and Aaron internally let out a deep sigh of relief. "Will and I have been there, I get it."

"I-"

"And Aunt Penelope can come too, don't worry." JJ interrupted Penelope with a smile, reaching over and giving her hand a gentle tap.

"I'd- We'd appreciate it. Thank you." Aaron's shoulders dropped, and he could already feel the tension leaving his body. A rush of energy swept through him too, anticipating the delightfully, now long, night ahead. He could not wait to get home.

His thoughts were put on hold when he noticed the glint in JJ's eyes.

"And so you can relieve yourself."

Derek cackled while Aaron rolled his eyes, turning away from the group to hide his smile.

"Just let me know what time you want them over."

[luveline]

I would love to see Derek with a super confident sunshine gf but May be she gets super shy and flustered when he compliments her or makes a dirty joke and just like the first time it happens and Derek is so taken aback by her shyness bc he's used to her being chatty and confident

“Hi, Dr. Reid.” 

Derek knows it’s gonna be a good day when you come in already flirting. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. “Want a bagel?” 

“Thanks, handsome, but I already had breakfast.” Derek leans back in his chair to watch you, and you see his moving, turning your attention to him with an equally brilliant smile. “Hi, Agent Morgan.” 

“You can call me Derek, baby.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say lightly. You pull your pea coat tighter against yourself and give a breath. “Is it cold in here today, or is it just me?” 

“There’s a problem with the radiators,” Spencer says. “They sent out an email this morning to dress warmly. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow, apparently.” 

“Oh. I didn’t see. I don’t think I’m dressed for the cold,” you say, looking down at your short heels. “I would’ve worn sneakers like you, Spence.” 

“I brought some extra socks?” Spencer says. 

“Well, keep me a pair in case I need them?” you ask. 

“Sweetheart, if it’s warming up you need, you come straight to me,” Derek says, his tone warm as his promise, “I’ll find a way to keep you comfortable, that’s on my life, don’t waste your time with anybody else.” 

He doesn’t mean it to sound so heavily sexual, but he absolutely did mean for it to be an innuendo. Regardless, he isn’t expecting this —you look straight to Spencer like you want to check he’s heard it, and you fluster hard, fisting the strap of your purse where it’s snug over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Okay,” you say shyly, nodding, looking at the space to the left of Derek’s shoulder. “Won’t waste my time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve always been sweet like that, your sunny disposition drew him to you like a moth to a flame, and yet Derek can’t recall ever having made you fluster so quickly, and so visibly. 

Derek suspects he’d find neck hot under his hand with a flush if he touched it. laughs loudly, pen in his hands wagging up and down as he fights the urge to say anything else and prolong your agony.  

You give a soft laugh, flustered, embarrassed and breathless, tapping his ankle with your shoe. “That was a bit mean.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, sorry Spencer has to be here to see it, “I was kidding.” 

“I know!” You also give Spencer a sorry look.

Spencer, while sometimes slow to pick up subtle social cues, thankfully gets the idea and stands up from his chair. Derek follows suit, though he doesn’t scarper for the kitchen. 

“That caught me off guard,” you say, laughing again as he offers his arms to you. 

“What happened?” He tugs you forward. You tuck your arms behind his neck to kiss his jaw, the morning hello.

“You said it like you were bossing me around!” you defend yourself.

“And you liked that?” 

“Stop, stop,” you laugh. “I wasn’t expecting it. You never boss me around. You’re nicer than anybody gives you credit for.” 

“You think so?” he asks, still teasing, but also vaguely smug. To get to hug you in the office, arms on your waist, prettiest face ever made, Derek can’t help himself. “I really will keep you warm. I’ll get you a heater.” 

“You’re my heater.” 

“I’m hot-blooded.” 

You part ways with mutual reluctance. “You’re something, Derek.” 

He enjoys making you laugh, and the shy tilt of your head as you’d recovered, but he’s much happier when you’re bundled up at your desk with a hot cup of coffee and his promised space heater plugged in at your feet, chatting across the way to him about what you want to do this weekend if he doesn’t get called away. 

“Maybe we can buy a couple of DVD’s and you can warm me up all weekend,” you suggest, an attempt to pretend you aren’t bothered by his comment anymore, that it had been a momentary lapse in judgement. 

Derek’s content to give you anything you ask for. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” 

[reidmarieprentiss]

Water Under the Bridge

Summary: Spencer grovels, he knows he needs to work to regain your trust. Your walls slowly come down, you find happiness. Is it with Spencer though?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: Derek Morgan <3, violence, typical criminal minds content, gun shots, guns, gun shot wound, (un)requited feelings, alcohol consumption, self doubt, happy ending

Word count: 9k

a/n: i cannot even lie to y'all i completely forgot about this story i am sooooo sorry !!!

main masterlist part one part two

It had been a few weeks since that intense conversation with Spencer, and though things weren’t fully resolved, there had been a subtle shift. Spencer had started making small, almost invisible gestures—little things that didn’t scream for attention but spoke volumes. 

One afternoon, you were deep into paperwork, your desk covered in case files. The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you, and you sighed, rubbing your temples. 

“Need a break?” a quiet voice came from behind you. You looked up to see Spencer standing there, holding two cups of coffee—your favorite order in one hand, and his in the other. 

You blinked in surprise. It had been a long time since he’d brought you coffee, but the gesture felt thoughtful, familiar. "How did you know I needed this?" you asked, unable to hide the small smile creeping onto your face.

Spencer shrugged, his expression soft. “Just a guess.”

There was no expectation behind his actions, no demand for forgiveness. He simply placed the coffee on your desk, then turned back toward his own space, giving you the room to process the gesture on your own terms.

—

Work had returned to its steady rhythm, and though things between you and Spencer weren’t as strained anymore, they were...different. Polite. Professional. But there were moments, small pockets of time, where the old familiarity would creep back in.

During a briefing for a new case, you were reviewing the suspect’s profile when Hotch called for your opinion. Your mind momentarily blanked, the exhaustion of the case starting to cloud your thoughts. 

Spencer caught your hesitation from across the table, his eyes flicking toward you with a quiet understanding. He gently stepped in, providing additional information from the file—almost as if he could sense that you needed a moment.

He didn’t overstep, didn’t make it obvious. He just gave you a subtle nod, like the small lifeline was there for you to take or leave. You caught his gaze and offered a brief, appreciative smile. 

After the meeting, you found him near the coffee machine and walked over. “Thanks for that,” you said quietly.

“No problem,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve got your back.”

It was nothing monumental, just a brief exchange, but it carried a weight of understanding and a reminder of what you once had—and what was slowly being rebuilt.

—

The tension between you and Spencer still lingered, but something had shifted. Spencer wasn’t pressuring you. He wasn’t trying to force a conversation or make grand gestures. Instead, he focused on the little things, the small ways he could help and support you. And that was how, in the middle of a particularly stressful case, you noticed it.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at the seemingly endless stream of witness statements, trying to piece together a lead. Frustration gnawed at you, the pressure of the case and your unresolved feelings with Spencer weighing you down.

Without a word, Spencer appeared at your side, placing a stack of neatly organized files in front of you. “I cross-referenced the witness testimonies with the surveillance footage. There’s a pattern in their timelines that wasn’t obvious at first.”

You blinked, staring at the files. “You did this?”

He nodded, his expression calm, no hint of expectation. “I figured it might help.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. This wasn’t the Spencer who had pushed you away. This was someone who was quietly, steadily trying to be there for you. You picked up the files, scanning the information. He had found connections you hadn’t seen.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said softly, looking up at him. There was no grand declaration in that moment, just a flicker of gratitude and trust slowly beginning to rebuild. And for the first time, you felt like you could let down your guard, just a little.

—

Weeks passed, and Spencer continued to show up in small ways. He didn’t push. He didn’t demand. He was just there, reliable and steady in a way you hadn’t expected from him anymore. You noticed the change. It wasn’t loud or overt, but it was there—his remorse, his commitment to making things better.

One day, in the middle of a case, you found yourselves paired together to interview a witness. The professional atmosphere between you was smooth, almost comfortable again. But as you were driving back to the precinct, there was a moment of silence, and then Spencer spoke.

“I know I can’t undo what happened,” he said, his voice soft but clear. “But I want you to know… I’m still here, and I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes. For you to trust me again.” Spencer glanced at you briefly, “I miss my friend.”

His words hung in the air, genuine and without pressure. You glanced over at him, surprised by the calmness in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t expecting a grand gesture from you in return. He just wanted you to know that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was ready to put in the effort.

You nodded, your heart softening. “I appreciate that, Spencer,” you said quietly. “I’m starting to see that. I miss you too.”

—

The case was coming to a close, you had been staring at the whiteboard, trying to make sense of the last few pieces of evidence when Spencer approached quietly. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood beside you, studying the board.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said after a moment, his tone soft but familiar, like the Spencer you used to know. 

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking too hard? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Spencer smiled faintly, the tension between you easing just a little. “Sometimes, you need to step back and see the bigger picture. You’ve been doing this long enough to know that.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve been seeing the bigger picture lately.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice quieter. “You’re not alone, you know. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. I’m... I’m here.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. He wasn’t just talking about the case. He was talking about everything—the trust that had been broken, the space that had grown between you.

“I know,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something closer to hope. 

—

A month later, things had continued to ease between you and Spencer. You still weren’t back to where you had been, but you had begun to feel comfortable enough around him to let your guard down a little. The tension wasn’t as sharp, and the moments of silence between you weren’t so uncomfortable anymore.

One day, while sorting through case files, you made a sarcastic remark under your breath, something about the ridiculousness of the situation you were dealing with. To your surprise, Spencer chuckled, glancing over at you with a grin.

You blinked, and then, without meaning to, you laughed too—a genuine, unguarded laugh that seemed to surprise you both. It wasn’t forced or tense, but natural, like old times.

“Wow, I haven’t heard you laugh in a while,” Spencer remarked, his own smile still lingering.

“Yeah,” you said, your smile softening as you looked at him. “Maybe I’m starting to get my sense of humor back.”

The lightness between you felt… good. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things were on their way to being okay again. 

It wasn’t a grand reconciliation, but these moments—these small gestures of kindness, support, and patience—were building toward something real. And you were starting to believe that rebuilding trust was possible, even if it was slow.

—

Spencer had been acting like your friend again, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

At first, it was small things—him stepping in to help with paperwork, offering a quiet word of encouragement when a case got tough. Little gestures that felt like the Spencer you used to know, the one you had trusted, the one you had fallen in love with. But that same Spencer had also been the one who pushed you away, the one who had broken your heart when he refused your feelings. And now, here he was, quietly working his way back into your life, like nothing had changed, like everything could go back to the way it was.

You wanted to be angry. Part of you still was angry. You had been hurt deeply, and that kind of pain didn’t just vanish overnight. Spencer had rejected you when you were at your most vulnerable, leaving you to pick up the pieces on your own. You had worked hard to move on, to distance yourself from the feelings that had once consumed you. And now, just when you thought you were starting to heal, he was back. Trying to be your friend again. Acting like nothing had ever happened.

But the other part of you—the part that remembered how close you used to be—couldn’t help but notice the change in him. Spencer wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t pressuring you. He was just... there. Quietly supportive, offering small signs of care without demanding anything in return. His persistence, his steady presence, was starting to soften something inside you. And that terrified you.

You didn’t want to fall back into the same trap. You didn’t want to reopen old wounds only to have them torn apart again. But there was no denying that Spencer’s efforts were genuine, and it was getting harder to keep your walls up. His actions were slowly chipping away at your resolve, and every time he made you laugh or showed you a quiet kindness, you felt a piece of your guard slipping.

Were you truly over him? That was the question that haunted you, one you didn’t have an answer to. You had tried so hard to move on, to convince yourself that the feelings you had for Spencer were in the past, but now... now you weren’t so sure. His persistence was making you question everything, reopening emotions you thought you had buried. 

The problem was, you didn’t know if you were ready to face those feelings again. What if Spencer wasn’t? What if he didn’t mean it? You couldn’t bear the thought of being hurt again, of opening yourself up only to have him pull away. But the longer this went on, the more you felt the old connection between you returning, bit by bit, moment by moment. 

And so you were stuck, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of something new. Spencer was showing you he had changed, but could you trust that? Could you trust him? Could you trust yourself not to fall too hard, too fast again?

The uncertainty was maddening, and yet, you couldn’t seem to stop the slow progression of your feelings. Spencer’s persistence was working, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, part of you was starting to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

—

It started innocently enough, the way all promising things seem to. You met them at a bookstore, of all places. It was a weekend, and you were just browsing, trying to enjoy a quiet afternoon away from the chaos of the job. You weren’t expecting anything, least of all meeting someone who would leave such a strong impression on you. 

You were reaching for a book when their voice broke through the silence. “That’s a good one,” they said, pointing to the novel in your hand. “One of my favorites, actually.”

You looked up, surprised to see a person standing there with an easy smile. They were tall, with sharp eyes that held a warmth you wanted to look into for a long while. Their demeanor wasn’t overbearing, just casual, like they genuinely wanted to offer a recommendation. 

“Yeah?” you replied, glancing at the book. “I’ve heard good things about it.”

“I promise it won’t disappoint,” they added, and something about the sincerity in their voice made you smile back.

That was how it began. A casual conversation over books that somehow stretched into coffee. You learned that their name was Ricky, that they were professor at a nearby college. Their life seemed different from yours—calmer, grounded in routine, free from the dangers and chaos of your work. It was refreshing. They treated you with respect, asked about your opinions, and listened to your stories with genuine interest. And when they smiled at you, it wasn’t just a fleeting look—it was as though they were truly seeing you, valuing you.

There was something about Ricky that you couldn’t ignore. They didn’t know about your history with Spencer, about the complicated mess of emotions you were still untangling. They didn’t need to. They just treated you with the kind of respect and consistency you had been craving for so long. It felt easy with them. Simple.

After that first meeting, Ricky started to show up in your life more often. They texted you to check in, asked you about your day. They were attentive in a way that wasn’t overwhelming but was instead comforting. It wasn’t like you were looking to fall into something serious, not after everything with Spencer. But Ricky was… different. They weren't rushing you, weren't pressing for more than what you were willing to give. They were just there, steady and dependable, and that was enough for now.

One night, after a particularly hard day at work, they invited you over for dinner. You had expected something casual, maybe takeout or a quick bite, but when you arrived at their place, you were greeted with the smell of home-cooked food. “Thought you could use a break,” they said with that same warm smile. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you were missing.

Ricky’s presence in your life began to fill a space you hadn’t known was empty. They weren't just kind—they were consistent, reliable. They showed up when they said they would. They followed through on promises. There was no second-guessing with them, no worrying about where you stood. And that, in itself, was a relief. After months of emotional turbulence with Spencer, this felt like a breath of fresh air.

But as things with Ricky slowly began to grow, you couldn’t help but feel the tug of uncertainty in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if it was because of your history with Spencer, or because you still weren’t fully convinced you had moved on from him. Every now and then, you caught yourself comparing the two—Spencer’s awkward brilliance against Ricky’s steady confidence. It was hard not to.

Yet, with Ricky, there was no fear of rejection, no walking on eggshells wondering if they would pull away. They didn’t carry the same emotional baggage as Spencer did. There were no lingering unsaid confessions or missed opportunities between you two. Ricky was here, in the present, offering you a chance at something you hadn’t had in a long time—stability.

And you couldn’t deny how much that appealed to you. The question now was whether stability was what you truly wanted… or if part of you was still hoping for something more, something unresolved with Spencer.

Spencer had been making slow, steady progress toward reconciling with you. He could feel it in the way your smiles came a little easier, how the conversations between you two were no longer strained, how you were starting to trust him again—bit by bit. He had convinced himself that, if he kept showing up, kept proving to you that he was different now, there might still be a chance. A chance to rebuild, to maybe even become more than friends. It was a fragile hope, but it kept him going.

That fragile hope was shattered the moment he found out about Ricky.

It wasn’t as though you had hidden anything from him. In fact, Spencer hadn’t even realized you had been seeing someone else. It wasn’t until Penelope, in her usual excitement, let it slip in the bullpen during lunch. “Oh my god, have you met Y/N’s new squeeze, Ricky? They’re so lovely!” she had gushed to JJ and Derek, who nodded along.

Spencer’s heart dropped into his stomach.

He had been standing just a few feet away, filing paperwork, and the sound of Ricky’s name hit him like a freight train. His fingers froze mid-motion, and the world seemed to blur around him. You’re seeing someone? Ricky? When had this happened?

He couldn’t stop himself from listening in, trying to gather as much as he could without fully intruding.

“Yeah, Ricky’s super sweet. Y/N seems really happy with them,” JJ added, smiling as she sipped her coffee. “It’s nice to see her like this after everything.”

Happy? Spencer’s mind raced, the weight of that word sinking in. You were happy—with someone else. Someone who wasn’t him. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing as the realization settled deep in his chest. You had moved on. While he had been working his way back into your life, trying to earn your trust, you had found someone else. And not just anyone—someone you were happy with.

Spencer tried to shake it off, tried to focus on his work, but the jealousy and hurt were gnawing at him, louder with each passing second. The idea of you with someone else, of someone else holding the place he had wanted to hold for so long, made his chest tighten painfully. He had been so sure that if he just kept at it, if he just kept being patient, eventually you’d see he had changed.

But now… now he wasn’t sure what to think.

Later that day, Spencer found you by the coffee machine, and though he had planned to act normal, the words came out before he could stop them. “So, I hear you’re seeing someone?” His voice was tighter than he’d intended, and you looked up, surprised by the edge in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, studying his expression. “Ricky.” You didn’t elaborate, but Spencer could see the softness in your eyes, the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips when you said their name. It made his stomach churn.

He swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check. “You’re happy?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

You nodded, your smile more assured now. “Yeah, I am. Ricky’s... really good to me.” There was a contentment in your voice, the kind of contentment Spencer hadn’t heard from you in a long time. And that’s when it hit him—this wasn’t just a fling or a rebound. Ricky was important to you.

Spencer felt his chest tighten even further. He wanted to be happy for you—he did. But the jealousy, the frustration, and the deep sense of loss clouded everything. He had spent so long trying to make things right between you, and now it felt like he was too late. He had lost you, and it hurt more than he ever expected.

“You deserve to be happy,” Spencer finally said, forcing the words out despite the lump in his throat. “And... if Ricky makes you happy, then... that’s all that matters.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. There was something vulnerable in the way he was standing there, like he was on the edge of something, trying to hold it together. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, not entirely sure what else to say. You could feel the tension between you two, the undercurrent of something unspoken still hanging in the air.

Spencer nodded, his hands in his pockets, trying to mask the turmoil he felt inside. He wanted to fight for you, to tell you that he still had feelings for you, that he wasn’t ready to step aside. But he also knew that your happiness had to come first, no matter how much it hurt. He had waited too long, hesitated too much, and now he was seeing the consequences.

Over the next few days, Spencer wrestled with his feelings. On one hand, he wanted to be selfish, to try and win you back, to show you that he was capable of being the person you needed. But on the other hand, he knew that wasn’t fair to you. You had found someone who treated you with the consistency and care you deserved, someone who didn’t leave you questioning where you stood. Spencer had to face the reality that he had lost his chance.

But the hardest part was realizing that, in his jealousy and frustration, he still cared more about your happiness than his own feelings. And that was the most painful truth of all.

Spencer paced back and forth in the bullpen after everyone else had gone for the evening. He had been trying to focus, trying to distract himself with paperwork, but his thoughts kept circling back to you and Ricky. The jealousy was suffocating, and he needed to vent before he exploded.

Derek was leaning against a desk, watching Spencer unravel. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he knew the kid was on edge. He’d seen it coming for a while, the tension between you and Spencer thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, Spencer couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I don’t get it,” he blurted out, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ve been trying, Derek. I’ve been patient, I’ve been showing up, trying to be there for her, and... and then Ricky comes along.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming on his face. “So that’s what this is about,” he said knowingly. “You jealous?”

“Jealous?” Spencer repeated, practically scoffing. “Of course I’m jealous! How could I not be? She’s with Ricky now, and they’re... they’re everything I should have been. Steady, consistent, caring—everything she deserves.”

Derek’s smirk only grew as he watched Spencer spiral, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew Spencer needed to get this off his chest, and, well, he’d been waiting for this moment. He knew something had been brewing between you two for ages.

Spencer continued, his pacing more frantic now. “I missed my chance, and I know it’s my fault. I messed up. I pushed her away when she needed me, and now... she’s moved on. And the worst part is, she’s happy, Derek. I saw it in her eyes when she talked about Ricky. She’s happy, and I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know if I can be mad about it, because I want her to be happy. But it hurts like hell.”

Derek crossed his arms, nodding slowly. He had always known Spencer had feelings for you, even if the kid hadn’t admitted it to himself for a long time. Now, seeing him come apart like this over you, Derek couldn’t help but feel a bit smug—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be there for his friend.

“Look, man,” Derek started, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’ve been waiting for this conversation for a while. You’ve had feelings for Y/N forever, and I knew something was going on between you two, even if you were too stubborn to see it.”

Spencer stopped pacing and looked at Derek, his frustration clear. “How is that supposed to help me right now?”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “What I’m saying is, this whole thing with Ricky? It doesn’t mean it’s over for you and Y/N. Yeah, she’s happy, and yeah, it hurts like hell because you care about her. But you’ve got to stop thinking about what you should have done and start focusing on what you’re going to do next.”

Spencer frowned, his arms crossed defensively. “And what am I supposed to do, Derek? She’s with Ricky now. I don’t want to come between them.”

Derek leaned in a little, his expression softening but still firm. “I’m not saying you should swoop in and try to break them up. But you don’t have to give up either. You want to be in Y/N’s life? Then keep being her friend. Keep being there for her. Let her see the real you—the guy who’s learned from his mistakes.”

Spencer sighed, slumping into a chair, his frustration giving way to exhaustion. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

Derek walked over and clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Kid, sometimes it’s not about doing the big, dramatic thing. Sometimes it’s about showing up, consistently, day after day, and letting her see who you really are. And if Ricky’s the one that makes her happy, then yeah, you’re gonna have to step aside. But if she starts seeing what I’ve seen for a long time—what I think she saw for a long time, too—then maybe you still have a chance.”

Spencer looked up at Derek, his heart heavy but grateful for the support. “You really think I still have a chance?”

Derek grinned, leaning back. “You never know, Pretty Boy. I’ve seen crazier things happen. But whatever you do, don’t give up just because it hurts right now. You’re too smart to throw in the towel without a fight.”

Spencer nodded, letting Derek’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t ready to walk away from you, not yet. And maybe, just maybe, Derek was right. Maybe showing up, day after day, was how he could finally prove to you that he was worth it.

And even if it hurt, even if it tore him apart inside to see you with someone else, he was willing to wait—if it meant having another chance with you.

—

It was an ordinary afternoon at the BAU, the usual hustle of agents moving around, paperwork piling up, and the sound of phones ringing in the background. Spencer sat at his desk, trying to focus on the case file in front of him, though his thoughts kept drifting. He was still grappling with his conversation with Derek the night before, still trying to figure out where he stood in this whole mess with you and Ricky.

Then, the moment he had dreaded arrived.

You were at your desk, focused on your work, when the doors to the bullpen opened. Spencer barely noticed at first, but then he heard your voice, light and filled with surprise. "Ricky!" you exclaimed.

His heart clenched immediately. Ricky's here? He looked up, and there they were, standing in front of you, holding a bag of takeout with a bright, beaming smile. Ricky was undeniably attractive—tall, fit, with an effortless style that made them stand out. Spencer’s stomach twisted with jealousy the moment he laid eyes on them. He couldn’t help but notice how perfect Ricky looked standing beside you, the two of you fitting together in a way that felt both natural and unfairly harmonious.

You smiled warmly, standing up to greet Ricky, the happiness evident in your eyes. It was a look Spencer hadn’t seen in a long time, and the sight of it—of how they made you feel—tore him apart inside. Ricky leaned in to kiss your cheek, their affection for you clear as day.

“I brought you lunch,” Ricky said, holding up the bag. “Figured you could use a break.”

You laughed softly, looking at them like they had just handed you a treasure. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off the interaction, though he desperately wanted to look away. His mind was screaming at him to stop torturing himself, but his body refused to move. The way you smiled at Ricky, the ease with which you stood close to them—it all felt like a punch to the gut. Spencer could practically feel the walls closing in on him, his insecurities clawing at his insides.

He hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t prepared to see how good the two of you looked together, how happy you seemed. The rational part of him knew it wasn’t fair to be upset; you deserved happiness, and Ricky clearly made you happy. But the irrational, jealous part of him—the part that still wanted you—was screaming at the injustice of it all.

Before Spencer could even think about leaving, you spotted him.

“Spencer!” you called out, waving him over. “Come say hi.”

He froze for a split second, forcing himself to stand up and walk toward you. Every step felt heavier, like wading through quicksand. When he reached you, he tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Hi,” Spencer said, his voice a little tight but polite. His eyes flicked between you and Ricky, trying to hide the jealousy swirling in his gut.

Ricky smiled warmly, extending a hand. “You must be Spencer. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer shook their hand, feeling a twinge of resentment bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, nice to meet you,” he replied, his tone short, though he didn’t mean it to be. He quickly released Ricky’s hand, feeling like his skin was burning from the contact. His mind was spinning, trying to process how calm and put together Ricky seemed, compared to the storm raging inside him.

“I brought Y/N some lunch,” Ricky said, smiling again, glancing over at you with such ease and affection. “Thought she might be too busy to grab something.”

Spencer nodded, his mouth dry. “That’s... thoughtful,” he said, though it took effort to get the words out. The thought of Ricky being so caring, so attentive, made his chest tighten painfully. That used to be his role—being there for you, knowing when you needed support.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the awkwardness thick in the air—at least for Spencer. You, however, seemed blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, still smiling brightly at Ricky, completely comfortable in their presence.

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your lunch,” Spencer said quickly, his throat tight. He couldn’t stand to watch any more of this. He gave a stiff nod and turned to head back to his desk, but not before catching a glimpse of the two of you exchanging a look—one that felt intimate, full of unspoken affection. It was the kind of look that made his heart feel like it was cracking open.

As he sat back down at his desk, Spencer’s mind raced, replaying the image of you with Ricky. They were everything Spencer wasn’t—confident, calm, and seemingly perfect for you. He had hoped that his efforts to rebuild trust, to show you that he cared, would be enough. But seeing you with Ricky made him realize just how far away that possibility felt. 

Inside, Spencer was dying. His jealousy clawed at him, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Ricky. About how happy you looked. About how he had missed his chance.

—

It all came to a head during a case that had gone from bad to worse. You and Spencer had been assigned together, and from the moment you found yourselves alone, the tension between you was palpable. Every word exchanged was brief, clipped, and filled with the renewed weight of what had been left unsaid for months. The entire team had been tracking a dangerous and unpredictable unsub, one who had managed to evade capture for days despite the best efforts of the BAU. He was intelligent, calculating, and every lead you followed seemed to lead you into another dead end, tightening the pressure on all of you.

The unsub had taken a particular interest in his victims, following them for days, learning their routines, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had shown a pattern of escalating violence, and you all knew it was only a matter of time before he found his next victim. The team had been working around the clock, exhausted and on edge, but now things were spiraling out of control.

Late into the evening, a tip came through—an address tied to one of the unsub’s known aliases. You and Spencer were dispatched to check it out, sent ahead while the rest of the team secured other locations. The drive there had been silent, neither of you wanting to broach the thick tension hanging in the air. 

The house was isolated, sitting at the end of a long dirt road, and as soon as you arrived, you could sense something was wrong. The place was eerily quiet, too quiet. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and instinctively, you and Spencer exchanged a tense glance, wordlessly communicating the same thought: This feels like a trap.

The two of you moved cautiously, guns drawn, as you entered the darkened house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet seemed to echo in the oppressive silence, heightening the anxiety already clawing at your insides. Spencer stayed close behind you, the tension between you morphing into something different—something focused and sharp. You both knew you had to rely on each other now, no matter what had passed between you before.

The house was a maze of narrow hallways and closed doors, each one a potential danger. The unsub could be anywhere, lying in wait, ready to strike. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you approached the last room on the second floor. A faint sound caught your attention—a shuffle, like someone moving inside.

You nodded to Spencer, your breath quickening as you prepared to breach the door. He gave you a tight nod in return, his eyes never leaving yours. In that moment, despite everything that had gone unsaid, you trusted him completely. There was no room for the emotional wreckage between you, not here, not now. It was just you and Spencer, partners in the field, as it had always been.

You kicked the door in, gun raised, ready for whatever was waiting on the other side.

The room was empty.

For a split second, relief washed over you—until you heard it. A creak behind you. The unsub had been hiding, waiting, and before you could turn, you were slammed into the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Your gun clattered to the ground as you struggled to regain your footing, your vision swimming.

Spencer reacted instantly, lunging toward the unsub, but the man was fast—too fast. He shoved Spencer back, sending him crashing into a table, and you could hear the wood splinter as Spencer groaned in pain.

Then shots were fired, the deafening cracks of gunfire ringing through the warehouse as adrenaline surged through your body. The world seemed to slow down in that moment, every sound and movement heightened, as you and Spencer dove for cover. Your feet barely touched the ground before you felt it—a sharp, searing pain tearing through your arm, hot and immediate. A bullet had grazed you, cutting through flesh, sending a shockwave of agony radiating down to your fingertips. You gasped, stumbling, the sudden pain momentarily overwhelming you.

"Y/N!" Spencer’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with raw panic as he reached for you, his hands grabbing your jacket and pulling you behind a stack of crates. His grip was urgent but gentle, protective as he maneuvered you out of the line of fire. 

Your vision blurred for a moment, the pain in your arm throbbing in sync with your rapid heartbeat. You pressed your hand to the wound instinctively, trying to stop the blood that was already starting to soak through your sleeve. It wasn’t deep, but it hurt like hell.

Spencer was crouched beside you, his body practically pressed against yours as he shielded you from any further shots. His eyes, wide with fear, flickered down to your arm. His hands hovered over you, trembling slightly, unsure where to touch without hurting you more. 

"You're bleeding," he muttered, his voice thick with worry as he gingerly pushed your sleeve up to get a better look at the wound. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly as he surveyed the damage. 

“I’m fine,” you managed to grit out, even though your arm was screaming in pain. You could see the fear in his eyes, how he was barely holding it together. 

“You’re not fine,” Spencer insisted, his voice a low whisper as he pressed his hand firmly over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His hand was warm against your cold skin, grounding you in the chaos. “You’re losing blood,” he added, his tone betraying the panic he was trying so hard to keep at bay.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade—the gunfire, the danger, the chaos surrounding you. It was just you and Spencer, his eyes locked on yours, his fear for you palpable. You had seen Spencer like this before, always worrying about others, but this was different. This was more than just concern for a partner in the field. This was desperation, a kind of fear you hadn’t seen in him before—like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

His breath was shaky as he applied more pressure to your arm, his focus completely on you. “Stay with me, okay?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions he was trying to hold back.

“I’m fine, Spencer,” you whispered, trying to smile through the pain, though it came out more like a grimace. 

But Spencer didn’t smile back. He was too focused, too panicked. His fingers pressed into your wound, his movements methodical, yet you could see how much this was affecting him. Every time you winced in pain, his face tightened, like he was the one being hurt. 

“We need to get out of here,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the room for an exit, for any sign of the unsub. The weight of his words hung in the air, but even more than that was the unspoken fear—he wasn’t just scared for your life. He was scared for the things that hadn’t been said between you, for the way things had been left unresolved.

But right now, it wasn’t the time to deal with the emotional storm brewing between the two of you. The only thing that mattered was getting out alive.

“I can’t lose you,” Spencer whispered, almost too softly for you to hear.

You blinked, confused, the pain in your arm momentarily forgotten. “What?”

“I can’t lose you,” he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling. His eyes met yours, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I love you.”

The confession hit you like a blow, the words settling into your chest, heavy and painful. This wasn’t the time for this—not now, not with the unsub hunting you both down, not after everything. But the rawness in his voice, the fear in his eyes—it was undeniable. Spencer was terrified, not just of the unsub but of losing you. And not just as a friend, but as something more.

“You can’t be serious,” you hissed, anger flaring inside you despite the circumstances. 

He looked pained, as if this hurt him just as much as it had hurt you. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, that I’d mess everything up. Please, Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to do this now!” you cut him off, the frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to confess your feelings when you know I’ve moved on, just because you suddenly realized you want me!”

Spencer’s face fell, guilt and desperation swirling in his eyes. “I know it’s unfair. I know I messed up, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t stand seeing you with someone else. Please, Y/N, just—”

“Why?” you shouted, your voice breaking as you fought through the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface for so long. “Why now? Why did you reject me in the first place if you felt this way?”

The pain in your voice seemed to hit him hard, and for a moment, Spencer was silent, struggling to find the words. “I was scared,” he finally admitted, his voice trembling. “I was scared of ruining what we had, scared that I wasn’t enough. I thought pushing you away would be better for you. But it wasn’t. I know that now.”

Tears stung at your eyes, the hurt and anger you’d buried for months now bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s better for me, Spencer. You don’t get to push me away and then pull me back when it’s convenient for you.”

Spencer’s voice cracked, his desperation clear. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I love you. I need you. Please, Y/N, leave Ricky. Give me another chance. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the raw sincerity in Spencer’s voice and the betrayal you still felt. You couldn’t deny that part of you still loved him. You had never stopped. But how was any of this fair? How could he expect you to just walk away from someone who had treated you with the respect and care Spencer hadn’t given you when you needed it most?

Before you could respond, the unsub’s footsteps grew closer, and the immediate danger snapped you both back to reality. There wasn’t time for this—there wasn’t time to unravel the mess of emotions that Spencer had just dumped into your lap. You had to survive this first.

The footsteps had stopped, and the sudden silence was deafening. It was too quiet, the kind of stillness that set your nerves on edge, making you hyper-aware of every creak and distant noise in the warehouse. You tried to focus through the pain in your arm, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you pressed your back against the crates. Spencer was beside you, but his back was turned, his focus drawn away as the weight of everything between you became too much for him to handle in that moment.

You were about to say something, when suddenly a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Before you could react, the unsub yanked you to your feet, pulling you backward with a force that made your body jerk violently. The pain in your arm shot through you, but the fear was stronger. You struggled to breathe, your heart hammering in your chest as the unsub dragged you back into the shadows, his hand tight around your mouth, muffling any sound you could make.

Spencer didn’t notice. His mind had been racing, consumed by the danger you were in, by how much harder it had become to even look at you knowing how badly he had hurt you. He had turned away for just a second—just a second—and that’s all it had taken. You were gone before he could register the absence of your presence, before he could feel the shift in the air.

You thrashed against the unsub, your hands clawing at his arm as he pulled you further away, deeper into the warehouse, but he was too strong. His grip tightened around your face, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "Make one sound, and I’ll kill him first.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew he meant Spencer.

You stopped struggling, your breath coming out in shallow, panicked gasps, your mind racing as you tried to figure out a way out of this. You couldn’t let Spencer get hurt because of you. You couldn’t let this man take you away without a fight, but the threat was clear. One wrong move, one wrong sound, and it wouldn’t be just your life at risk.

But then Spencer turned back. He had been about to say something—ask if you were ready to move—but when he glanced over and saw that your spot beside him was empty, his heart stopped.

"Y/N?" His voice came out in a panic, eyes scanning the dimly lit space for any sign of you. It was too quiet, and the stillness of your absence sent his stomach into a free fall.

"Y/N!" Spencer shouted, his voice rising in fear, echoing off the walls. His heart raced as he spun in circles, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. The adrenaline from earlier flooded back, stronger now, sharp and cold. How had he let this happen? How had he let you get taken right in front of him?

He rushed forward, frantic, his mind clouded with the worst possibilities. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. The thought of you in the unsub’s grip, hurt, taken—gone—was unbearable. Spencer couldn’t breathe. His chest constricted with fear, and the guilt, the crushing weight of his failure, suffocated him.

"Y/N!" he called again, his voice breaking as he stumbled forward, every nerve in his body alight with desperation. He had let you slip away. He had failed to protect you. And now he was losing you—not just emotionally, but physically.

Spencer’s eyes scanned the dark warehouse, heart hammering in his chest, until he finally spotted the unsub, gripping you tightly, his hand still covering your mouth. Your eyes were wide with fear, but when they locked with Spencer’s, he saw more than just fear. He saw helplessness, anger, and beneath all of it, trust. You were trusting him to get you out of this.

“Let her go!” Spencer shouted, his voice shaking but resolute. His gun was raised, aimed directly at the unsub, but his mind was racing, terrified of making one wrong move that could put you in even more danger. The unsub shifted behind you, pulling you tighter against his body, using you as a shield. 

"You think I’ll just let her go? You think I’m that stupid?" the unsub snarled, his voice thick with menace.

Spencer’s throat tightened. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to act, to do something, but the unsub had you, and one wrong move could end everything. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

"Take me instead!" Spencer suddenly blurted out, his voice desperate but filled with determination. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, his heart pounding in his chest. "Just... take me. Let her go, and I’ll come with you. You want leverage? Take me, not her."

Your eyes widened in shock, the pain in your arm forgotten as the weight of Spencer’s words hit you. He was offering himself, offering his life—for you. The unsub hesitated, clearly surprised by the sudden offer. He loosened his grip on you just slightly, his eyes flickering with consideration as he looked between you and Spencer.

"You think I’m going to fall for that?" the unsub growled, though you could feel his grip faltering as Spencer’s words sunk in.

But Spencer didn’t back down. He stepped forward, lowering his gun, his expression resolute. "I’m unarmed," he said, his voice steady despite the terror coursing through him. "You want to get out of here? Take me with you. Let her go."

Your heart pounded as you watched Spencer put himself in danger, his life on the line, all for you. Tears stung at your eyes, emotions swirling inside you—fear, anger, and above all, a deep, overwhelming sense of love. 

The unsub shoved you forward slightly, his grip loosening enough for you to gasp for air, but he still kept his arm tightly around your waist, the threat still lingering. Spencer’s eyes stayed locked on yours, silently promising that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Just as the unsub’s grip tightened again, a gun raised to Spencer, the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. The team burst in, guns drawn, and before the unsub could react, they took him down in a hail of bullets. The unsub crumpled to the ground, his grip on you finally releasing.

You stumbled forward, breathless, your arm burning with pain. The world spun for a moment, the chaos of the situation hitting you all at once. But then, Spencer was there. He was at your side in an instant, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning you for injuries, his expression wild with fear and relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he looked you over, his hands shaking slightly. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You could barely process the words. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, and the weight of what had just happened—what Spencer had just done for you—was crashing down around you. He had offered himself up, put his life on the line without hesitation, all to save yours.

"I'm... I'm okay," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. There was so much you wanted to say, but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the emotions swirling inside you. 

Spencer’s face was pale, his breaths uneven, but the way he looked at you was filled with nothing but relief. And in that moment, standing there with him in the aftermath of everything, you realized just how much you still loved him. How much you had always loved him. It was undeniable, impossible to ignore anymore.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, holding him close despite the pain in your arm. "Thank you," you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking with emotion. "You could’ve been killed, Spencer."

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him, as if letting you go might mean losing you again. His voice was hoarse, filled with the same raw emotion. "I couldn’t let him take you. I couldn’t lose you."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. "Spencer, you... you put yourself in danger. For me. I don’t understand... after everything, why would you—"

“Because I love you,” Spencer interrupted, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked onto yours, no more hesitation, no more fear. “I’ve always loved you. And I was an idiot to ever push you away. I didn’t deserve you then, and I probably don’t deserve you now, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch you get hurt. I couldn’t... I can’t live without you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice left you breathless. Everything you had been feeling, all the hurt, the love, the anger, bubbled up inside you. But in that moment, as you stared into Spencer’s eyes, all you could feel was the overwhelming love you still had for him. 

You reached up, cupping his face with your good hand, your voice barely above a whisper. "I still love you, Spencer. But you broke my heart. How is any of this fair?"

Spencer’s eyes filled with regret, his hands holding yours tightly. “I know. I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me. But please... don’t go back to Ricky. Don’t let this be the end for us. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just... give me a second chance.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the love you still had for him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you stood there, Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, you realized that you had already made your choice.

With a deep breath, you whispered, “We’ll figure it out. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you off easy.” 

Spencer’s face softened with relief, a small, shaky smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn’t expect anything less." 

And in that moment, despite the chaos, despite the danger you had just survived, you knew that the two of you would find a way forward—together.

—

Ricky swirled the ice in their glass, chuckling softly as they leaned back in their chair, the dim light of the bar casting shadows over their face. “I still think it’s messed up,” they said with a grin, shaking their head in disbelief.

Derek, sitting across from them, just smirked, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting the glass back down on the table with a quiet clink. “Nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, completely unbothered. “I knew it would work.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow, their smile widening as they took a sip of their own drink. “You set me up to date her just to push her and Spencer together? That’s some next-level matchmaking, man. I’m surprised you didn’t end up on a bad side of this.”

Derek shrugged casually, his smirk never fading. “I had a feeling it was the push Pretty Boy needed. Y/N and Spencer? They’ve been dancing around each other for too long. I just gave ‘em a little... incentive.”

Ricky laughed, a low, amused sound. “Incentive? You mean you hired your friend to fake date her so she’d realize she was in love with someone else?”

“Hey, I didn’t say fake date,” Derek shot back with a playful grin. “You’re a catch, Ricky. I just knew you’d make her happy enough for Spencer to lose his mind.”

Ricky rolled their eyes but couldn’t stop laughing. “And here I thought I was the rebound.”

“Nah,” Derek said, shaking his head. “You were the wake-up call. Spencer needed to see what he was missing, and you? You helped him get there. Trust me, they’ll thank you for it one day.”

Ricky took another sip, still grinning. “Maybe. But still, man. Messed up.”

Derek just winked, lifting his beer in a mock toast. “To love, manipulation, and getting things done.” 

Ricky clinked their glass with his, shaking their head with a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

"That’s why you agreed to it," Derek said with a wide grin, taking another long drink. The audience had no idea, but now the truth was out, revealed in the easy banter between the two friends. It had all been part of the plan—a plan to push you and Spencer together once and for all.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @pumpkin-cake

[tlou-reid]

All of the Books Beside Your Bed ✿ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: Spencer can’t help but save the day after your weekend plans are ruined

♡ WARNINGS: gross disgusting fluff, mention of a book that talks about nazi propaganda but it’s the same book that was mentioned in the show, a steamy kiss, reader really goes through it mentally in the beginning

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Everyone could tell you were in a bit of a sour mood. Working with profilers upwards of 9 hours a day (and that was an easy day), made it hard for subtleties to go unnoticed.

The team caught on to the lack of jokes passed around the bullpen, the way you huffed when you sat down after getting each cup of coffee, and they definitely noticed the scowl that had been etched across your face all day.

“What’s got sunshine all cranky today?” Derek asked, posing the question to Penelope and JJ in the break room. “We’re not sure, she’s been awfully quiet today,” JJ informs, looking long-fully at your desk, where you angrily shaking your keyboard, tired of the delay when you were typing.

All three of them watch as Spencer slides his chair around, “Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, moving to grab your arm. “It’s not working!” You huff, moving back so Spencer can work his magic. Derek, Penelope, and JJ can’t hear the rest, but they see you relax as Spencer shows you how much better your keyboard is working.

The three disperse, settling back in to finish the paperwork assigned for the day. If all goes well, they’ll get their weekend off. So, everyone was locked in.

Everyone except you. And, oddly enough, Spencer.

The rest of the team had noticed the surface level differences, but Spencer saw you on a different level. He noticed that you started picking at your fingers after you went outside to eat lunch. He noticed when you turned down the brightness of your desktop computer. He noticed the lack of your usual, rotating choice of a novel resting on your desk.

Spencer wasn’t saying he was a better profiler than the rest of the team; he just tended to notice the little things. Especially about you. You were one of his friends, after all.

You weren’t sure why your day was crawling by. You were aware of why you were in such a poor mood, but the only thing that could make it better would be to get off of work and head home. It was silly to be so angry over something so trivial, but you really did plan your weekend around going to the library tomorrow morning.

Your weekend plans surrounded the book you were going to spend hours selecting. Going to the library was something you looked forward to every week, and you knew Hotch has plans with Beth this weekend, so chances were there would be no case and you could truly enjoy your time. You wanted to make a nice dinner for yourself tonight, curl up and watch a movie, and then head to bed.

Tomorrow, you were looking forward to getting up and doing your makeup, browsing around the library until your heart was content, grab lunch with Penelope, and then going home to read in the bathtub. You couldn’t have been more excited.

But your plans were quickly ruined. The library you frequented had sent an email to all its patrons, informing them they the library would be closed until further notice, due to a water pipe that was underground breaking. It had completely ruined your mood for the whole day. And it was continually getting worse with each little inconvenience. You left your notebook at home, when you passed Morgan a file you had given yourself a paper cut, your lunch was soggy, and now your computer was acting up. There was no winning for you today.

“Thank you,” you tried your best to be kind to Spencer, he always tried to help you. “Just try not to smash the keys again,” he teased as he slid his chair back to his desk. “I make no promises.” You mumbled.

Spencer spent a good majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to ask why you were in such a bad mood without making it any worse. He continued to notice how your mood steadily declined, even as the people in the bullpen started to head home. “Is something wrong?” He settled on, after you threw your head back in agitation. You couldn’t help the way tears started to form in your eyes, all the emotions from the awful day spilling over, as you laid your head down on the desk.

No matter how much Emily loved you, she took this as a sign to head home, leaving just you and Spencer. As the glass door to the BAU closed, Spencer made his way to your desk, crouching right down. He rested his arm close to you, wondering if he should rub circles on your back like JJ does for him when he’s upset.

“Hey,” he cooed in that soft voice he only used with people who were vulnerable, “what’s going on?” Being entirely overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and being engulfed by Spencer’s being had your mind going fuzzy, not allowing you to properly articulate the struggles you’d been facing. “The whole thing just crashed,” you mumbled your most recent misfortune into your arm, doing your best to hold back sobs that were threatening to come through.

“Have you reopened it?” Spencer questioned, springing into action to come up with a solution. You shook your head as more tears fell. “Can I sit there?” He asked, needing your limp body out of his way so he could help you. You nodded again, trying your best to wipe your eyes before lifting yourself up and moving to lean against your desk. “Are you crying?” Spencer couldn’t help himself from asking, very ungracefully.

You simply nodded, turning your head away. Spencer’s cheeks turned red, realizing how inconsiderate he sounded despite just wanting to help make things better for you. He turned his attention back to your computer, easily recovering the file you’d been working on. “There you go. You might’ve lost some work, but it recovered to six minutes ago. I can help you catch up, if you want.” He offers, wanting to recover from his uncouth comment earlier.

You sniffled, “I think I just want to go home.” Spencer nodded, moving out of your chair to allow you to pack your things. “Hold on,” he mumbles to himself, moving back into your desk space. He saved your file, opened your email, and sent it to himself. “What are you doing?” You questioned, rubbing your eyes. “I can finish it for you tonight. We worked on the geographical profile together, so I got it.” Spencer smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Thank you, Spence.” You said with a breath of relief. “It’s no problem at all. I can tell you’ve had a hard day, I just want to make it easier for you.”

Spencer’s simple heartfelt concern for you sent your waterworks over the edge. You couldn’t help yourself as the tears fell, staining your tired cheeks with dark streams of mascara. You couldn’t imagine how goofy you looked, but every emotion was hitting you all at once. You didn’t know how to control it. It was all just too much.

Spencer cooed your name, not hesitating to put a gentle hand over your crossed arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was unusually soft, trying his best to create a safe space for you.

You nodded your head, wanting to share but struggling to express all of your hardships. It was as if your throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe and impossible to talk. Spencer could see this written across your face, hesitating for one second before pulling you into his chest. “Shh,” he comforted as one hand ran up and down your back and the other held you close, “it’s okay.”

You weren’t sure how long you two stood like that. Spencer continued to whisper sweet affirmations to you, really just wanting you to feel better. His concern for germs and the stains that could appear on his lilac button up shirt were far away, not circling his mind. All he could focus on was getting you to calm down. He waited patiently for your sobs to slow down and your shoulders to relax.

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry,” you apologized. For everything. For how silly you looked, for crying, for the dark spot on his shirt, everything.

“No need.” He dismissed your attempt, “do you want to talk about it now?” You once again nodded, leaning back against your desk. You were more relaxed now that you had let out your feelings. Still, you felt somehow even sillier as your biggest problem escaped your lips, “I really just wanted to go the library tomorrow.”

Spencer’s face scrunched up, expecting a much more catastrophic reason behind your emotional outburst. You saw the confusion written across his face and went into a deeper explanation. “I had my whole weekend planned out, and the highlight of it was going to the library tomorrow morning. I got an email that said it’s closed indefinitely because of a plumbing issue. And then all the computer issues and my lunch was ruined and it’s just been all around a shitty day. And I can’t even go home and relax like I wanted to because the fucking library is closed.”

Spencer nodded at your angry rambling, happy you were past the crying part of your frustration. He was a bit shocked at your foul language, knowing it wasn’t a common thing for you. His brain moved on quickly, recognizing he had a solution to your problem. “Why don’t you come to my house?”

It was your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion, not understanding what he was proposing. This instantly launched Spencer into an awkward recovery rambling, “I mean, I have a lot of books. Not as much as the public library, as the average library has over 100,000 books, most of which are general fiction, although some would argue that young adult fiction is more common,” he took a breath and attempted to move on from his side track, “I have a fraction of that, but more than the average person. I bet you could find something to read from my collection.” He concluded.

Your entire mood changed as he finished his proposition. It was amazing that he could come up with such a practical solution to such a ridiculous problem, and it was even more amazing how quickly he did. Spencer was welcoming you into his home, allowing you to borrow a book, which you knew were precious to him. He was being so caring, so kind.

“Spencer,” you said, with the amount of awe and adoration you were feeling dripping through, “that is so nice.”

Your sweet tone as you said his name had Spencer’s knees feeling weak. The way you said his name sounded so sweet, like you dripping ooey gooey honey from your mouth.

His cheeks turned red, “it’s nothing. I just don’t want to see you crying again.” You nodded, making a mental note to do your best not to cry in the bullpen anymore. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Spencer immediately nodded, “of course it is. I’ll send you my address.” The smile that adorned your face contrasted sharply with the tears stains on your cheek, but he was so happy to see it.

“Thank you so much,” you said one last time, before packing up your bag to head home.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t set your alarm a little bit early so you’d have more than enough to get ready. You justified it by telling yourself that this was your day, you just wanted to feel as good as possible. Sure, going to Spencer’s house had absolutely nothing to do with it.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you climbed into the car, turning on your favorite song and started making your way to the local cafe you and Emily frequented. You knew Spencer liked his drinks sweet, so you did your best to pick out something he’d like, and then hopped back in your car and continued your drive to his home.

It didn’t take long to get there, thankfully. You didn’t want to hand him a cold coffee.

“Hello,” he greeted after you shyly knocked on his door. He was dressed in a FBI branded hoodie and a pair of jeans. You guessed he was only dressed because of your presence, judging by how lackluster his outfit was compared to the button ups, ties, and cardigans he wore to work.

“I don’t think I can say thank you enough, so I bought a coffee to show my appreciation.” Your smile grew tenfold when his eyes lit up at the small cup in your hand. “I told you, it’s no problem. But, thank you for the coffee.” He nodded as he took it from you and opened the door wider, allowing you to step into his apartment.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting it too look like, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the real thing was much more grand than anything your imagination could’ve conjured up. Green walls with dark wood molding, a beautifully worn leather couch, bookcases full of books and DVDs of his favorite tv shows. It was so incredibly Spencer, and easily the coziest place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Not even the cluttered stacks of books that adorned parts of the floor and coffee table could take away from the beauty that is Spencer Reid’s apartment.

“Wow, Spence,” you sighed in awe, glancing around the space, “your home is beautiful.” Spencer blushed, ushering you to step farther in. “I’m sorry to be a pain, but could you take your shoes off? I don’t want to track the outside in.” You understood what he meant and nodded, knowing it would save him a lot of mysophobia-induced worry.

“Do you want a tour?” Spencer inquired, setting his cup down on the coffee table. You excitedly nodded, wanting nothing more than to explore his space. He moved towards the left-most bookshelf in his living room, “This is all non-fiction, organized with my very own Dewey decimal system,” he gloated. It was easily to tell that Spencer was proud of his book collection, rightfully so. “The rest of them,” he gestured to two more shelves on the left side of his RCA brand television, “are fiction. They’re organized by author, so you should feel right at home when you’re browsing.”

You nodded excitedly. You couldn’t wait to sort through his mountains of novels.

“This TV is probably older than you,” he quickly breezed over it, “and this is the start of my disc collection. It’s just my favorites right now, Doctor Who, a few soap operas and a couple French films.” You nodded along as he made his list. “This is where my records go, and the occasional CD. I prefer physical media, as opposed to streaming.” That factoid made sense for Spencer.

“There’s a chess table over there, my couch, and the kitchen. My room and the bathroom are down the hall.” Your eyes scanned the room one last time, completely and utterly impressed. “I love it, Spencer. I can only imagine how good it feels to come home to this.” Spencer’s cheeks turned red, not used to being showered in compliments like this.

“Um,” he took a second to collect himself, “I’ve read all of the ones on the shelves, so if you need summaries or reviews I’ll be here. This stack,” he points to the one next to the couch, “are my newest ones, but you are more than welcome to any of them. And this one,” he points to the one next to the chess table, “are ones I am planning to donate, so you are welcome to keep them if you’d like.”

You nodded at his words again, practically ripping at the seams with excitement. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how long you’d been smiling.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spencer remarked, reaching for his coffee cup. He wanted to make sure he was honoring your previous weekend plans, allowing you to browse his home library to your heart’s content. He wouldn’t go far, just to the kitchen, so you could have your space.

Before you could stop yourself you were calling out a hurried, “wait!” You stopped, almost if you’d shocked yourself with your remark. You couldn’t help yourself. You felt like you wanted him, no, needed him around. As if the beauty and the warmth and the coziness of his home would dampen by his departure. You stuttered a bit, trying to justify your interruption. “Do you have any recommendations?” was the best you could come up with.

As if he didn’t notice how much higher your voice had gotten, Spencer’s back straightened up and his eyes widen with joy. “I do!” He cheered, heading over to his shelves of fiction books. “This is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury,” he didn’t even have to look before pulling it down, “it’s a number of stories tied together with a narrative about a man whose tattoos tell stories.” Spencer moved to the coffee table, setting it down right in the middle.

“This one,” he moves back to the shelf, “is called Mother Night. It’s about the conflicted emotions of a Nazi propagandist who doesn’t believe in the propaganda.” Spencer places this book right on top of the previous one.

He does this a few more times, until you have your own stack of books he’d picked out for you. You couldn’t help but notice how your pile fit like a missing puzzle piece in his world of books.

“And this one,” Spencer starts for the fifth or sixth time, but takes a second to glance at you. He realizes quickly that you’re no longer paying attention to the summaries he’s providing. Instead, your attention is turned to the pile of books he’d been creating. For the third time since you arrived, his face is read with embarrassment. He’d been rambling. For far too long. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, moving to return the books to the shelves, “you wanted to browse. I just love books, and I wanted to make sure you found something you like! I didn’t mean to start rambling.”

You’re easily broken out of your trance, quickly pulled away from your imaginations of your own novels mixed in with his on these shelves. “No!” You said, stepping closer to him, “I loved your recommendations, Spencer!” You reassured him, reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay, I promise. I like listening to you talk.” You successfully rendered him speechless, creating a momentary lag in brain. You were so close to him, complimenting his rambles and being interested in his opinions. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the sparkles in your eyes.

“I don’t mean to come on too strong or anything, but if you want to, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Spencer whispered into the delicate space between you. You simply nodded, too enamored with the moment to say anything. His right hand came to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His touch was feather-light and his lips tasted like sugar, definitely from the coffee you’d given him.

The kiss was a few seconds long, filled with nothing but sickly sweet puppy love.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “anytime, Spence.” He let out a light laugh as well.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling you back into him, taking up on your ‘anytime’ offer. This kiss was filled with sweetness, just as last one was. His hands moved to waist, making sure you were flush against him.

You reciprocated, just wanting to be close to him. Your hands moved upwards, entangling themselves into his hair, as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. You smiled against his lips, breaking the ever-growing tension in the room.

When you two pulled away, you found yourself marveling at Spencer. He just looked so pretty, with his now tussled hair and slightly swollen lips. You wished you could commit this sight to memory, just as he was doing to you. While he never had to try, Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer, making sure his eidetic memory was doing its job, before he spoke.

“I know you had plans for your weekend, but I’d love to take you on a date, if you’d like.” Spencer stumbled through his proposal, trying to find the words. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of trouble to get to this point.” You joked, sending both of you into a fit a laughter. “C’mon,” you stepped away from him as you moved closed to the door, “let’s go grab lunch.”

[daydreamingqueen1]

Sweets thief

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings/Content: none. pure fluff, a wee bit of bullying to spence (totally harmless and friendly though), crushes, unhealthy amount of candy ingestion lol, no y/n, gn!reader too

Summary: You've been stealing sweets from your resident genius.

Word count: 1.2k

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

It wasn't unusual for the BAU members to carry snacks with them.

The job was hard, stressful and, most importantly, it had unpredictable hours. So finding time to eat a proper meal wasn't always a viable option.

Nevertheless, eating is a basic human need and even if it's not completely healthy, the agents often found themselves battling their hunger with quick snacks.

As a relatively new member of the BAU, buying said vital snacks wasn't yet ingrained in your mind, resulting in you continually forgetting to buy something to munch on during cases.

Stealing was always an option though.

After several months with your coworkers, you are proud to say that you have managed to eat at the expense of all of their pockets, for experts in human behavior, they don't hide their treats so well.

However, after several months, you have come to know their go-to snacks and, subsequently, you have become picky.

Morgan eats some kind of high-protein bars with an awfully bright neon wrapper.

Emily loves those salt and vinegar chips every station has on their vending machines.

JJ, ever the healthy mom of the group, always has a few packages of oatmeal raisin cookies on hand.

Rossi carries eucalyptus and mint gummies like the old man he is.

And Hotch buys the most bland granola bars known to mankind.

With all of that said, the conclusion was obvious.

Spencer has the best snacks.

It is not only that he always has sweets but that he's the only one that manages for variety instead of a fixed thing. A bit ironic considering he is the most prone to sticking to a rigid routine. Well, you aren't complaining though, especially not this month.

You realized quickly that Halloween was a big thing for the resident genius, seeming to make the grown man regress to the mentality of an overly eager seven-year-old. It's lucky for you because that means that he chooses to try a new candy every single day of October.

It also means that you had begun stealing exclusively from him and, being surrounded by profilers, it wasn't long until you were discovered as the culprit.

A shadow had eclipsed your desk suddenly, making you look up to a squinting Dr. Reid. “Did you take my last Peanut Butter Cup?”

You shook your head, “No...”

Derek snorted on the desk nearby, “You've still got chocolate on your face, kid,”

Cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, you smiled up at Spencer sweetly.

His converse sounded hard against the floor as he stumped away.

Apparently, you weren't that discreet. He ended up catching you many more times after that.

"Hey!" Spencer swatted your hand when you grabbed yet another handful of his M&Ms.

You shrugged, feigning innocence, “Hey to you too Reid, but we've been in the same room for a while.”

He huffed, inching the box slightly out of your reach.

Many more times.

Your hand was literally inside the familiar size bag of Starburst candy when Spencer came back from the bathroom.

“Oh come on!” he groaned, taking the bag out of your grasp, “Buy your own.”

You went back to the local police station office, giggling to yourself like a child with your hands full of candy.

At this point hunger had become a secondary motive to your stealing. The number one reason being how adorable Spencer's reactions were when he caught you.

In all honesty, you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. You didn't have the courage to tell him upfront, making your silly brain manifest your feelings like a preschooler pulling on the pigtails of their crush. Oh, but teasing him was so fun, and it got you free candy so it was even better.

Then, yesterday, there was an incident.

The team was on the jet, another kidnapped girl had been safely returned to her parents, fairly quickly this time too. Spirits were high at wrapping up a case with such a positive outcome, making most of the agents mingle and play games on the usually quiet ride home.

You were perched on one of the individual seats, scrolling away in your phone and absentmindedly eating some candy (you had bought your own for once).

You jolted a bit when a hand dived into your candy bag. When you looked up, you found a smirking Spencer standing right in front of you, looking fairly smug and popping a piece into his mouth. He thought he was finally getting back at you for eating all of his sweets.

His joy lasted for about three seconds before he realized his mistake.

See, to the untrained eye, he had just eaten a couple of innocent looking bear gummies. Except, these were not regular gummies, they were your favorite kind, the most sour kind.

Spencer's face scrunched up with disgust, the sour effect of the gummy doubled at taking him by surprise, the acidic taste completely taking over his taste buds.

You couldn't help it, you bent over your belly with laughter, inadvertently drawing attention to Spencer's predicament.

The whole team snickered as they watched him rush back and forth on the narrow hall of the jet until he got hold of a tissue to spit the offending candy.

“What the hell is that?” he turned around to confront you.

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Sour candy?”

More laughs filled the space and Spencer had sat down on the furthest chair from yours, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Back to today, you feel actually kind of guilty about what happened. You have been munching on all of Spencer's treats for weeks and the one time he does it to you, the whole team ends up making fun of him. A bit of teasing was fine but you don't want the man to actually feel bad.

So when you see him stand up from his desk and walk into the kitchen, you quickly jump out of your chair and grab something from your bag, trailing right behind him through the bullpen.

He's making himself an exaggeratedly sweet cup of coffee when you corner him.

“Spencer,” you call, making him turn around. Your hands are inconspicuously behind your back, “Trick or treat?”

His eyebrows furrow suspiciously, “Neither if you're going to give me one of those monstrosities you like.”

You huff out a laugh, “No, no, I promise it's not that. Come on, trick or treat? ”

After measuring up how much he trusts your statement, he relents, “Treat.”

“Ta-dah!” you sing, revealing a single Hershey’s Kiss in your palm.

Spencer's eyes light up.

“I know it doesn't make up for everything I ate but it's an offer of peace.”

He gives you a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

As his hand extends to grab the chocolate, your brain has an impulsive thought.

You lean forward and peck his lips.

It lasts barely a second but it's enough to make your heart beat wildly against your chest.

Spencer stares at you frozen in place, a crimson color spreading all over his face.

“A kiss for a kiss,” you mumble dumbly, like saying that makes it better somehow.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You think to yourself, your feet are prepared to flee the scene when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist.

“I– I...” he stammers, his cheeks turning impossibly redder, “I wouldn't mind if you stole more of those.”

A shy smile spreads on your face. Perhaps you won't start buying your own snacks soon.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

it's a bit silly but I was feeling halloween-y and craving sour candy

leave me a prompt or idea you'd like me to write!

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

[1arkspur-aconitum]

THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND (s.r.)

IN WHICH: Spencer shows up late to work wearing glasses for the first time…

PAIRING: Season 3!Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: fluff

CONTENT: pining, oblivious idiots in love, swearing, Emily being a little meddler

WORD COUNT: 3.7 (this was meant to be only 1k…whoops…)

PUBLISHED: 03/10/24

‘OH MY GOD.’

It’s the best I can do. It is the only thing I can think as Spencer Reid steps through the glass doors into the bullpen.

It’s one of those rare days where Spencer arrives later than me—later than the rest of the team, in fact—and I’m already sitting at my desk when he walks in. A cup of coffee from the Paper Cup (arguably the best coffee in Virginia, bite me Derek Morgan) steams away beside a half-eaten blueberry muffin, the crumbs of which litter the crossword before me. It’s partially completed, but I have yet to finish this specific paper’s puzzle without the genius’ help—I swear it’s almost as if they designed it for him. I’ve even marked little stars next to the ones I’m intending to ask Spencer.

Or, at least, the questions I was intending to ask Spencer. I may not ever get the opportunity to because I think he has decided to kill me this morning.

Spencer Reid steps into the bullpen dressed in brown slacks (as usual) and a striped shirt tucked into said slacks (also normal), but that’s where the familiarity ends.

He’s not wearing a tie which is very bizarre. In fact, the top buttons of his shirt are undone as if he’s rushed out of the door. From this distance I can see the contours of his throat.

We once had a surprisingly in-depth conversation about why ties are more commonly associated with men (due to the inherent power and authority we attach to them) and Spencer said that he tried to always wear one because it made people take him more seriously. I distinctly remember it because it made me kind of sad. The idea that people didn’t take him seriously bothered me more than I’d care to admit.

It’s not the tardiness, nor the lack of a tie, that wipes every thought from my brain, though. It’s not even the way he has pushed his hair away from his face like he’s some kind of Disney prince—though that on any other day would have done something similar to hitting the delete key on a computer.

No, it’s the damn glasses.

Spencer Reid has the audacity to be wearing a pair of horn rimmed glasses.

They’re perched on his nose as if they belong there, which—judging by the way they make his face distort when he turns to greet Derek—they do. I don’t know what it is specifically, but seeing him in glasses makes my stomach drop out of my feet, through several floors of the Quantico building, and deep into the ground.

Obviously Spencer is smart. Anyone who has the luxury of meeting him can tell you as such. It’s not as if he hides it, mister three PhDs and counting. But…but the glasses just do something extra, highlight that aspect of him, and I’ve always been a sucker for intelligence.

I genuinely didn’t think he could get prettier.

‘Shut your mouth, you’ll start drooling.’ Emily sidles up to my desk, thankfully keeping her voice low. I jump embarrassingly and manage to drag my eyes away from where Spencer is deep in discussion with Derek about something Derek doesn’t appear to want to talk about. Astrophysics? The flight path of bumblebees? If I was in Derek’s place, I would be hanging off of Spencer’s every word. ‘Honestly, could you be any more transparent?’

‘I…I’m not transparent!’ I say, but it does take me a second to work out what she’s saying. I take a distracting sip of my coffee, trying to ignore how the light slicks off of the frames as Spencer nods vigorously. A small strand of hair falls into his face and he brushes it away carelessly. ‘Maybe—maybe I was just…admiring the make, or something.’

‘I’m not stupid.’ Emily scoffs, knocking me with the back of her hand. She seems as if she is enjoying this way too much. There’s a sardonic gleam in her eye as she raises an eyebrow. I glower up at her over the rim of my coffee, imagining how it would feel to toss it in her face—anything to get that smug look off of it. ‘You can barely form a sentence.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I turn my nose up at her haughtily. I feel very much the petulant child denying having broken into the biscuit jar even when their mouth is covered in crumbs. ‘See? A perfect sentence.’

‘You’re not fooling anyone.’ Emily feels the need to tell me, eyes flickering between me and Spencer. I make a conscious effort not to look at him. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I wedge my foot underneath one of the spokes of my chair, forcing it to stay directed towards Emily. She grins as if she can sense my inner discord. ‘Y’know, for a profiler, you’re not very good at being discreet.’

‘I’m always discreet.’ The lie tastes bitter in my mouth and I follow it up with a sip of coffee. I don’t know where to look, what to do with myself, so I decide to focus on Emily. She’s wearing a new pair of trousers that have an embellishment up the side, a few beads shining in the sunlight streaming into the office. I wonder if she’ll let me borrow them…

‘I beg to differ.’ Emily perches herself on Spencer’s desk, crossing her legs. The tiny beads glitter like a mirrorball. This is fun for her. She likes making me squirm, and my respect for Emily is declining with every moment she holds me under this particular microscope. Part of me wonders if Emily truly is a sadist. ‘Come on, just admit it.’

‘I refer you to my previous statement,’ I swing my chair around even more to face her, firmly putting my back to where I assume Spencer and Derek are still talking. God, please don’t overhear this. What would I even say if he did? ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Sure.’ She laughs brightly, not believing me for a second—to be fair to her, I don’t even believe myself. I really should get better at lying to my coworkers. It’s frustrating that, to be a profiler, you have to be inherently astute. I’ve always been a relatively open book, which makes this whole situation worse. I have no doubt that my every thought is plastered there for her to dissect. ‘I can’t blame you, you know. I mean, it is very…different. If you’re into that kinda thing, which I think you are—’

‘Please stop.’ I say. My fingers tangle into my hair as I lean forwards, the points of my elbows bruising the soft flesh above my knee.

I hate this feeling. Being so exposed, so vulnerable, being seen like this has never been something I’ve enjoyed. Maybe it is something to do with my childhood, but I never like to think about that too hard. What it comes down to is that I can tease people incessantly, but when the tables have flipped? I hate it. I wonder what that says about me..

‘Just ask him out.’ Emily’s voice is softer now, less ribbed with merciless humour. I look up at her with a disgusted expression–as if that would ever happen. Spencer is my colleague, my friend. There’s no way I’m putting myself out there like that, and she should know that already. She sighs. ‘Seriously. What’s the worst that could happen?’

Uh, everything? He could say no. I could seriously embarrass myself–a habit I have a tendency to do. I could vomit on his new shoes. In fact, Spencer probably doesn’t even like me in that way–thinking about it, I have no idea if Spencer’s even attracted to anyone. He’s never spoken about dates like Derek does, nor mentioned exes. When we talk about our first kisses, he stays silent. Whenever the topic deviates towards something unsuitable for work, Spencer noticeably stays out of it. Maybe he’s just not into anything like that.

That thought hollows out the pit of my stomach for a second.

‘If I answer that, then you’ll just think that I know what you’re talking about.’ I sense her words for the trap that they are. What a sneaky bitch. I narrow my eyes at her and Emily’s eyebrow twitches imperceptibly. A tell. Ever since we met, Emily has had a thing about trying to trick me into confessing my secrets at any opportunity she can get. I think she thinks it’s more fun if she doesn’t ask the question straight up. ‘So no. I’m not going to deign that with a response.’

‘You’re impossible.’ Emily groans. She tries to kick my chair with a free foot, but misses by a mile. Sucker. Like the child I am, I stick my tongue out at her. ‘Come on, you have no idea how painful it is to watch you pining–’

‘You think watching me pine is painful?’ I retort, propping my chin up on my elbow. It’s only when the words are out of my mouth that I realise I may have given a little bit too much away. Emily’s eyes light up with a familiar glee. My cheeks heat and I scowl. ‘Besides, I was merely observing.’

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.’ Emily practically purrs, a mischievous glint in her eye that I decidedly do not like. She pushes off of Spencer’s desk, her fingers trailing along the edge as she meanders to her own. As she does so, her lips curve into a knowing smirk. She mutters something under her breath that is just loud enough for me to catch the hint of amusement.

‘Care to share?’ The words are out of my mouth before I realise that I probably won’t want to hear what she has to say. Yet another one of Emily’s verbal pitfalls—I can’t be expected to spot all of them after-all. Sometimes I think talking to Emily is like navigating a field of bear traps.

‘Oh, nothing—just that you two are more similar than you realise.’ Her voice drips with feigned innocence. She chuckles as she sits herself down, opening a stack of files on her desk with a flourish, effectively ending the conversation and leaving me in a whirlwind of my own thoughts.

More similar than I realise? What on Earth does she mean by that? I know we’re both considered smart—we’re both doctors, we work in the same field, we’re around the same age. Admittedly, I’m not as smart as he is, but everyone can say that. There’s always been something different about Spencer.. He has always been a cut above the rest, a standard no one else can possibly hope to achieve. How could I ever compare myself to that?

I turn my seat around and allow myself a brief glance over to where Spencer and Derek are still standing. Spencer is still talking animatedly, hands gesturing in the space between them. Don’t even get me started on his hands because we could be here for literal hours. A doctoral thesis is 60,000–80,000 words. I reckon I could write that much purely on his hands.

Derek is currently looking at him with a fond, if slightly exasperated expression, having succumbed to his fate of listening to whatever it is Spencer is rambling about. They’re a strange pair but there’s no doubting the love they share between them. It’s honestly so endearing.

My gaze drifts from the pair of them to Spencer. With the glasses, it’s different somehow. The lenses magnify his eyes, making them larger, more expressive. I can see the rapid movement as he processes whatever Derek is saying in response to his rambling, I can watch the slight furrow of his brow as he formulates a response. The more I inspect him, the harder it is for me to work out why I like them so much. Perhaps it’s because he seems…softer, somehow. Less intimidating and more approachable.

More human.

Then it hits me.

The glasses are a vulnerability. They’re an admission that the perfect Spencer Reid is anything but, that, as much as his mind is as sharp as a blade, his eyesight is not. For some reason, that makes him even more attractive to me. Though, to be fair, there’s not much that would make him less attractive to me.

I tear my eyes away, a familiar heat rippling up the back of my neck. I can’t believe I’m having thoughts like this about my coworker. It’s unprofessional, impolite, and definitely dangerous. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

Every time I see him in those glasses, the more I think about what it would be like to kiss him with them on. Would he take them off, or would I? Or, maybe, he leaves them on as I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down towards me. They wouldn’t get in the way if we were careful…

For God’s sake.

I try to focus on my crossword but the words swim before my eyes. All I can see is Spencer’s face with those damn glasses, and the annoyingly infuriating way that they make his eyes sparkle. Perhaps Emily is right–perhaps I am as transparent as a window. This whole thing is stupid. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but it’s not like I can defenestrate them very easily.

Just as I am contemplating burying myself under several feet of damp earth, effectively giving up on the day entirely, Spencer and Derek seem as if they finish their conversation. Derek claps Spencer on the shoulder as the pair of them start to make their way towards us. I do my best to look busy, scribbling down a word on my puzzle that I am 99% sure isn’t correct. My heart hammers in my chest.

Jesus Christ, get your shit together, girl. It’s just an awkward, tall, lanky man. He’s not Hugh Grant. Or James Marsters. He’s just Spencer.

I don’t know if that sentiment makes it better or worse.

‘Morning, June.’ Spencer’s gentle, warm voice drags me out of my shame spiral. When I look up, he’s standing next to his desk, hands clasped in front of him as he peers down at me through those fucking glasses.

I plaster as much of a genuine smile on my face as possible. ‘Morning, Spencer. You’re looking very dashing today.’

Dashing? What the hell was that? Who says that? If I could make a time machine and return back to a few seconds earlier, I would. But, alas, I simply have to wait and see how Spencer responds.

His lips quirk upwards in a shy smile. ‘Really? Thank you. You, uh, you look rather…rather lovely yourself.’

‘Oh, uh, thanks, Spence.’ I mentally kick myself for sounding so flustered, looking anywhere but directly at him. I don’t think I look ‘rather lovely’ today–I’m wearing brown denim flares and a shirt, nothing too fancy. I try to regain some composure. This is so unlike me that it scares me. ‘So, new glasses?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he says, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. My eyes trace a vein that vanishes under the cuff. ‘I ran out of contacts and didn’t have time to go to the opticians. I don’t really like them, though, they kind of get in the way.’

‘Really?’ I try not to sound too surprised and/or offended, but I don’t think it worked very well. The next words I say are pumped with honesty. ‘I think they look good on you. Actually, they really suit you.’

‘Do you genuinely think so?’ He sounds as if he doesn’t believe me, but the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. I nod, mouth suddenly very dry. Spencer sits on the edge of his desk where Emily had been moments before, crossing his long legs at the ankle. The odd socks (pink on the left, neon green on the right) make me smile. ‘I always think they make me look…well, nerdy. Derek agrees.’

I can’t not laugh a little at that, taking a sip of my coffee as I work out how to say what I want to without seriously offending him.

‘Spencer, sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are the epitome of nerdy without the glasses. And–and that’s not a bad thing in the slightest. It’s part of what I like about you.’

‘Oh.’ Spencer turns a furious shade of red, eyes dropping like a stone to stare intently at the floor. I immediately regret the words, but have to play it off as if I don’t. Sweetheart is a new term of endearment and one I didn’t intend to use, but it slipped out. I lean back in my seat, angle my head…do I backtrack? Do I apologise? I’m about to do as such when I see it. A tiny smile. Spencer’s next words are just loud enough for me to hear. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘That’s okay.’ I grin, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to put on a picture of nonchalance. If Emily is to be believed, he can see right through it, but it makes me feel better. I need to say something–anything–else before the silence gets too loud. ‘I actually didn’t know you wore contacts, let alone glasses.’

‘Yeah, I just find contacts easier–did you know that Leonardo da Vinci was the one who was first credited with coming up with the idea of contact lenses in 1508? It wasn’t created in his time, of course, but he was the one who first posited the idea of altering corneal power.’ Spencer’s hands gesture in the space between us as he endearingly rambles on about the creation of contact lenses. It’s sweet, and I let him talk for a while, using this opportunity to watch him. He’s just so pretty that it’s hard to focus. ‘And modern day lenses, the silicone ones, weren’t made until 1998.’

‘Wow, that’s kinda cool.’ I hum, taking a sip of my now almost-cold coffee. ‘I don’t know, I had you pegged as the kind of guy who doesn’t like putting his finger in his eye.’

‘What?’ Spencer chuckles, raising an eyebrow. He pushes his glasses up again and my heart stammers. ‘How could you possibly know that about someone?’

‘Spencer, you’re a known germaphobe. You don’t even shake hands.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t want someone else to put my lenses in,’ Spencer physically shudders at this idea. ‘But if I do it, it’s just my germs.’

‘I suppose that makes sense. If you had a twin, though, would you let them do it? Or someone with super clean hands? What about if you broke your hands and your glasses, and needed someone else to put them in for you?’ I rattle off question after question, knowing I really should stop talking, but it’s as if there’s a torrent of words I cannot control. ‘I mean, there are plenty of, of situations where you may need someone to…to put your contacts in…’

What the fuck am I on about? Oh God, this isn’t happening to me…I never thought I would be so swayed by a pretty face.

‘You’re a strange one.’ Spencer says, after a beat, and his voice is playful. He leans backwards and braces himself on the desk. ‘I don’t know, it depends. I mean, I wouldn’t let Derek do it, but…’

‘I wouldn’t let Derek do it for me, and I don’t even wear contacts.’ I laugh, tilting my head to the side and giving him a cheeky grin. He returns it, and for a moment, we just look at each other. The world narrows, as it always does, to just me and him. There’s a familiar warmth in my stomach that has always been intoxicating.

‘I’d let you put my contacts in.’ Spencer says the words as if they had been building up behind his lips. Pink stains the tops of his cheekbones. It might be a trick of the light, but I’m pretty sure that his gaze flickers down to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning back to my eyes. My breath hitches and I have to look away.

‘Really? I don’t know if I should be flattered or kind of grossed out.’ Another sentence I regret saying, but what does one say to something like that?

Spencer laughs, but it sounds kind of forced. ‘Well, let us hope that it will never come to that. But, if it does, don’t let any of the others do it. Lord knows where their hands have been.’

I laugh too, but before I can say anything more, Hotch’s voice booms across the bullpen. He’s calling Spencer to his office, and the tranquil spell between us is shattered.

Spencer jumps, startled, and clears his throat. He pushes his glasses further up his nose and stands up. He offers me a muttered ‘sorry’ as he walks away, speeding out of the bullpen of desks and heading towards Hotch. I watch him go reluctantly, only looking away when he vanishes inside and the door closes behind him.

The groan I let out is loud enough to make Derek look up, but I bury my head in my hands before any of them can jump on me whilst I’m vulnerable. What the fuck was that? I’m not usually one to get flustered when faced with a pretty man, and usually I’m pretty confident around Spencer. Evidently there’s something about the glasses that turns me into a blathering school girl. It’s so stupid that I have no choice but to get a grip.

When I look up from my hands, determined to not let Spencer’s new eyewear affect me, Emily is watching me with a bemused expression. She must have heard the entire interaction.

‘Smooth, June. Real smooth.’ She says from over her coffee mug, the steam coiling around her like she’s some demon. The devious grin on her face doesn’t help that mental image.

I simply flip her off and return to my crossword.

Nosy bitch.

THANK YOU FOR READING! I CAN’T DECIDE IF I LIKE THIS OR NOT BUT FIGURED WHY NOT? MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY!

[delulu-hours]

Together {1}

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Latina!reader

Summary: You had a big surprise for him. So when you and Derek go and visit his mother for her birthday, you figured it would be the best way to tell them. To tell his family; however, things don't go as planned when Derek gets arrested. Memories flood the both of you as you figured out how to fight this nightmare together.

Tigger warning: mention of sexual assault and abuse.

A/n: This little series is going to be a tear jerker. It takes place in season 2 when Derek is forced to speak about the past he kept a secret. I hope you guys enjoy this! Much love

{2}

You snuggled into Derek's side. You both had arrived at his mom's a day earlier than planned and now are sitting on the couch. His arm wrapped around your shoulder as you had your legs tangled with his. Derek had put on an old rerun movie; your hands moved up his shirt. He flinched at your touch and pulled your hands away. "Your hands are cold, beautiful." He brought them up to his lips and kissed them.

"It is December y estamos en (and we are) Chicago." You moved closer, trying to take in more of his warmth. "Plus, amor, (love) you're my personal heater." He chuckled as he pulled a blanket over the both of you. Your hands found themselves around him again as he rubbed your arm. You let out a content sigh as you kissed his neck softly before returning to the movie. He said nothing else as he shifted a bit on the couch. Your attention stayed on the screen longer before a yawn left your lips.

"Sleepy?" He asked softly as he squeezed your arm.

"A little." He took his feet off the coffee table and grabbed the control as he turned the television off. He held his hand out for you, and you took it as he pulled you up. He guided you to his old room and closed the door behind him.

"Go ahead, get comfortable." He pulled out your suitcase with your clothes and placed it on the bed. You watched as he opened it and handed you your pajamas, which entailed one of his old shirts he didn't wear anymore and some shorts. You took them and changed into them. You could feel his eyes on you as you slipped your bra off before you tugged the oversized shirt on. You shook the pants off, and he walked over to you, hands on your waist as he kissed your lips. You didn't hesitate to kiss him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You gently bit his lower lip and pulled at it. He groaned as he gripped your hips tightly, pushing himself to you until you felt the wall behind you. You could feel him grow hard as you scraped your nails against the back of his head, slowly trailing them down his neck. You moved to kiss his jaw as he pulled up and cupped the back of your thighs. You pulled back a bit as you felt him roll his hips into you, a moan leaving your lips.

"Derek," You tried to stop him as he focused on your neck. His teeth lightly scraped against your pulse as he kissed you. You squeezed his shoulders when he found your sweet spot and sucked on it. "Derek," You called his name again; it sounded like you moaned out his name instead. You felt him hum against your neck, but he didn't seem to stop. "We can't do this." He pulled back. His beautiful brown eyes filled with lust as he scanned your face. "Not at your momma's house, amor (love)." You bit your lip as you needed more. You wanted more but knew that you wouldn't be able to face his mom the next day if you guys continued this.

"I knew we should have stayed at a hotel." He groaned as you lightly shifted against him, and his forehead dropped on my shoulder. You had to bit back a small laugh, understanding his frustration. He kissed your shoulder softly as he allowed your feet to touch the ground again. You rubbed his back when he didn't pull back, knowing he was trying to calm himself.

"I'm sorry, cariño. (dear)" He pulled back but still held you close to him as he gave you a playful glare.

"I'm gonna go take a cold shower." He kissed you quickly and squeezed your waist before walking to the bathroom. When the door closed behind him, you sighed and rested your head on the wall. You closed your eyes before pushing yourself off the way. You moved to the bed and crawled on it as you pulled the ultrasound. The first ultrasound you had gotten two weeks ago when you began to notice that you had gone three months without your period. At first, you didn't think much of it as there were times when you wouldn't have a period for a month. You had yet to tell Derek the reason, never finding the time to break it to him. You placed the photo back into your purse before lying in bed. You were going to tell him tomorrow. You figured it might be an excellent way to break the news to him by surprising him. A gift for his mom and him.

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up the following day alone in bed. The soft voices outside the room caused you to get up. You quickly grabbed some pants and a cute, navy blue turtle neck. You changed into it and tied your hair up in a ponytail. You brushed your teeth and washed your face. You were softly humming to yourself as you got ready. A soft knock on the door caused you to turn around as you noticed Derek's mom poking her head in. "Good morning." She smiled at you.

"Good morning," You smiled back at her as you dried your face. "I'm sorry I slept in."

"Nonsense. " She waved you off before opening the door fully. "Derek mentioned how you would be tired from the trip. I'm guessing you're hungry."

"Famished." You said, and on cue, your stomach growled. You flushed in embarrassment, and she chuckled.

"There breakfast." You thanked her and followed behind her as you snatched a hoodie that you had packed. You threw it on, still feeling slightly cold as the smell of food invaded your senses. You took in the pancakes and eggs on a plate. "I believe Derek left you some bacon, though I wouldn't be surprised if that boy finished it." You let out an amused snort as you sat down.

"Where's Derek?" You asked as you looked around. It was too quiet in her house.

"He left with Desiree," She handed you a cup of coffee. "Said he didn't want to wake you. Such a sweet and thoughtful boy when it comes to you." She gave you a sweet smile, and you couldn't help but admire it as it reminded you so much of Derek. He was like his momma in many ways, and you felt the butterflies in your belly at the thought of how he would be around this baby. You placed a hand on your stomach at the thought.

"He is my prince charming, and I'm lucky to have him." You smiled at her. "I don't know what I did to deserve him."

"Oh, sweetheart," She places a hand on your shoulder. "He is the one lucky to have you in his life. I see how you care for him and I can't express how thankful I am knowing he is being taken care of. Especially when he is so far from us."

~~~~~~~~~

You watched as they happily ate the cake and chatted. Derek glanced over at you, placing a hand on your thigh. You looked at him, and his eyes scanned your face, the smile never leaving his lips. "You alright, Angel?" His voice was soft as he pressed a kiss on your cheek.

"I'm good." You answered him honestly as you placed your hand over his. You smiled up at him, the nerves eating you as the card sat beside his mother's gifts. "I promise." He hummed, almost not believing you, but he wouldn't push it.

"Alright, love birds." His sister Desiree teased. "Let's open the gifts." You took your card before they could grab it.

"Mine last." You held it to your chest. "I want to save the best one for last." Derek laughed at your challenge, and his sisters gasped.

"Oh, it's on." Sarah narrowed her eyes a bit with a smile on her lips. "Momma, you gotta tell whose gift is the best." You watched as his mom shook her head as you both followed her to the living room. Derek pulled you to his lap as he sat down, and his mom took the spot next to him. His sisters stood behind the couch. You instantly relaxed when he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. Sarah decided to go first with her gift as she handed the nicely wrapped present.

We watched as she opened it and gasped before pulling out the necklace. It was a beautiful, simple design. "It is gorgeous." Sarah sat on the back of the couch, kissing her mom on her head. Next went Desiree.

"Momma, I just know you're gonna love my gift." She gushed as she gave us all a look. I had to bit back a laugh as Derek shook his head. Fran opened her gift, and it was a wooden decoration. On it was engraved their names along with a quote. Once you heard a lot be used within themselves.

"It's perfect." Fran ran her fingers against the words and smiled up at Desiree. Desiree gave us a victorious smile, and you rolled my eyes at her.

"Alright, my gift." Derek let go of me as he reached for the box beside me. "Here ya go, momma." You watched as Derek handed her the gift, and she took it. She shook the box in her hands, earning laughter from all of us. The twinkle in her eyes as she pulled the wrapping away and opened it. She took out the content in the box and flashed Derek a confused smile.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Here." Derek chuckled and took the small remote out of her hand. "It's a remote start, mom." He pointed at the yellow button on the top of it. "You hit that button right there, and it starts your car from inside the house." You watched as she listened to him carefully, taking in the information he told her.

"Why would I do that?" Her question was cute, as we chuckled.

"It saves you the hassle of getting into a cold car now." You spoke up.

"Really?" She gasped, happy about it.

"That's right, so now you'll get into a nice, warm car." He handed her the remote.

"I would like one for Christmas," Sarah said as she took the box from her mom. She tried because Fran didn't want to let go of it. Sarah raised an eyebrow at her mom before her mom had let go of it.

"Not for that bucket you drive," Derek responded, and we all laughed. Sarah pushed her brother's shoulder, and he chuckled at her. "Get up out of here." He teased as he reached for his drink. You watched as the two girls began to clean the mess, leaving just Derek, his mom, and yourself. "

"We miss you around here, baby." His mom reached for his hand and rubbed it before she placed a kiss on the back of it. "You as well, Y/n." You smiled at her, pleased that his family loved you. Derek mumbled a soft I know. "Your sisters wish you were around more."

"The unit I work for is only out in Virginia." He told her gently. "Besides, I wouldn't have met this beautiful goddess if I hadn't gone down there." A loving kiss was placed on your cheek. You let out a small laugh through your nose as you moved and sat on the open spot between them. You lean back, leaning into his chest.

"She's the one thing I'm so glad happened to you." You flushed at the praise. The slight blush painted your cheeks as you rubbed the back of your neck. "You're careful, right?" She asked softly, and you knew she worried for him. "I lost your father; I can't lose you." Her voice broke, and you almost stood up to give them some space if it wasn't for the arm that moved around your torso. Derek knew you wanted to give them space, but having you here was the support he needed.

"You won't." He reassured her as she nodded her head.

"Good, 'cause you both owe me some grandbabies." Derek let out a playful groan as he hid his face in your neck. You giggled as she gave you a serious look before a smile broke across her lips. Knocking on the door pulled Derek away from you.

"Save by the bell." He gave you a quick kiss on your lips before going to the door.

"I guess my gift is next." You told her as you handed her the card. She smiled and took it but glanced at the man behind you who opened the door. You glanced over your shoulders when you heard him mumbling under his breath. He opened the door, and the look on his face changed. The smile vanished as you pushed yourself off the couch and took in the officers. The uneasiness settled in you as you reached out and touched Derek's arm.

"Gordinksi?" Derek had told you about his rough relationship with the police officer Gordinski when he was younger.

"You armed?" The younger bald man asked. His hand rested on his gun at his hip.

"Excuse me?" Derek looked confused as you glanced up at him.

"Are you wearing a gun?" The older man asked with an attitude. You couldn't help but frown as your hand moved down Derek's arm and into his hand. He wasted no time holding your hand and pulled you behind him as he felt the hostility.

"No, not right now." He slightly shook his head.

"Then turn around." You heard metal clashing a bit and knew the cuffs were behind pulled out. Derek scoffed as he looked at the bold man.

"This is some kind of sick joke, right?" He didn't move an inch.

"Don't make use get physical. It'll only make it worse for your family." You shook your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You moved from behind Derek and felt the eyes shift on you. "He hasn't done anything." Gordinski looked back at Derek before moving his gaze to you.

"He's under arrest."

"No," You moved in front of Derek, and he gently tried to pull you back. He didn't want things to get messy. "You can't arrest him without a probable cause."

"We do." Gordinski didn't even bat an eye as you glared at him. You weren't moving until something was said. Until they gave you the probable cause.

"Okay," Derek said softly. "Y/n, it'll be okay." He squeezed your hand, willing for you to look at him. When you didn't, he turned you around so you would look at him. "It's okay. I'll be fine." He reassured you.

"Derek, esto no es justo. (this isn't fair)" You felt the tears prick your eyes. He had done nothing wrong, and they treated him like a criminal.

"I know," He kissed your forehead. You moved to hug him tightly, scared and angry.

"I'm going to get you out of there." You whispered into his chest. "I ain't going to leave you alone on this. We'll figure it out together." He placed another kiss on your forehead before pulling out away from him. Giving you a slight nod, he allowed them to arrest him. The tears burned your eyes as you watched them take him away. His sister rushed to your side, and his mom rubbed your back as the door closed.

And then it hit you like a semi.

It all came crashing on you, and you dashed towards the bathroom, wasting no time lifting the seat as the bile started to climb your throat. His mom called out for you, worried as everything left your system. You were throwing up everything you ate until nothing else came. His mom held your hair and rubbed your back as Sarah rushed to get water. Desiree gave you some reassuring words as she took your hand. Once you threw up everything, you sighed and stood up straight. They looked concerned as they waited for you to say something. Your lower lip quivered, and then the words tumbled out. "I'm pregnant." Just like that, you took in their reaction. It wasn't how this was supposed to go, but this night hadn't ended like you thought. " I need my phone." You didn't let them say anything as you ran your fingers through your hair. You walked past them and looked for your phone. It lay on the table, and you quickly grabbed it. Going through the contacts, you stopped at the name and dialed it. You bit at your nail as it rang. After the fourth ring, you heard the voice you needed.

"Hotch."

"Hotch, it's Derek." You fought the sob that trembled on your lips. You couldn't break now. You had to be strong.

For Derek. 

[mercy-burning]

(preface) the letter. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the doctor sets our scene. content warnings: N/A word count: 759

series masterlist || main masterlist

———

Dear Mom,

It feels strange to do this knowing that you're not actually here to read my words, but writing to The Idea of You somehow feels more comforting and less dorky than writing out "Dear Diary". Besides, I wouldn't be able to send them out to you anyway. No-contact with the world outside of Sardinia is my one condition to, truly, the best option I have.

It isn't the island in the Mediterranean, though. I've been sent to live in Sardinia, Alaska as a call-in doctor for its residents, even though I have no professional medical training whatsoever. I'm qualified enough to figure it out and be at least semi-proficient at the job, but it's not something I'm particularly eager about. Mostly because it's completely out of my control and I'd also rather not do it alone. I know it's for my safety, and my team is the best at what they do. In no time at all, I'll be back home and doing the job that I'm actually qualified for. I'll have my friends back... My family...

But I can't think about them like that right now. If I'm going to get through this "assignment," we'll call it, then I'm going to have to detach and move forward. When there's news, it will come, but until then I plan to do exactly as I'm expected to, and lay low. It shouldn't be too hard, though. All I really have to do is come when people call and give them the treatment to make them feel better. It's geographically the smallest, and physically the least-populated town I've ever visited, anyway. How hard could it possibly be?

The hardest part I'm sure will be boredom, but if that's the largest worry I'll have, then so be it. Being bored is better than being dead.

Until then, I have a semi-secluded cabin to myself right on the edge of town, with approximately seventeen warm knitted throw blankets (I'm still finding new ones here and there the more I explore the home) and a small painting of a cardinal above the front door. I look at it every morning over a cup of coffee and wonder about what Gideon would do in my shoes, until I laugh to myself and realize that he'd probably just do it every day with a smile and genuinely never want to leave. I'm like him in a lot of ways I think, but... I'll admit that I've been a bit too spoiled with my life in the city to even think about enjoying my time here to the fullest like he could.

For instance, I've come to realize that I don't like the snow as much as I thought I did. It's tolerable and sometimes even pretty when there are city workers who magically plow the sidewalks on your commute to work. And perhaps growing up in Nevada and wishing for a snowy Christmas morning all my childhood had tricked me into believing that it was magical, but I'm of the firm belief that snow is only 'magical' when you don't have to tend to it nearly every day. Some days are better than others, when there's only a light dusting for a week or two, but I've only been in Sardinia for two weeks and three days, and I'm utterly exhausted on physical labor alone. I could call my landlord to do it for me, as she'd so wryly offered to when I moved in, but I already feel like an outsider as it is. So rather than asking someone to teach me how to fix and use the rickety old snowblower in my shed out back, I have promptly decided to suffer in silence and keep my dignity intact.

Who knows, by the end of this Alaskan venture, I may also just be strong enough to take Derek Morgan in an arm-wrestling match... Well, okay, definitely not, but at the very least I'd be able to catch him off-guard for a second or two before his inevitable victory.

Anyway... Aside from greetings from my landlord and the Mayor, I haven't officially met any of the people in town yet. I think they're all still a bit worried about immediately bothering the call-in doctor and not giving him enough time to settle in first, but he's also not really made an effort to do much exploring outside the perimeter of his cabin and its backyard... To his credit, he doesn't do well with change. Never has.

Perhaps the quaint community of Sardinia doesn't, either, and perhaps that's something we'll have in common.

[the-queen-and-the-king]

Just a booty call - 8

Summary: It's Valentine's Day. Emily wishes to spend the night with Aaron, but he seems to be ready to stay in his office until the 15th of February is up. But she may has a plan to make him change his mind

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia and Spencer Reid

Contents: alcohol, food, explicit smut, masturbation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (don't do that!), multiple orgasms, creampie NSFW/MINORS DNI

This text is a try, with a reverse structure compared to the other Hotchniss' AU I'm used to work on. It all starts with a FWB that will evolve into something else (with a certain amount of angst).

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

Valentine’s Day. She hated that day. For several years, Emily had watched the date of February forty-fourth loom on the horizon with terrible anxiety. It was always the same old story. We celebrated love with little hearts and syrupy gifts, forgetting that a large part of the population was alone. Every commercial, every billboard, every email, every text message became a reminder from society that being single was a bad thing. Normally, she was content with her solitary life, where she could organize herself as she wished, without being dependent on the advice of another person; but as soon as the second month of the year began, she felt horribly isolated from the world.

                And her colleagues weren't making things any better. Ever since she'd set foot in Quantico, she'd been the target of Penelope and Derek, who had every intention of going slumming in a bar at night and taking her along for the ride. Which she had absolutely no desire to do.

“It'll be without me, I've got other plans,” she lied, filling her coffee cup.

“Yeah?” smiled the analyst, overexcited. “And what’s his name?”

“It’s confidential.”

She had no plans of her own, although she would have liked a certain someone to give her a very good evening. She feared, however, that the symbolism of the day would put him off, and that he would refuse simply so that she wouldn't imagine anything.

“Come on! Come with us!” insisted Garcia, clinging to her arm. “It’s Valentine’s Day. A celebration of love with a capital L. You can stay all alone tonight.”

“I don't see why the fact that I'm halfway through February should force me to hit on people in bars.”

“Come on, it'll take your mind off it,” Morgan continued, a smile plastered on his face. “A little romance never hurt anyone.”

Coming from a man who collected one-night stands, she found the remark ubiquitous.

“It's true that having my chimney swept by a passing stranger is particularly romantic,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

Spencer, who was not far from them, widened his eyes as he heard her, his innocence stricken by her very graphic words. Just then, Hotch entered the open plan and, folder in hand, walked over to them to fill his own mug with full-bodied liquid.

“Ah, sir!” exclaimed the luscious blonde, startling the nearest agents. “You're coming with us tonight, aren't you?”

“No.”

The pithy reply didn't dampen her spirits.  

“Why? We're going to have a lot of fun, you'll see.”

“I'm afraid I've got far more important things to worry about than that,” he said, raising the container to his lips.

“And yet, with your libido at half-mast for over a year, we're not far from a state affair,” pointed out the Chicago native, mockingly. 

Emily had to stare momentarily at her shoes to keep her face from betraying the secret they both shared. If they weren't climbing all over each other like rabbits, he'd never so far failed to take her to seventh heaven.

“As the libido in question is that of your superior, I would ask you to stop worrying about it and respect my personal space.”

The pair grinned contritely and let him stomp back to his office. The ambassador's daughter followed him with her gaze, and then redirected her attention to her neighbors when the ex-policeman alighted on the youngest member of the team.

“So you come with us and don't argue.”

“No! Please!” moaned the tall beanpole as he wheeled away.

But Derek caught him and brought him close to them.

“No, no, no, no, no. It doesn’t work like that. Tonight's your big night.”

“Emily, please. Help me.”

“Sorry, buddy,” she apologized, sincere. “But you'll understand that if I stop them from coming after you, they'll come after me again.”

She has no doubt about that.

“But... I'm not interested,” he confessed, his fine eyebrows wrinkled with anxiety.

“At the same time,” she continued, leaning towards him, “you know what you have to do to get them off your back.”

“Easier said than done... “

Reid didn't have much in the way of seductive assets: he was tall and an FBI agent and that was about it. He was skinny, gaunt, disheveled, short-sighted, clumsy and excessively talkative on subjects of no interest to the average person. The girls quickly mistook him for an asylum escapee, or felt so stupid around him that they preferred to take their leave. And his flagrant lack of experience didn't make things any easier.

“Listen, I'm sure that in the company of these two, you'll learn a lot of tricks to become a perfect Dom Juan.”

“…Dom Juan being a notorious womanizer, I'm not sure he's the best figure to put forward for Valentine's Day.”

She hesitated for a moment, unsettled by this typical line, and then bounced back:

“Romeo then. Romeo is good? He was so in love with his Juliette that he preferred to commit suicide rather than lose her.”

Spencer wrinkled his nose, clearly confused. She immediately clarified:

“Please don't swallow poison for a girl. It would be the most absurd thing in the world to do. Okay?”

“… Okay.”

“Great. Good evening.”

“But…”

She quickly moved away to stop them bothering her. They tried again several times in a row during the day to convince her, of course, but she held firm, politely throwing them back on the ropes each time. Leaning against the bar, glass of rum in hand, pretending to smile at men she had no interest in, was hardly her idea of a pleasant evening. The only partner she wanted was in the office above, and she was convinced that he had every intention of remaining cloistered there until the fifteenth of February rolled around. Like her, he would then take a deep breath of oxygen and be able to continue his quiet life which, from time to time, crossed hers.

“Is that your last call?” Penelope asked her, her bag on her arm, ready to leave.

“Yes, it is. I've owed Hotch this report for two weeks,” she explained, pointing to her computer screen.

“I think he wouldn't have minded waiting another day, but that's up to you,” sighed the young woman. “Don’t sleep here.”

“It's not likely to happen.”

The ex-hacker smiled at her and hopped towards the exit where Derek and Spencer were waiting. Then, little by little, the floor emptied of its occupants until she found herself alone in the large open space. She recorded her work, put on her coat, and collected her belongings before climbing the ramp to the manager's open door. She knocked gently and he raised his nose on the spot.

“Prentiss?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving.”

“Oh. Okay. Have fun.”

She frowned, then understood the origin of this injunction. It was time for her to step up to the plate.

“I'm not going out with the team tonight.”

“Really?�� he wondered, looking at her again.

“No, I… I'm going... home,” she said, weighing her words. “For… peace and quiet.”

He made a slight movement of the head, which she couldn't interpret, but thought she could make out a slight grin.

“… Good evening, then.”

“Thanks. Don’t… hang around too long.”

He stared at her with renewed intensity. She subtly bit her lower lip and winked at him before turning and leaving the room. If he didn't get a hard-on under his desk, she was no longer Emily Prentiss.

Excited by her own stratagem, her heart pounding against her ribs, she hurried back to the parking lot and her car to rush home. Her bag thrown to the floor and her shoes barely removed, she opened the cupboards and fridge to check what was inside, then jumped into the shower. She remade herself in a simple but refined way, fashioned her hair so that it cascaded elegantly over her shoulders, and went to her bedroom to put on an alluring outfit he'd never seen before. Over that, she put on a silk bathrobe that would keep her warm until he arrived. 

If he arrived. As he delayed, she wondered about the clarity of her message. With the giant having some difficulty grasping certain innuendos, she doubted whether she should send him a more explicit text message. And then she remembered that the FBI was monitoring their communications. She put her phone back on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa, stressed and impatient. She wanted to feel him between her thighs so badly that she couldn't help but start stroking herself. Her body stiffened as pleasure rolled through her veins.

The doorbell rang. She leapt to her feet, checked one last time that she hadn't left anything incriminating lying around the room, and peered through the eyepiece. That was him. There he was, on her doorstep, in a suit, a bottle of wine in his hand. She smiled, blew out a breath to calm her erratic heartbeat, readjusted her hair and let the sleeves of her bathrobe fall from her shoulders. Then she opened the door and was delighted to see him open his mouth without managing to articulate a single word. His brown irises latched onto her chest, noticed her navel, and stared at the triangle of fabric that served as her panties.

“Good evening, agent Hotchner.”

She found herself ridiculous in this role of tease, which was so unlike her, but he reacted as she'd expected, with amusement. He looked into hers and, smiling, said:

“May I?”

“Oh, yes!”

He laughed and got in. She closed behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing him. He answered her call at once, mingling his lips with hers. She pressed herself against him, a dull throb rumbling in her lower belly. She felt it harden against her abdomen.

“Put it wherever you like,” she ordered, reaching for his jacket.

He obeyed, putting the bottle on the hall dresser. Walking down the corridor to the living room, they undressed each other, leaving their clothes behind. When they were down to his boxers and her thong, he slipped his fingers between her legs to see what he had left to do. She was very wet. He moved up a questioning eyebrow.

“Since you were hanging around, I got a head start.”

He smiled, kissed her, and dropped the last piece of cloth she was wearing to the floor. He himself tipped her gently to the floor and discarded what was left. He settled into her in the process, and she arched her back in pleasure. At last, he was back in her lair, and that alone made her shudder. He began to move back and forth between her thighs, slowly at first, then, driven by his own excitement, more forcefully.

She raised her knees to make it easier for him and clutched his buttocks, which contracted with every intrusion. Their skin, clammy with sweat, slapped in the silence of the apartment, barely covered by her moans and the whimpers they uttered in unison. Her body on fire, her heart drumming at her temples, her eyes closed, she let go of his posterior to place her hands on his chest oozing with perspiration and begged him:

“Come. Come! COME!”

More than her own orgasm – which was sure to come – she wanted him to cum inside her. She wanted to feel him tense, tremble, relax and agonize in the hollow of her arms, in that brief moment of absolute vulnerability when he relied entirely on her. She wanted to feel that warm wave surging through her vagina, right where it belonged.

He satisfied her request a handful of seconds later when, in a final thrust, he ejaculated without restraint deep inside her belly. Ecstasy seized her in an instant, and her eyes widened as her mouth opened in a silent scream. They both fell back, out of breath, and remained entwined as much as embraced on the cold tiled floor of the hallway. Then he rolled onto his side, trying to regain a normal breathing rhythm. She propped herself up on her elbow and absentmindedly brushed against his sweating chest.

“I was afraid you hadn't understood my message.”

“That's what the wink was for?” he realized with a mocking smile.

“Yes.”

“I knew exactly what you wanted,” he affirmed, grabbing her free hand and placing a kiss on it. “And I liked the idea a lot.”

“That's why it took you so long to get here.”

“Hal, from accounting, kept me chatting as I was getting into my car,” he explained, grumbling.

She laughed, and then gave him a long kiss.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, feeling her stomach growl.

“A little bit, yes. What do you propose?”

“So, we can either be lazy and order something. Either we improvise a dinner with what I have in my cupboards.”

He wrinkled his eyelids, then, with a sneer, replied:

“Which one makes you get dressed as little as possible?”

Disconcerted by this lecherous repartee, she frowned. She hadn't expected to hear this kind of thinking from her superior, who seemed so narrow-minded at first glance. But it was a pleasant surprise and she played along.

“Taking into account the fact that I'd have to put my bathrobe back on at the very least to open the door for the deliveryman, that leaves only the meal à la bonne franquette.”

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” he said, sitting up on his elbow in turn.

He placed his lips on hers and they kissed for a few seconds. The exchange was tender, serene, devoid of any sexual frenzy. Emily felt her cheeks ignite.

“What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Nothing but dietetic stuff.”

She stood up, picked up her panties to look a tad decent, repositioned them in their rightful place – all under the scrutinizing gaze of the man who'd just made her cum – and headed for the kitchen, continuing to talk.

“I have appetizer cakes, chips, bacon, pancakes, and peanut butter.  And we have beer and wine,” she added, as she noticed the bottle abandoned on the dresser. “And – oh, yes – I also have three tomatoes, so I can whip up a salad.”

She turned around and her eyes fell on his bare buttocks as he bent down to retrieve his boxers.

“It all looks perfect to me. What can I do to help you that doesn't require the use of a knife?”

“What?”

“According to my mother, I'm a public menace in the kitchen. Well, mostly for myself. Still according to her, I can cut myself with a spoon.”

The female profiler burst out laughing. Knowing his diligent nature and propensity for wanting to control everything, she found it hard to believe that he was so untalented in the kitchen, but she took him at his word and replied:

“Well, you can take the bowls and salad bowls from the cupboards and put what you can in them.”

“Yes, sir.”

She smiled and he kissed her again before moving past her, letting his hand trail over her hip as he went. She watched him explore the facilities for a while, looking for the right containers, then set to work. Seeing the muscles of his back move beneath her skin produced delicious sensations in her belly. Since he seemed to want to spend a little more time with her – a first since they'd started sleeping together – she hoped he'd try again and make her eyes roll to the back of her head.

Which happened much sooner than expected. She had grilled the bacon while he set up the nibbles on the coffee table and fetched the wine he'd brought next door and was now busy making the tomato salad when he pressed himself against her. His large hands wrapped around her breasts, and he kissed her neck repeatedly. He was hard and did whatever it took to make her aware of it. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding at her ribs, her body temperature soaring. She consciously dug her back so that her sex would rub against his erection. He pushed further, getting even harder.

“Drop the knife,” he whispered in her ear.

She obeyed, gripping the edge of the worktop instead. He placed several kisses on her shoulders, shoulder blades and along her spine before dropping her thong again. His fingers immediately came to caress her clitoris and she moaned.

“Bend over,” he ordered hoarsely.

She did as he wished, eager to feel him sink between her intimate lips. He bared himself and she saw him grab his penis. In a final burst of consciousness, she indicated all the same:

“Not from behind, please.”

She didn't mind sodomy, but it wasn't her preference, and it wasn't what she wanted at the moment. He kissed the back of her neck, failing to reach her mouth, and directed his spear into her vagina. A satisfied ‘yes’ escaped the young woman's throat, quickly followed by others as her partner began his ballet of back and forth inside her. He was foraging energetically into her intimacy, and she was getting a real kick out of it. She soon reached orgasm, and he wasn't far behind as he suddenly slowed down.

Increasing the amplitude of his movements and thrusting more brutally inside her, he made her come in just three strokes of his pelvis, then died inside her on the fourth. He lay on her back and wrapped his large arms around her chest, his ribcage swelling at regular intervals against her damp skin. His hot breath flowed down her neck, stirring a few strands of her hair. She didn't push him away, enjoying the closeness of their excited bodies. Then came the moment when he disengaged and walked away from her, taking all the heat with him. She faced him and they kissed tenderly for what seemed too short a time.

Finally, she finished her preparations and they dined, chatting about anything and everything – and especially not about love or commitment – joking, laughing, brushing against each other, caressing and placing their lips on each other's whenever possible. As he still didn't seem ready to leave, she led him into the bedroom, where she sat astride his hips. As soon as he was up and running, she slowly slid down his erect member and straddled him without haste, savoring every fizz, every spark, every blaze that this hot, hard presence inside her brought her. He surrendered first, with a liberating rattle that drew her in.

Then she remembered lying down next to him with the intention of getting up to go to the bathroom, brush her teeth and watch him fall asleep between her sheets, but she was caught in Morpheus' arms before she could make a move. Enveloped in the gentle warmth that perpetually emanated from this gigantic body and lulled by his breathing, she had sunk as quickly as he had. But she didn't realize it until hours later when her instincts woke her from a dream. Barely opening her eyelids, she felt around and found that the bed was empty. She had no time to worry, however, as a dark shape leaned over her, and two huge arms came to rest on either side of her shoulders.

“Aaron?” she mumbled, half asleep. 

“It's all right,” he whispered, his face close to hers. “I have to go. I’ll see you back at the office.”

She couldn't find the energy to nod other than shaking her head, but found the resources to ask him:

“Kiss me.”

His lips came to settle against hers and she turned totally to catch his chin and prolong this farewell kiss. He didn't rebel, agreeing to extend this moment of pure communion. It was she who brought about the separation, not without a certain twinge of regret.

“Rest,” he urged her in a gentle voice.

“Take care.”

She was already falling back asleep but felt the kiss he placed on her forehead before leaving. In the end, Valentine's Day wasn't all doom and gloom.

___

First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/757694774493986816/just-a-booty-call-1?source=share

Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/762768192760315904/just-a-booty-call-9?source=share

___

Angst will come next Friday! Be prepared! /o/

[pathologicalreid]

Could I request GN! Reader who is married to Spencer, and they have like a little bet that Spencer cant go a week without coffee? Mostly fluff, but maybe a lil angst bc Spencer gets sick going thru caffeine withdrawls? :D

running on empty | S.R.

spencer makes a bet to give up coffee for a week but ends up foregoing all caffeine

who? spencer reid x gn!reader category: fluff content warnings: caffeine withdrawal, spencer getting snippy, husband!spencer, teasing from the team word count: 871 a/n: a silly little one-shot for you my darling. part of me feels criminal making spencer go through any kind of withdrawal lmao. i hope you like this!!

“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” you answered Derek’s question, looking over to where your husband was staring blankly at the files on his desk. For the past few weeks, Spencer’s nightly tossing and turning had increased tenfold.

Morgan chuckled from across the bullpen, “Maybe it’s all that coffee he’s been drinking.”

The suggestion likely wasn’t that far off, the heaps of sugar Spencer put in his coffee probably didn’t help his sleep schedule either

Putting her two cents in, Emily snorted, “Oh, come on. I’d challenge you to find a member of the BAU who doesn’t have some sort of caffeine dependency.”

Again, she probably had a point. There were at least two members of the BAU who wouldn’t entertain any conversation until they were at least halfway through their first cup of coffee. Spencer’s head snapped up, “I can go without coffee.”

You scoffed, “No, love, and that’s okay.”

“I can go without coffee, Y/N,” he told you seriously, “I’ll go a week without coffee.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, “Okay, a week without coffee.”

“What does he get in return for going a week without coffee?” Morgan teased, waggling his brows in your direction.

Whipping your head around, you narrowed your gaze at your co-worker, “It’s a secret guarded by the sanctity of our marriage, Derek,” you said pointedly.

Emily had made an excellent point, there was a certain understanding among the Behavioral Analysis Unit that everyone was entirely dependent on caffeine. The issue was that Spencer had cut out all caffeine instead of just coffee.

The first night, he had fallen asleep rather quickly but had been a pain when you had to drag him out of bed in the morning. The second night, he was perfectly fine, but ever since he woke up this morning, he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Figuratively, of course. You had been the one to wake up on his side of the bed this morning.

You leaned against the kitchen counter with your coffee in hand, watching Spencer struggle to pay attention to the words in his book. “What about just a small cup?” You offered, opening one of the cabinets to find a daintier mug for him.

He cleared his throat before snapping his book shut and sliding it into his bag, “Nope, are you ready to go?” He asked, checking his watch to make sure you’d be able to catch the metro this morning.

Sighing despondently, you nodded, drinking the remainder of your coffee in one gulp before setting the mug in the dishwasher, “Yeah, just let me brush my teeth.”

In response, Spencer huffed, “Well, hurry up, I don’t want to be late.”

“Why are the Reid’s looking so put out this morning?” Derek asked when you arrived, holding a travel coffee thermos in his hand while raising his eyebrows curiously.

Shaking your head, you looked at the rest of the team holding their go-bags, the last place you wanted Spencer to be was in the realm of a stressed-out police chief, but the two of you grabbed your things and followed the team out.

Furrowing her brows, JJ eyed Spencer suspiciously, “You alright, Reid?”

“I’m fine,” he said, tapping his foot while you all waited for the elevator doors to close.

Discreetly, you moved your elbow and nudged him, trying to tell him to cool it without reprimanding him in the company of your team.

Groaning, Spencer continued to flip through the filed in front of him, his caffeine withdrawal making it difficult for him to focus on anything pertaining to the case for more than a few minutes.

With the locals out of the room, you gently set a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Hey, why don’t we take a break?”

“Leave me alone.” Spencer snapped, garnering the attention of everyone else in the conference room. A lead on the case had left you with Emily, Derek, and Rossi, the latter of whom sped out of the door so quickly you were surprised there wasn’t a puff of smoke in his wake.

Your lips parted, just as surprised as the rest of the team that Spencer had chosen to lash out at you of all people. Setting your jaw, you spun on your heels and marched down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of tea. Begrudgingly, you dropped the tea bag in a mug and grabbed a paper towel for him to set it on once the tea was steeped.

Back in the roundtable room, you set the tea in front of him, “I’m not drinking coffee this week,” he said.

“I know,” you sniped, “That’s why you’ve been acting so impertinent for the last two days.” In your periphery, you saw Morgan and Emily slowly backing out of the roundtable room, wanting to avoid any sort of marital blowout. “Drink the tea, wingnut,” you told him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

His eyes flickered to the mug, obviously noting the tea bag string hanging from the side of the mug. “Wingnut?” He repeated quizzically.

Raising your eyebrows, you shrugged, “I call it like I see it.”

[tessatales]

The Ressurection of Love: Chapter Two (Spencer Reid x Original Female Character)

Pairing: Dr Spencer Reid x Original Female Character

Theme: Brief mention of a kidnapping case at the end of chapter. Apart from that none.

A/N: Hey! what did you think of the first chapter? I really hope you enjoyed it! I won't bore you too much with a long note but i will mention that I'll be creating a upload schedule ASAP when I've got several chapters ready! anyway, Enjoy

Chapter one, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

- - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Spencer found himself up and ready much earlier than usual. As his mornings at home usually consisted of waking up late and racing through the street half dressed in a manic attempt to meet either Emily and/or Derek at the coffee shop, being up and ready nearly an hour early was a foreign concept to the young genius.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Spencer fiddled with the contents of one of his shelving units before giving in and calling Derek.

“Kid is that you? Or has your phone been stolen?” Derek said as he answered the phone on the second ring, his voice breathy but cheerful.

“No theft today, just unusually early. When will you finish at the gym?” Spencer replied, hearing the steady thumping of Derek’s feet on the treadmill.

“I've got 5 minutes left, so I can see you in fifteen minutes if you want?” Derek suggested.

Spencer nodded as he spoke.

“Sure, see you in fifteen”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“How did you not ask her second name? Or her division? Or anything even remotely helpful?” Derek asked between sips of his coffee. The smirk on his face growing bigger the longer his list became.

Spencer glared into his coffee cup.

He’d regretted mentioning his chance meeting with Alyssa to Derek the second he’d noticed the mischievous glint appear in his eye. Since that moment, Morgan had been grilling him for even the smallest detail.

“It was nearly midnight! I wasn’t exactly geared up to meet people in the first place” Spencer grumbled as the pair exited the elevator on their floor.

The Behavioural Analysis Units floor was nothing to marvel at when it came to looks, just a large expanse of space taken up by mini cubicles for staff to work in and offices lining the walls for the higher ranking agents. It was the work they did on that floor that won awards, created college courses and most importantly, took down some of the most deprived monsters and put them behind bars.

“What are you guys talking about? Ooo is that my coffee?” Emily said, falling into step on the other side of Spencer.

“One black coffee and Pretty boy here met a girl last night.” Derek replied, handing her the steaming coffee with a grin. Emily’s eyes grew wide.

“How? You only went home right?” She said in astonishment as she blew on her drink.

“She’s my new neighbour. And you don’t have to sound so surprised that I can meet people outside of this office” Spencer said in a huff. Emily laughed.

“I know, it’s just so rare for you!” Emily explained, bumping Spencer lightly on the shoulder with her own.

“You’ve not heard the best part”

“The best part of what? What did I miss?” Penelope said as she appeared beside Derek, her own coffee already in hand. Spencer groaned as he fell into his cubicle seat.

“Spencer has a new neighbour” Derek said, leaning against Spencer’s desk.

“Oooo, so what’s the best part?” Penelope said with a smile. Spencer gritted his teeth as he spoke.

“Her name is Alyssa. She’s a new FBI transfer to this building but I didn’t ask her for her second name or her department.” he responded quietly, watching as Emily and Penelope’s faces went through the same emotions as Derek’s did when he’d told him.

“Oh my little genius you can be so stupid sometimes” Penelope cooed as she pinched Spencer's chin. Spencer batted her hand away jokingly, feeling his embarrassment already colouring his cheeks. He was about to protest when movement in one of the offices caught his eye. From where he sat Spencer could see JJ in Hotchner's office, with a third person he couldn’t make out from where he sat. Ignoring the friends surrounding him as they talked around him but not to him, Spencer took a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee, watching as the figures moved around Hotch's office in a silent exchange. He was still fixated on them when the office door opened and Spencer had to abruptly stand in order to avoid spilling his coffee on his lap. 

“What’s up kid?” Derek said, Turing to look in the direction of the approaching figures.

“You’re joking right?” Derek breathed, watching as JJ headed in the direction of her office while Hotchner made his way down towards where they gathered with this mysterious third person.

“What what what?” Penelope said in a whisper as she and Emily turned their attention back to the boys.

“Good morning team,” Hotchner said as he approached, stopping only a few feet away from Spencer's booth.

The chorus of responses were somewhat dimmed by the ringing in Spencer's ears. In fact he was pretty sure he’d forgotten to close his mouth since he saw who was exiting Hotch’s office.

“Team, I’d like to introduce you to Special Agent Alyssa Andrews. She will be joining the team from today.” Hotchner continued, seemingly ignoring the shock on everyone’s face as they put the pieces together.

“Alyssa, this is SSA Derek Morgan, our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, SSA Emily Prentiss and Dr Spencer Reid” Aaron said, with each team member waving their hellos to Alyssa as they were listed off.

“Doctor? You didn’t mention that last night.” Alyssa said with a small smile at Spencer.

“Like you said about the Agent thing, telling people I’m a doctor either makes them run away or I have to explain I’m not that kind of doctor” Spencer said with a shrug, feeling his cheeks colour all over again as Alyssa continued to stare at him.

“Have you two met before then?” Hotch said, looking between the two of them. The air in the room seemed to get heavier at the question.

“Only last night,” Alyssa replied.

“Turns out we’re neighbours now.” Spencer added, looking at his boss sheepishly. Aaron nodded, the heaviness in the room lifting as the implications were erased from the air. Before anyone was able to change the subject, JJ appeared at Hotchners elbow.

“I’m really sorry guys, but proper introductions are going to have to happen on the plane. I've just had a kidnapping case come in” JJ said, looking at the team with sympathy as she clutched the file between her hands.

“Wheels up in thirty then” Aaron said, leaving the team to scramble for their go bags and make their way to the strip.

[luveline]

congratulations on 35k lovely, what you’ve built is so admirable and i am forever in awe of your talent!! thank you for all that you do around here to brighten up our days. i would love to see “i knew you would be here” with our main man hotch if it inspires you! and if not, sending so much love regardless <3

luveline's valentine's mini party ♥︎

thank you, and thank you for your request! fem!reader suggestive

The lights above are glaring and colourful. They shine in your eyes as the song changes again. This is far from the usual bar you frequent with the BAU, but it's not work, so. Silver linings. 

"Liven up, sweetheart," Derek says, sliding a plastic cup toward you with a smile, surprisingly free of bravado. "It's a mojito, alright?" 

"Thank you," you say. Derek Morgan is your eternal saviour.

You take a sip. It isn't nice. It's more alcohol than anything else. "Does it still count as a cocktail if it's all white rum?" 

"Sure!" Emily says. She opens her hand and you let her take it for a sip. Her skinny brows pull down into a wince. "Uh, maybe not. That is rum with a pinch of soda water." 

"Don't forget the lime!" Derek says. 

You take the lime wedge between your teeth and smile. It's sour but refreshing compared to the contents of your cup. The sugar makes your cheeks ache.

"You look happy." 

You almost choke, spitting the lime wedge into your hand. You quickly wrap it in a napkin and look up, meeting the eyes of your boss. Hotch is smiling at you, an expression he saved for out of work hours, and it's nearly enough to let you forget what he's just seen you doing. 

"Teeth are looking a little green," Rossi adds from behind him. 

You wrinkle your nose. Even the implication is gross. 

Hotch rounds your back to stand in the gap between your seat and Emily's at the tall table. Rossi slots in on your other side. 

"Where's Reid?" Hotch asks. 

You lean toward him to look through the crowd of people. "He's right… there." You point at Spencer where he's performing a magic trick for a small crowd of enchanted and tipsy women. 

Hotch drinks from a plastic cup. It's really not his style. 

"I didn't think we'd see you tonight, sir," you say. 

Hotch's arm brushes your side under the table. He presses in until all you can smell is his cologne cutting through the sticky scent of mojito, though he keeps his gaze resolutely on the inside of his cup. 

"I knew you'd be here," he says. 

You spread your legs a touch. He can feel the movement, and his hand brushes the outside of your naked thigh in response. His words fluster you immediately — you bite your lip to hold in a sudden sigh, breath rushing out your nose instead. His touch does something worse to you, his fingertips dancing lightly across the top of your thigh and feigning down. 

"So you came to torture me," you murmur, so quietly only he could ever hope to hear it. 

He hooks his hand under your knee and pulls your leg toward him. You can't hold in the sound you make that time, a tiny gasp as your legs come apart completely. 

"Torture is a strong word," Hotch says, sounding more pleased than he has any reason to be as his hand smooths lazily toward the apex of your thighs, "I was thinking more like play with." 

"We're going to dance!" Emily declares. 

"We'll join you in a second." Hotch smiles. "Just need to get some specifics clear with Agent L/N." 

Rossie shakes his head. "Always working. Typical." 

[creativesaturn]

emily prentiss x female reader smut is my absolute fav. Maybe something with derek and emily competing for reader's attention. Emily wins of course 🙂🙂

Summary: Emily claims Derek wouldn't be able to handle you, but you really, you can't handle her.

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

Warnings: Oral (r!receiving), public place (Emily likes the thrill of getting caught), Dom!Emily, sub!reader, (lmk if any others)

Word count: 1.2k

You and Derek stood around Emily's desk in the bullpen, Derek leaned on her desk with his arms crossed, and you found your comfy spot on her desk in front of her, crinkling pages under you.

"My back is killing me." You complained, arching your back to hear the soft cracking sounds that quickly eased some of the pain.

"I could think of a few ways to help you out." Derek smirked, his flirty tone of voice coming out as he raised a brow.

"Yeah? Like what?" You raised a brow with a small smirk, turning your eyes back to Emily who was watching in amusement.

"Well, you'll just have to find out. Won't ya?" He egged on with a smirk that took up his entire face.

"You wouldn't be able to handle her, Morgan." Emily spoke, her words aimed at Derek but her eyes never left yours, leaving you with goosebumps.

"Her?" He asked, pointing behind him. "Please, she can't even handle me." He scoffed, looking you up and down in a sense of underestimating you.

You nudged his arm forward with an offended expression, causing him to smile. Emily finally aimed her eyes at Derek, laughing along with you.

Your eyes are still on Derek, but you can see the way Emily looks at you at the corner of your eye. It was pure amusement, like she's surprised that you can egg Morgan on with confidence. She knew you, and she knew you were all bark, no bite. If you were to say something, she knew it'd never actually happen.

You knew her staring was obvious to anyone who walked by, so you took it upon yourself to get off the desk with the oldest excuse in the book, "I'm gonna get a cup of coffee, you guys want anything?" You asked, ready to walk off.

"I'll come with you, I gotta head that way anyways." Derek offered, making you nod. He went first, walking across the bullpen, but before your legs could move one in front of the other, Emily grabbed onto your hand and pulled you towards her, fumbling into her lap.

"Emily, what are you--!" You gasped, her breath hot on her skin as she whispered, "If we get up and go to the bathroom now, he won't notice." She suggested with a grin.

You scoffed, but relaxed to her touch when she kissed down your neck. "Fine, but we have to be quick." You complied.

Emily had a shit eating grin on her face once you stood up to let her up. She went first towards the bathroom, hearing the small barely noticeable footsteps that your heels made against the carpet when you followed her around like a lost puppy.

She opened the bathroom door and walked inside, watching you follow from the mirror her face met instantly. She watched your hands lock the door, and as soon as you turned around Emily was right behind with only one thing in mind.

Her hand trailed to your face, automatically pressing your lips together. It surprised you with a soft moan, moving your hands to the sides of her face to keep her in place as you attacked each other's mouths.

She nibbled on your bottom lip as she pulled away, a proud smile on her face that was followed by a content hum.

You kept eye contact with her, watching as she inched down on her knees, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

You looked up as soon as you felt her delicate fingers unbutton your pants, your stomach sinking and your breath hitching at the thought of doing something like this in a public restroom.

You looked back down to help her get you out of your pants. You kept your eyes on her as she lifted your leg over her shoulder, face to face with your cunt that already soaked your lacey underwear.

"Truly pathetic how wet you get, y/n. You really should get control of that." She teased with a wide smile. She stuck her tongue out to lick a stripe up your clothed folds, earning a shaky moan to fall from your mouth.

Your eyes rolled at her words, tilting your head up to relax into her touch.

She teased your slit with her middle finger, pushing at your entrance but being stopped by your underwear that divided them.

"Please, Em.." You whined, hissing at the feel of the rough fabric dragging against your clit.

"Since you asked so nicely." She whispered, pushing your underwear to the side, wasting no time shoving her face between your thighs to lick a perfect stripe between your folds.

You moaned with a smile, finally getting the pleasure you oh-so deserved.

She looked up at you through her eyelashes, taking your clit between her lips and suckling on it to gather more desperate moans from you.

Your hand fell to her head, grabbing a handful of her raven hair to grind yourself softly against her face.

She quickly observed the movement of your hips, giving her the perfect moment to bring her lips down to your entrance, teasing her tongue around your entrance, tasting you on the tip of her tongue.

Her nose brushed your clit every movement you made, causing your moans to get louder and more sporadic.

Emily didn't bother telling you to be quiet, she liked the fact you couldn't even stop yourself. She enjoyed the thrill of getting, or almost getting caught. Especially when she knew people would see you as hers.

Her tongue slipped right into your velvet walls, taking in everything you gave her. Her eyes fluttering close to her state of pussy drunk you put her into.

"Em! Oh.. Emily, 'm gonna cum." You whimpered, your hips stuttering against her face, feeling her nose brush that sensitive spot and her tongue hitting the gummy spot inside your walls that had your knees weak.

She hummed against you in acknowledgement of your words, her response vibrating through your body, letting out one last moan of her name before you were letting go right on her tongue.

She sucked on your pussy like a mad man, desperate and greedy for every last drop of your arousal.

"Oh! Sensitive!" You gasped, your clit becoming quickly sensitive from post orgasm. You looked down on her as she opened her eyes and finally pulled back.

You watched as she tried to gather the wetness around her face with her tongue, the sight of her trying to hold onto the taste of you making your face turn red.

She stood up, a smile on her face that never left, "Fix yourself, you look like you just went a round." She whispered, clearly teasing with her hot breath hitting your face.

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket and brushed her hair out with her fingers before opening the door, pushing you out of the way and closing the door behind her.

You didn't waste time putting back on your pants, rushing to the mirror to brush your fingers through your hair and fix your lipstick.

You rubbed out the wrinkles in your shirt before rushing out the bathroom, watching as people eyed you as they walked past.

The red on your face growing, this time in embarrassment.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3