#idk i think i like this me thinks but this is my first derek one im still getting the hang of him shhh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaussetteblanche · 3 months ago

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and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #Spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s.

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side.

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him.

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night.

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real.

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word.

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one.

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair.

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question.

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to.

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment.

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth.

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up.

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table.

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you.

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God.

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out.

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you.

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially.

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door.

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal.

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you.

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you.

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable.

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong.

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him.

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss.

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine.

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment.

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze.

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound.

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text.

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling.

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will.

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough.

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty.

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly.

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan.

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck.

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak.

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you.

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more.

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent.

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him.

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet.

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about.

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers.

Long night, huh? I remember those days.

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all.

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor.

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning.

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation.

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away.

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.”

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him.

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see.

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken.

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away.

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down.

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem.

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve.

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently.

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad.

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what.

But that’s not the topic at hand.

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow.

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response.

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting.

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers.

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back.

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting.

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here.

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough.

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you.

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list.

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough.

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice.

He can’t not worry.

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him.

part nine

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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can I request one with Spencer Reid based on the season 4 club scene??? He's there with Morgan and stares at the reader and Morgan shows him how to approach her but the reader doesn't fall for Morgan's approach, then Reid gives it a try and she turns into a giggly blushing mess at how cute he is and his weird facts!! Idk something fluffy??

reader is slightly mean to morgan in this one and i'm so sorry to have dissed the love of my life </333

"Don't bother," Morgan catches Spencer's shoulder when the man looks like he's about to give you their 'have you seen this man?' spiel. "I tried to tell her about the unsub, but she's not very impressed by men cornering her in the club. We don't have to worry about her, she won't fall for his bullshit."

"She should know, though." Spencer frowns, watching as you stare lazily at your drink, watching condensation drip down the glass, "I'll tell her."

"Reid, I'm telling you, she's not a potential victim," Morgan squeezes his shoulder, "Listen, if I couldn't get her to talk to me, there's no way the creep we're looking for could win her over. And he's not gonna waste his time on someone who says no to him."

The expression on your face changes from a dark scowl when a man stands a few inches too close to you while ordering a drink, to a soft, disinterested pout when he leaves again and you're able to relax. You don't look resistant, you look hesitant. You don't look like you're refusing to talk to anyone, you look like you're waiting for the right person to talk to you, and Derek Morgan was wrong.

"I'll just be a minute," Spencer slips out from beneath Derek's heavy hand and ignores the agent's groan as he approaches you. He knows Morgan's eyes are heavy on his back while he steps up to your barstool, but he pushes away the pressure of an audience to smile kindly at you.

"Hello," He offers, his voice barely audible over the music. His fingers latch tight around the strap of his messenger bag and the flyer he's holding wrinkles in his firm grip, "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, I'm here to warn you about a potential threat."

Maybe it's not the strongest way to start off a conversation with a pretty girl at a bar, but it's the information you need to know. Stuttered flirting and watered-down drinks can come later, if they happen at all; Spencer's priority is your safety.

Your brows raise and you look past Spencer's shoulder hesitantly, "Is it him? He tried trapping me earlier."

Spencer's chest relaxes slightly where it had been tensed, and he lets out a mild laugh, "Well, he's not the main threat I'm worried about. Did he- did he do the thing where he called you sugar?"

"Mm-mm," You shake your head, taking a sip of the sad remains of your drink and speaking after you swallow, "Sweet cheeks."

Even Spencer winces. Where Morgan's strategy is charm first, then the ugly stuff, Spencer thinks it's only fair to let you know why he's there before letting himself get distracted.

"He thinks that's some sort of magic spell," He laments, "Uh- I'm sorry if he made you uncomfortable. Technically, he was just trying to warn you about the same guy I'm warning you about, but we have a very different way of going about business."

"I can tell," You nod, eyes widening slightly for emphasis. Then you glance at the stool beside your own, "Sit down, Doctor. Tell me about this creep. Well- the one on the flyer."

Morgan watches with something ugly rearing in his chest as Spencer takes the seat you've offered him, but he wrestles it down to replace it with pride. Perhaps he'll have to reevaluate his strategy when it comes to disinterested patrons, but as he watches Spencer magically find his business card behind your ear, he's not sure he'll ever have what the young doctor does.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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siriuslylantsov · 2 months ago

Text

gentle exfoliation

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which you help spencer after he gets shot.

tags: fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, casual nudity (nothing explicit is mentioned), pain meds mentioned, little hurt/comfort, spencer feels undeserving, reader takes care of him.

a/n: little fluff, i just need to take care of that boy hes so :( also dont ask me about showering with crutches, idk how people do all that just dont! think about it too hard. some ace lore, i fractured my wrist and had a cast for 2 months, i wrapped it in a plastic bag and would fold it up after for the next shower. #reusereduceandrecycle am i right? anw! happy reading, lmk what you think!!

wc: 1.1k

you trail behind spencer as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. he hops onto the next step with his good leg, using the crutches to pull the rest of him up, he's methodical and careful with his movements. the doctor said stairs would be fine, as long as he took his time, but it still felt like too much exertion in your opinion. you protested when he denied derek's help but you were met with pleading eyes, i want to do this myself, forcing you to concede. that doesn't stop you from hovering a hand over the small of his back as he climbs the next step.

a dull click reverberates through his apartment door as you unlock it, letting spencer in first. he beelines for the bedroom, and you set both your bags down on the couch, following him. he’s perched at the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes. his shoulders are slumped in exhaustion, dark circles around his eyes as he looks up at you. you rake a hand through his hair–you realise how long it is as it passes through your fingers. you twirl the ends before letting it fall.

“wanna take a shower?” you suggest softly.

he nods and you lead him to the adjoined bathroom with his arm over your shoulder. you lean against the door frame, itching to help him.

he looks at you, puzzled. “are you going to watch me undress?” he asks, unbuttoning his shirt.

“yeah, it's a great view,” you shoot him a cheeky wink, making him blush. deciding to be meaner, you give him a once over, checking him out unabashedly, the hue on his cheeks growing pinker. your teasing falters a little as your eyes pass over his knee and the bandage wrapped around it, his pants now on the floor. he makes note of the flash of concern that passes over your features and gives you grace by asking for your help. to which you rush to the kitchen for some cling film and return to him.

kneeling, you wrap the area in plastic, over the gauze, you don't care, making sure to accumulate enough layers so water doesn't seep through. it's a subpar job, but you spring up proud anyways. “so the wound doesn't get wet,” you explain, head tilted up.

he gives you a goofy smile, amused, but covered in so incredibly in love with you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you tip your head back, returning the smile. even slouched and leaning, he's so tall.

when he steps into the shower, you step in with him, work clothes still on but at least you've shed your jacket. how is he supposed to shower with one hand, you reason, his other hand holding onto the crutch. he doesn't stop you though, he doesn't stop when you turn on the water, he doesn't stop you when he suddenly feels self-conscious that he's fully naked and you're not, he doesn't stop you when you start to run the water over his skin and slowly lather the soap on his shoulders. rather, he pouts.

“what's wrong?” you immediately ask, alarmed by the look on his face.

“you're getting your clothes wet,” his words are morose, like it's the worst thing in the world.

“baby,” you coo, bringing a soapy hand up to his face, caressing it softly. he leans into your touch. “i don't care that my clothes are wet, i'm taking them off after this anyway. i just want to take care of you. please let me.”

god, he doesn’t deserve you, and he thinks that as he looks at you, eyes tracing over your features, features that will him to surrender. he doesn’t want to be a burden. he knows you’ll take the week off, stay with him, and make sure he’s well cared for. yet you won’t push him—won’t smother him. you’ll give him space unless he asks for more. like you’re doing now, helping him because he asked for it. and still, he feels like shit. you're too sweet to him. even as you're standing there, drenched, cleary not upset by the ordeal, he still believes he doesn’t deserve this.

you watch as this inner turmoil makes its way through him, his thought process so loud you can hear him. you wipe a tear away from his face that he didn’t realise spilled, he was crying. “do you want me to leave?” you ask, extremely patient, giving him the room to say yes if he wants. he shakes his head, no. “okay, i'll stay,” you press a chaste kiss to his lips and continue washing him.

the tap squeaks as you turn the water off, moving aside so he can walk out. you strip out of your clothes leaving you in your bra and underwear, damp but better than dripping water all over the floors. you hold his crutches as he puts a bathrobe on, its purple with yellow stars on it. you follow him out of the bathroom but go back after retrieving your pyjamas and a towel.

“i'll be two seconds,” you mumble and faintly hear him hum in acknowledgement. you quickly have a shower and change into some clean dry clothes. it's a relief, admittedly. you'd been in the same rotation of outfits, having stayed in the hospital for a few days, with an insufficient supply of clothes in your go bag. but you didn't care much, wanting to stay beside spencer.

when you walk out, towel wiping your face, you see him sitting on the bed. fully clothed. you smile at him, feeling brighter. “oh, you changed,” you observe, you were ready to dress him.

“mhm, folded the cling wrap for tomorrow,” he responds, and it's sweet how he thought to save it. you walk to the living room, rooting around in your bags and return with his pain meds, tylenol to his request, it being fairly mellow. you hand him a cup of water and a pill.

“we’ll wash your hair tomorrow, okay?” he nods, looking at you over the rim of his glass. he downs the rest of the water and sets it down on his bedside table.

turning off the lights, you make your way to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers. he does the same, scooting closer to you. he's on his back since he doesn’t know which position feels comfortable yet, so you curl into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. your eyes follow the steady rise and fall of his chest. you hear him inhale, as if preparing to say something, you wait.

“thank you,” he breaks the silence with a quiet whisper, hand wrapped around your back giving you a gentle squeeze.

you reach up and kiss his cheek, “it's nothing, i’d do anything for you.”

m.list

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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archermind · 1 year ago

Text

I Can See You

Spencer Reid x F!Reader - Smut (18+)

Description: “and we kept everything professional but something changed, it's something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best if we move fast and keep quiet.”. You and Spencer are each other's dirty little secret, no one in the BAU knows what is going on between you both.

Word count: 1,800 approx.

Content Warning: Mentions of f!masturbation, kissing, PinV, Receiving Oral F, swearing, Fingering, dom!spencer, good girl, dirty talk

author note: okay.. so i tried writing a smut. idk how i feel about it. i read smut and think the things people write are really good but when i write it i always think it’s so bad. i hope it isn’t too bad. feel free to give me feedback! hope you enjoy <3

Stolen glances and longing stares, that was how this all started. You and Spencer found yourselves sneaking between each other's hotel rooms while on cases, searching for comfort in a form of lust. The first time was supposed to be a one time thing… never to happen again. Yet, you couldn’t help yourself… you longed for his touch and he longed for yours. Your mind is forever replaying the first moment he made, the way he-

“Earth to Y/N!” Derek announced, waving his hands in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry” you mumbled, realizing your zoning out and complete oblivious state to the world around you.

“What has gotten into you girl” Derek scoffed

“More like who!” emily remarked, causing JJ to snicker “we have seen that extra pep in your step lately Y/N”

You shifted in your seat becoming anxious that people were going to crack onto what was going on between you and Reid. Everyday you were nervous to even look in Reid’s direction… It didn't help that everyone that surrounded you both were some of the best profilers you know. You rolled your eyes putting on a confident facade and prepared your fighting argument against Emily’s wrong, but so right, speculation.

“Right everyone let’s just focus on the case” Hotch ordered, “Agent Y/N’s love life will just have to remain a mystery for you all until you solve this one”

“Oh c'mon Hotch, you are supposed to be on my side!” you called out desperately as everyone laughed, “i am reporting you all to HR for bullying on the job!”

“Boohoo babygirl!” Morgan said, pouting.

Throughout the rest of the flight you all spoke about the case, trying to build a profile upon the characteristics of the murder. Words like sadist and sociopath were thrown around while you yet again zoned out, this time focused on Reid and his soft snores. You had woken up, naked, to the sound of his snores a couple times now. Each time was just as good as the last. You found yourself counting down the time until you landed, wishing the minutes would go by fast.

Landing came by painfully and slowly. Some time before the flight landed, Spencer had woken up. He seemed shifty and irritated. Not to mention, he could not take his eyes off of you. You felt yourself become more and more needy for him with every passing second. Clock watching made it worse.

By the time you all arrived at the hotel that you were staying at, it was midnight. Everyone had no energy. The goodbyes and goodnights were a mix of mumbles and grumbles. Your room was right down the hall from Spencer. Emily and JJ across the hall, Morgan next door to Reid, and Hotch was one floor above us all. A dim pale yellow light tried to light the room as you walked through to the bathroom, a hot soak was well needed. Today had seemed to be so long and exhausting.

As you plunged yourself into the bubbles and warmth, you leant back allowing yourself to relax in the tub. Soap suds covered your body as you massaged your aching muscles. You moaned at the release you felt, free from tension that ached your body. As you were massaging your sore body, you felt your mind racing back to Dr. Spencer Reid and your hand inching further to the place you wanted him right now. As your hand grazed your core, you heard a ping to your phone.

You sighed as the moment had been rudely interrupted and ruined. You grabbed your robe, exiting the tub and putting it over your body. Grasping your phone, your stomach fluttered. ‘Spence’. ‘I need you Y/N’. you bit back a smirk, knowing what was about to happen. ‘Don’t let them see you..’ you responded back.

Quickly, you ran to the door ready to let the man you wanted most into your hotel room. It was scandalous and thrilling sneaking around with him. It was what you both needed while dealing with stressful cases. A source of release.. Mentally and physically.

As you opened the door, the slender built boy slipped past quickly into the room to avoid being seen and perhaps questioned as to why he was entering his co-workers' hotel room at 1am. You closed the door silently and instantly you were pressed against it. Spencer’s lips fit yours perfectly. You felt his wet tongue swipe along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It was heated and vulgar. The desperation for each other was filthy. Your tongues played war with each other until like always Spencer won dominance. You were like a putty in his hands, allowing him to take control of your every movement.

“You don't understand how beautiful you looked all day” spencer rambled, “i've been wanting to get you alone and worship your body since i first laid eyes on you this morning”

You moaned at his sweet nothings, moving your lips to trail down his neck as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. You were eager to rid him of his clothes, eager for him. As your hand went down each button, you slowly freed him out of his shirt. You gasped, running your hands along his chest and to his lower abdomen.

“I have missed you spence” you stated, breathlessly.

He slowly walked you backwards towards the bed, peppering kisses around your face. You giggled at the childish move but felt adored. Slowly, he lowered you to lie on the bed and hooked his arms around your legs giving you a strong tug to the edge of the bed.

“Trust me, Y/N not as much as i missed you doll” he smirked, undoing the tie on your robe.

Your chest rose and fell fast. You lay there in front of him naked and for the taking. Allowing him to see the most vulnerable and insecure side of yourself. He slowly lowered himself allowing his mouth to come in contact with your soft skin. Spencer kissed and nipped with his teeth, your most sensitive areas. Your neck. Your collarbone. Your breasts. You couldn't help but let the moans fall from your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted.

Spencer caressed your left breast pinching your nipple. all while he licked, sucked and bit the right one. You felt wetness pool at your core. All. For. Him. slowly, you felt his nose brush down your abdomen as the pit of your stomach flipped. No matter how many late nights you spent together and how much you prepared yourself, you still got nervous when giving yourself to spencer. Even if he was cautious and gentle.

You squirmed and wriggled as you felt his hot breath on your clit. You were dripping with anticipation at this point. Spencer began to kiss each thigh, slowly working his way closer to the place you wanted him most. Soon enough, Spencer pressed his lips against your clit licking and biting. Slowly, he circled his tongue against your clit as you became more and more sensitive with each lap. Your hand tangled in his brown curls, causing him to moan in response. You cried out in pleasure as he inserted two fingers into you and began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck spencer” you breathed out.

“Does that feel good Y/N?” he questioned you, already knowing the answer from the way you were a mess below him.

“Mhm” you mumbled.

Spencer pulled away from your clit and took his fingers out from with you, gripping your thighs and turning you on your stomach. You heard his zipper become undone. You looked back and bit your bottom lip suppressing a moan as you saw him in nothing but his underwear. You could see his hard bulge and it made you even more desperate for him.

“Look at you so needy!” Spencer whispered, grabbing a condom from his jean pocket.

You eyed him up and down as his teeth ripped the small packet open.

“Hurry… im so fucking desperate” you were a wreck as you tried to speak your wants, “i do need you spencer”

“Good girls wait” he remarked

You watched him slowly slide the rubber on his hard length, he held a strong eye contact with yours. Enjoying the way you watched him, eagerly waiting for him. You bit your lip hard trying to suppress your moans - considering your co-workers were just down the hall and above you. You hissed in pleasure and pain when Spencer unexpectedly forced his entire length into you without warning.

It was raw and animalistic the way you both wanted eachother, needed eachother and fucked eachother. Spencer Reid was a quiet boy. Yet, who you now grew to know and spend time with, you saw him in a much different light. He was a gentle, passionate man who adored and cared for you. Reid didnt just use you for sex… he worshipped your body while he fucked you.

The room was filled with the sound of your breathless moans and the sound of your skin meeting each other. Spencer was deep inside you and with every stroke he made in and out of you, you grew closer to your release.

“You feel so fucking good Y/N” spencer moaned as he flipped you onto your back, allowing him to watch your face as he fucked you senseless.

You tried responding but you were a moaning mess. No words could be formed. You were drunk on Spencer’s cock. With every thrust, your tits bounced, sending Spencer's mind on a spiral.

“You look so fucking good taking my cock, doll” spencer exclaimed, as his hand connected with your clit rubbing small quick circles.

You felt your stomach ball as you grew closer to your orgasm. You cried in pleasure as he thrusted deeper and slower, hitting your g-spot each time.

“I- fuck- please spence” you begged him growing more sensitive to his touch and nearing your finish.

“I know Y/N” he grunted as he entered in and out of you, feeling closer to his orgasm each time, “cum for me”

You cried out at your release, digging your nails down Spencer's back for some stability on the edge of your pleasure. Your ears rang out from the overwhelming stimulation, while Spencer rode out to his orgasm. It came quickly as he collapsed tired and breathless onto your chest. Time passed as you two lay tangled within each other's arms, trying to calm down from your high.

“Y/N?” he questioned

“Yea” you huffed out

“I’m glad you joined the Quantico BAU team” he stated letting out a breathy laugh

“Yeah me too” you smirked, “the benefits are pretty good too.”

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sundrop-writes · 11 months ago

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Hiii !! I wanted to request a reaction for Derek, Emily and Spencer

When Single Parent! Reader (GN is fine !!) has to bring their daughter to the BAU for a little bit and she won't stop following the Character around and doesn't want to leave "her new friend" when its time to go? Thank you sm in advance if you write it !! 💕💕

i might swing by later with a dif request, this was the first thing my sleep ridden brain blessed me with ;p

I love this so much (I have been in such a parent fic mood since writing the Dad Spence fic, Star thank you so much) - I think this idea is so adorable, I love it!!!

(I wrote Derek's part and then trailed off and left this in my drafts for a few days, so sorry if there's a huge disconnect between the characters' parts. Ooops.)

Requests are currently - OPEN

How would Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Spencer Reid react to your daughter becoming attached to them? (Derek, Emily, and Spencer x GN!Reader)

Warnings: mentions of corporate/white collar crimes (embezzlement, etc.); mentions of the reader being threatened by white collar criminals, mentions of criminals threatening to kill a child; as it says in the title, the reader has a daughter but the reader's gender is not described in any way; surprisingly, for this one, I didn't give the daughter a name. idk, I think that's it. (Edit: now fixed so that the reader is actually fully GN and I am so sorry about the mistake before!!!)

It was a pretty basic case. You were an attorney working on a large company merger - you had found evidence of millions of dollars being embezzled, and when you had copied the files with the intention of bringing them to the IRS, you had started receiving threatening letters. It weighed on your conscience - you knew that the men who ran the company had more than enough money and resources to make you disappear, likely leaving your daughter an orphan, leaving her to wonder what had happened to you for the rest of her life. When you received another letter with photos of your daughter at her preschool attached, now threatening her - you had made your decision fully.

You took your files and evidence to the BAU - you had met Rossi at a seminar he gave, talking about how sociopathy is incredibly common in corporate circles - how sociopaths do very well in corporate jobs due to their driven, goal oriented, emotionless nature. And warning signs to look out for if someone is using those traits to cross into dangerous territory. It was a seminar you had gone to out of curiosity, but you were glad that you had taken his card and you were able to contact him now.

He invited you to the BAU, and the team offered to take your case - to find out who was threatening you and bring them to justice.

Derek found you incredibly beautiful.

He was intrigued by your looks at first, and when Hotch mentioned that someone needed to interview you and get the full details from you in order for the team to get a better perspective on the case, Derek volunteered immediately. He hadn't gotten a full briefing - too eager to get to talk to you.

He came into the room with a bottle of water for you, looking to comfort you with his smile and his charms, and he was surprised when Penelope came back into the room and a small girl came barreling toward you, incredibly excited to tell you that she had gotten M&Ms from the vending machine (which Penelope had taken her to).

Typically, Derek didn't go for people who had kids. Any other time, with any other person - it would have immediately turned him off. It would have dampened your attractiveness in his eyes. He generally had a 'no single parents' policy, because he thought that dating someone with kids was just a lot of baggage. But seeing you - he was immediately taken with you. And seeing you with your daughter, somehow made you instantly more attractive.

And he thought the way that you scooped your daughter up into your lap and let her feed you M&Ms with her chubby little fingers was all too cute. It was unprofessional, but the case definitely wasn't the only thing on his mind that day.

Penelope took your daughter out of the room again while Derek interviewed you, and it was only when you spoke of the fear you felt for your daughter - the potential of her being her by the anonymous person, that you actually teared up. Derek couldn't help but to pull you in close, holding you tight in an effort to comfort you (secretly loving how tightly you hugged him back) - and it was in that moment that he vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to protect you and your child. He would always keep the two of you out of harm's way.

And he certainly tried his hardest to accommodate your daughter when he found out that the two of you would be sticking around the office for the day - to ensure that you would be protected until the team found out who had sent the threats. He got her a kids meal with a toy when he ordered lunch, he knew there wasn't much in the office in the way of "toys" - but he swung by Garcia's office borrowed something she had that was fuzzy and lights up (with the promise of returning it) and he scrounged up a blank pad of paper and some coloured pens so your daughter could have something to do.

It wasn't surprising when she excitedly ran over to his desk and gave him a picture she had drawn of him - a very cartoonish muscled man with his same facial hair and an eggish bald head. His exaggerated features in the picture made you and Morgan laugh, and before you left the BAU for the day (when your safety was assured and the local police were on their way to arrest the men who had made the threats to you) - you found a different pen and wrote your number on the bottom corner of the picture for him.

He knew that something in you had changed him when he started thinking about taking you on a first date in the park - something your daughter could enjoy as well, rather than considering what bar or late night restaurant he was going to take you to.

Emily was surprised by the entire thing.

She hadn't been around children since, well - she was one. Due to events in her past, and due to the way her mother treated her, she never imagined herself being a parent. Ever. She was someone who thought that she was just naturally terrible with kids, like her own mom was. She hadn't met the person she thought that she could settle down with, so she never thought that kids were in the cards for her. So it definitely caught her off guard when your daughter seemed to take to her like a duck to water.

It was in her natural instinct to comfort you. You were so shaken up about the whole thing, the anonymous danger lurking in your life - and she took some extra time to assure you that things were going to be okay, that the team was the best, and they were going to catch whoever was doing this.

She thought it was a natural kindness to get down on your daughter's level and ask what she was playing with, to compliment her cute little doll and then take her down the hallway to grab a snack to give you a few minutes to breathe. The little girl was sweet and Emily didn't mind spending some extra time with her.

On their way back along, your daughter plucked a crossword puzzle book off Emily's desk and asked what it was, and Emily explained it - so then she took a few minutes to find some crosswords for children online and printed them out, and when she came to delivery them, alone with some pens, your daughter enthusiastically asked if Emily would sit and 'show her' - and while you said that Emily was busy and had other work to do, Emily shrugged and said she had a few minutes to spare. Again, she thought it was common manners, sitting with the girl on her lap while she guided her through the puzzles, praising her intellect when she got the answers right.

She didn't see the way you were looking at the pair, pure affection bubbling up in your eyes.

When the day was over, and it was cleared as safe for you and your daughter to return home, the little girl let out a loud complaint that she didn't want to leave her 'new friend Emily' - and Emily couldn't have predicted the way that those words tugged at something in her chest. She didn't know what led her to kneeling down at the girl's level, promising to see her that weekend when she had a free day - that was, if you didn't mind. Getting nothing but a bright smile from you, and feeling a certain spark there.

(She had to resist the urge to punch Morgan in the ribs when she walked back to her desk to nothing but teasing, how she was getting 'the whole family package' on 'her first date'.)

Spencer found the whole thing (secretly) adorable.

It is no secret that Spencer loves kids. He is very good with kids, and it's clear by the way he acts around kids that he definitely wants kids of his own someday. He hasn't met 'the one' yet - the person that he's going to have kids with. Whether that's through the natural, old-fashioned way or through adoption. But he did always imagine that if he raised kids of his own, it would be from infancy.

He never imagined that the person he was meant to be with would stumble into his life with a child that was already walking and talking - but when he met you and your daughter, it felt so right. Even if the circumstances were a bit dark.

He interviewed you about the whole situation, and when you apologized for crying and getting emotional, he was quick to assure you that it was natural - you were shaking, and though Spencer was usually someone to avoid touch, he found his need to hold you so overwhelming. He didn't regret his choice to wrap his arms around you when you hugged him back tightly.

When your daughter burst into the room (no longer occupied making paper airplanes with Emily and JJ), she was quick to ask why you were crying, extending out a small chubby finger to point at you, seemingly warbling with half-baked tears of her own at seeing you so upset. Spencer knelt down and assured her that everything was going to be okay, and then he moved to distract her by taking the little paper airplane out of her hand and telling her that he knew a trick to make it fly so much farther.

And he did. It was simple aerodynamics and folding techniques. And then they stood near the top of the bullpen, silently trying to get Morgan to look up by flying planes onto his desk - and the man couldn't bring himself to get too mad when he heard childish giggling coming from your daughter every few minutes.

You truly felt those butterflies for Spencer turn into more when he showed your daughter a trick that ended with a fake flower somehow coming out of his sleeve - something feathery and pink that he tucked behind her ear for her to keep, having her smiling and laughing brightly on a day where you had been wracked with worry, fearing for her life.

By the time the day was over and both of your safety was assured, you weren't surprised that she didn't want to leave him. And you made the bold move, telling him (rather than asking him) - that he should come over for dinner and a movie on Saturday, and then leaning over to gently whisper in his ear that the two of you could enjoy a another, more adult flick after your daughter was tucked into bed. Your daughter was too excited at the prospect of seeing Spencer again, tugging on his pant leg, waiting for him to agree - and he was speechless at the implications of what you had said.

He couldn't even think of the word 'no' if he tried.

So, it was a date, then.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

#star-mum #interactions #requests #requested #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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illiterateaffairs · 2 months ago

Text

a simple favor | stiles x reader

masterlist | next

pairing: stiles stilinski x f!reader (enemy/witch)

word count: 7,120

warnings: language, banter, minor blood, allusions to sex *gasp* but no smut (sorry!)

summary: despite being self-proclaimed "enemies", you manage to drag stiles to your house for help with a spell...and maybe more.

author's note: hi friends! hope everyone is doing as well as they can be, and hope i can offer up a small distraction. i'm back with another witch!reader x stiles fic but this exists in a universe in which you are a "bad guy" and stiles can't stand you...for now ;) more deets at the end! also please just roll with me on any witch stuff idk if anything is accurate to witch lore, i feel as if with magic the rules are made up anyway so i'm doing what i want :)

“Hi!”

“AH- Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?” Stiles jumps before his face contorted in annoyance.

He was on his way to pick up Scott. For some god forsaken reason his best friend wanted to get a tattoo before they started junior year and Stiles was meant to “supervise”. However, just as Stiles hops into the driver’s seat of his jeep, he’s greeted in the passenger seat by you.

And you may or may not be Stiles’s least favorite person in the world.

“I was waiting for you,” you state, point blankly like it was normal for you to have broken into his car.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “God, do I want to know why?”

“Doubtful,” you sigh, turning in the seat to start putting on the seatbelt, “You should probably start driving.”

Stiles slowly narrows his eyes, “Why?”

“I need your help with a spell.”

“My help? What makes you think I’m going to help you?”

“Because you know I could kill you with the snap of my fingers.” you roll your head in his direction with a pointed look, “Besides, you owe me.”

Oh yeah. Because you saved his life this past spring when Gerard Argent kidnapped him after his lacrosse game.

Stiles inwardly groans. You had a point. He had a feeling though no matter how many favors he paid you, you’d never let that go.

You may have saved his life, but the thing was, to him and his friends you were still the “bad guy”. You were still the same witch that pretended to befriend him and Scott when Scott first became a werewolf, just for them to find out you were playing them to help Peter, who had enlisted your help to regain his strength and heal from the Hale fire. Stiles had barely tolerated you since the day you met, but after that, any ounce of trust and respect he had for you vanished.

From that point on, Stiles decided he hated you. And despite defeating Peter, your presence loomed. For some reason, Derek leaned on you when he was building his pack of betas, giving Stiles more reason to despise you. But shortly after that, out of nowhere, Scott sought your help to try to stop Jackson as the Kanima and figure out who was controlling him. There was a brief moment where Stiles thought you could become an ally but admittedly he fucked that up when Peter came back from the dead and he jumped to the conclusion that you, once again, aided and abetted him. Turns out, in fact, he was wrong, and it was actually Lydia - his hopeless crush for nearly a decade - and he had accused and berated you for nothing. So any shot at you guys finding common ground was dead in the water. And you had decided to be petty and align yourself with the Argents just to piss him off.

He hadn’t seen you since that night. He’d heard off hand from Isaac who’d heard from Derek you were spending the summer on the East Coast, doing some witch training or coven bonding shit with your family.

That was until right now, in the front seat of his jeep.

“Scott is waiting for me.” Stiles finally responds; a half-hearted attempt to get you to go away.

You make a face, “Scott can go one night without being codependent.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he finds himself starting the engine. “Where are we going?”

“My house.”

“You’re taking me to your lair?”

“Ha ha.”

“I don’t even know where you live.”

“I’ll give you directions as we go. It's just right on the outskirts of the preserve.”

“You live in the woods?”

“Just drive.”

Stiles should question how quickly he concedes but there is in fact the possibility of you hexing him or something. Which you’ve yet to do in any serious or fatal way. But another part of him is admittedly curious; to know what exactly you want, to see how you actually live.

From the little information he’s learned about you the past year, he knows you live with your aunt and were home schooled up until recently when you enrolled in Beacon Hills High during the winter semester. But other than that, you were just the mysterious witch he hardly knew anything about. Aside from knowing you were a pain in his ass and someone he’s hesitant to trust.

But he thinks he can survive one evening with you.

The drive is quiet with just you providing simple directions. At one point he tries to make a feeble attempt at small talk, but you instantly lunge forward to turn on the radio.

You turn to look at him in disbelief when the channel that’s on is the police scanner he rigged up. He shrugs sheepishly before you shake your head and turn the dial to some indie station.

Stiles puckers his lips and nods as soft music fills the car. “Arctic Monkeys, nice-”

“Turn left at the stop sign.”

“Right.”

You turn to him with an amused look. “You don’t know how to act when we’re not at each other’s throats.”

Stiles scoffs, “Can you blame me? I barely think of you as a real person half the time, I don’t know what to say to you.”

You chuckle as you stare out the window, “Well we’re almost there.”

“What kind of spell do you need my help with anyway? And why me?”

“Because you’re a human.”

“Okay…?”

“And I need your blood.”

“Oh great.”

“It’s a spell to make a protection amulet. So I can wear it and not be found by other witches.”

“And why do you need that?”

“Now that is none of your business.” You sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt, “And we’re here.”

Stiles observes the road they’re coming to the end of. Your house is indeed at the edge of the woods: a modest victorian-gothic style home hidden by trees.

“I didn’t even know there were houses out here.”

“Not many,” you reply as the two of you hop out of the jeep.

Stiles glances between you and his phone as you lead him to the front door, also texting Scott that he’ll need a raincheck on the tattoo adventure and he’ll explain later.

“Is your aunt home?”

“Nope, she’ll be gone until late.” You answer, unlocking the door for you both to enter.

Stiles takes in what he can from the foyer. He can’t get a full view of the space but he can definitely tell witches live here. The living room is lined with wooden bookshelves and candles and trinkets. He doesn’t have much time to observe when he watches you head for the staircase.

“Um, where are we going exactly?”

“My room,” You call without turning around.

“Woah,” Stiles huffs nervously, “We’re doing this in your bedroom?”

“Don’t get too excited Stilinski, you’re here for business not pleasure.”

Stiles is grateful you still haven’t bothered turning around to look at him, because he feels his face heat up as he finally follows you up the stairs.

No surprise, your room also fits right in with the aesthetic of the house. Moody colors, wooden bed posts, and candles on every surface. He watches you flick your wrist and every candle lights up, casting a warm glow around the room. It's the first time he’s thought your powers were cool, but he’d never admit that out loud.

“Is this the lair you were expecting?” you ask, turning around to face him while standing in front of your desk, which is littered with books, potion bottles, and a large pot.

Stiles shrugs, “It’s a little underwhelming.”

“Were you expecting me to live in an underground dungeon?”

“Something like that.”

You hum and turn back to face your desk, taking stock of the potion ingredients on hand.

Stiles wanders over to stand beside you, his hands in his pockets. “So explain to me what you mean by needing my blood.”

You pick up a necklace from your desk: a silver chain with an empty vial hanging on it. “I’m essentially making a potion to put in here. And if I wear it, it will make it harder for witches searching for me to track me or my magic. And human blood is on the recipe.”

“But why me?”

“I told you, because you’re human. Not a werewolf or a witch; a human. And humans have the purest form of blood. It's basically the secret ingredient.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at your nonchalance. “Okay I get that I guess, but why me? Couldn’t you have found some other schmuck to help you? Or have you scared off every other person in Beacon Hills with your shining personality.”

You turn to Stiles with a tight smirk, “As you may know, not many people are even aware that the supernatural is real. I know you do, and unfortunately you’re my best option. Allison is still in France from what I’ve gathered, Lydia is something but I haven’t quite figured that out yet, and using my aunt would require me having to explain what I’m doing and why. So you’re it buddy.”

“Oh so I’m literally your last choice. Boy am I honored.”

“You should be.”

“Wait, do you mean your aunt isn’t a witch like you?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, focusing back on the bottles on your desk, starting to add ingredients to the pot. “She’s not even technically my aunt. She was a family friend that took me in when I was young.”

“Why? What happened to your parents?”

You swallow, “You’re nosy.”

“Fine don’t tell me, but I think it's fair I get a little information since I’m the one helping you.”

“You’re the one who owes me, remember?”

“Yeah but it sounds like you can’t complete this spell without me and it seems pretty important so…thinking that gives me some leverage.”

You glance over at him with a glare and Stiles shoots you an innocent smile that makes you want to wipe it off his face.

You let out a deep breath, “My parents fled to god knows where when I was five. Apparently, my family has a centuries long feud with another coven and they’d evaded them for years until then. They decided leaving me with Jules was better for my safety. So I’ve been in Beacon Hills ever since. I actually didn’t know most of that until this summer. I sort of…had a run in with a member of that coven without realizing and now I’m afraid they’re going to find me here. Hence the protection amulet we’re making. Is that enough background information for you?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows as he absorbs everything. “Wow that’s…heavy. There’s some witch coven out there that's been trying to kill your family for centuries. No wonder you’re the way that you are.”

I let out an unamused huff as I add the last of the pre-prepared ingredients.

“Wait, is that unicorn dust- are unicorns real?”

I smirk as I pour it in, “Like I’d give away that information to you for free.”

I bite back a laugh as Stiles mutters dammit.

Turning back to him, I hold up a tiny needle. “Your turn.”

Stiles’ eyes widen briefly, holding up his hands as he steps back from you, “Woah, woah, be careful with that thing.”

You scoff, “Stiles, it's a sewing needle.”

“Well, I still haven’t completely agreed to this. How do I know you’re not tricking me into draining all of my blood?”

You roll your eyes, “Stiles I just need one drop. And then you’re free to go off on your date with Scott.”

Stiles rolls his eyes this time.

I try to fix him with a genuine look for the first time in the months we’ve known each other. “Come on. Haven’t I made it clear enough that this is important to me? I seriously would not have brought you here if it wasn’t. Don’t make me beg.”

“I’d kind of like to see-”

“Reminder, I can kill you.”

“Alright,” he groans, “Let’s just get this over with. Did I mention I hate needles?”

“Aw poor baby’s scared of a tiny needle,” you fake pout.

“Oh my god shut up, like you’re not afraid of anything.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid of admitting something embarrassing like that.”

“Okay, just stab me already.”

You chuckle and take another step closer to him, holding out your left hand. Stiles takes a deep breath and apprehensively places his hand upwards into yours, and you gently hold the tip of his pointer finger. Stiles glances around the room, wanting to look anywhere but you pricking him with the needle, as minor as it is.

“Jesus, I can feel your pulse, you need to calm down.” you comment.

“Sorry that I’m a generally anxious person.”

“Yeah I gathered that over the last year from the fact that you literally never stop talking,” you snicker, “Have you always been like this?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“And it doesn’t drive Scott crazy?”

“Well, I think Scott, like most sane people, finds it endearing.”

“Oh. Does Lydia find your constant yammering endearing?”

“Woah, okay, there’s no need to bring her into this,” Stiles sighs rubbing his head, “Can you just prick me?”

“I already did,” I reply, making Stiles whip his head back, staring at his finger between yours, and sure enough, a red drop of blood was already forming.

“When did you…” Stiles whispers.

I shrug, dropping the needle into a bin beside my desk. “I kept you distracted.”

Stiles watches you quietly, his lips slightly parted in disbelief, while you guide his hand over the pot and gently squeeze his finger so three drops of his blood fall into the potion with a hiss. Stiles grimaces at the pressure but it's not as bad as he thought. He’s trying to get over the fact that you tried to make this a little less painful for him by pricking him with the needle while he wasn’t thinking about it. It was surprisingly…thoughtful?

“There, the final touch,” you murmur. You turn back to face him, his hand still in yours.

“Great. Do you happen to have a bandaid for the patient?” He asks.

“No need,” I reply, grabbing a small piece of gauze from the table and placing it over his finger to stop the blood.

Stiles once again watches you carefully. As you apply the pressure to his finger, he takes note of the way you bite your lip while you concentrate. After a few more quiet moments, you toss the piece of gauze away and gently press your thumb into his pointer finger and close your eyes, murmuring something under your breath. Once you open your eyes, you look back down at his finger and suddenly there is no puncture wound.

“There, good as new.”

You finally look back up at him - his face closer to yours than you remember - and he’s still staring at you silently.

“What? Were you expecting me to kiss it better?”

Stiles shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor. “Wha- no! No. Just…not used to you using your powers for good.”

I shake my head and finally release his hand, turning back to the pot and start mixing it all together.

Stiles clears his throat and glances over your shoulder. “So what now? You mix everything together in the pot and boom, you’re good to go?”

“Cauldron,” you correct, “And I also have to pour it into the vial and cast an incantation to activate it.”

Stiles nods, genuinely intrigued by the process. He watches you quietly mix everything for another minute or so, before you reach for the tiny vial, and then you basically ladle an ounce of it into the small tube.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of potion you’re not using. Do witches care about waste?”

I fix Stiles with a hard look and he holds up his hands in surrender. He continues watching you close your hand around the vial tightly and hold it to your chest, once again quietly reciting an incantation. Stiles is almost certain the words you are saying are in Latin, and again, he’d never admit it to anyone, but he was kind of impressed.

When you are finished, you open your hand and look down to study the vial. From over your shoulder, Stiles sees the vial now has a slight green glow to it.

“Assuming it worked?” Stiles comments.

You shrug, “I guess the only way to truly find out if it didn’t is if one of those witches show up here.”

Stiles nods and then proceeds to stand there and watch you struggle to get the chain clasped around your neck.

He snorts, “What, is there no spell to put on a necklace?”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he stands up straighter. “Look, do you- I mean, would you want…I could..”

You groan, tired of listening to him ramble, “What?”

“I could help you, you know!” Stiles exclaims in annoyance. “God I don’t even know why I offer.”

You frown, too stubborn to stop trying but also too frustrated to keep going. Sighing, you remove your hands from around your neck and forcefully place it in his hands, “It's one of those stupid, teeny tiny clasps that aren’t meant for human sized fingers.”

Stiles chuckles as he takes each end of the necklace into his hands, while you turn around and move your hair out of the way. “Are you saying you know of non-human fingers that handle necklaces because if so I’m crossing my fingers for a tiny mouse because that would be adorable.”

You bite back a smile, thankful you’re not facing him, “Shut up.”

Stiles keeps chuckling to himself as he brings the necklace around your neck, and carefully works to clasp it. He definitely also doesn’t use the time to inhale your scent and start to wonder if you use some kind of fragrance or if witches have a naturally alluring smell.

As you impatiently hold your hair and try not to think about the cramp forming in your arm, you also definitely aren’t thinking about the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck and praying he doesn’t see any goosebumps form on your skin.

“There,” Stiles whispers unintentionally soft, making him clear his throat in surprise, taking a steep step back, “All done.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, dropping your hair and turning around. “Thanks. For the assist and the blood donation.”

Stiles snorts with a nod, “Yeah.”

I look down at the amulet I created and gently hold it in my hands, “Seriously though. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. So…thank you.”

Stiles swallows and nods firmly, a little unsettled by the sincerity of the last few minutes, “...You’re welcome.”

You nod as well, unsure of where to go from here. “Well, I guess now your services are no longer needed and you are free to go, and we are free to proceed with business as usual; only speaking when we see each other against our will.”

Stiles huffs, crossing his arms, “What if I want to stay a little longer?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Why?”

“I have a few more questions.”

“Haven’t I told you enough?”

“I think I’m entitled to some more information,” Before you retort, he barrels on, “Look if some evil coven could potentially be invading Beacon Hills - ideally not since that spell should prevent that from happening, so you say - I think I have the right to know more about what's going on so I can be prepared for it.”

“And how exactly will you, Stiles Stilinski, prepare for that?”

“By…telling Scott…”

You snort and nod. Well fair enough I guess. “What else do you want to know?”

“How dangerous are we talking? Like, how badly do these people want you dead?”

You shrug, “I’ve only heard stories about how the feud originated. Supposedly, my family at some point in time, did something to steal powers from this other family.”

“Well it sounds like you guys are the bad guys in this scenario. Which tracks knowing you.”

“Well I’m pretty sure they did it in retaliation to them killing someone in my family in cold blood.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So this thing goes back generations but I’m pretty sure something must have happened between my mom and this woman from that coven. I don’t know what, but she in particular has a vendetta against her and our family.”

“Is she the witch you had a run in with this summer?”

“No,” you frown looking down, “It was her son.”

Stiles’s eyebrows raise, “Oh. And did he immediately try to kill you with some spell at first sight?”

I shake my head, “Nope. He just…pretended to be someone else to gain my trust and subsequently asked me out just for me to find out none of it was real and he was trying to get to my magic the whole time.”

Stiles widens his eyes with each new piece of information, his stomach dropping as he learns that this guy used and manipulated you. Yeah you definitely weren’t the bad guy in this scenario.

“So, fun summer for me. How was yours?” You ask looking back up at him with a blank look on your face.

Stiles ignores your attempt to diffuse the conversation. “So you were seeing this guy all summer thinking he was some innocent…fling…and the whole time he was actually plotting to, what, kill you? Take your powers?”

“Something like that,” You shrug, “I didn’t stick around long enough to find out the end game with that one.”

“How did he even track you down in the first place if you’ve been hiding away here your whole life.”

“Apparently they’ve been biding time in Salem, hoping one day I’d find my way there to train with other witches. And I didn’t even know there were people to look out for until a few days ago, when I was talking to another witch I had met, who recognized his mom in a picture. I left on the spot and haven’t seen him since.”

“Did you tell him where you were from?”

“Nope, was trying to go for the whole, casual, mysterious summer fling thing.” you chuckle humorlessly. “That worked out so well for me.”

Stiles sighs, “So he has no idea where to look for you, and that amulet should keep him from getting any hints.”

“Yup.”

“And after all this…your parents are still out there hiding from them, too?”

You nod, looking down again, “Yeah…sometimes I wonder if they’re even still alive.”

Stiles frowns, “Jesus…now I’m almost sorry for…”

“No, no,” You shake your head, your face twisting in discomfort. “Don’t do that. This isn't what we do. You don’t feel sorry for me. You despise me. And honestly I prefer that version of us, I can’t stand the thought of you sympathizing with me.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles holds his hands up, “I get it. You know maybe I’m not sorry, because a fucked up childhood doesn’t excuse the shit you did to us last year with Peter, and the generally annoying shit you’ve done since.”

You make a face but don’t argue with him.

Stiles continues staring you down, with an unfamiliar look on his face. “But…that shit that guy pulled on you this summer…even you don’t deserve to be taken advantage of like that.”

Your eyes slowly revert back to looking at his face, trying not to give away how vulnerable you felt sharing that information; not to mention how vulnerable you were this summer just to have that blow up in your face. You shift slightly, still uncomfortable with the atmosphere surrounding you two right now. You cross your arms tightly across your chest.

“Thanks…”

The two of you let the moment hang in the air for another few seconds before you clear your throat, not being able to stand the sincerity any longer.

“Well I guess next time I try to have a casual fling, I shouldn’t do it with a stranger I knew for all of a day before going out with him.”

Stiles chuckles dryly, “Guess not. Maybe you’d be better off getting to know a guy for a while first. If you can keep one around long enough without driving them up the wall.”

“Ha ha. Because you’re the picture of a guy with a successful love life. Remind me of the last time Lydia gave you a second look?”

Stiles glares at you, as he starts to sputter, “She…was looking at me when I was playing in that lacrosse game.”

“Oh so over three months ago? Wow you’re making huge strides.”

“Look, I’m playing the long game alright?”

I shake my head, “God, I don’t know why you even bother.”

Stiles' jaw teeters open and closed, “What? Is it that out of the realm of possibility that she could ever like me?”

“No, I just meant you could do better.”

Stiles stutters but no words immediately form in response to that. He stares at you blankly for a few beats. “I can do better? Me? Can do better than Lydia Martin?”

You roll your eyes, “You say that like she’s God's gift to this Earth.”

“Yeah, well…she’s still nice - sometimes - and highly intelligent, not to mention gorgeous.”

“Stiles, I’m not trying to disparage your precious Lydia, I just think you could do better than someone who doesn’t give you the time of day.”

“What…What do you mean?”

“Well for one it's kind of pathetic you’ve been hung up on her for so long with no reciprocation whatsoever.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t say-”

“And second, I don’t understand why a guy like you can’t find a girl who actually likes him back.”

“Well you say that like I’ve got a parade of girls waiting in line to date me.”

You shrug, “Trust me, there are some.”

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah right.”

“I think you're underestimating how many girls just want a sweet guy who will treat them well with a moderately nice face.”

Stiles shifts awkwardly, “Is that your type?”

“My tastes are a little more refined than that.”

“Well how do you know most girls see me that way?”

“Because objectively speaking, you do have a moderately nice face. Maybe even a step above that. And look at you, you grew your hair out this summer. Do that to impress Lydia?”

Stiles flushes, “Well not just…”

“Because I’m sure it will work on plenty of other girls when they see you at school next week.”

Stiles lets out a deep breath, looking at you curiously, “Why are you saying all this?”

You uncross your arms and sigh, taking a step towards him, “Look I’m just stating facts, and maybe I can spare you a compliment since you helped me out tonight. You deserve better than waiting for someone who may never come around. And maybe, who knows, I’m wrong and one day Lydia will come to her senses and see what's right there in front of her. But don’t waste all your time doing nothing. You could at least have fun in the meantime. And I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would jump at the chance.”

You give Stiles’ shoulder what should be a supportive squeeze, but because it's the two of you it feels wrong. You awkwardly lift your hand and pat him a couple times before retracting your arm all together.

Stiles stares at you, once again in awe, confused why you’re being so civil with him…let alone…kind? His eyes hone in on the way your nose scrunches up when you instantly regret touching his shoulder, and the way your lip curves up in amusement as you look back up at him. Your eyes have a warm glow amidst the candles lighting up your room. And he’s once again in close enough proximity to you to inhale your scent; a mix of vanilla, berries, and amber.

Yeah it definitely must be a witch thing, because he somehow finds himself being drawn closer to you. And before he knows it, he’s leaning completely in and kissing you.

It's a rare occurrence for you to be taken by surprise, but you do jump slightly when his lips touch yours. He did it so fast you didn’t even have a chance to process it, let alone prevent it from happening. You don’t immediately kiss back but you don’t immediately pull away either, chalking it up to the shock.

Stiles very quickly realizes what he’s doing and the fact that you’re not reciprocating as he pulls away slightly to take in your full reaction.

You narrow your eyes at him slightly, “I didn’t mean me.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and his lips part, once again struggling to form words as he starts to pull back.

For some reason you’ll probably never understand, you instinctively reach out to hold his arms to keep him in place. He looks at your hands and then back to your face curiously.

You quietly breathe out, “I also didn’t say to stop.”

Stiles breath hitches, his lips curving up just slightly before he dives towards your lips again.

This time you instantly kiss back, pulling him closer by cupping either side of his face, as his arms come to snake around your waist.

As the kiss becomes more intense, Stiles reluctantly pulls away for oxygen.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs breathlessly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You started it,” you muse, chasing after his lips.

He laughs softly, letting you kiss him deeply another few minutes before he gently caresses your face, pulling away.

“And I don’t hate what we’re doing but it's also very out of character. For both of us.”

“To make out with a hot person?”

“No,” Stiles sighs, but can’t fight the blood rushing to his cheeks, “I mean making out with each other. Honestly, this whole night has been out of character. We normally can’t stomach being in each other’s vicinity for more than five minutes.”

“Well if you haven’t noticed, this activity doesn’t require a whole lot of talking so I’m finding it easier to tolerate you.”

You watch Stiles roll his eyes, trying to rationalize what’s happening between you two. So you take a deep breath.

“Look, we’re not going to suddenly stop despising each other but there’s nothing wrong with two consenting people having a little fun. And you know…probably never speaking about it again.”

Stiles shifts the weight between his feet, becoming overwhelmed by the situation and the possibilities of where it could go; possibilities that both scare and excite him. And he can’t figure out what emotion is winning out.

“This probably won’t come as a shock to you,” Stiles speaks up again quietly, not meeting your eyes, “But I’ve never really…been with a girl…like this.”

The corner of your lips curl up. It wasn’t new information, but there was something about seeing this boy who usually goes toe to toe in insults with you be so open and honest with you.

You place your hands over his where they still rest on either side of your face. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can go as far as you want. Or we can stop now and pretend like this never happened. You are more than welcome to go.”

“I don’t think I want to go,” Stiles whispers hoarsely.

“Then don’t go,” You whisper back, leaning closer again.

“You’d really want to do this too?”

“Yes-”

“Because I know why I want to but why do you want to? After the guy you were with this summer I would have thought you’d be more…selective.”

“Oh that's exactly what I’m doing.”

“And you want to be with me? Why?”

“Because unlike the last guy, I know what I’m getting with you Stiles,” You state simply, “You’re a good guy. This has no chance of going anywhere. Absolutely no feelings whatsoever to get in the way. It’s perfect.”

Stiles stares at you, taking in your expression for any sign of uneasiness or lies. But he can tell you’re dead serious. His skin starts to burn in anticipation.

“So we’re doing this,” He says softly, somewhere between a question or a statement.

“I’m in if you’re in.”

“We do this once and we never talk about it again.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And no one, and I mean no one finds out about this. I mean it, you can’t tell anyone.”

You scoff, “Trust me, I plan to take this to the grave. You should be more concerned with yourself. I can’t see you going five minutes without squealing to Scott that you’ve finally seen a girl naked.”

Stiles closes his eyes and groans, praying you can’t see him blush again. He also can’t even process the fact that he is indeed about to see a girl naked.

After a moment, Stiles finally says, “I don’t have to tell Scott everything.”

“Okay, if you really believe that.” He rolls his eyes, making you chuckle. “So are you game, Stilinski?”

Stiles’ eyes flit across your face, before settling back on your lips. “Fuck it.”

He kisses you deeply and the two of you tug at each other like your bodies are never close enough. Your hands wander over his body until they end up at the buttons of his flannel, and you haphazardly start to undo them before he pulls away briefly to help you get it off of him. He shivers as your cold fingertips trace the contours of his chest and stomach, but he doesn’t get a chance to linger on the feeling as you kiss him again. He takes his turn to pull off your jacket, before sliding his fingers under the hem of your shirt, which you help him maneuver over your head. You once again only let him have a few seconds to take in your exposed skin, only your bra separating you two from complete skin to skin contact, before you’re pulling him back to you again.

“Do you have…” you mutter against his skin as you start to kiss down his jaw and neck, “Protection?”

Stiles’ stomach twists with nerves and excitement as he nods. “Yeah, I have a condom in my wallet.”

You smile against his skin, trailing down to his collarbone, “Been hoping one day Lydia would want to jump your bones?”

Stiles groans, tangling his fingers into your hair, “God, shut up.”

You chuckle darkly before gently pushing against his chest so you can move onto your bed.

Time passes in a hazy blur as you and Stiles finish undressing each other between sloppy and heated kisses. You try to go at a moderate pace with him, despite your own eagerness. To your pleasant surprise, Stiles is a quick learner as you talk him through how to touch you and make you feel good. And he makes you feel very good. And despite his own timidness and learning curve, he is very attentive to your needs as well as your comfort levels, constantly checking in and making sure you’re okay.

You’re more than okay by the time you’re done, the two of you collapsing back onto the bed, sweaty and panting.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out staring at the ceiling.

You smirk, pulling the sheet up to cover yourself, “Yup.”

You lay in silence for a few moments as you catch your breaths before Stiles speaks again.

“I hope tonight makes us even, because I think that counts as two additional favors,” He says teasingly, but when you don’t immediately respond, his head turns to you quickly, “You finished both times right?”

You chuckle softly and nod, turning your head towards him as well, “I did.”

“Good,” he sighs in relief, “I did, too.”

“I know you did.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but laughs softly, “Right.”

“And I’d say I was the one doing the favor,” You muse, “Now the next time you find a girl willing to sleep with you, you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve.”

He huffs with a nod, “I guess you’re right.” Another few moments of silence pass between you when Stiles looks at you again, and asks softly, “But seriously, it was good for you?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes.”

“Like, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“When have I ever worried about preserving your feelings? Trust me, if it was bad or you were doing something wrong I would have told you.”

“Yeah I guess that’s true,” he sighs. Another beat. “But like on a scale of one to ten?”

“Stiles!”

“I know, I know.” he regresses. “Can I ask for real though - and full permission to punch me if this is insensitive - but compared to the last guy…was I better?”

He watches you stare at him blankly for a few seconds before he starts to back pedal. “Probably not right? He was probably way more experienced even if he..”

“This was better.”

He turns to you again in surprise.

“You were better.”

Stiles stutters, “R-really?”

You nod, “You’re not an asshole who only thinks about himself. Don’t ever lose that quality.”

Stiles smiles softly, his cheeks warming up again.

“Seriously, it was good. Great even,” You continue, “If that’s what you’re like with me, I can’t imagine how good it would be with a girl you actually like.”

That last statement was like a bucket of cold water splashing over him. Right. You guys hated each other. And you were still the same girl who made his life inexplicably harder this year. But those things were easy to forget while he stared at you, your messy hair splayed across your pillow, your bare skin lit by the soft glow of the candles in your room, with a few noticeable marks across your collarbone that he was responsible for.

But this would be the first and last time this ever happened. And he will probably have complicated feelings about it for the foreseeable future, knowing the memory of his first time will always connect him to you. But he surprisingly feels less guilty than he would have thought.

“I should probably go,” He whispers after another few seconds of taking her and the moment in. Part of him wishes he didn’t have to leave at all and continue living in this bubble of false reality and denial. But he thinks his brain takes over in an act of self preservation to get out of there before he gets in too deep.

“Yeah, you probably should,” You whisper back, taking a deep breath.

He watches you sit up, dragging the sheet covering you up with you. He sucks in a breath as you grab a dark purple robe off of your bedpost and slip it on, covering the rest of your body and taking the image away from him. With that, he also forces himself up, locating his boxers and jeans on the floor and pulling them on.

You circle your bed as he starts to pull on his flannel again. He feels nervous under your gaze, and about how to act right now, making him fumble with the buttons. Without a word, you reach out and slowly and quietly help him finish buttoning it. He takes this one last opportunity to watch your face at this level of proximity, knowing he’ll probably never have the chance to do that again.

As you finish the top button, you look up at his gaze still laser focused on you, and for some reason he doesn’t feel compelled to look away.

“Thank you for tonight,” You say softly with a small smirk playing at your lips, “Thought I just needed a protection spell after the summer I had, but I guess I needed that as well.”

Stiles feels himself smirk too, “Happy to be of service to both.”

You slide your hands across his chest, smoothing out his shirt before taking a deep breath and step back.

“So, business as usual? I’m sure we’ll run into each other again once Scott gets himself into some more supernatural shit, and we’ll be back at each other’s throats in no time.”

Stiles chuckles, “I look forward to it.”

You give him your version of a tiny genuine smile. “Do you need me to walk you out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m sure I can find my way.”

You nod, also taking in his appearance under the glow of the candles while you can. You decide to take the opportunity to close the distance between the two of you and kissing him chastely one last time.

Stiles closes his eyes and reciprocates automatically, but the kiss is over before its even begun. He watches you pull away from him, unable to tear his eyes away from yours.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” you whisper before stepping away and walking around him towards your desk again to clean up.

With his back towards you now, he smiles to himself, huffing in disbelief at the night he’s had.

“Goodnight,” He says back softly as he takes steps towards your door. He glances back at you one last time, before leaving and finding his way back downstairs and out your front door.

Once he shut the door after sliding into the driver's seat, he lets out a long deep breath and rubs his face. Losing his virginity to his self-proclaimed mortal enemy was not on his bingo card for the night - or ever. But the more he sits with it, the more he’s weirdly pleased that it happened. Honestly, it was like best case scenario. Figuring out sex with someone he’s not trying to impress - well, to a certain degree - took some of the pressure off. And now he doesn't have to think about it anymore. Unfortunately, it was really good. Extremely good. Too good to just have been a one time thing, and part of him is disappointed there’s no chance of ever experiencing it again.

It was for the best. The moment hell freezes over is when he’d have actual feelings past irritation and mild rage when it came to you. So he shakes his head, putting their night together behind him as he pulls out of your driveway.

Still in your bedroom, you lean against the wall watching him drive away from the window. You smile to yourself, having a sneaking feeling this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you do this. Stiles just didn’t know it yet.

author's note: dying to know what people think of this, not the type of stuff i usually write. firstly, sorry for the lack of steam, i've never written smut and not sure i ever will but hope it alluded to enough for yall. also again, took my witch idea and flipped it into an alternate universe where the reader is a lil evil. there are elements of the other pieces i'm writing that assumes similar lore/backstory for the witch, but in this version, you don't grow up as stiles & scott's bff, you're isolated leading to some villianous tendancies. i also know i hinted at a lot of back story with some pieces from seasons 1-2, with this ultimately taking place right before season 3. so i have some ideas of writing other parts that dive into some of those moments, plus more parts that come after this of course. so let me know what kind of stuff you're interested in seeing from evil!witch x stiles (evil being used pretty loosely) THANK YOU FOR READING!

#stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x witch!reader #cursed from the start #mine #my writing #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago

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Reader sending Aaron cute messages when he’s off on cases and him not realizing he’s kinda smiling when reading them? Or they just make him in a much better mood in general and the others let reader know when they’re officially introduced? Idk it sounded cute in my head LOL

all thanks to you

omg that's ADORABLE cw; FLUFF

"you!" you had merely crossed the threshold of dave's foyer, only to be attacked by a sudden, warm embrace.

"me?" you said within a laugh. you caught yourself before penelope's abrupt hug caused you to lose your footing, quick to reciprocate and the butterflies in your stomach somewhat lessening.

it was your very first night meeting the bau team, and you had been beside yourself with nerves for close to a week now - ever since aaron had first mentioned the get-together. as they were the next closest thing to aaron's family than jack, you equally wanted to make a perfect first impression.

you must've shown aaron at least five potential outfits before you had left his apartment, asking him over again if he were sure the time was right for you to meet them, and if he was even more sure they would take to you.

aaron had reassured you, that first, you would look stunning in whatever you wore. and second, they would adore you. he offered the comfort that he himself wasn't worried, because he knew them, and he knew you. "trust me," he had said, chuckling softly as he grabbed his car keys. "i'll be long forgotten once they get to know you."

likewise, aaron had already warned you - penelope was ecstatic to meet you and would not keep that hidden in the slightest. but if she were half of what aaron had already described, you knew the two of you were guaranteed to be instant friends. and her current show, was pure evidence of that.

"it's so nice to finally meet you. you have no idea how long i've been waiting." penelope grinned, buzzing from ear to ear. "like, once hotch opened a text from you while we were all sitting around, y'know, being productive. and boy, i knew he was a goner."

"really?"

"are you kidding? okay," she takes a second, as if she's mentally preparing herself, ready to paint the picture. "we were sitting there, like i said. his phone goes off, and y'know that normal face he makes - eyebrows kinda pinched, mr mcpouty pants? - you know the one. he picks up his phone, reads it and he smiles. full-on smiles, right in front of us. he didn't think we noticed, but we did. didn't he smile?" her hand smacks out onto derek's arm, who happened to be passing by, resulting in a gentle slap.

"yeah babygirl." derek flashed a smile in your direction. "saw it with my own eyes."

"so," penelope's hand now flew onto your arm, resuming her energetic story. "when he realized he smiled, god forbid right - mr grumpy face returns, rather labored this time because again, the world will end if we witness anything otherwise. hotch simply puts down his phone as if it were nothing, but oh my god, he was blushing so hard i thought he was gonna explode. he was so so tickled."

"aww," you laughed, your lips curving into a smile and more love for aaron - if it were possible- swelling in the middle of your chest. "that's so sweet."

"oh honey, and that's one time out of, millions. dare i say, he got used to smiling and was generally in such a better mood all around." she lightly shakes your arm. "earlier nights, later morning starts, no more mr mcpouty pants - well, for the most part. all thanks to you!"

you felt a familiar presence still behind you, a hand finding your back. "you blush when i text you?" you turned your head up towards aaron, blush of your very own tinting your cheeks.

aaron shrugged reservedly, helping you slide your coat off your shoulders and folding it over his arm. "i did mainly at the beginning."

"sir, no." penelope shook her head, a pleased smirk vibrant on her face as her gaze switched between the two of you. "you were blushing today."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine

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spncvr · 10 months ago

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waiting room | s. reid

summary: spencer can't seem to escape the girl in the waiting room

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of reid's addiction & tobias hankel, mentions of kidnapping and mass shootings (in, like, a joking way??) my terrible, terrible humour, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE LMAO, this is deffo terrible, pls tell me if i missed anything!!

a/n: ok idk if i wanna continue this and make it a series so lmk lol (also im on writers block so i literally can't come up with SHIT)

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

At least, that’s what he’d call himself. His colleague, Derek Morgan would most likely (and by most likely, he means, definitely already has) call him an overanalysing introvert. But in Spencer’s defense, there has never really been a good reason to go out and “live your life”. Consider this:

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

Leave the apartment for a short while? A stalker finds out where he lives, kidnaps him in his sleep, and, in a nightmarish turn, auctions off his organs to the bidder in the black market.

Besides, his life isn’t some John Green book. There were no life-affirming adventures or poetic moments of self-discovery awaiting him. Carpe diem? A fanciful notion for others, but for him, not so much. Sorry, Mr. Keating.

Yet life—or more accurately, bureau protocol— had its own plans. Ever since the Tobias Hankel incident, a visit to the psychologist wasn’t just a request but rather (unfortunately for him) an order. Which meant, he’d have to risk his entire life to get up and walk for ten whole minutes just to sit and wait, in this glaringly bright waiting room, when he could have stayed at home and read the new books he’d gotten from his team as a get-well gift.

Speaking of which, why the gifts? He was fine. Physically, at least. But really, when have you ever seen get-well-soon cards in an asylum? Well, alright, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic. A visit to the psychologist doesn’t mean he’ll be institutionalised—but then again, Spencer Reid was never one to wear rose-tinted glasses.

This is his third time in the waiting room, and she’s always there. He isn’t sure as to why she is, because, well, unlike himself, she was very clearly an optimist—and at least, from the looks of it, she hasn’t been kidnapped and drugged in the past month. But she's sitting there again, in the exact same chair for the past three weeks, along with a beacon of smiles where joy usually fears to trend. Maybe, he isn't as good of a profiler as he’d like to think he is.

“Dr. Reid?” the call of his name rips him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the same kind woman he’s seen the past three weeks—not the one in the waiting room, no, he means his therapist.

Dr. Brown was easy to profile: She wore heels to make herself look taller, and she hated wearing glasses, apparent by how she would continuously place them atop her head instead of her nose. Her teeth were abnormally perfect, which meant, she’d had to wear braces when she was younger—which (from his humbling experience) means she wasn’t exactly the most popular at school. Perhaps, psychology felt appealing to her because she could help people like her.

“How are you?” she asks, her pen clicking.

Usually, he’d offer her a meek shrug. The kind that could win awards for its commitment to non-commitment. Besides, he’s not one to talk about how he feels—there isn’t much to say, anyway. And let’s face it, “How are you?” in the grand tapestry of human interaction is almost as genuine as a three-dollar bill. And, get this, the average person asks “How are you?” 6,739 times a year but only listens to the answer about half the time—well, okay, maybe those numbers might have been fabricated, but isn’t the sincerity behind the question also made up? But instead of telling her all this, he remembers what Hotch had told him, one, two, three weeks ago: that he ought to cooperate with Dr. Brown or the board won’t be happy. So, he kisses his teeth before he says:

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

PLS TELL ME IF I SHLD CONTIUE OR NOT LOLOLOL spam my inbox with ideas I BEG.

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reidsc0nverse · 2 years ago

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pov your instagram when dating spencer reid pt 3

OH MY GOD GUYS ILY SM this might be the last one for now bc i've been working on other projects but yeah here you go 🤭

Liked by hotboylukealvez, princesspennyg and 141 others

(y/n) Snuck into one of his lessons and took this keeper

View all 25 comments

spencerreid1 It wasn't sneaking in when I caught you red handed the minute you sat down.

-> (y/n) stfu and let it the post look cute

-> spencerreid1 I just wanted to let everyone know the truth hun.

jjareau hes in his element

-> emilyprenty and a grandpa sweater

-> derekm But fresh ass shoes

-> emilyprenty @/derekm ehh...

paparossi So you willingly went to listen to him lecture for fun?

-> (y/n) yes 🙄

-> paparossi don't you get enough of that at work??

Liked by dr.taralewis, AaronHotchner, and 221 others

(y/n) what we decided to do on our off day (he finished it in like half an hour)

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emilyprenty you guys are such nerds wtf

-> (y/n) i'm your nerd

-> paparossi Not this again

-> spencerreid1 @/paparossi You're telling me.

spencerreid1 You need to learn to read faster, I was sitting there for hours waiting for you to finish.

-> (y/n) i'm never reading with you again

-> derekm seems like trouble in paradise

-> (y/n) you're gonna get blocked derek

Liked by emilyprenty, AshleySeaver, and 241 others

(y/n) im just leaving this here

View all 26 comments

spencerreid1 I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST THIS

-> (y/n) it looked to good to NOT post

-> princesspennyg This is adorable 🙃

-> spencerreid1 @/princesspennyg Do some hacker thing and take this down please.

-> princesspennyg Not happening

emilyprenty im not so sure his IQ is actually 187 after seeing this

-> (y/n) yeah idk either...

(ok ik this one doesn't have spencer but i love this pic sm leave me alone)

Liked by hotboylukealvez, Kristy_Simmons and 174 others

(y/n) the best mf gals in the fbi

View all 28 comments

spencerreid1 I wasn't invited.

-> (y/n) girls only 🙄

-> emilyprenty you have cooties

-> dr.taralewis sucks to suck

princesspennyg WE NEED TO DO THIS AGAIN 🥳🥳🥳🥳

-> derekm With me next time

-> (y/n) Youre funny derek

-> derekm I was fr

-> (y/n) i wasnt

Liked by paparossi, Will_LaMontagne and 174 others

(y/n) Note to self: don't let derek give spence fashion advice

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derekm You're just a hater it looks good

-> (y/n) yeah if you're blind

-> emilyprenty HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

jjareau yeah I think the sweater vests are the way to go

-> (y/n) id much rather that than whatever THIS is

again tysm for all the love on the last parts i'm so grateful and hopefully the first chapter of a new fic im writing will be out in the next week! love yall

#criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #jenifer jareau #tara lewis #spencer reid x fem!reader

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will80sbyers · 25 days ago

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Okay so my thoughts about these pictures...

Spoilers under the cut!

I think these might be from the first episodes 1 or 2 or 3 ( I think ep. 1 because they look fresh lmao), Nancy is in her nurse outfit that she has for some reason probably related to the plot and I think El is possibly training her powers with Hopper and Joyce because she wants to be ready to fight Vecna, again probably in the first episodes because of the outfits they all have on -

oh also they have the bikes of the kids in the car idk why

I think this may also be from the first episodes, maybe ep. 2, and Erica is at the Turnbow residence for some reason - maybe she knows Derek if it gets confirmed that he's their son like we thought and

there's this lady on the left of the picture because of the outfit so Erica is having a meal with them ? I had thought that Lucas was there at the mansion to pick her up and yeah I think that's happening probably!

I think this pic of El could be either at the lab somewhere or in the military base maybe? I'm not really sure of this, seems like there's action happening tho

This might be from around ep. 3 or after because of the outfit Robin has on, we know Murray drives that truck in and out of the military checkpoint

After episode 4, Dustin is in the lab in the upside down, and I think Steve is for sure with him - not sure why they go there

They are dressed like after ep. 3 I think (?), not sure where they are, there's stuff like a chainsaw in the back but I can't recognize the place...

This must be part of the first episodes too because Joyce had that shirt at the radio station too

in this one they are dressed like after ep. 3 I think, they are for sure inside the radio station

and I do think that I guessed right, and the one getting blood on her was Joyce, not sure if she's the one that gets hurt tho, it could be Karen and then Joyce gets blood on her - to me it looks like the same type of shoe

No actually maybe it's not the same but maybe she changed the shoes and the first one is in the first episode??? I'm not sure now but it's the same style so I'm leaning towards the blood shoe being hers too

and, finally, here they are clearly watching the byler kiss! That's it :)))

#stranger things #byler #st5 spoilers #st5 speculation

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ssaaaronmontgomery · 2 years ago

Note

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

#criminalskies!!#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #request #hotchner #mon answers 🩷

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problemchildtm · 7 months ago

Text

Demolition

Derek Morgan x bau!reader

Angst/fluff~ 1.9k words

Warnings: Attachment issues, mentions of childhood trauma, bullying, self deprecating thoughts, suffering in silence (none specific), barely proofread, as always lmk if there’s more

A/n: My attempt at @reiderwriter ‘s 5K challenge. I started with one idea in mind then it kinda spiraled so this is the result. I’m still learning about writing so bear with me. This was so fun and congrats on 5K!!!!

Prompts: Grumpy x sunshine, Oh. OH, idiots in love maybe idk???

“She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggled grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never truly lived.”

Offputting, standoffish, rude: all words used to describe your demeanor and/or personality. A combination of these and more have run through your head for so long they’ve become a backtrack to your innermost thoughts. Though these were common sentiments thrown in your direction, you had little confidence in them. The words were hurled by people who would never truly know you nor make it past the walls you’ve so carefully created. No one has succeeded or even tried to climb the barriers until Derek Morgan. You’ve been with the Bau for a little over two years and while the majority of the team learned to accept your cold demeanor, Derek continues his attempt to coax you out of your shell. It’s not like you’re hostile, you just don’t go out of your way to be nice. Rather than converse and joke with the team you sit by yourself in silence. You speak when spoken to and refuse to drag out conversations or engage in small talk. The behavior was disheartening but necessary for your survival. Each action had an intention and they all boiled down to being averse to attachments. Small talk led to hangouts, hangouts led to friendships, friendships led to attachments, and attachments always led to heartbreak. Never once has an attachment left you feeling fulfilled. You’d been a witness to this fact a plethora of times and were determined to prevent the effects happening to you. It took some time but almost everyone eventually gave up their missions to get to know you. Almost everyone.

Derek Morgan was sickengly sweet to you. Every morning he insisted on making your first cup of coffee and every morning a note was left on that cup. Affirmations like “Good things are coming your way” or “You are a priority.” Honestly, it sounded straight out of a fortune cookie. It was dorky and inefficient yet you found yourself keeping every note. Not because you enjoyed them or found comfort in them or anything it would just be rude to throw it away. Right? Right. And it didn’t end with the notes. He’d personally drop off the note-adorned coffee and try to strike up a conversation. You’d always give a polite thank you and that was it. Well, there was one time you actually engaged with him and you swore he never smiled that hard before. Both the smile and conversation seemed to last the whole day and the ones following. His incessant need to speak and be around you should’ve annoyed you to no end but it almost made you open up. Almost. The second you felt the reins attached to your defense mechanisms loosen you immediately tightened them. They were there for a reason and somehow Derek Morgan made you want to loosen them. Under no circumstances would you give in. So, for the foreseeable future, you’d suffer in silence and suppress the urge to be unconditionally yourself in his presence.

You persisted in rejecting Derek’s attempts to get closer to you and it hurt. Why did it hurt? Unfortunately Fortunately, the upcoming case gave you no time to think about that one. Walking into the conference room, you never expected the image on the screen. It was a map of a familiar area, aka your hometown. Clearly, hiding a rare emotion in a room of profilers was futile because every single one of them asked if you were okay- even Garcia. Frozen in shock you could only muster up “hometown.” The answer seemed to appease them but you could sense the pity floating around the room. Derek gently grabbed your hand and led you to the seat beside him, grounding you. The gesture was followed by the signature Derek Morgan smile that was reserved for you. In return, you offered a small smile back and got into the case. His lingering eyes and overall concern went unnoticed by the object of his affections but caught the eye of every other person in that room. Thankfully the case was as straightforward as serial killers can be. It appeared to be cut-and-dry but everyone knew not to assume. Hypotheses and ideas were thrown back and forth between team members but you could only focus on the possibilities plaguing your mind. Taking notice of your unnaturally frightened air Derek carefully approached. “Wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” Truthfully you didn’t know how to respond. What wasn’t going through your head more like? Understanding you couldn’t keep everything to yourself for the good of the case you started small. “A lot. I haven’t been there since I was sixteen and I wasn’t exactly well-liked.” Hanging on to your every word Derek continued, “Why not?” This time you didn’t respond, just kept staring out of the window. He was getting too close. You were getting too close. That wasn’t enough for him but he wouldn’t dare invade your boundaries; he cared too much to sacrifice the little progress he’s made. Before slipping on his headphones he remarked, “You don’t have to tell me but at least know I’m here and judgment-free.” This was going to be a long case.

The first few days were spent compiling evidence and chasing bodies as the case wasn’t as simple as previously thought. Each minute spent there was pulling at you. It felt like your body was constantly on fire, the only thing cooling you off being scribbles on a paper cup. The messages were less generic and more heartfelt. Unlike other mornings Derek backed off, giving you space to process your thoughts and notes. You missed the near-constant chatter and focused all your energy on the case, hoping it would return once on to the next. After a while, you had a lead. With Reid’s help the geographical profile was done and right in the center was a park you frequented as a kid. Maybe less than a park and more like a grass field surrounded by office buildings but tomato tomato. Hotch assigned you and Morgan to check it out so that’s what you went off to do. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. He looked over and smiled. “You gonna tell me the significance of this patch of grass or do I have to profile it out of you?” Rolling your eyes you relented. There was no point in dragging it. “I grew up poor and the local park charged entry. Every poor kid in the area would come here.” The look of shock on his face wasn’t missed despite his efforts to conceal it. “I’ve never heard of a park charging kids to play is that even legal?” “Unfortunately for you, I am not Reid and cannot give you an answer.” you chuckled. That was the first time he heard you laugh in any capacity and he was so determined to hear it again. “You should laugh more, it’s adorable.” Adorable? You’ve been called a lot of names in your life: by your parents, peers, teachers, superiors, you name it. Adorable has never been one of them. You spent a couple of seconds analyzing him. “You think I’m adorable?” At the end of your sentence, that smile reappeared. “Incredibly. Especially when you try not to smile at my jokes.” He said playfully. Dumbfounded, the only retort you had was honesty. “I don’t smile much anymore. I want to but I can’t.” “Why not?” As much as you wanted the conversation to continue, you couldn’t help but notice how different your childhood hotspot looked. While his eyes were still on you you jumped out of the SUV and took in your surroundings. It smelt different. Years ago it smelt like wonder. As hopeless as it sounds the area smelt like wonder. It felt like an entirely different reality. One you could escape to when things at home and school were bad and that was often if not continuously. It no longer felt like that. It felt cold, bare even. The childlike wonder was gone, the hope was gone, your escape was gone. Suddenly your eyes began to well with tears and the floodgates opened. "You didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, you were nothing but a child who had never lived." The emotions overwhelmed every sense and the brass reality hit like a truck. All the walls, all the precautions stopped you from ever truly living. You clung onto that escape and depended on it, perpetually remaining the child that needed to come here to truly live. You wanted to be more open, you wanted to have friends and relationships, you wanted to be better.

Everything came to a head when Derek rushed over to you, frantically asking if you were okay. He’s never seen you cry. Before today he’s never seen you be anything other than complacent. The past fifteen minutes have been the most amount of emotions he’s seen from you and he didn’t know what to do or how to help. Worried, he stuck to a bearhug and a mantra: “You’re okay, you’re safe, come back to me please.” He was practically begging after five minutes. In between breaths, you managed to get out a strangled “Why do you like me? Why haven’t you given up on me?” You were still crying but Derek knew he needed to act. He pulled away and softly wiped your tears, forcing you to look at him. “I need you to copy my breathing baby, can you do that?” It took some time but you were able to get your breathing under control, the tears not so much. Silence took over the two of you until he spoke up. “Why would I give up on you? Everyone suffers differently. You choose silence and that’s okay, the only thing I can do is be a shoulder for you to cry on if you choose it. I haven’t given up because I want you to be happy.” He paused, gathering his next thoughts. “I like you because you’re unapologetically you. You try to detach yourself and not care but you’re not great at it. I know you sneak Garcia’s favorite snacks into her lair and don’t think I’m oblivious to you being the one to listen to Reid’s ramblings when the rest of us tune him out.” You interrupted him. “You guys should stop doing that by the way it’s mean” For the first time in what felt like forever he laughed. “See that’s what I mean. You hide behind a grumpy exterior but you’re so much more than that, and that’s one of the many reasons I like you.” You just stared at him. You couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to you like that, let alone the last time someone saw beyond your gruff exterior. You started to apologize for the breakdown but he quickly nipped that, explaining how you don’t need to feel sorry. You felt safe for once. The cold feeling dissipated and was replaced by an unfamiliar warmth. The tears stopped and you were hyperfocused on the way the man in front of you met your eyes. The silence that hung over you felt like normalcy that only lasted a second before Derek spoke up. “If it wasn’t clear baby I like you.” You looked up at him confused. “I know you just told me that.” A dopey smile spread across his face as he answered. “No, I like you and want to take you out on a date.” Oh. OH. You smiled. A real, toothy, dopey smile that matched his. “I’d like that.” The walls began chipping away.

It would take time and resources to completely demolish them but for the first time you were excited for the demolition.

#reidersdaydreams #reidersshootingstars #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fic #criminal minds #bau #cm #angst with a happy ending #fluff #angst #fanfic

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