#let's focus on derek's arm

[letciatxs]

he's so tiny i love him so much 😪😪

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on Sonic 3!

On December 10th, 2018, I was on the last day of a trip to Milwaukee. The night before, I'd attended the wedding of one of my best friends, Jake, who I've known since high school. Even though half of us were sick the whole trip, it was a great time. Derek had asked the wedding DJ to play "One Week" as the first request of the night, and proceeded to lip sync the entire song on the dance floor. On that cold winter morning in a hotel room hundreds of miles from home, Derek and I groggily checked Twitter on our phones and saw the shocking news: Paramount had teased the design for Sonic from their upcoming live action film. Even in silhouette, the shape of his face and the realistic curvature of his limbs made him look like a grotesque little homunculus. This movie was going to suck.

Six years later, I've now seen the third entry in what's become a hugely successful Sonic film franchise. It features Keanu Reeves as the voice of Shadow the Hedgehog in a fairly faithful adaptation of his story from Sonic Adventure 2. At the time of writing, it currently sits at a whopping 86% positive rating on Rotten Tomatoes, vying for the title of the best-reviewed theatrically released video game movie of all time. Critics are saying nice things about the emotional journey of Shadow the Hedgehog. Never in a million years did I think I'd see this day.

I, too, have now seen this movie, and... yeah, it's pretty good.

I'm gonna get deep into spoilers here, so I'll just say up front that I liked the movie. It feels like just about the best possible execution of this version of Sonic. But that's also damning it with faint praise, depending on who you ask.

If you're a fan of the games who didn't like the second movie, you probably won't get much out of this one, either, unless you just really love Shadow so much that nothing else in the movie matters to you. It doesn't reinvent the wheel for this film series. It's still got a heaping helping of broad comedy, cheap pop culture references, bad one-liners, and characterization that diverges greatly from the source material. This is not high art, nor is it a direct adaptation of Sonic Adventure 2. If you're the kind of person who hates this portrayal of Sonic and Eggman, or a lore nerd who'll hate that they let Shadow do Chaos Control without an Emerald, then just don't bother with this.

On the other hand, if you did enjoy the last movie, then you'll probably have a fun time here, too. Shadow is very cool. The action is the best it's ever been. There's a bit more focus on characters from the games, and less on human characters invented for the movies—with the exception of Agent Stone, who's in this a lot because everyone likes him. There's a lot of SA2 fanservice. They even play "Live and Learn." It's a fun time! Be sure to stick around through the end credits.

And now, to dig deeper, let's get into the spoilers! I'm gonna jump around a lot and talk about different aspects of the movie, spoiling everything along the way.

Shadow and his reams of lore

Here's the main thing you came for: Shadow is great in this! They really did him justice. Keanu Reeves is extremely solid in the role. He can be a bit flat as an actor sometimes, but I think he did well here. He can be tough and menacing, but he can also be earnest and emotionally vulnerable. Good casting call. Excited at the prospect of seeing more of him in the future.

Really, as a Sonic Lore Nerd I'm most interested in discussing the changes they made to Shadow's backstory. I'm sure there will be many fans upset with the changes, but for the sake of streamlining a complicated backstory that was subject to a bunch of retcons and multiple layers of amnesia and fitting it into a 110-minute movie, I think they generally made smart choices.

For one, Gerald didn't create Shadow using Black Arms DNA, because Gerald didn't create Shadow at all! Instead, Shadow arrived on Earth inside a meteor, and Gerald was merely the prominent GUN scientist who studied him after he was captured. (That meteor does have very strong Black Arms vibes, though, so I wouldn't rule out the possibility of them exploring that stuff in the future.) This simplifies things a lot and allows Shadow to be a direct foil for Sonic, kind of a version of our hero who was treated as a lab rat and lost the only human he considered family instead of finding happiness like Sonic has. Then later Shadow hurts Tom and Sonic wants revenge, and it mirrors Shadow's feelings about Maria, and after they fight they can empathize with each other over this, Shadow sees the error of his ways and helps save the world, yada yada yada. You get it. People predicted 95% of this movie's plot from the trailers, but it's effective.

Likewise, all of the stuff about creating Shadow as the ultimate life form who's immune to all disease to cure Maria's illness is completely cut out. Shadow's still called the ultimate life form, but he's treated as more of an energy source than a genetic research project here, playing off of the stuff about Eggman wanting to harness Sonic's natural Chaos Energy in the movies. The original intent behind the ultimate life form project was always hard to explain in the games and doesn't even come up that much, so I don't blame them for cutting it.

Because Gerald isn't doing genetic experiments and creating artificial life, the Biolizard also doesn't exist. It does, however, appear in an old monster movie Shadow and Maria watch in a montage, with Shadow later commenting that he worries he's a monster like the one he saw in the movie. That's a clever way to include it, I think.

The ARK sort of exists. There was no space colony back in the '70s, all of the events of Shadow's flashbacks just took place at a secret GUN base on Earth. Fair enough for a version of the story ostensibly set in the real world. The big space laser in the third act of the film is obviously supposed to evoke the ARK, but it's referred to as simply the Eclipse Cannon. It's still not a full-blown space colony, just a weapon of mass destruction Gerald designed for GUN in exchange for his release (while also secretly planning to use it to blow up the planet in an act of revenge). I am, however, pleased to report that the Eclipse Cannon still has a giant Eggman face on it.

And as for Maria: I like her in this! She's obviously not going to get a ton of screentime, and she's always going to be a very straightforward character, but she's more playful and lively here. She teases Shadow for being grumpy and plays with him a lot. She feels less like this perfect embodiment of everything good and pure in the world and more like an actual kid. She's still not a complex character, but it works.

And the most important question: do they show a child getting shot and killed by the military? The answer is almost. In the flashback, GUN soldiers chase Maria, Shadow, and Gerald and ready their guns, but the young Commander Walters (who's in his 20s rather than being a kid) grabs them and tries to stop them from firing on a child. In the chaos, a soldier fires, missing Maria but hitting a generator that then blows up and kills Maria. So, y'know, close enough I suppose.

So, yes, many of the details change here, but they captured the gist of Shadow's story from SA2. The emotional core is there. I will say, though, I almost feel like Shadow isn't in this movie as much as I thought he'd be? I think he's used effectively in all of his scenes, and they make room for his backstory, and BOY does he get to kick ass in his fights, but for much of the middle part of the movie he's overshadowed by Ivo and Gerald. Though this might be a compromise to leave more screentime for...

Tails and Knuckles

I'm relieved to report that Tails and Knuckles both get a good amount of cool stuff to do in this! They don't feel like an afterthought.

I was worried that Tails in particular would completely fall by the wayside, since even his debut movie didn't entirely know what to do with him. But he's good here. He pretty much just feels like the Tails from the games at this point, especially since they dropped that fawning admiration he had for Sonic with that running gag of him going "Only Sonic the Hedgehog could do that!" He often chimes in as the one who wants Team Sonic to stick together when Sonic and Knuckles bicker. He particularly gets to shine in the Mission Impossible-inspired heist sequence at the GUN headquarters in London that serves as the climax of the second act, which feels like it was tailor made to let him shine as the tech guy of the team. He also gets several opportunities to swoop in and catch someone for a save in an action scene. He's good in this!

Knuckles is... fine. He's definitely fallen into the role of the comic relief dumb bruiser since joining the good guys, but he's at least a little better than he was in his own streaming show. The jokes lean more into him just being really brash about his strength and skill, rather than him being this archaic warrior who doesn't understand anything about the modern world. He also gets a few more serious bits in the back third of the movie where he gets to shine a little more, so overall it evens out to him being fine. They could've done way worse.

As for the relevance of the Knuckles show: Knuckles is now said to be the guardian of the Master Emerald, like in the games, though with no Angel Island this amounts to him hiding it somewhere for safekeeping. It's eventually revealed that he just gave it to Wade, who gets exactly one scene (sorry, Wade-heads) for a joke about him using the Master Emerald as a hockey puck. So, the miniseries explained why Knuckles has a connection with Wade. That's it! Also I think Knuckles might use the Flames of Disaster a bit in fights, but they never called the technique out by name, so I never really thought about it. So, yeah, the six-episode streaming miniseries about Wade bowling has zero meaningful relevance to the Shadow movie. Who could have seen this coming?

Miscellaneous humans

For that matter, the human supporting cast is MASSIVELY downplayed in this one. Tom and Maddie are there for two key sequences (the beginning of the movie and the GUN HQ heist), but otherwise they disappear for long stretches of the movie. They don't go to Japan in act I, nor do they go to space in act III, and there's no subplot for them during those periods, either. There's nothing like the wedding subplot in Sonic 2 where they'd constantly cut back to Hawaii for comic relief with the humans and only reveal why this was relevant to the plot near the end. (There's also no random dance battle in Siberia.) If a human character is here, it's because they have something to contribute to the plot right away. Most people will probably consider this an improvement, and I'd certainly say it makes for a much tighter script, though I have to remind everyone that I thought the wedding being a GUN sting operation was such a funny twist that I'm a defender of the Hawaii subplot.

On the subject of Tom, something funny I've noticed is that they've just completely downplayed the fact that Tom and Wade are cops. Tom being a cop never comes up once. Wade being a cop only gets referenced via the fact that he's practicing hockey on the roof of the police station in his one scene, but he's not in uniform or anything. They clearly got the memo that we don't want Sonic to hang out with cops.

Here's something else funny: Rachel and Randall got character posters, but they're actually not in the movie! Not technically, anyway. During the heist sequence at GUN HQ, Tom and Maddie use some gadgets Tails invented to holographically disguise themselves as those other characters. But the real Rachel and Randall never show up in the flesh. It's a very odd way to shoehorn the actors into the movie. (Jojo is also absent. They did not give her Amy's role of being the girl who reminds Shadow of Maria. Instead they just let Sonic have the big heart to heart with Shadow that makes him switch sides.)

You know who IS in this movie? Krysten Ritter. Not as the voice of Rouge, as the fandom once hoped, but as a director for GUN. She gets like three scenes and she feels completely checked out the whole time. Can't say I blame her! She's not really a character, just a plot necessity. Commander Walters dies in Japan but gives Sonic one of two keycards needed to activate the Eclipse Cannon, and then Ritter's character assumes Sonic stole it and labels him a bad guy. So that's why they have to break into GUN HQ in the second act instead of just talking things out with them. Still, I am at least relieved that Sonic doesn't work with GUN for most of the movie.

I gotta be honest: when Walters pulled a credit card-shaped object out of his pocket, I thought he was about to give Sonic another Olive Garden gift card as his final act before dying. Part of me wishes that happened.

The supporting human character in this who really gets to shine is Agent Stone, which I'm sure most fans will agree was the correct choice. There's a LOT of Agent Stone in this. He's good. I don't have much to say about him, but he's fun as usual.

But, of course, the ones who steal the show are Jim Carrey, and his costar Jim Carrey.

The Robotniks

I've gone back and forth on whether or not I can actually see movie Robotnik as Robotnik. I think with this third and final entry in the Jim Carrey Robotnik Trilogy, I've landed on... yeah, that's just Jim Carrey playing a Jim Carrey character. He's absolutely having fun with the role, and I enjoyed watching him, but I think a lot of that comes down to the fact that I'm a millennial who grew up watching Jim Carrey movies. If you didn't like him before, this movie will probably be nails on a chalkboard to you, because now there are two of him.

Ivo's arc here leans very heavily into the fact that he grew up as an orphan and never knew his family, a thing offhandedly mentioned in the first movie that's never been a thing for any other version of the character. Here, he learns that he has a living grandfather who's also a mad scientist, and it feels like a hole in his heart has been filled. It certainly makes sense for a place to take this version of the character, and it fits with the movie's themes of finding and losing family, but the cartoonish, childlike affection Ivo feels towards Gerald and all the scenes of them frolicking and dancing together have basically nothing to do with the characters from the games. He's a fun villain for this movie, but he's overwhelmingly used as comic relief this time rather than as a serious threat. He doesn't particularly feel like Sega's Dr. Ivo Robotnik, the arch nemesis of Sonic the Hedgehog who'd take over the world with an army of robots and a fleet of airships in the span of a day if Sonic wasn't around to stop him. He's a guy who lives in a big crab robot and has some drones. He has more in common with Carrey's depictions of the Grinch or the Riddler or Count Olaf than Dr. Eggman. Though he does, at least, finally get his outfit from the games by the end of the movie. So that's something. And also he's in a fat suit now. They only make jokes at the expense of his weight a little. Hooray...?

Gerald, meanwhile, is... largely the same character as movie Eggman, but older, so they can make jokes about him having saggy flesh and smelling funny and needing dentures. (Also, his voice kind of sounds like Homer Simpson sometimes?) To his credit, Carrey absolutely nails the handful of more serious scenes Gerald gets, whether it's Maria's death or his sinister turn when he reveals that he actually wants to destroy the Earth. But then it's right back to goofs about there being two of the same guy. Even the final battle features a lot of slapstick shenanigans with the two Robotniks fighting each other. I was able to enjoy the absurdity of it all, but if the humor doesn't land for you the dual Jim Carrey schtick is a hell of a lot of the movie. I wouldn't be surprised if there was more Gerald than Shadow in the movie, when you go and tally up their screentime. I was able to enjoy the sheer absurdity of it, but your mileage will vary.

I will, however, say that the split screen stuff they do with the two Carreys is EXTREMELY impressive, from a filmmaking perspective. They were absolutely flexing with their ability to pull the effect off. They don't rely on cheap tricks like cutting a lot, or having shot/reverse shot scenes where you're looking at the back of a body double's head. Instead they have a lot of long takes where the two Robotniks are talking to each other, you can see both of their faces, and they'll even hug and touch each other a lot, and the whole time the conversation maintains a natural pace like it really is two actors playing off of each other. It's really well done. It's an incredibly silly idea, but boy did they commit to it.

Sonic

I've hardly said anything about Sonic himself in all of this. It's his movie, isn't it! Well... I don't know, he's fine.

I feel like movie Sonic is a known quantity at this point, and either you like this take on the character or you don't. There was some speculation early on that this was supposed to be a younger Sonic who would grow into being the character we know from the games and comics, the one who's still got lots of quips but is also kind of aloof and cool, a free spirit who goes where the wind takes him, a figure the other characters look up to. And... no, that didn't happen. Once again he gets more serious as the stakes are raised, and he's totally badass when he goes Super, but the rest of the time he's still a little goober with tons of generic one-liners who learns schmaltzy lessons about the importance of family. He's still constantly going to undercut the tension of most scenes by cracking a pop culture reference that will make the average American parent go "haha I've heard of that." I don't think they're ever gonna change that. I think this just what the writers think Sonic is like.

And, again, for what it is, it's fine. He's a little annoying. You already know how you feel about movie Sonic. This third entry won't change that. But they do, at least, have him say "Talk about low budget flights, no food or movies... I'm outta here!" before jumping out of a helicopter. As my thoughts on the climax will show, I am not immune to fanservice.

The climax

God, the climax is SOOOOO fucking good. It's fantastic. Easily the best action these movies have ever done.

Rather than saving Super Shadow for the team-up with Sonic at the end, they have both of them go Super to fight each other first, and they just go full DBZ with it, fighting across the entire planet. It absolutely rules. I think this is the new coolest fight the two of them have had in anything ever. And then they have to stop the Eclipse Cannon together, and sure, there's no Biolizard. But Gerald DOES release a swarm of GUN Hunter robots, and the ensuing space battle turns into some Gundam shit. It's good! It's so good!!! The movie's flaws kind of melt away for me here when I'm watching Super Shadow take out an army of robots with Chaos Spears on the big screen. What a timeline we're living in.

And yes, they play "Live and Learn." They had to. They knew the assignment. They actually play a slight remix, but it's still got the original vocals, so it's perfectly recognizable. Actually, the tune of the song is used as a leitmotif for Shadow throughout the movie, first introduced via an acoustic guitar version played by Maria, and I really love that. I've been begging these movies to use more music from the games the whole time, and I'm glad they finally did so here. (They also use the traditional level clear jingle early in the film, and Eggman's theme from SA2 is very briefly used as a ringtone.)

... Anyway, uh, meanwhile Eggman, Tails, and Knuckles straight up just kill Gerald to save the world? They unceremoniously knock him into an energy field at the end of their slapstick fight aboard the Eclipse Cannon and he disintegrates like he hit a bugzapper. It's over in an instant. It's not graphic or anything, but it's, like... I didn't expect them to show it, or for it to be such a casual murder! Eggman has one quip about it and then immediately moves on.

Shortly after this, Eggman and Shadow sacrifice themselves to stop the Eclipse Cannon. Shadow's sacrifice doesn't stick, obviously (he's revealed to be alive by the end of the second stinger—pretend to be shocked), but Eggman's probably dead dead. I seriously doubt Jim Carrey's gonna come out of retirement for these movies again. His final moments before the big explosion are also SO dragged out and belabored. He has a dramatic final line like ten times in a row. It really just feels like the series saying goodbye to Carrey. And, again, it feels like a fitting enough end for this Eggman's arc, but it's an odd adaptation of the character from the games.

And so, that's what we're left with. This is far from Sonic Adventure 2: The Movie. It's not that, though there are many, many references made to that game in particular. It's a sequel to the film Sonic the Hedgehog 2 that has a similar tone and style, but Shadow and Gerald are in it, and Shadow gets some really cool fights, and there's a liiiiiittle more focus on stuff from the games than last time, and the script's a little tighter. If that sounds fun to you, you will have fun with this. I know I did. If it doesn't, you're probably better off waiting for them to inevitably do an animated reboot whenever this live action series runs out of steam.

It hasn't quite run out of steam yet, though...

The post-credits scenes, and the future

One of the big questions going into this was: what's next? How do they top a Shadow movie with heavy Sonic Adventure 2 overtones, in terms of hype for the fans? How do you fill Eggman's shoes after Carrey retires, for real this time? There are still more fan favorite rival characters to get through, but how many movies in a row can they introduce a furry foe for Sonic who inevitably turns good and helps him stop a larger threat by the end? And when the hell are we gonna see the girls?

Well, we now have our answer, and it's one I'm cautiously excited for: a whole army of Metal Sonics, and Amy!

Yes, Amy! Finally!! It's an absolute crime that we've gone three whole movies and a streaming miniseries without including the female lead of the series. I've complained about this ad nauseum (and also the fact that they cut Rouge from the story). But at least now they're finally doing something about it.

But now the question is, how will they characterize Amy? Sega's struggled with her for years, and there's a million different directions you can take her. Her one scene here has her smashing a bunch of Metal Sonics and wearing a cloak for the sake of a dramatic reveal, which gives her the vibes of a mysterious, badass action girl. This is, of course, completely different from how Sonic and Amy met in the games. What will her personality be like? She doesn't speak here, so who will they get to play her? Where did she come from? Will she even have a crush on Sonic? All of these have yet to be determined. So, like, I'm hyped to finally see Amy, a character who should've been in the movies from the start, but they could so easily end up playing it safe with an incredibly boring girlboss version of Amy who's no fun at all. We'll have to wait and see.

(My prediction: they're going to try to cast either Zendaya or Ariana as Amy.)

Metal Sonic, likewise, is very exciting, and he looks perfect. He looks just like the design from the games. But the question is: what will they do with this army of Metals? Will they be lead by one main Metal Sonic, perhaps Neo Metal Sonic, who gets to be a proper bad guy? Will they take some cues from Sonic CD, Heroes, and the OVA, or do something completely original? Where did they come from? Were they activated as a failsafe after Eggman died? Did they and Amy come from some sort of bad future, riffing on Sonic CD's time travel? Will they explore the fact that Metal wants to be the one and only Sonic? Or will they just be an army of disposable robot grunts for Sonic and friends to mow down like it's a Dynasty Warriors game, while some other villain takes center stage?

It could go so many different ways, and some prospects are more exciting than others. I mean, the Knuckles show had endless possibilities for what it could do with him, and none of the options on my bingo card were "Pachacamac's ghost tells him to help Wade win a bowling tournament." And while I'm a sicko who thinks it's funny that the Knuckles show is what it is, forgive me for keeping my hype about Amy and Metal Sonic in check here until we learn more.

Regardless of what they do, it'll still be hard to top the hype of Shadow, and it'll be hard to fill Jim Carrey's shoes for general audiences. So despite this clear statement of intent, I have no idea what the future of this film franchise holds. But regardless of what they do, I can say one thing for certain: the kids in my theater were hyped as hell for it. They popped off over Metal Sonic, and they were screaming their heads off with excitement over Amy. I heard a teenage girl on the opposite end of my row of seats say "finally!" over Amy's reveal, verbalizing my exact thoughts. She also said that this movie was "peak," though it diverged from the games, and she hoped they'd do a movie with Silver and Blaze someday.

The kids are gonna be okay.

[mariasont]

can you do aaron x wife reader who also works in the bau with him & on a case a police officer openly flirts with aaron in front of the team and reader so she stakes her claim on her husband && the team ( mostly derek & pen ) are teasing the two of them for it ??

Marked Territory - A.H

A/N: AHHHHH thinking ab claiming aaron hotchner as ur man has me giggling & kicking me feet

THANK you sooooo much for requesting angel <3 hope you like it!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

wk: 1.2k

pairings: aaron hotchner x wife!bau!fem!reader

warnings: heavy makeout, jealously

You stood a few feet away with a watchful gaze, arms locked across your chest. The consultant was laying it on thick, her eyelashes sweeping up and down in a practiced rhythm aimed at Aaron. It made you want to throw up. You couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff. The consultant's laughter pierced the quiet, an exaggerated display that felt out of place. Her hand rested on Aaron's arm a moment too long. Your glare could have set the room on fire, you were sure of it, and it only seemed to intensify when Aaron offered a polite, yet distant smile in return.

"Careful there, sugar," Derek joked, sliding into place beside you as he nudged your side. "You're about two seconds from turning this into a crime scene."

You offered a half-glance towards him, "I suppose I can't fault her taste," you said with a forced lightness, even as a twinge of jealously coiled tightly within you, your attention fixed on the hand that dared to claim familiarity with Aaron. "But good taste doesn't come with good sense, apparently."

Penelope swept in with a gasp that could rival a Greek chorus, her eyes wide with a feigned shock. "Wow, I could practically taste your fury from down the hall! Mrs. Hotchner, are we in strategy mode, or should I grab some popcorn?"

You rolled your eyes with a dismissive wave. "You two are ridiculous. What do you expect me to do? Drag her by her hair? Please, I trust Aaron," you stated firmly, because, well, you did. This, however, didn't stop the tiny spark of irritation that flickered within, unbidden and unwelcome, but you squashed it with a laugh. "Besides, if I started a catfight every time someone flirted with him, I'd need my own filing cabinet for all the assault charges."

A glance was all it took for Garcia and Morgan to share their amusement. "Sure, sure," Garcia drawled, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Morgan's eyebrow arched in silent agreement as he smiled knowingly. "Of course, you're calm. But we both know if that bubble of anger pops, it's going to be one hell of a show."

You tried to ignore it; you really did. You buried your nose in your work, determined to keep your mind off that infuriating woman. You shuffled papers, dove into your case files, and tapped away at your computer with a vigor that doesn't go unnoticed by the team. Every time you caught a glimpse of Aaron, there she was--the consultant--hovering like a shadow. It's almost comical how she mirrored his every move, but you were not laughing.

You found reasons to be anywhere but where Aaron was, taking your coffee break when he's in the break room, opting for the stairs when he took the elevator. It's a dance of avoidance that has you mentally exhausted, but you're trying to channel your inner zen, and being around that woman is doing you no favors.

The office air is thick with tension, a tangible presence that envelops your desk, your focus splintering with every laugh and hushed conversation that drifts over from Aaron's direction. You're the very image of concentration until you see it--the consultant, her proximity invasive, her hand lingering on his shoulder with a familiarity that sears through your veneer of calm. It's the tripping point, the moment your restraint fractures.

You stand, a fluid motion that betrays her anger that charged the room with an energy that has the whole team's attention snapping to you. They recognize the signs--the firm line of your jaw, the fire in your eyes--a rare display that signals an unstoppable force is about to be set in motion.

"Hotch," the name is a clear, firm declaration across the room, a tone you usually reserved for the field. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The room falls still, a collective breath held by the team as Aaron excuses himself and follows you into his office. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just the two of you. His gaze meets yours, a furrow of worry creasing his brow as he takes in the tempest swirling in your stance.

"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, the professional facade giving way to a soft undertone of worry, as he takes a deliberate step towards you, his eyes searching yours for signs of distress.

With a swift assurance of privacy, your eyes lock on the drawn blinds, and you waste no time diminishing the space between you, hands clasping up to his neck with an urgency that pulls him down to you. Your lips found his in a fervent collision, coaxing a surprised murmur from him. He softly pulled back, his chuckle deep and knowing, as his hands encircled your waist. 

"Honey--I, we're in the office."

His words may have carried a hint of reprimand, but the gentle exploration of his hands across your back drawing you nearer seemed to contradict him. An innocent smile graced your lips as your fingers wove through his hair, eliciting his head tilting back in contentment. "Just missed you is all."

An eyebrow lifted in amused acknowledgement. "Mm, is that so?"

Gently tugging his head closer, your lips crashed against his with a desperate intensity, your hands gripping him as if he were a lifeline.

With deliberate strokes, you raked your fingers through his hair, creating artful disarray. Your hands glided to his tie, tugging it just enough to break the perfect line, then across his jacket, crumpling the fabric with feigned carelessness. Each touch a strategic step in enhancing his unkempt image.

A gentle exhale escaped you as he pressed you back against the desk's edge, his hands forming a cage around you, both protective and possessive.  Your lips curved into a smirk, your teeth capturing his bottom lip and tugging with a teasing pressure, probably a little harder than you should have, causing him to pull back. "Christ, sweetheart."

Instinctively, your hand rose to trace his bottom lip, smoothing over the swollenness your teeth had caused. A soft smile graced your features as you took in the delightful disarray of his appearance. With a satisfied nod, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek and glided towards the door. "I love you, Mr. Hotchner."

His eyebrows knit together in loving exasperation as he observed your retreat, his hand absentmindedly caressing his lip. God, you kept life interesting. "I love you more, Mrs. Hotchner."

Emerging from Hotch's office, your hair perfectly disordered, a small smirk etched on your lips. You watch as the consultant's eyes stretch wide, a flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. With a sly wink tossed her way, you glide towards Penelope and Morgan.

"Well, well, well," Morgan drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold, arms folded confidently over his chest. "I had a feeling those claws were just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"That's our girl! Showing the world whose boss without breaking a sweat." Penelope chirped. "Well, I mean, maybe a little sweat. I'm seriously striving not to speculate about what you two were doing in there."

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you peer over your shoulder at Hotch's door. "Just wait for it," you tease, fingers poised for the dramatic reveal as you count down. "3, 2, 1.."

Right on cue, Hotch steps out, looking every bit as ruffled as you'd intended. His tie hangs crooked, his suit crumpled, and you didn't miss the dark red tint around his bottom lip. The sound of Morgan and Penelope's laughter filled the air as you offered a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's all in the day's work, besties. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[lis-likes-fics]

Not Fair

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader Word Count: 6.1k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, Mommy kink, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving), strap-on, multiple orgasms, swearing... A/N: Writing a fic with a mommy kink was personally difficult bc I don't have one... So I tried my best, and I hope you like it. Emily Prentiss could do things to me that would make Aaron Hotchner blush. Happy Halloween!

When Emily's phone pings again, she clenches her fists. It's been going off practically all day. She's been busy with all this work on her desk, case files on case files, and she hasn't been able to focus because you keep texting her.

She received the first text as soon as she got to the BAU. She was talking to JJ when her phone went off and all she saw on her screen was “Miss you already”. When she opened her texts, she almost had a stroke.

It was a picture of you, your arms behind your head and your hip jutted out to the side. You've got your face cut off by the frame to give full attention to your body. Normally that wouldn't be so bad. She'd call you beautiful and promise to kiss you when she got home.

But it was hard to think such wholesome thoughts when you were naked on the screen.

“Everything okay?” JJ had asked.

Emily looked up, pulling herself harshly from her thoughts. She blinked blankly, nodding. “Uh, yeah. All good.”

JJ poorly pretends to believe her and lets her scramble to her desk. Hunched over her phone, Emily replied. “Not fair.” You just sent back a wink.

You sent her more and more throughout the day, each riskier than the last. One laying flat on your bed, the curve of your bare ass intoxicating. One of you straddling your pillow, cut off just beneath the eyes, enough to see your mouth fallen in bliss. One grasping your breasts and flicking the nipple. One spreading your legs for the camera to show how wet you are. One with your hand on the inside of your thigh, far too close for her liking.

It’s been driving her nuts, and she’s surrounded by profilers. It’s not a very good mix. She was counting down the minutes until she could get back to you and adjust your behavior.

As she looks hesitantly at her screen, she braces herself for what she’ll find. “New message: When will you come home to me, Mommy?” She runs a hand down her face, and then pales when she sees, “Video received”.

Emily stands from her desk, escaping quickly to find an empty room to lock herself in. As she opens her phone and goes through her messages, she grasps it tight while she presses play.

Her blood rushes when she sees you, your spread wide open with your fingers shoved inside of you. Your moans are high and breathless, the schlep! schlep! schlep! sounds of your pussy are making it hard to contain herself. “I couldn’t help myself, Mommy,” you whimper, staring at the camera with your face screwed up in pleasure. “I miss you so much. I need you so bad, Mommy. Please come home.”

Yeah… Safe to say, you're in trouble when she gets home.

~

When Emily steps through the front door, she makes sure to slam it a little as she closes it behind her.

“Em?” Your voice carries down the hall, followed by the soft padding of your feet. When she spots you, you're in an oversized T-shirt that you'd stolen from Derek one day. “You're home! I made dinner.”

You go in to hug her, pulling her in close with a sigh. Emily does not hug you back.

“You okay, baby?” you ask when you don't feel her arms wrap around you. You place your hand on her cheek, cupping her face with a smile.

Emily just looks at you, her face hard with frustration. “You know what you did.”

“I don't know what you mean.” You tilt your head. You're so good, she almost believes you.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

You sigh, brushing your hands down her chest. “Well, did it work?”

She stares at you. Emily has always had a very firm, very strong stare. You begin to squirm the longer she stares, and you know that you're in trouble…

“Go to bed…”

You lick your bottom lip, suppressing a grin as you dip your head. You turn on your heel, shuffling back to the room slow enough to make sure she can see your ass sticking out beneath the shirt.

Emily kicks her shoes off by the door, locking it behind her. She shrugs her jacket off on the way down the hall after you. She stops as she peers into the kitchen. You made beef stew—with it being October already, it's started to get cold outside. The smell alone is making her hungry.

When she makes it to the bedroom, you're sitting on the bed with your legs crossed. The shirt is draping off your shoulder, exposing skin to her that she wants to sink her teeth into.

Emily smiles. “You've been so alone all day, haven't you?”

You look up at her through your lashes, nodding a bit. “I missed you.”

“I could tell,” she lilts. She comes up to you, standing in front of your knees. She uses her own to knock them apart so she can stand between your thighs. You look up at her, admiring her smile and completely untrusting of it. “Missed me so much, you broke the rules.”

You knew that would get her going. You bite down on your bottom lip. “Sorry. I couldn't help it, waiting was hard.”

“No, I understand,” she nods. Her brows furrow, and she cups your cheek gently. “Waiting is hard. But I'm here, and we don't have to wait anymore. Right?”

You nod gently. “Mhm.”

Was she really not upset? She's being so sweet, and you'd expected a very different response to the pictures you sent…the video. But here she is, stroking your skin and kissing you pretty. Maybe she missed you just as much.

She bends down to your lips, and you breathe in happily when she kisses you. You keen into her touch, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her in close. She's warm, very warm against you.

Emily doesn't break away from you as she leans in, pushing you back so you're laying against the bed. She pulls you against her, pushing you up the bed until your head is resting against the pillows. You wrap your legs around her waist, especially as she takes your wrists in her hands above your head.

“What are you doing?” you giggle, pulling you down against you.

She just shushes you, a smile on her lips as she does. You're happy to listen.

Until you hear clicking and feel the cold bite of metal against your skin. You pull away from her lips, looking up to find she's cuffed your wrist to one of the wooden poles of the bedpost.

“Em?” You reach for the cuff, tugging to no avail. “Emily, what's going on?”

She hums, standing and walking away from you. You watch as she goes to the bedside table, opening the top drawer and pulling out more cuffs. She keeps an extra pair in case of emergency (and apparently for moments like this).

She roughly grabs your other hand, still smiling, and cuffs you to the other pole. “Emily, baby, we can talk about this,” you try. She's not listening.

Emily stands, looks at you, and then leaves the room. “Emily!”

You hear her walk down the hall. When she returns, you flush at the sight of some rope in her hands. When she roughly grabs your ankle, you pull, but she's stronger than you (especially when you're in such a vulnerable position). She wraps a rope securely around your ankle, and then to another bed post. She does the same with the second rope.

Okay, yes, she's upset. You think that's safe to say by now.

Your legs are spread wide, your arms are unavailable at the moment. She's got you in the most vulnerable position you could be in. You try to close your legs, just get your thighs to touch, but there's nothing you can do. You're trapped.

Emily feasts on the sight of you. Her fingertips brush your skin as she slowly drags your shirt up just to reveal the softness of your belly to her. She presses her hand there, adoring the way the slightest gasp lifts from your chest.

She loves seeing you like this: your bare pussy glistening with arousal, your peaked nipples showing through the fabric of your shirt, the smooth skin of your thighs and belly and arms and neck and cheeks exposed to her and her only.

She gently scraped her nails beneath your chin, patting your cheek lightly. Then she turns and ventures toward the opposite end of the room.

“Okay, Emily, I'm sorry.” You're not new to being tied up, but it's not a frequent habit of Emily's to tie you up. And all the other times you've done it, she just cuffed your wrists together and bent you over with her strap. This is relatively new territory.

She doesn't respond. Emily crosses her arms over her chest, one leg over the other, and leans against the wall, looking over you with an unreadable expression.

“Why did you do it?”

You lick your bottom lip. “I missed you, and-and I was horny. I just wanted attention. I'm sorry about the pictures.”

She scoffs. “I don't care about the pictures.” She tilts her head. “You know the rules. You're only allowed to touch your little pussy with my permission. Did you ask my permission?”

“No,” you whisper. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched myself without you. I didn't cum! I swear, I didn't cum. I couldn't, not without you.” You pull at the restraints again. It's making you hot and it's making you wet, but the feeling of not being able to move is unnerving. “Please, I'm sorry, Emily. I won't do it again, I promise. Just please let me go, and I'll fix it.”

She doesn't say anything for a moment, though you can see the tiny smirk playing on her lips. You're rambling. She's only tied you up, and you're already letting apologies pour like wine.

“Please, I'm sorry.”

She hums. “That's very nice, that you're sorry…but you've been a bad girl. Do you know what happens to bad girls, princess?”

You don't respond this time, nervous about what she has planned.

She raises a brow, inquiring further. “Hm?”

“They get punished,” you whisper, so soft that you know she can't quite hear you.

“What was that?” she questions.

You speak a little louder this time. “They get punished.”

“That’s right,” she smiles, uncrossing her arms and standing straight again. She comes near the bed, stopping at the edge. “They get punished. How should you be punished, hm?”

You don't know how to answer that. You don't want to answer that. Your throat is dry, and you tug at your wrists.

“Make me wait,” you mutter. It seems like a decent option, the best out of the available ones that you can think of. Maybe she'll keep you laying there, tied down, for a little while and then let you go. You hadn't waited, so she'll make you wait for her to touch you even longer in response. It's a good option. A safe option.

“Make you wait?” she asks, the answer seemingly absurd to her. “After all the attention you wanted, the attention you obviously needed if you were touching yourself with me. No, no, no, I don't think you should wait. You've waited enough.”

She sighs. You watch her brush some hair behind her ear before she turns to the closet. “No, I think you deserve to cum,” she announces from inside. When she comes back, she's holding two black boxes. You've seen one before, long and slender, but the other is foreign to you. Has she bought a new toy?

“In fact,” she sends you a big smile, one that disarms you in both a beautiful and frightening way, “I think you should get to cum as much as you want.”

She opens the first box, taking the pink wand in her hand. You want to rub your thighs together, but for obvious reasons…

“Emily, please…”

“Hush, princess.” She comes back to the bed, setting the wand down in the space between your legs and placing the second box on the bed. She pulls it open, but you can't really see what's inside until she pulls it out.

They're straps. Three ordinary straps. Your brows furrow as you look at them and try to figure out what is so special about them.

And then you realize it when she unbuckles the clasp and begins to wrap them around your inner thigh.

You start saying her name again, repeating it over and over again as you try to squirm away from her. You rant and ramble more apologies, more reasons why she shouldn't do this, how you can make it up to her.

Emily looks firmly at you when you squirm too much.

“If you keep moving, I'll only make it worse.”

You stop, shutting your mouth and keeping still. Her smile returns, and she continues to buckle the straps to your leg. When they're tight and in place, you whine. She picks up the wand, the one that plugs in and goes on for however long she wants it to.

Emily plugs it into the extension cord she's pulled out, slipping the vibrator into the slots in the straps, right against your clit.

“You're going to lay there, and you're going to behave. If it turns out that you're not going to be a good girl, then I've got other ways to ensure that you do. Do you understand me?” Her tone is firm. She leaves no room for debate.

“Yes,” you squeak out.

“Yes, what?”

Her voice sends shivers down your spine. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles once more, rounding to your side. She sets a hand on the top of your head, then bends down to kiss your forehead gently. “Good girl,” she smiles. “I knew you could be a good girl for me.” You sigh. “Now let's get this going, shall we?”

You swallow thickly, even worse when she reaches for the wand. You brace for when she turns it on, your leg jerking and doing nothing to stop the strong vibrations shooting through your body. It starts out intense already, and it's obviously worse when she still raises it a couple notches.

You gasp lightly, closing your eyes as a shudder rushes down your spine. She pets you gently, admiring the way you look when you're desperate like this. She hikes your shirt up, brushing her fingers over your peaked nipples and teasing it with the pad of her thumb.

You turn your face toward her to take in her smell. She smells like expensive perfume. It's not a strong smell, but it's a nice one that makes your head pleasantly fuzzy.

“Does that feel good?” she asks gently.

Reluctantly, you nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good,” she hums. “You can come whenever you want, as many times as you want. And I'll be back to check on you.”

You pause, your brain clouded with the buzzing at your clit, but ultimately taken aback by her words. “Huh?”

“Well, I'm not going to let dinner go to waste. It smells delicious, and I'm starving.” She's already walking to the door. You squirm, but the wand never lets up. She's secured it so well that there's no way for you to twist and make it let up. “Maybe I'll have a glass of wine, read a chapter or two.”

Your brows knit together, and you beg. “No, please. I'll be so good, I promise. Please don't leave me. Mommy, please.”

She just smiles. “Make sure to count for me, or I'll have to add more time.”

She closes the door as she leaves the room. “Emily!”

~

Emily hears a loud whimper down the hall as she's portioning your helping and washing the dishes. You haven't eaten yet—you were waiting on her. She smirks, putting the food away and placing your bowl in the microwave for later.

Pouring herself a glass of wine, she makes her way back to the bedroom. She pushes the door opening.

“Hey, baby. How’re you doing?”

Your eyes are squeezed shut. There are tears running down the side of your face as your chest heaves uncontrollably. Your legs are trembling, and you squirm as the wand continues to vibrate against your sensitive clit.

“P-please,” you mutter, opening your dazed eyes. “Please, ‘m sorry. I'll be g-good, I swear.”

Emily hums. She walks further into the room, sipping her wine as she does. “What number are you at?”

It takes you a moment to respond. She watches your face scrunch, the searing overstimulation shifting back into a sensitive pleasure. Your mouth goes to form the word, but it's hard to get out as you finally mutter, “Five.”

She’d been gone a half hour, had taken her sweet time in eating. “Five,” she echoes, her brows raised. “Very good.”

She places a hand on your cheek, brushing her thumb over your skin with a smile. “Dinner was amazing, princess. Thank you for cooking.”

You'd respond if you weren't struggling to focus. She watches your back arch off the bed as you tug at your restraints—not even to get out at this point, but to move. “Please, Mommy.” Your words are sticky, like forming them is a chore on its own.

“Shh,” she pets your head gently. “I'm gonna go read. You'll be good for me, won't you?”

Another tear slips down your face, and you reluctantly nod your response. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl.”

Emily picks her book from the nightstand, taking it in her hand as she begins to leave. “Oh, almost forgot,” she pauses. She comes back to you, kissing your forehead before she's turning the intensity up even more. “There we go. I'll be back.”

You curse, turning your head into your shoulder. “Please don't l-leave me here again.” Emily pets you once more and does just that.

~

It's exceedingly difficult to focus on words on a page when all Emily can hear is the sound of your heavy breaths and whining moans down the hall. Every time you cum, it's with her name on your tongue.

She imagines sweaty skin, glazed eyes, your back arched up with the rise of pleasure. She imagines her tongue flicking over the soft skin of your neck, her teeth nipping your throat. She imagines her fingers shoving into the delicate, velvety warmth between your folds. She imagines bending you over her knee and smacking your ass in rough, punishing claps of her palm. She imagines slipping her glistening fingers into her mouth, lapping her tongue over the slick she'd gathered from you and relishing her fluttering lashes at the sweetness.

Then she remembers that that isn't the plot of the book, and she's supposed to be focused on other things. She checks her watch for maybe the eleventh time in the past ten minutes and wonders if it's been enough time for her to return. When she decides it hasn't, she takes a gulp of wine and restarts the page she's been staring at for the past twenty-five minutes. She's surprised she's lasted this long…

Enough is enough when she eventually hears you being literally reduced to tears. She decides she wants to see that for herself as she listens to the hefty sobs passing your lips, heaving in your chest. When she pushes the bedroom door open, she isn't disappointed at what she finds.

She doesn't think you've noticed her yet. You lay across the bed, your limbs trembling, your mouth agape like you've got something stuck in it. Her back arches as you fight the oversensitivity of a fresh orgasm. You've tugged so hard on your restraints, your wrists and ankles are rubbed raw.

Emily's eyes are hooded as she watches you. “Oh, baby,” she coos, coming up to you and placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You look at her, then up at the ceiling, then back over to her. You look entirely dazed, like you're not even in the room. You huff and whimper as you try to catch your breath. Your face is painted in tears, and more squeeze out every time you blink.

“How do you feel, princess?” she purrs as she sits at the edge of the bed. Her hand strokes your skin when she reaches across your belly, letting her thumb stroke over your belly button and then rubbing gently over the soft plush of your tummy.

Your words are slow and choppy as you struggle to speak, the pleasure too much not to drag you down and force you to stumble. “‘m sorry about…ah-bout s-sending you p-pictures at work and—mmph!—’nd f’r touching myself without p—aah, permission.” A sob erupting from your throat brings a new haste to your apology. “I sh-should’ve been your good girl while you were g-gone, but I wasn't. Fuck, Mommy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I–”

She cuts you off with her lips on yours, silencing your apology and letting you whimper into her mouth. Her palm cups your cheek, her thumb brushes over your bottom lip. You lean into the kiss like you've been starved of her—because you have—drinking her down as soil drinks water.

“Shh,” she smiles. “Good girl. That's a good girl. It's okay.” She shushes you gently once more as she strokes her knuckles against your cheek. “I know that was hard. Was that hard? Staying in here and cumming without me? Hm? Was it hard cumming without my hands on your skin, princess?”

You nod, still not quite focused with the way the wand ravaged you. “Yes, was hard, Mommy. I missed you.”

“Yeah?” she sighs. “It was hard for me, too… Not being in here while you came over and over again. I wanted to be here so I could watch you fall apart, so I could know that it was me who did it. You're mine, baby, and I deserve to be there when my things feel good. Right?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, yes. Yes, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” She shushes. “All I want you to do is promise me something.”

“Anything,” you gasp. “Anything, please.”

“Promise me you'll never touch your pretty pussy without my permission ever again.”

You nod. “I promise.”

“Say it.” Her voice is so low, it's nearly a growl in your ear. “Say it, baby.”

“I'll never t-touch my p-pretty pussy without your permission—mm—ever again. I promise!”

She strokes inside our cheeks some more, and you turn your face into her arms as she does. “Good girl. Good girl,” she smiles. “Just cum one more time for me, and I'll let you go, okay?”

The look you give her is devastating. More tears make their way down your cheeks, and she thinks briefly that you're in pain.

“Please,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Please, I can't.”

She nods gently. “Sure you can. What are you at right now?”

You look like you're trying to remember. Your brain is fogged up with pleasure and overstimulation and the feeling of Emily's nails lightly scratching the back of your neck. You speak in the middle of a moan. “Nine.” Your hips are bucking like you're already nearing another.

She applauds your efforts in not passing out. “Nine,” she repeats with a chuckle. “Make it ten, babygirl, and I'll let you go. Can you do that for me? Can you make it ten?”

Your head whirls as you give a slanted nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl. Such a good girl you are.” She bends down to kiss you. “Just keep lookin’ at me, princess. Look at me and scream my name when you cum, okay? Can you do that?”

Again you nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

She hums, slipping her hand beneath your shirt. Her fingers graze your skin before swiping over your nipple. You're a goner from the start, forcing your eyes to stay open as you watch her, relishing the feeling of the pad of her thumb rubbing feather-light circles over it. “My perfect girl, look at you,” she coos. “God, you're so beautiful. So pretty when you cry and pretty when you cum.”

Her praise is spurring you on, encouraging the desperate buck of your hips as you feel the—now very—familiar spark of an orgasm creeping up on you. It tingles in your thighs and in your belly. It curls your fingers and makes it impossible to stay still.

“You wanna cum for me, babygirl? Hm?” she purrs, kissing your forehead. You nod, and she excuses your lack of words this one time because she knows you're too distracted. “Then cum for me, princess. Cum for Mommy, and tell her how good it feels. C’mon, baby, you can do it.”

You swear you go blind for a moment. You lose your vision staring at Emily, arching your back off the bed as your stomach tenses, and then your legs, and then everything else in your body. Your brain is fuzzy, and you don't even realize it when her name flies off your tongue.

Emily makes you ride out the orgasm, petting you and shushing you and praising you as you struggle to keep up. Your brain feels numb, and you're confident that you'll start drooling if you turn your head.

Emily switches off the wand, unwrapping it from your leg and earning a tiny gasp. She unties the rope, she uncuffs your wrists. She frees you bit by bit until you're laying limply on the bed because it's all you can do.

Emily rubs her hands along your thighs, speaking gently as she comes to the side of the bed. “Such a good girl for me. You did so well, princess,” she coos. “My perfect little girl.”

You don't respond. She'd expected a hum, a moan, any kind of acknowledgment. “Baby?”

She brushes her fingertips along your hairline and finds that you've fallen asleep. Your eyes are closed, your body is entirely limp, and the only reason she knows you're not dead is because your chest is gently rising and falling with each breath that passes through you.

Emily thinks you're the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. And she loves you.

Emily nudges her nose against yours and kisses your lips gently. She stands to her feet and rounds to the foot of the bed. The bed dips under the weight of her knee, then again as she leans on her elbows, taking your thighs in her grasp.

You stir when she kisses your inner thigh, then again when her lips find the softness of your aching clit.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Emily?”

She smiles against your folds, pressing forward to kiss your pussy, tasting the arousal that has gathered there in plentiful amounts. “You're soaking, baby.”

She hears you mutter “Jesus fucking Christ” under your breath, but your attention to the holy spirit is squandered when she licks you, lapping her tongue through your folds and suckling on your abused clit.

“Please, I can't take anymore,” you whine, twitching away from her as your limbs ache. Though she can feel the way you buck weakly into her when she finds the right spot.

“Relax,” she chuckles. “I'm just getting a taste of you.” She grips you roughly when you whimper. “You taste fucking amazing, princess.”

When she kisses your thigh, your leg jerks a little. “God, you're so sensitive.”

You let out a deep breath. “I just came ten times in a row, baby. Of course, I'm sensitive.”

She lightly smacks your side. She sits up, placing herself between your legs. “I'm about to make it a whole lot worse by making you feel a whole lot better.”

You whine, especially when she grabs your knee and turns you over onto your stomach. She pulls you into the position she wants, on your knees with your face in the pillows. “Did you take a little blue pill or–”

Your question is interrupted when she shoves her fingers inside of you, curling them and loving the way you groan. “Don't be a little brat.” She smacks your ass, smoothing it with her palm after.

You nod into the pillow. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Good,” she smiles. “Stay.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Emily moves off the bed. You hear her slacks drop to the floor, her shirt follows. You look over your shoulder just to watch her strip, her bra and her underwear falling to the floor and revealing her strap. She loves wearing it, you're just surprised she can keep it as well-hidden as she does.

The bed dips once more when she retakes her position behind you. “You ready?”

You nod, and then speak when you know that nodding won't work. “Yes, Mommy.”

She strokes her hand along your back, lining herself up with you before pushing herself between your slick folds. It's easy to do, you're dripping. She laughs when this deep moan slips out of you.

“Fuck, Mommy,” you sigh, gripping the sheets. “Fuck me, please.”

Emily's had a lot of practice in denying you the chance to cum, in making you cum over and over again, in punishing and praising you for every little thing you do right or wrong.

But she's never been able to deny you when you ask so sweetly, begging for her the way you do like you're just desperate for her to use you.

She grabs your hips tight, pulling out of you slowly before shoving back into you so roughly that your body is pushed back into the bed. You moan out loud, gasping as you bury your face in the pillows. She does it again, and again, and again. The head of her cock punches against a deep part inside of you that makes you shout.

Emily takes a lot of pleasure in fucking you. It feels nice to feel you fall apart beneath her, mumbling and gasping and moaning whenever she thrusts into you, crying out when her hand smacks down on your ass just because she wants it to.

“You're so perfect for me, princess,” she coos, a rough groan coming out of her when she pulls you roughly back onto her. “You like when I fuck you like this?”

You nod. “Yes. Yes, Mommy, I love it so much.”

“I know you do,” she hums. “My little girl loves it when I fuck her nice and rough. She loves being used by Mommy.”

Her thrusts bring waves of pleasure that make it impossible to stay quiet. You squeeze your eyes shut, clench around her with each drag of her cock. Her pace is quick and rough, and your head is swirling with all the feelings rushing through you. You didn't think you'd crave it so much, but you feel the need to cum, the desire to to gush and cry as you let go for her.

The sound of skin on skin, hips to ass, slick against slick, it drives you mad. Your mind whirls, and you revel in it.

“Please, Mommy, can I cum? I needa cum so bad,” you babble, gripping the sheets in a tight fist. “Needa cum for you.”

“You want to cum?” she smiles, mild shock on her face. “I make you feel so good that you want to cum again? All for me?”

You nod. “Yes, fuck. Please, can I? I've been good. I apologized, I did what you asked. Please.”

Her hips snap into you as she considers. “I don't know…”

A slight sob falls from your mouth. “I promise I'll be so good for you, Mommy. I'll do whatever you want. Please, just let me cum for you.”

God, where would she be without you? Maybe getting work done.

“Okay, baby,” she says. “You can cum. I'll make you cum.”

You hear the sound of the wand coming to life again, and your hips buck. “Ah, ah, ah. You said you wanted to cum. You're gonna cum how I want you to cum.”

You don't know what you expected, but you're going to listen because you love Emily and Emily knows best. Also, she holds all the power on whether or not you actually get what you want, so there's also that.

She presses the wand to your clit, and a startled moan erupts from your chest. “F-fuck,” you whine.

“That’s it. Let it out, baby. Cum for me,” she rasps in your ear. You have no choice but to obey as she thrusts into you with all the enthusiasm in the world, holding the wand steady and making you weak with the tremors it sends through your body.

It's like a band snaps in your belly, and it takes you completely by surprise when it happens. “Mommy!” you shout, burying your face in the pillow as you gasp, clenching down around her as she continues to fuck you with all the roughness she has.

Somewhere along the way of sparks and flashes and curling guts, you sob. It feels nice to do it, a release that joins your orgasm and shivers through the whole of your body. “Fuck, Mommy, yes. Thank you s’much.”

Emily's mouth presses to the back of your neck, loving on you with kisses and gentle grazes of her teeth. “Good girl,” she coos. “Such a good girl for me. Always a good girl.”

You preen under her praise, gasping when she pulls the wand away and then out of you. You let your body fall on your side, relaxing into the sheets with the heavy weight of relief.

Emily strokes a hand along your skin, slowly and deeply to massage your muscles. You almost fall asleep again as she does it before she collapses beside you with a huff. She undoes the ties of her strap and sets it aside before she pulls you into her.

“You're amazing,” you slur into her skin.

She snorts. “You're amazing.”

You slide a hand down her side, dipping between her legs to push them apart. “What’re you doing?”

You sit up, spreading her legs as you settle yourself between them. “Making you feel good.”

Again, Emily chuckles. “Well, who am I to refuse that?”

You roll your eyes, dipping down to lick at her folds, now wet with the pleasure of your pleasure. She lays back, relishing in the feeling of you and your tongue and the gentle graze of your teeth on her folds.

But you're enthusiastic, and you don't let her enjoy soft pleasures. You bury your head between her thighs and lap at her pussy like it drips precious honey. You suckle on her clit and wiggle it between your lips.

“Oh, fuck,” she curses, reaching down to grab your hair, to hold it as you attempt to give her the pleasure she'd given you. “Just like that, baby. So good.” You moan, letting the gentle vibration rock through her. You wrap your arms tightly around her thighs, keeping her locked in place and sighing when she bucks against you.

Her hips become more jerky as they move against you. You can feel her clenching around your tongue when you plunge it inside, and you hum into her as you anticipate her coming release. Her breath swells as it builds and builds.

She pulls you roughly in, caging you in with her thighs around your head when she cums. You whine into her, sucking on her clit and lapping at her folds as she cums, her moans deep and breathy with the call of your name.

The pleasure floats in her head and makes her feel light. She has to pull you away herself once it sours into overstimulation and becomes too much. The irony curls your lip.

“Fuck, baby,” she huffs, leaning back into the pillows as you find your way up the length of her body. You lick your lips clean, enjoying the taste of her as you bend down to kiss her lips.

“You taste good,” you mutter. She smiles and kisses you again.

“Thanks.” She pulls her arms around you, holding you tight as you lay on her chest, her nose nuzzled into her neck. “How do you feel?”

You sigh heavily, nuzzling closer. “Tired.”

“I bet,” she lilts. She kisses your hairline. “Hey.”

“Mm?”

“I wouldn't mind more of those pictures. But if you touch yourself without me again, we make it twelve.”

“Oh, God,” you whine, pushing off of her to bury your face in the pillow. She laughs, lugging your body back into her arms as she presses her front to your back. She kisses the spot below your ear and closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of your warmth.

“I'm gonna need about three business days to recover.”

She snorts. “I'll give you one.”

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Tag yourself here...

[kimpossibly]

little spencer reid drabble to get me out of a multi-month writing slump!!

warnings/tags: spencer reid x reader, established/secret relationship, swearing, r uses she/her pronouns

summary: after a situation out in the field leaves y/n temporarily blind, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep a secret.

"Here she is!"

Y/N could practically feel the hush that fell over the room as JJ wheeled her into the office. The thick bandage covering both eyes ensured that she couldn't very well see it. She did her best to give her most realistic Y/N smile to put them at ease. "Are you guys happy to see me or what? You're gonna have to tell me, cause if you didn't notice, I can't really see..."

She heard a few relieved laughs (thank god) and a mutter of "smartass" from Morgan. Suddenly she felt the comforting presence of Penelope beside her as she took one of her hands. "Can I hug you? I just wanna hug you."

Y/N laughed. "You can hug me, Garcia."

With only a little effort, Y/N stood from her wheelchair. Almost instantly she was engulfed by a classic Garcia hug—it was a little less frantic and intense than usual, but that, she assumed, was attributed to her current state of blindness.

Garcia pulled away and there was a moment of tense silence before her Disney princess-like voice asked, "Are you...is it permanent?"

"No," Y/N said with a shake of her head. "The surgery went really well and this is just the standard recovery process. I have weekly check-ups, but other than that, these bandages need to stay for at least a month."

"A month?" Derek repeated from somewhere on her left. "We're not gonna have you in the field for a month?"

"Oh relax, Derek. I'm sure you'll find somebody else to beat in arm wrestling for a bit."

There was a bit of uneasy laughter at that, but the reality was a bit too disheartening for anyone to really be genuine about it. Y/N hadn't taken more than a week off in her time with the BAU, and that was only due to an emergency. She'd be gone for longer than she'd ever been—and without her sight, no less.

"But who's going to take care of you?" Garcia said, sounding a bit like a worried grandmother. "You can't be alone at home all...blind! Do you have someone who can stay with you?"

Before Y/N can answer, Spencer's voice came from somewhere on her right. "I am."

There was another hush, and this time Y/N was almost glad that she couldn't see everyone's faces. She could hear her heart hammering in her chest. JJ was the first to speak following the announcement of this information. "Spence?"

"What? Her grandma can't make it into town and I've done extensive reading on the recovery process for this—"

"But you're just going to go back and forth between your apartment and hers for a month? Isn't that, like, an hour long drive?"

Spence didn't have a quick answer for that, so Y/N finally forced out the truth. "We live together."

Once again, silence. Emily spoke first. "What? Since when?"

"Three months and fourteen days ago," Spencer said. "But we've been together for seven months and eight days."

Now all Y/N could do was plaster on an innocent smile as she stared (hopefully) into space. "Surpriiiiiiiiise."

Then came the uproar. Penelope and JJ shouted questions at the same time, Rossi seemingly swore in Italian, Morgan muttered some kind of threat towards the both of them. Y/N found her head darting left and right as she tried to find some particular sound to focus on. A comforting hand rested on her shoulders and she recognized it instantly as Spencer. She put her hand atop his and waited out the colossal wave of shock and awe from the rest of the team.

"Hey, hey!" Y/N shouted to get their attention. They quieted down and she pursed her lips. "Look, I know you've all been suspecting it anyway—we're just confirming your suspicions! Not that we have much of a choice..."

"Seven months? You kept this from us for seven months!" Garcia exclaimed—not mad, just surprised. Maybe a bit exasperated.

Spencer let out a little laugh. "Hotch knew!"

Y/N practically felt it as all heads turned to Hotch, who just shrugged. "They wanted to keep it a secret."

And then, of course, the screaming was directed at Hotch, who willingly took the brunt of it and began to guide the outraged hoard of co-workers in a different direction. Y/N heard their voices diminish as they followed him towards the other side of the office. She blew out a large breath, laughing in relief. She let her head fall to her hands, running her fingers through her hair. “Should’ve expected that kind of reaction.”

“Why are they so surprised?” Spencer said. She could practically picture the confused knot between his brows. “Garcia and Morgan already had a bet that we were dating.”

“I think it was the whole ‘we’ve been living together for three months’ thing that really got them.”

��Hm. Possibly.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder, tilting her head back in the general direction of where Spencer stood. “Make me a coffee? I would do it myself, but, you know, I can’t see.”

She heard him laugh quietly and felt a little flutter in her stomach. She always felt that way when she made him laugh.

“How long are you going to use that excuse?” he said, already pushing her chair in the direction of the coffee station.

“As long as it applies,” she replied. “Or until I become Matt Murdock and have superhuman coffee-making abilities.”

“Matt Murdock has radar senses.”

“Still probably allows him to make his own coffee.”

They came to a stop and she heard Spencer shuffling around to make coffee.

“Hey,” she said, blindly stretching a hand out.

Within a second, Spencer’s hand found hers. “What do you need?”

She removed her hand away from his, searching all the way up his arm until she found his tie, pulling him in closer. Within an instant her lips caught his in a slightly off-kilter manner—she kissed the corner of his mouth, really. He adjusted quickly despite his surprise at the sudden action. His instincts told him to pull away, to reduce any risk that anyone saw, but there was nothing to hide anymore. So he kissed her back for a brief moment before breaking apart, a small smile on his face.

“What was that for?” he asked, their faces still inches apart.

Y/N just shrugged, a smile on her lips. “I just realized I could do that. So I did.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

She released his tie and let him get back to making coffee, not needing her sight to see the smile on his face.

[hotchner-edu]

Hi! I saw you take requests and I love the way you write Aaron— the runner's stamina drabble was just *chef's kiss*. I was wondering if you could write a fluffy one shot where reader falls asleep on Hotch's shoulder while on the jet ride home from a case, and he secretly kinda thinks it's adorable even though the rest of the team teases him about it? :')

Sleepy Days (Drabble) | Aaron Hotchner

A small frown tugs at your lips as you rest your eyes for a second, feeling the alluring arms of sleep wrapping themselves around you. All the noise in the jet seems to drift further and further away as you are enveloped in darkness, nestled in the comfort that slumber was tempting you with.

You've been nodding off for well over ten minutes now, head tipping forward toward the table like an unrestrained bowling ball, catching the keen attention of your unit chief.

Aaron was sitting in the chair beside yours, having noticed your fatigue since the jet took off. He made a note to slide away the open book in front of you to mark the page, knowing you'd be annoyed with yourself if you lost your spot while falling asleep.

You were on the brink of completely slipping off the edge of consciousness now, and you could only curse your own inattentiveness for your predicament. The team's latest case had them flying out to Las Vegas, but instead of ending on a high note with popping bottles and slot machines, you ended up catching a small cold while surrounded by plumes of cigarette smoke.

It was to your luck that JJ always carried around medicine and first-aid supplies in her go-bag. Unluckily, you had grabbed a deceivingly orange bottle of cough syrup from her bag thinking it was DayQuil, not realizing it was honey-flavored NyQuil until it was already too late.

As you succumb to your sleepiness, the last thing trailing across your mind is the absolute pain you're going to have in your neck when you wake up.

Aaron can tell that you're no longer awake anymore from the way your shoulders completely sag down, and how your face melts into a relaxed expression— one that he can't help but steal another glance at. He leans over to insert your bookmark into your book, eyebrows jumping up in surprise when he feels your head tilting and falling onto his shoulder.

A hint of a smile crawls onto his face at the feeling of you leaning against him, and he has to ignore the heat creeping up his neck as he subtly scoots closer to you to let you rest easier on him.

The words on the file in front of him start to meld together as he isn't able to draw his focus away from the feeling of your warm body beside his.

"Hotch." Derek's voice grabs his attention, the other man's sharp whisper tinged with a bit of amusement. "You're a softy at heart, huh? C'mon, admit it."

Aaron raises an eyebrow and frowns at him, shaking his head. "You'd do the same."

Derek shrugs at that, still smiling as he puts his headphones back on. To Aaron's misfortune, the small exchange caught the attention of the rest of the team, and while Spencer is polite enough to just smile softly and continue playing chess with himself, the others are immediately smirking at him.

"Want me to take a picture?" Dave teases him quietly, barely suppressing a chuckle as he looks at you both fondly. "Who knows when it'll happen again."

"Yeah, I'll bet the mortification will be too much." Emily jokes softly, glancing at your slumped figure with a grin. Aaron knew she was right about that, he knew you'd be a bit embarrassed about falling asleep on your boss, and would probably be conscious about distance going forward.

JJ shakes her head and stirs her tea, chiming in with a lingering smile. "Let's not say anything about this. I already feel guilty about the whole NyQuil thing."

"Yeah, JJ, why honey?" Emily mumbles with a small snort, directing her attention to her blonde friend as they begin to engage in hushed conversation.

Dave snaps a photo of you and Aaron with a proud smile, probably already thinking of sticking it in his secret scrapbook.

"Dave." Aaron warns the older man with no actual heat. He puts his hands up and backs off with a smile, looking down to his phone again and typing on it.

Aaron has to suppress the small smile threatening to appear on his face, grateful for his team's high spirits despite their teasing. He looks back down to your peaceful face, unable to stop his eyes from tracing around your delicate features.

He's only drawn away from his gazing when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Drawing the device out from his suit pocket, he looks down at the notifications with an unimpressed frown.

Dave: *sent 1 photo*

Dave: stop drawing it out and just go get dinner together.

[benevolentbones]

Part two to the clumsy au?

clumsy | spencer reid x reader part 2

part 1 | part 3

warnings: clumsiness (obviously) just fluff

word count: 1.2k

a/n: thank you for your support on part 1! i hope you enjoy<3 maybe i’ll write a part 3!

spencer released his hold on you, making sure you had your footing before the two of you scrambled onto the jet. everyone was seated for takeoff so you quickly plopped yourself down on the couch, spencer taking a seat beside you.

the flight was around three and a half hours give or take, and as the team were already fully briefed, there was no work to be done on the plane. spencer pulled out a book from his to go bag and began scanning the pages.

you took this as an opportunity to get some well needed sleep, you shifted your position on the couch, kicking off your shoes and stretching your legs over spencer’s lap. the hazel eyed man didn’t even flinch, he turned another page in his book before letting his hand rest against your calf.

you cuddled down into the couch, hooking one of the cushions under your arm and within five minutes you were out like a light.

spencer continued flicking through his book, every so often casting his hazel eyes on your sleeping form as you stirred slightly.

you shifted in your sleep, adjusting your position so that now your feet were once where your head was, and your head rested gently against spencer’s lap.

how you managed to do this and not wake up was beyond spencer.

“i need to get a picture of this.” morgan chuckled out, the tall male now standing in front of the couch with his phone in hand.

spencer had migrated his arm to rest on your shoulder, in a protective manner, his book still secure in his other hand.

his eyes met with derek and he gave the older man a sarcastic smile.

“don’t worry pretty boy, i’ll send it to you.” he winked before snapping a photo and shuffling to the other end of the jet.

once the plane landed you began to wake up, rubbing your eyes to escape the sleep, spencer was still at your side and he shot you a small smile, closing his book.

“good morning sleeping beauty, ready to do some work?” you heard derek call out from across the jet, as the team began to assemble their respective belongings before exiting the plane.

your cheeks flushed as you got up, slipping your shoes back on.

“thanks for letting me sleep on you, you’re very comfortable.”

“was no problem.” spencer replied, walking out of the jet.

~

it was cold. that’s all you could think about as the team worked into the night. everyone had set up in the local police station, running through case files and attempting to put a profile together for the unsub.

hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowing as he scanned page after page. it was nearing one in the morning and he could tell the team was starting to lose focus.

“alright, let’s head to the hotel. we can resume in the morning.” he announced, earning nods from everyone.

the team piled into a car which drove to the nearest hotel, hotch handed out keycards to the rooms and everyone said their goodnights.

you shuffled down the hall, to go bag slung over your shoulder with spencer following beside you.

derek was about ten doors down and emily, hotch and jj were one floor up. and as it turned out, spencer and you were one room apart.

spencer came to a stop outside his door, leaning against the wooden frame as you stumbled with your keycard.

“i’ll see you in the morning, y/n. sleep well.” he mumbled in a hushed tone as to not wake up people in nearby rooms.

“night spence.” you whispered back, finally pushing your door open and walking into your room.

spencer ran a hand through his dark locks, letting out a small sigh before retreating into his room.

you adjusted the bag strap on your shoulder, looking around the room. it was nice, there was a double bed positioned in the centre of the room, the oakwood headboard pressed snug against the wallpaper. there was a small desk to the right which was made of the same wood as the bed frame, and a tv mounted on the wall.

there was another door to your right, which you assumed to be the bathroom.

“mm a shower would be great right now.” you mumbled to yourself, walking into the bathroom. you switched the light on, dropping your to go bag at your feet and turned on the shower to let the water heat up.

spencer had collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. in all honesty, he missed you. he enjoyed being around you, he liked that you felt comfortable enough around him to sleep on him during the flight. and in the last few weeks of knowing you, he had fallen for you.

he shook the thoughts of you from his mind, rolling over in his bed attempting to get some sleep. he was just drifting off until rhythmic knocking caught his attention.

spencer sat up, running a hand over his face before ambling over to the door. the door creaked open, revealing no other than you.

you muttered out a small “hi” folding your arms around your torso. you were drenched, head to toe, still in your clothes from earlier. your shirt practically stuck to your skin, droplets of water hung from your face.

“y/n- what happened?” concern lacing spencer’s voice.

“the pipe broke…in the shower.” you paused running a hand through your wet hair. “all the towels and my bag- got wet.” you gave him an awkward smile, rocking back and forth on your feet.

without another word spencer ushered you into his hotel room, you stood in the doorway as you watched him get a fresh towel from the bathroom.

you had never seen him look so, casual, but then again he was wearing his pyjamas. these consisted of a plain black tshirt and grey sweatpants.

“here, you can go into the bathroom and dry off, i’ll give you something to wear.” he mumbled, averting your gaze as he didn’t want to stare too long at how form fitting your clothes became when wet.

“thanks.”

spencer walked over to his bag, digging around for a spare set of anything you could wear. he opted for a rather baggy hoodie and his spare pj pants.

“i’m leaving them by the door, y/n. come out when you’re ready.” he affirmed, going back to sit on his bed.

a few minutes later you emerged from the bathroom, your hair was still a little damp and the hoodie came down to your mid thigh.

“sorry about all of this, i know i’m a bit of a handful.” you let out a shy chuckle, wandering over to spencer’s bed and taking a seat beside the taller man.

“no it’s no problem really… i actually like the hoodie on you.” he gave you a smile which made your face heat up.

“anyway…i don’t mean to be keeping you up so i’ll see you in the morning.” you mumbled out, beginning to stand up.

words flooded out of spencer’s mouth before he could even think.

“why don’t you stay here, with me?” immediately his face flushed a bright shade of pink. “or-like you can go it’s- you don’t have to.”

a small giggle escaped your lips, you placed a hand on spencer’s forearm.

“i’d like that spence.”

taglist: @0108s22m

[rainydayathogwarts]

Emily finds out - Spencer Reid

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your fist, watching as Spencer nodded, his phone held up to his ear. His deep morning voice - if you can even call it the morning yet - echoed in the small room as he briefly answered Hotch's words. You hit your head back against Spencer's pillow, ignoring the rustle in the room of him pulling clothes from the closet and waiting to get the same call from your boss. When your phone finally rung, you threw your hand out onto the bedside table, blindly fishing for it. You brought it back against your ear with a groan, lazily answering the call.

"We've got an urgent case, head to the office now please L/N, me and Rossi are already on it." And with that, he hung up the phone, ignoring the groan of acknowledgement you had let out. He was more brief than he had been with your boyfriend, and was clearly already getting sick of the day. You rolled on your back, watching your boyfriend pull his pants over his hips before kicking your legs over the side of his bed and leaning down to grab your trousers, mimicking Spencer's movements. You briefly glance at the clock, 4:08 am. "You should probably go, I'll take my car and follow you out once I'm ready. It'll seem suspicious otherwise." You tell him, pulling the same black top you wore the day before over your head. Spencer moves to stand between your legs and softly puts both his hands on your jaw so you can look up at him and he leans down for a quick yet sweet kiss.

He rushes out through the door obediently, looking back at you one last time to take a glance at you staring at your reflection in the mirror, trying to tame down your hair. Spencer leaves his apartment keys in the keyhole, trusting you to lock his apartment door twice and bring him the keys later. You make your way out of the apartment and into your car, parking in the basement of the building only 20 minutes later. You sigh, gathering your things and rushing up to the elevator.

No one is in the bullpen when you arrive, so you make your way to the debriefing room, hitting your hip against the doorknob when you enter. You groan, wincing, but make your way into one of the chairs around the circular table nonetheless. Of course, it's Derek who makes the first comment on your appearance when you enter. "Damn sweetheart didn't think you'd be the one to show up in last night's outfit." Spencer, who sits next to Derek, furrows his eyebrows. "What he means is she was over at someone else's having sex." Emily tries to whisper at him from across the table, but everyone hears the comment she makes and you scoff, lightly slapping her arm.

"Hey I wouldn't be if I had some earlier notice." You argue, opening the files in front of you. "I don't see anything wrong with that. Agent L/N came prepared when we asked her to and is immediately on task, unlike the rest of you. She'd have wasted our time by going home to change." Hotch's deep, usually grumpy voice comes out with a hint of amusement and you nod your head as the others go back to work with smirks on their faces.

"Jareau, catch L/N up on what she's missed - everyone wheels up in thirty." After JJ does catch you up, the room starts to file out, eventually leaving you and Spencer alone. You widen your eyes at him in amusement and he chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly redder than usual. You shuffle the chair you're in until you're sat next to your boyfriend and you press a kiss on his cheek before digging through your bag. He stands up in the meantime, thinking you've changed your focus to something else but call out for him "Spencer, wait!" He turns back to look at you and you hold out his house keys with an eyebrow raised. "Don't want Morgan finding me with those." But then not even a second later, Emily is rushing back into the room, grabbing her phone.

"My bad!" She pants, about to leave the room, but she abruptly stops upon seeing a flash of movement, and then the looks on your faces. Spencer looks like he's been caught dealing drugs and you on the other hand look surprised yet slightly amused with your eyes wide and arms still by your sides. She takes a moment to profile you, taking note of how Spencer's house keys are now in his hand, which he'd been trying to slyly shove in his pocket. She looks confused, but starts walking, muttering a quiet "After you." To Spencer before she steps in front of you, blocking the doorway.

She stares at you, her jaw slack, and slowly raises her pointer finger at you. "You- he's the- oh my gosh you have to tell me everything."

[shojizbae]

Mothers Day

Spencer Reid x Reader

As the newest member of the team, everyone is shocked by your boldness.

Everyone knew not to trespass when Las Vegas or Mental illness was a factor in the case. Everyone but you, apparently. By chance, the team's last case to Vegas was two months before your hire. Now, you were making very dangerous strides around a very delicate subject. The Unsub was suspected to be a man on a psychotic break and had begun devolving before the team had even been called in. Ever the overtly ambitious profiler you wanted to follow Spencer Reid for his ultra-secret contact.

"He prefers to go alone." My eyes met the dark brown hand on my bicep

"We really shouldn't be going places alone. You know the FBI minted the buddy system?" I shook him off

"I know, baby girl, but this is delicate. You just gotta leave it alone."

"Derek, you, of all people, should be aware of my incessant control problems."

"I have to agree with Morgan. This is something you need to let be."

"But you know I can't. Doctor Reid!" I darted off after him. He was tense, like the way people get when they hear a tornado siren and have to put themselves in their basement or put a mattress over their bathtub. He was preparing for disaster. "I truly believe it would be beneficial if I were to go with you."

"Would it be benefitting the case or your psyche?" He prods

"Well, both and neither." I readjust my little rectangular glasses, "As you know, I'm extraneously protective, to a fault. Also, I am working on my doctorate in psychology and I'm writing a dissertation on noncommutative disorder clusters. And I'm comfortable around disorders. Actually, I find it strange that when we talk about OCD, we call it a 'disorder' when people just like things organized in a particular manner." I snort to punctuate my rambling, but he only grits his jaw. "Aw man, that joke usually kills in my schizoid heredity focus group." He sighs as he tugs his satchel on.

"You need to stay quiet and low profile." He orders, and I know my dorky smile splits my face. He leads me to a big black SUV, where I take the driver's seat. He gives me directions, leading me from the way through town street and down some scary back roads. Eventually, we pass a sign that reads Bennington Sanitarium. He tells me to turn left, and we park in the back of the parking lot. He tells me to leave my gun in the car, and I follow him with my head down.

"So, who's this ultra-secret contact you have?" His stress seemed to triple, "Some fancy professor from Caltech?" He's being intentionally nebulous, I'm aware but there's some fun in playing nosy-cop.

"No, it's not someone who worked at Caltech."

"Oh, but a professor? Where'd they work, Burkley? Or maybe some school in Vegas. Let's see, there are not that many high-profile universities in Vegas."

"No, she hasn't worked in years." His voice sharpens in frustration, so I back down, readjusting my glasses, and licking the corner of my lips. We enter and a receptionist recognizes Spencer immediately with a big smile.

"Dr. Reid how lovely to see you. Have you come to visit your mother? She'll be ecstatic. It's been far too long." Oh, like mother like son. She must be a psychiatrist. I smile softly at the notion. It will be so interesting to see who and where Spencer came from.

"Thank you, Sheryl, how has she been."

"Well, she has her day, but mostly, she just reads. You know the book club started a new series." Sherly playfully brushes his arm and giggles.

"That's good."

"She should have just gotten out of therapy." Sheryl smiles and rakes her eyes over the young doctor. Finally, she makes eye contact with me.

"Oh well, you're new," she cheers in a vaguely Midwestern accent. You'll need a visitor's pass, hon." She gets one from a drawer and hands it to me. "So, do you work at the FBI, too, or are you coming to meet the in-laws?"

"I'm an agent," I laugh. If I were lucky enough to snag him, that would be an HR nightmare." Playfully, I pat his chest. He guffaws dryly as I slide the plastic lanyard around my neck.

Spencer leads me through the building, mostly there are elderly people playing chess or using oil pastels as nurses and orderlies orbit them. He leads me through a large living room past an Asian woman knitting. We find a woman with blonde hair biting her nails on the couch as she ponders something.

"Hi, Mom," He warbles. There's an extra beat between his greeting and her response. It's like she snaps out of a trance when she sees her son.

"Spencer, honey, what are you doing here?"

"Me and my frie-"

"Oh my goodness, thank whatever deities you deny the existence of; you're finally giving me some grandchildren."

"No, Mom, this is my coworker Agent (L/n). She and I just have some questions for you regarding our case."

"Well, at least sit down." She pats the space next to her, and Spencer obeys, "You too, young lady."

"Yes, ma'am." I take the only spot right next to him, and Spencer begins rattling off questions while his mom sits there with her hand under her nose. She sits and observes Spencer like no one at the BAU does. When he finishes contextualizing the case with her she stews on every word like his voice is her favorite song.

"So our first question for you is, uh (Y/n), you might be better at asking." He makes the wringing motion of cracking his knuckles, but no sound comes out.

"Um, mostly, the bureau is interested in the capabilities of delusion to overlap reality. When you are having an episode, do you recognize the difference between your actions and your perceptions?" I retrieve a legal pad and a fountain pen and click it theatrically. Diana keeps her hand over her mouth and inhales longingly through her nose. She points at me but doesn't look at me.

"You're a very smart young woman," She locks her eyes on me, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Of course, wagers are the drug of choice in Vegas, well that and alcohol and mostly any other drug you can think of." I correct myself

"God, you're so much like him." She looks to her son."Why aren't you dating my Spencer?"

"Uh," is all that dumbly spills from my mouth.

"You two seem perfectly suitable for each other. Is it because he's so skinny?"

"No,"

"Well, he's incredibly handsome and talented; even a pigeon could see he's intelligent beyond a lexicon." She rambles

"Mom, I think that's enough."

"Spencer, you haven't visited me in over a year, and how do you believe that's any way to speak to your mother." She reprimands me. Had the information not shocked me, I would have giggled.

"Spencer, over a year?!" I swat his arm, "You've had time off. Why wouldn't you come to visit?"

"Oh well, I've still gotten my daily letters," she pouts. But it's been too long, and I'm getting old." She begins to bat her eyelashes, and she holds onto his arm.

"I'm trying, Mom," he whined

"To visit or to get me some grandkids?" she sasses

"Mom," He groaned, and I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips.

"What about you, young lady? Do you have any kids??"

"No, ma'am."

"Why not?" I could see where Spencer gets his tunnel thinking.

"My career has made it difficult to go out on dates and fall in love," I admitted it was almost like Diana could extract the truth from me

"Well, then, date my Spencer."

"Mom!" he protested

"Shh! It's a win-win: I get grandbabies, you get dates, and neither of your careers gets in the way." I meant to retaliate, but her infallible logic knocked all the fire out of me.

"Let's finish up this interview and solve this case then we can circle back." I mitigated

Two days later, the case was solved, and we were riding the jet back to Virginia. Everyone had filed off the plane but Spencer and I.

"So, do you have any plans tonight?" It threw me further off guard than Diana.

"I was just gonna turn on Real Housewives reruns and cuddle cannoli." It was how I spent most nights.

"Would you object to a date?"

"Tonight?"

"We could watch the Real Housewives and hang out with your cat??"

"You want to do that?"

"It sounds much better than sweating in an overpriced Italian restaurant." He laughs and rings his knuckles

"it does, I think I have NBC, we could watch Star Trek after." I offer as we walk from the landing strip to the BAU. We made a sojourn at his home so he could shower and put on comfortable clothes. Two years later it would be cannoli to ring bear your wedding. Spencer would have to credit his mother who walked you both down the aisle simultaneously for your relationship and the whole team would have to agree.

[little-jana]

"Lessons In Love"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: flufffff

Warnings: case talk about a missing child (nothing descriptive), kissing, just two cuties , use of Y/N

Words: 2k

Summary: It was only a matter of time before the carefully constructed love bubble would burst.

Aaron and I had been together for nearly a year, and in all that time, we lived our lives in quiet stolen moments. Our relationship existed in private—his hands brushing mine while he made coffee before work, the way his face softened when he walked through the door after a long case, how he’d pull me into his arms at night like he couldn’t stand the space between us.

But outside our home, Aaron Hotchner was the stoic, untouchable Unit Chief of the BAU. His work was dangerous; his world, a sharp contrast to mine.

“I keep you separate because I have to,” he told me once, his voice thick with guilt. “If anyone knew about you… if anything happened to you…”

I understood why he was cautious. I’d seen the toll his job took on him. I’d comforted him through long nights when his mind was too heavy with what he’d seen, so I never pushed. But deep down, I knew our secret wouldn’t last forever.

It turned out, forever ended on a Tuesday.

---

It started like any other morning. I was in my classroom, arranging my desk as my third-graders filed in, when I noticed the uneasy buzz spreading through the staff. Hushed whispers in the hall. Nervous glances. A heavy air that I hadn’t felt before.

Then the principal stepped in.

“Y/N,” she said gently, “the FBI is here. They need to speak with the teachers about a missing child.”

My heart dropped. I nodded, trying to push down the twisting anxiety in my stomach. “Of course. Let me get my students settled, and I’ll come.”

When I walked into the teacher’s lounge fifteen minutes later, I froze.

There he was—Aaron Hotchner, standing at the head of the room in his sharp suit, his expression stoic and professional. His team flanked him—Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia. Faces I’d seen in stories Aaron told when he couldn’t help but share bits of his work.

For a moment, he didn’t notice me. His focus was on the teachers, explaining the situation in his calm, authoritative voice. But when his gaze swept over the room and landed on me, I saw it—the brief flicker of surprise, the subtle tightening of his jaw.

He recovered quickly, though, his professionalism unshaken. To anyone else, I was just another teacher.

But later, when his team spread out to interview the staff, our paths inevitably crossed again. I’d just answered a series of questions from Emily Prentiss when I found Aaron waiting by my classroom door.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine,” I said, matching his tone. “You didn’t have to check on me, Aaron. I know the drill.”

He looked down the empty hall, clearly torn between what he wanted to say and what he *should* say. “I don’t like you being involved in this.”

“I work here,” I reminded him gently. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed, and he cursed under his breath, stepping back. “Stay close to your classroom for now,” he said before walking briskly away.

---

I stayed late after school, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me. It was well past dismissal when I finally grabbed my coat and bag, heading toward the parking lot. I had just reached the doors when I heard raised voices ahead.

“Hotch, seriously?” That was unmistakably Derek Morgan. “What’s the rush? We can handle this.”

“I’ll meet you back at the station,” Aaron’s familiar voice replied, firm but with an edge of irritation.

“No, no,” Derek said, clearly not letting it go. “We’re not leaving you behind. What are you doing here after hours anyway?”

I rounded the corner just in time to see Aaron standing by his car, with Morgan, Emily, and Spencer blocking his way. Aaron looked uncharacteristically flustered, his hands on his hips, his jaw set.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said evenly.

Morgan grinned. “Oh, come on, Hotch. This is so suspicious. Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling us?”

Aaron opened his mouth to respond, but then I walked straight into view. For a moment, everything froze.

Derek turned his head, spotting me. “Oh,” he said slowly, looking me up and down.

I stopped dead, feeling four pairs of eyes land on me. “Um…”

Aaron straightened. “Y/N.”

The team stared at him. Then stared at me.

“Wait a minute,” Emily said, narrowing her eyes. “Why do I feel like you know each other?”

Spencer blinked. “Statistically speaking, the odds of coincidence here are—”

“Not the time, Reid,” Derek interrupted. His gaze shifted between Aaron and me, realization dawning. “Hotch. No way. This is the reason you’ve been so uptight today? You got a crush?”

Aaron let out a breath, clearly realizing the jig was up. He glanced at me apologetically before stepping closer, placing a gentle hand on my lower back. “This is Y/N,” he said, his tone cautious but resolute. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Silence.

Emily’s eyebrows shot up. Penelope’s eyes practically sparkled. Derek’s jaw dropped, his grin widening. “Wait, wait, wait. You have a girlfriend?”

“Since when?” Spencer asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Aaron sighed, his hand still resting on my back as though anchoring both of us. “For a while now.”

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. “Hotch, you sly dog. How did you keep this under wraps for so long?”

“I’m standing right here,” I interjected, half amused and half mortified.

Penelope practically squealed. “Oh my god, this is the cutest thing ever. I had no idea our boss could actually date. Like, romantically.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting everything about this moment. “We kept it private for a reason.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I cannot wait to tell Rossi about this.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Aaron shot back, his voice carrying that unmistakable Unit Chief authority.

I couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to rest my hand on Aaron’s arm. “Well, it was bound to happen eventually.”

He looked down at me, a small smile softening his features. “I guess so.”

Emily smirked, crossing her arms. “Don’t worry, Hotch. We’ll go easy on you. *For now.*”

As the team dispersed—still grinning and muttering teasing remarks—I turned to Aaron. He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and affection, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he took my hand.

“You’re never going to hear the end of this, you know,” I teased.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “As long as you’re safe, I don’t care.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” I said softly.

Aaron’s eyes warmed as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I love you too.”

And just like that, the secret was out—but as I watched him walk me to my car, his team still watching us with curious smiles, I realized I didn’t mind one bit.

[lillmirey]

The Unspoken feelings

Summary: in which you and Emily finally admit the truth about your feelings.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x you

Content warnings: none just fluff and a kiss

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: this is my first fanfic! i hope you like it <3

Emily Prentiss, your best friend. The one person who seemed to understand you better than anyone else. The one person who made your heart beat just a little faster every time she walked into the room.

You weren’t sure when it had started—the fluttering feeling when she smiled at you, the warmth in your chest when you shared inside jokes, the way your body leaned toward hers whenever she spoke—but over time, it had grown into something more. Something you couldn’t ignore, even if you tried.

You stole a glance at Emily from the corner of your eye. She was talking to Derek, her smile genuine as always, her eyes sparkling with warmth. But when she laughed, there was a brief moment when her gaze flicked toward you. And in that split second, it was like the world around you vanished. It was just the two of you, standing there in an unspoken understanding.

You quickly turned your attention back to the file in front of you, forcing yourself to focus. It had been this way for months—your heart betraying you, your thoughts consumed with her—and yet neither of you had ever acknowledged it. Maybe you were afraid. Maybe she was, too.

“Hey, you,” Emily’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, her tone soft but teasing.

You looked up to find her leaning against your desk, arms crossed, a playful smile on her lips. “You’re awfully quiet today. Is the world ending?”

You grinned at her, shaking your head. “Nope. Just trying to figure out this case.”

“You always say that,” she replied, her voice lighter now. “You know, you should take a break once in a while. Relax.”

The suggestion wasn’t anything new. Emily had always been the one to push you to take care of yourself, to laugh more, to not let the weight of the job drag you down. But lately, you found her care for you felt different, as if there was something more to it. Something unspoken that neither of you dared to address.

“You know me, Prentiss,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I like being busy. Keeps my mind off things.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smirk. “What, like the case or something else?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was she hinting at something? You didn’t know. But you knew one thing for sure—you had no idea how to handle this growing tension between the two of you. The teasing, the subtle touches, the glances. It was all becoming too much.

You took a deep breath and smiled, trying to deflect. “You always try to read me, don’t you?”

“Not trying,” Emily replied with a wink. “I’m good at it.”

Her gaze softened as she studied you, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world around you ceased to exist. It was just her and you, standing there, caught in the same complicated web of emotions. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Hotch’s voice echoed through the bullpen.

“Prentiss, [Y/N], we’ve got a lead,” Hotch said, his usual stoic expression in place. “Briefing in five.”

The moment was broken, and Emily straightened up, nodding. “Got it, Hotch.”

As she turned to walk away, you caught her wrist, stopping her mid-step. She glanced back at you, confusion flickering across her features. The room around you seemed to fade once again.

“Emily,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can we talk later? After the briefing?”

She hesitated, eyes searching yours. Then, with a small nod, she gave you a soft smile. “Of course. Later.”

You watched her walk away, your heart racing in your chest. You knew it was coming. You knew the conversation you’d been avoiding for so long was finally inevitable. The question was, could you admit to her what you both knew deep down? Would it change everything between the two of you?

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

Of course! Here’s an updated version with a slightly different ending:

Later that evening, after the case had been wrapped up and the team had dispersed, you found yourself in the small breakroom, nursing a cup of coffee. You’d been waiting for her, trying to prepare yourself for what was about to happen.

The door opened, and Emily stepped inside, her expression unreadable. She closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest.

“I know what you want to say,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at her, your heart pounding in your ears. “Do you?”

Emily’s lips curled into a sad smile. “You’ve been distant lately. I’ve noticed. And I think… I think we both know why.”

You swallowed hard. “Do we?”

She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “I think we both feel it, but neither of us wants to say it out loud.” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “But maybe it’s time.”

You took a deep breath, your mind swirling with uncertainty. You had no idea where this conversation would lead, but there was no turning back now.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “We’re best friends, Emily. I don’t want to lose that.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing yours gently. “You won’t lose me. I promise.”

Her touch sent a surge of warmth through your body, but the doubt remained, gnawing at you. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt trapped, stuck in your throat. What if it did ruin everything? What if it changed the dynamic of your friendship forever?

Emily seemed to sense your hesitation. “You’re scared,” she said softly. “I get it. I’m scared too.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with the weight of everything unspoken. Then Emily took a step closer, closing the space between you, her hand gently cupping your cheek. She searched your eyes, her own filled with something you couldn’t quite place—a mix of tenderness, longing, and uncertainty.

“I’m not asking for anything,” Emily murmured. “Not yet. I just need you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

Your heart raced at her words. She had always been your best friend, your confidant, the person who could make you laugh when the world felt dark. But now, in this moment, the line between friendship and something more seemed impossibly blurred. You wanted to reach out, to close that gap, but the fear of what it could mean held you back.

You placed your hand over hers, the warmth of her touch grounding you. “I don’t know what this means, Emily. I don’t know if I can handle—”

“You don’t have to handle anything right now,” she interrupted gently. “All I need is for you to be honest with me. If you don’t feel the same, if you’re not ready, I’ll understand. But I need to know where we stand.”

Her words hung in the air between you, both a challenge and an invitation. The room seemed to grow quieter, the world outside fading as the weight of the decision pressed on your chest.

“I don’t know either,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… I can’t ignore it anymore. The way I feel when I’m with you. The way my heart beats faster when you smile at me. It’s more than friendship, Emily. I don’t know what it is, but I know I can’t walk away from it.”

Emily’s face softened, a slow smile spreading across her lips. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she seemed at peace.

“I’m glad you said that,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She stepped even closer, her forehead brushing against yours. “I don’t know what comes next, but I know I don’t want to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Your heart was in your throat as you looked at her, her breath warm against your skin. You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to reach for her, but you hesitated. There was still so much uncertainty, so much fear of what could change.

Instead of kissing her, you simply closed the gap between you and rested your forehead against hers. The silence between you was comfortable—no pressure, no expectations, just the two of you standing together, knowing that the world outside still moved, but in this moment, you had something that no one else could touch.

“I don’t know what happens next, either,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out. With you.”

Emily didn’t pull away. She stayed close, her hand gently cradling your cheek. “We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Whatever this was, whatever it would become, you weren’t facing it alone. You had her, and that was all that mattered for now.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Part Three

Summary: Derek sets up a meeting for you and Spencer. Old feelings resurface.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Warnings/Includes: insecurities, discussions of past issues

Word count: 7.2k

a/n: this took me so long my loves im sorrryyyyy i have been experiencing the worst writers block ever and i just keep starting stories and not finishing

main masterlist prologue part one part two part four

After another long day at work, Spencer found himself seeking out Derek again, the weight of everything gnawing at him more than he could handle. He caught Derek just as he was about to leave for the night, his anxiety written all over his face. 

"Derek," Spencer called out, his voice tentative, eyes darting around nervously.

Derek turned around, noticing the tension in Spencer's frame. He sighed quietly, already knowing what this was about. "What’s up, Reid?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

Derek paused, weighing his response carefully. He crossed his arms, his face thoughtful but firm. "Honestly, man, I don’t know. She’s hurt, and it's not something that’s going to just disappear overnight."

Spencer's shoulders slumped, the frustration and guilt heavy in his voice as he mumbled, “I messed up so badly. I don’t even know if she’ll ever be able to look at me the same way.”

Derek shook his head slowly. "Look, it’s not gonna happen overnight, and maybe not even for a long time. You have to be patient, Spencer. Respect her space, her boundaries. If she’s ready to talk, she’ll come to you. But you can’t force this."

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his emotions. "I just... I wish I could fix it. I hate knowing I hurt her like that."

Derek softened, his tone a little gentler now. "I get it. And I know you want to make things right. But sometimes, you just have to give people the time they need. If she’s ready to forgive, she’ll let you know. But right now? Just focus on being there if and when she’s ready."

Spencer nodded slowly, absorbing Derek's words. It wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for, but he knew deep down that Derek was right. All he could do now was wait, as painful as that was.

"Thanks, Derek," Spencer muttered after a long pause.

Derek clapped him on the shoulder, offering a small, supportive smile. "Hang in there, kid. Just be patient."

—

You were at the grocery store, minding your own business, pushing your cart down the aisle and scanning the shelves for the brand of pasta you always bought. You spotted it, way up on the top shelf, and sighed, stretching up on your toes but still coming up short. Typical.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you. "Need some help with that?" came a familiar voice, and your heart skipped a beat. You turned to see Spencer standing there, his expression somewhere between awkward and hopeful.

For a split second, you froze. The last thing you expected was to run into him again, and here, of all places. But you managed a polite smile and nodded, stepping aside as Spencer easily reached up and grabbed the pasta from the top shelf. 

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you. His fingers brushed yours for the briefest of moments, and you felt a rush of memories flood back, but you quickly pulled your hand away, holding the pasta against your chest like it was some sort of shield.

"Thanks," you mumbled, trying to avoid making eye contact. 

Spencer stood there, clearly waiting for the moment to stretch into something more, but you couldn’t handle it—not here, not now. 

“Well, um, I should keep going," you said, your voice a little too quick, too tight. "I’ve got a lot to get through." 

Spencer opened his mouth, probably to try and start a conversation, but you were already stepping past him. “See you around,” you added quickly, pushing your cart down the aisle, the tension thick between you.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel Spencer’s eyes on you, the weight of everything unsaid lingering in the air.

After the grocery store run-in, you'd reached your breaking point. It wasn’t just Spencer showing up again; it was how seeing him churned up feelings you thought you’d buried deep. The confusion, the anger, the unresolved emotions—it was all too much. You’d tried to brush it off, to pretend like it didn’t affect you, but every time Spencer popped back into your life, those old wounds opened up again.

Derek noticed. He always did. He was the one who sat with you in silence after the grocery store encounter, watching as you pretended like everything was fine. Finally, he leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Y/N, I can see it. You're not okay."

You swallowed, staring down at your coffee, fingers trembling slightly around the warm mug. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Derek,” you murmured, your voice low.

“It’s not about what I want you to say,” Derek replied softly. “It’s about what you need. You keep running into Spencer, and every time it’s eating you alive.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. You could feel it—each encounter was a reminder of the pain you’d carried for so long, and it was getting harder and harder to keep pretending like you were fine.

Derek paused for a moment, his voice softening even more. “You need to figure out what’s gonna help you heal, Y/N. You’ve been holding onto this for too long.”

That statement hit you like a punch to the gut. Healing. You hadn’t thought much about that—not really. You’d just been trying to ignore the past, trying to move forward without looking back. But now? Now it felt like you couldn’t move on until you faced it head-on.

After a long silence, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to talk to him.”

Derek looked up, surprised, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out as you finally admitted the truth to yourself. “I need to talk to Spencer. Not to... forgive him, but to get closure. To... figure out what I need.”

Derek nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Okay. I can help with that. We’ll do it on your terms. No surprises.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Derek gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll arrange it. My place, no interruptions, just you and him. Whenever you’re ready.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were taking control of your own story, and while the idea of facing Spencer still terrified you, there was a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally get the answers—and the closure—you needed.

—

Derek had set the scene, arranging a cozy dinner at his place that looked almost like the setup for a romantic date, with warm lighting, neatly set plates, and a few candles casting a soft glow over the room. Spencer arrived first, his nerves evident as he fidgeted with the buttons on his blazer, glancing around the room with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Seeing Spencer’s anxious expression, Derek couldn’t resist a grin. “Damn, pretty boy! You clean up nice,” he teased, giving Spencer an approving once-over and a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Spencer tried to smile, though his eyes were still a little distant, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. “I don’t know, Derek… Do you really think this is going to go well?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Derek squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, you’re here, looking sharp, and ready to try. That’s all you can do, man. Just be honest, listen to what she has to say, and let the rest work itself out.” 

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding as he let Derek’s words settle over him, finding a small measure of calm amidst the swirling thoughts in his mind.

The two men spent their time waiting for you chatting, though Spencer’s nerves were evident in every glance he threw toward the door, each sound making him sit a little straighter, tighten his grip on his glass, and shift in his seat. Derek watched him with an amused grin, offering the occasional reassuring word, but knowing full well that Spencer was a bundle of tension no pep talk could completely unwind.

Then, the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock filled the quiet room. Spencer’s hand stilled on the glass as he took a deep, steadying breath. Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Showtime,” he whispered, patting Spencer on the back just as you stepped through the door.

When Spencer looked up, the breath he’d taken seemed pointless. It left him in one swift, stunned exhale as he took in the sight of you. You looked radiant, your hair framing your face perfectly, your outfit both effortlessly chic and undeniably stunning. The way you carried yourself, that familiar confidence mingling with a hint of surprise as your eyes met his, left Spencer utterly captivated. He couldn't have said a word if he tried.

Derek, noticing the silent awe, cleared his throat with a playful smirk. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, slipping out of the room, though not before giving Spencer an encouraging nod.

"Hi," Spencer breathed, his voice soft but full of emotion, his eyes drinking you in like he’d never seen you before.

"Hello, Spencer," you replied with a shy smile, your cheeks already feeling warm under his gaze. There was a hint of nervousness in your expression, but the familiarity between you two softened it into something almost tender.

“You look… beautiful,” he said, the words tumbling out with a raw sincerity that caught you off guard.

"Thank you," you murmured, your cheeks deepening in color as you smiled. "And you… well, you look quite dapper."

A surprised laugh escaped Spencer, his eyes lighting up. "Dapper? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that," he chuckled, a bit of his earlier tension melting away.

You found yourself laughing softly too, the moment pulling both of you into that easy rhythm you’d shared once upon a time. The atmosphere around you shifted, the laughter a small but hopeful bridge over the wide, silent gap of everything left unsaid between you.

After the tentative laughter fades, there’s a moment of quiet between you and Spencer, heavy with unsaid words. You both know why you’re here, but neither seems quite ready to dive into the painful conversation waiting in the wings. 

Spencer fidgets for a moment, his fingers running along the edge of the table. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before looking up to meet your gaze.

"I know you don’t owe me anything," he begins, his voice unsteady but sincere. "But I want to say… I’m sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. For everything.”

You nod slowly, allowing him to continue, your expression guarded but open, ready to finally hear him out.

“I was… I was scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Back then, I thought that if I left first, I could protect myself. But in doing that, I hurt you in ways I can’t ever take back.”

“But why? Why were you scared? And what were you protecting yourself from?” You asked hesitantly, scared of his answer but needing to know. “Me?”

Spencer swallowed hard, your question piercing through the fragile wall he’d built around his emotions. He looked down, his fingers twitching as they brushed over the edge of his glass, his voice barely steady. “Not from you,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Never from you. But… from what I felt for you.”

He met your gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes startling and raw. “I wasn’t used to feeling that way, to… wanting something so much. I’d spent so much of my life being alone, thinking that maybe I didn’t need anyone, or rather, didn’t deserve anyone. But then… then you showed up, and everything I thought I knew didn’t make sense anymore.”

You felt a pang in your chest, hearing him admit it out loud. It was the answer you’d suspected, maybe even hoped for, but it didn’t ease the hurt. “So, instead of letting yourself feel, you chose to leave. Just like that?”

Spencer winced, the guilt etching deeper lines into his face. “I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. That if I left, I’d spare us both—” He cut himself off, his voice trembling as he realized the selfishness in his own logic. “But I was wrong. I see that now. I see that every time I remember you, every time I think of the life I could’ve had with you if I’d just… if I’d just been braver.”

You take a breath, letting his words settle. There’s a part of you that wants to lash out, to ask why he thought his fear was more important than you. But instead, you just say, “I never understood why. I thought… I thought I’d done something wrong.”

Spencer’s face twists with regret. “No,” he says emphatically. “You did nothing wrong. You were kind, and patient, and everything I didn’t think I deserved. I was selfish and... immature, and I ran because I couldn’t handle what I felt for you. Because… everyone who had come before you left me. And I couldn’t stand the thought of you doing the same, I–I had to be the one to do the leaving.”

There’s a long pause as you both let the weight of the past sink in, the air between you thick with the echoes of everything that once was.

You took a shaky breath, absorbing his words, letting them wash over you like a bittersweet balm. The hurt still pulsed beneath the surface, but Spencer’s admission was a kind of validation—a small relief in knowing that he hadn’t left because of anything you’d done, but rather because of his own fears, his own pain. You could see it now, the scars of his past, etched into his expression as he looked at you, vulnerable and exposed.

“Spencer,” you murmured softly, searching his face, “you didn’t have to protect yourself from me. I would’ve stayed. I wanted you to stay.”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if the words stung, and when he opened them again, they were glassy with unshed tears. “I know that now,” he said, his voice a whisper filled with remorse. “And I hate that I wasn’t strong enough to believe it back then. I took the easy way out, and in doing that, I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

A lump formed in your throat as you considered everything he’d just laid bare. Part of you wanted to let that resentment simmer, to guard yourself, to keep holding him at a distance so he couldn’t hurt you again. But another part of you, the part that still remembered the warmth in his smile and the kindness in his eyes, wanted to believe that maybe this time, he was telling the truth. Maybe this time, he was ready to face his fears instead of running from them.

Finally, you nodded, your voice soft but steady. “Spencer, I don’t know if I can just forget everything that happened, or if we can ever go back to what we were.” You paused, swallowing the last remnants of bitterness in your throat. “But… I think I’m willing to see who we can be now… as friends.”

His face brightened, the relief evident as he let out a small, shaky breath, nodding fervently. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me even the smallest chance. I swear, I won’t take it for granted this time. I would love to be your friend again.”

Spencer’s words hung in the air between you, sincere and hopeful, filling the room with a kind of warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. You watched as he visibly relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing, the lines of worry on his face softening. He looked like he’d been holding his breath for years, and now, finally, he could breathe again.

You offered a tentative smile, feeling some of the weight lift from your own heart as well. “Good. Friends, then,” you said, letting the words settle, hoping they would feel real in time. It was a start—a cautious, careful start—and maybe that was all either of you could ask for right now.

Spencer reached for his glass, lifting it with a small, almost shy grin. “To friendship?”

You hesitated for just a second before picking up your own glass, meeting his gaze with a nod. “To friendship,” you echoed, clinking your glass gently against his.

For a moment, you both just sipped in silence, the atmosphere lighter, yet still laced with the unspoken acknowledgment of everything you’d been through to get to this point. But now there was something else too—a tentative trust, a fragile understanding, and a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could both find a way forward. 

After a while, Spencer glanced at you with a soft smile. “So… does this mean I get to hear all about what’s been going on in your life? I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

You laughed, the sound coming easier now. “Maybe. But only if you tell me about yours. I imagine it’s been… eventful?”

Spencer chuckled, nodding. “Eventful is an understatement.” His smile grew, and you could see in his eyes a quiet gratitude—a promise, almost—that he wouldn’t let this new chance slip away.

And as the two of you fell into a familiar rhythm of conversation, it felt like the beginning of something healing, something honest—a friendship, perhaps, but one built on something much deeper, with a foundation strong enough to weather the past.

During the meal Derek set up, Spencer’s face lit up as he leaned in, his eyes sparkling with amusement and mild embarrassment. “So, picture this,” he began, already chuckling. “It’s my first day at the Bureau, and I’m nervous, right? I mean, I was 22, fresh out of college, and suddenly surrounded by all these experienced agents. And then, in walks Derek.”

You laughed, already picturing Derek’s confident stride, imagining him sizing up a much younger, slightly awkward Spencer.

“He takes one look at me,” Spencer continued, shaking his head, “and smirks like he’s just seen the nerdiest kid to ever walk through the doors of the FBI. I’m there, clutching a giant stack of files and notebooks, and he comes right up to me, flashing that classic Derek grin, and goes, ‘Hey, kid, did you get lost on a field trip?’”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you imagined Spencer’s face at that moment. “No! He didn’t!”

“Oh, he did,” Spencer said, eyes widening with mock indignation, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “And it didn’t stop there. He called me ‘pretty boy’ and ‘kid’ within the first five minutes and has never stopped since.”

You shook your head, still laughing, picturing young Spencer being tossed right into Derek’s playful antics from the get-go. “I can totally see it. Poor you. And let me guess, you had no idea how to respond?”

“Absolutely none,” he replied, grinning sheepishly. “I just kind of blinked at him and stammered something about already having a map of the building… which only made him laugh harder.”

The two of you dissolved into giggles, your laughter filling the room as Spencer recounted more of his awkward encounters from that first day, each story making you laugh harder than the last. You felt a warmth spreading in your chest, the weight of the past slowly giving way to the simple joy of sharing these small moments together again.

Spencer’s eyes were already wide with anticipation as you leaned in this time, grinning with a story of your own. “Okay, the craziest job I have ever been on?,” you pondered Spencer’s question, setting the scene with a dramatic flourish. “A couple of months ago, I was hired to redo this guy’s entire downstairs ‘mancave’—you know, dark leather couches, endless sports memorabilia, a bar in the corner. The whole place just screamed midlife crisis.”

Spencer chuckled, leaning forward, clearly captivated. “Alright, I’m with you. Go on.”

“So, I’m there working, measuring walls, trying to envision the space,” you continued, “and the husband, who hired me, starts getting… a little too friendly. Like, way too friendly. He’s making these cheesy comments, trying to act all smooth, and I’m just politely nodding, desperately trying to get my work done without engaging.”

“Oh no,” Spencer said, shaking his head with a mix of laughter and disbelief. “And where was his wife during all this?”

“That’s the thing,” you said, leaning in closer, your eyes alight with excitement. “Right as he’s leaning over my shoulder, trying to impress me with some ‘fun fact’ about his baseball collection, his wife walks in. She takes one look at the situation—him practically draped over me like some tacky velvet blanket—and loses it.”

Spencer covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope!” you laughed, savoring the memory. “She immediately tells me I’m fired—screaming at him, at me, at the whole mancave situation. I barely manage to grab my things and escape before things get even more awkward.”

Spencer’s eyes widened even more. “That’s insane! Did you still get paid?”

“Well, here’s the best part,” you said, grinning mischievously. “A few weeks later, I get a call. It’s her! She’s left him, found herself a nice little apartment across town, and wants to hire me again to redecorate her entire new place. She said, and I quote, ‘Let’s make this space reflect the woman I’m becoming. Classy, strong, and with no sign of men.’”

Spencer laughed so hard he had to catch his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s incredible. I can’t believe she rehired you after all of that!”

“Oh, trust me,” you said, still giggling. “It’s a project I will never forget. That apartment is full of plants, bright colors, and bookshelves—and not a single ‘mancave’ element in sight.”

Spencer chuckled, his gaze soft and warm, but beneath the smile was a glint of curiosity and a hunger for more. There was so much he wanted to ask, so many gaps in the last six years he yearned to fill in. 

“So, uh, how was the rest of your undergrad?” he ventured, his voice carrying a hint of the awkwardness he couldn’t quite shake. He’d been dancing around the question, unsure of where to begin.

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to keep things light. “Well, it was definitely boring without my favorite study buddy,” you teased, a playful smirk forming. “And, from what I heard, the rest of the students were utterly lost without their... shall we say, ‘nefarious professor?’”

Spencer groaned, instantly covering his face with his hands, his cheeks turning a noticeable shade of pink. “Oh god, you knew about that?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your laughter but failing as a small giggle escaped. “Your reputation precedes you, Professor.”

He peeked out from behind his hands, a mix of embarrassment and humor on his face. “I swear, I was young and stupid,” he mumbled, shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” you laughed, but as the sound faded, your face softened, a more serious expression settling in. “That’s, uh… actually why I never made a move back then.”

“Oh,” Spencer murmured, the weight of the truth sinking in as he glanced down. He understood what you meant—that lingering fear you’d had, that you’d just be another one of his temporary flings, another notch in his belt. He sighed, regret lacing his voice. “That’s… that’s also why I never made a move.”

“Oh,” you echoed, the realization settling over both of you like a bittersweet memory, so many missed chances hanging between you.

You sat in silence for a moment, each of you processing the weight of that mutual hesitation, the missed opportunities. Spencer reached for his cup, taking a small sip before he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. “I’m sorry for all of it. For making you feel like you couldn’t… that you weren’t different.”

You nodded slowly, offering him a small, understanding smile. “I know, Spencer. I know you didn’t mean for it to be that way. I think we were both just… scared.”

He smiled back, his gaze warm and grateful, the unspoken hope that maybe, just maybe, things could finally be different lingering in the air between you.

—

It had been a week since you and Spencer shared that dinner, and neither of you had been able to shake the lingering thoughts of each other. The quiet moments of laughter, the shared memories, and the glimmers of connection that you thought had faded—all of it kept replaying in your minds.

For you, it was a mix of nostalgia and something new altogether. Every time you caught yourself thinking of him, you were reminded of the sweetness that had initially drawn you to him all those years ago. Despite everything, he was still that kind, brilliant, and awkwardly charming man you’d fallen for. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the qualities you had admired in him hadn’t changed—they were still very much a part of who he was.

For Spencer, the realization was even more profound. That evening had reawakened everything he had tried so hard to suppress. He found himself smiling at random moments, remembering your laugh, the way your eyes crinkled when you were amused, the ease with which you teased him. He’d always known he loved you, but after spending time with you again, he knew it with even more certainty. The essence of you—the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place—were still there, and he wanted more than ever to be a part of your life.

Every time his phone buzzed, he felt a pang of hope, wondering if maybe it was you. Maybe you had gotten his number from Derek, maybe you looked him up. He debated asking Derek for your number and texting you just to say hello, but he held back, not wanting to push or ruin whatever tentative peace had grown between you both. Still, he couldn’t stop the quiet, enduring hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a future for you two.

Two weeks of silence had worn Spencer down to the point where he couldn’t hold back any longer. He found Derek by the copier, filling the quiet hum of the office with the one question that had been gnawing at him.

"Derek, has Y/N said anything about... the dinner?" Spencer’s voice was hesitant, his words laced with a mix of hope and nerves.

Derek chuckled, barely pausing as he fed another document into the copier. “Yeah, man, she said she had a great time.”

Spencer’s heart leaped, but the thrill was short-lived. "But she hasn’t reached out... do you think she's waiting for me to contact her first?" His words came out in a rush, almost pleading.

Derek turned, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion. “What? No, kid,” he shook his head, looking at Spencer like he was missing the obvious. “Y/N told me you two agreed to be friends. She’s not playing games. If you want her number, just ask her for it next time you see her.”

Spencer nodded slowly, absorbing Derek's words, but a hollow feeling lingered. Friends. It was supposed to feel like a step forward, but instead, he felt more uncertain than ever. Was she thinking about him, wondering about the possibilities, or had her life simply moved on while he was here, caught in a web of memories and what-ifs? The thought weighed on him as he returned to his desk, wondering if he’d ever get the courage to ask for more than just friendship.

Derek clapped a reassuring hand on Spencer’s shoulder, giving him a grin that held both pride and encouragement. "But hey," he said, his voice warm and steady, "I'm proud of you, kid. Sounds like you killed it. Y/N was singing your praises afterward."

Spencer’s eyes widened a little, a spark of hope igniting at Derek’s words. "She... she was?"

"Yeah," Derek chuckled, nodding. "Said you were charming, funny—even used the word 'dapper,' I think," he added with a smirk.

Spencer couldn’t help but let a small, pleased smile tug at the corners of his mouth. The knot of worry in his chest loosened just a bit. Knowing that you had spoken well of him, that you’d enjoyed the time together, made him feel like maybe, just maybe, this new beginning wasn’t such a long shot after all. 

“Thanks, Derek,” he murmured, his voice a little softer, the gratitude evident in his gaze. 

“Anytime, man,” Derek said, giving his shoulder a final pat. "Just keep being yourself. That’s the guy she was talking about."

—

Spencer’s patience was wearing thin. It had been weeks without a word, and he couldn’t shake the thought that friends should talk more often than this, right? The silence gnawed at him, pushing him to take a chance. After a moment of hesitation, he sought out Penelope to get your number.

With his heart pounding, he carefully typed out the message, fingers hovering over the screen before he finally hit send.

Hi, this is Spencer Reid. I hope it’s alright that I’m reaching out. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee this weekend? Take care.

He stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the weight of vulnerability in those words, hoping he hadn’t overstepped but needing to take the swing. Now, all he could do was wait and hope you’d respond.

I'm sorry… who is this? you typed back, unable to resist a playful grin as you sent it. Then, before he could panic, you quickly added.

I only know a Professor Reid. But if you know him, could you tell him I would love to get coffee with him?

You hit send, giggling to yourself, picturing the look on his face when he read your teasing reply.

Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he saw your response. For a split second, panic coursed through him, wondering if he’d gotten the wrong number. But then, as he read further, a grin broke across his face, and he shook his head, chuckling to himself. You hadn’t changed one bit.

Ah, I see you’re familiar with my more… scholarly persona. I’ll be sure to pass along the message to Professor Reid. He’ll be delighted to know you’re interested in coffee. Saturday at noon work for you?

As he hit send, he could already picture you laughing on the other end, and for the first time in weeks, the anticipation didn’t feel so heavy—it felt exciting.

—

You kept telling yourself this was just coffee. You’d agreed to be friends, and you were determined to honor that. But as you got ready, meticulously adjusting every detail of your outfit—a chic matching top and bottoms paired with Doc Martins—you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your chest. Deep down, you knew that with Spencer, the feelings you harbored were anything but platonic.

When you arrived at the coffee shop Spencer had chosen, you realized you’d never been there before. The place was an eclectic mix of books and cozy seating, and the scent of old paper mingled with freshly brewed coffee. It was the perfect spot for Spencer, practically radiating his energy, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling like an 18-year-old college girl all over again, swooning over the man with his nose buried in a book.

As you approached, you took a moment to admire him. Spencer looked effortlessly dapper in a dark blazer over a burgundy sweater and dress shirt, his usual disheveled curls slightly tamed but still charmingly unruly. The sight of him made you feel breathless, as if no time had passed since those days in the library.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you asked with a grin, echoing the very first words he had spoken to you all those years ago.

Spencer looked up, his eyes lighting up as he recognized the callback. “Of course, go ahead,” he replied, his voice warm with shared memories.

You giggled as you sat down. “What are you reading?” you asked, genuinely curious but also trying to ground yourself in casual conversation.

Spencer turned the book toward you, revealing the cover. To your surprise and delight, it was one of your favorite novels. “Good choice,” you grinned, giving him an approving nod.

Noticing his lack of coffee, you raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to order you something when I go up?” you offered.

He shook his head, a shy smile playing on his lips. “I, uh, already ordered for us. They’re going to bring it to the table when it’s ready.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What did you get?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his expression sheepish. “Your regular... you know, from back in the day.”

“You remember?” You couldn’t help the slight blush creeping onto your cheeks, touched by the thoughtfulness of it.

“Eidetic memory,” he shrugged with a small smile, “but I’d remember it regardless.”

Before you could say more, the waiter arrived with your drinks. Spencer smiled in recognition. “Thanks, Andy,” he said, clearly a regular here.

“No problem, Dr. Reid,” Andy replied with a friendly grin. They glanced at you with a hint of mischief. “And who is this beautiful lady you have with you today?”

Spencer’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he fumbled for words, but you chuckled, stepping in with a playful smile. “Just an old friend,” you said, giving Spencer a teasing look.

“Well, if you’re just a friend…” Andy grinned, a glint of charm in their eyes. “Could I get your number?” they asked, leaning in with a playful smirk.

You saw Spencer tense across from you, his expression a blend of flustered annoyance and barely concealed jealousy. His jaw tightened slightly as he tried to keep his cool, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. 

“Um, su–sure,” you replied, holding back a grin as you took the napkin Andy handed you and scribbled your number on it. You probably wouldn’t text them back, but the idea of Spencer squirming just a little was too tempting to resist.

As Andy walked away with a wink, you turned to find Spencer still watching, his lips pursed and a faint pink coloring his cheeks. He fiddled with his cup, glancing down, then back at you, clearly trying to play it cool but not quite succeeding.

“Making friends, are we?” he asked, a playful edge in his voice, though the slight edge of jealousy was hard to miss.

You gave him a sweet, innocent smile. “What? I thought we were just friends,” you teased, raising your cup to your lips and taking a slow sip.

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a reluctant smile, his eyes softening as he watched you. “Touché,” he murmured, unable to hide his amusement—or, perhaps, his relief that you were still here, sharing this moment with him.

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, a spark of newfound confidence in his eyes that you hadn’t seen back in your college days. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm.

“So, you’re giving out your number to just anyone now, huh?” he asked, his voice laced with a teasing tone. His eyes never left yours, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

You let out a small laugh, trying to brush off the heat rising to your face. “What? I’m allowed to have friends,” you replied, aiming for casual but knowing you were failing miserably under his gaze.

“Friends…” he mused, his eyes drifting down to the way your fingers fidgeted with your cup. “That’s interesting, because I don’t remember you ever giving me your number back in college.”

The implication in his words sent a rush of butterflies through you. You tried to keep your composure, but the way he was looking at you—with that quiet, calculated confidence—made it impossible.

“Maybe you didn’t ask,” you countered, raising an eyebrow in challenge, though you felt your own heartbeat quicken at his proximity.

Spencer leaned in even closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, maybe I’m asking now.” His voice was soft, his gaze lingering on your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes. He was clearly enjoying this, watching you get flustered in a way he’d never seen before.

You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself momentarily speechless. This wasn’t the Spencer you remembered—he was more self-assured, and the way he was looking at you made it clear that he wasn’t the same shy, awkward boy from college. You couldn’t help but glance down at his hand on the table, inches away from yours, and you felt the urge to close that gap.

He seemed to notice where your gaze had drifted, and his fingers brushed yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “So,” he said, his tone lower, almost daring, “if I asked for your number now, would I have to compete with Andy for your attention?”

You managed a breathless laugh, feeling your face heat up. “You clearly already got it from somewhere, but I think… maybe I could make an exception for you,” you replied, trying to match his confidence but failing as your voice wavered slightly.

Spencer’s smile widened, clearly pleased with himself. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb grazing the back of your hand for just a moment longer before he finally leaned back in his chair, giving you a little space to breathe.

But that look in his eyes remained, a silent promise that he wasn’t done teasing you just yet.

As the coffee moment faded, Spencer looked down at his cup, gathering his thoughts before asking the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind. He glanced up at you, a little hesitant but determined, his gaze soft yet intense.

“So… have you, um, been seeing anyone?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual but failing as his voice took on a hint of vulnerability.

The question surprised you, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to mask his curiosity. You met his eyes, shrugging slightly as you considered how to answer. “Not really. I’ve gone on a few dates here and there, but… nothing serious. No one really stuck, you know?”

Spencer's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he nodded, a small, almost relieved smile appearing on his lips. “Yeah, I get that,” he replied, his voice soft, as though he was processing your words.

You tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of you. “What about you, Spencer? Anyone special?”

He shook his head, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “No, not really. There were a few… attempts, well more like one I guess, but nothing meaningful. I think—” He hesitated, his eyes flicking back to yours, more serious now. “I think I was always… comparing them. To you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His confession hung in the air between you, as heavy as it was tender, and you felt the warmth of his words settle into your chest.

“Spencer…” you began softly, not sure if you wanted to press further or just let the moment be.

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat but not breaking eye contact. “I don’t mean to make things uncomfortable,” he added quickly, a little nervous laugh escaping. “I just… I don’t think anyone else ever really understood me the way you did. And I don’t know if anyone ever will.”

Your gaze softened, and without thinking, you reached across the table, letting your hand rest gently over his. “Spencer, I… I understand.” You could feel his fingers tense slightly under your touch before he relaxed, his hand turning just enough to hold yours back.

Neither of you spoke, but the quiet admission in his words, in the shared look between you, seemed to bridge the gap that had been lingering all these years. This wasn’t about the past, and it wasn’t about unfinished business—it was about the connection you both still felt, and maybe even the hope that there was more to come.

The silence stretched, not awkward but full, as if both of you were finally coming to terms with what had always been there, waiting. Spencer’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, his gaze lingering on your intertwined fingers.

“Do you think… we could try again?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

Spencer’s face fell as your words hit him, the gentle hope in his expression dissolving into something more resigned, almost apologetic. “Spencer… no,” you said softly, each word a mixture of reluctance and finality. You took a steadying breath. “Or—I don’t know. We’ve only just started being friends again, and I need you to respect that.”

As you stood, gathering your bag, the emotions bubbling up inside were too much to process here. The vulnerability, the confusion, the lingering affection—all of it weighed too heavily. You needed space, a moment to breathe away from him and the swirl of old feelings coming to life.

“I need to go,” you murmured, almost to yourself. Then, louder, “I’m sorry.”

Spencer shot to his feet, reaching out as if he might stop you, his voice strained with a sudden desperation. “Y/N! Wait—please!”

But you couldn’t bear to look back, not with the uncertainty clouding your heart. You turned and made your way out of the café, each step feeling heavier than the last, his words echoing in your mind even as you slipped through the door and out into the open air.

Spencer’s heart broke as he watched you leave, the door chiming softly behind you as you stepped out of the coffee shop. He remained seated, staring at the spot where you’d been, his heart sinking with regret and longing. He’d overstepped, pushed too soon, and he knew it. The rush of seeing you again, the glimmer of hope, had clouded his judgment.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, berating himself for his impatience. He’d waited years, and yet he couldn’t manage a few more months to let you feel comfortable, to let things develop naturally. All the lessons he thought he’d learned, the promises he’d made to himself to be careful, had crumbled the moment he was alone with you.

Taking a deep breath, he rose from his seat, leaving his unfinished coffee behind. He stepped outside, half-hoping he might see you down the street, but there was no sign of you. The crisp air bit at him, making everything feel sharper, clearer—he’d have to be patient. He’d have to show you he respected your boundaries and that he was capable of being your friend without expectation or pressure.

As he began his walk home, he took a deep breath, silently resolving to make things right. Next time, he’d wait. He’d listen. And he’d let you set the pace.

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[lis-likes-fics]

Dramatic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x adhd!bau!Reader Word Count: 2.9k words Warnings: Social anxiety, character with ADHD, crying, emotional hurt/comfort... A/N: I embarrassed myself a little bit and that day will haunt me forever. Enjoy!

Spencer slows as he comes up on your desk. He furrows his brows and looks around, noting your absence with a confused look on his face. Closing his book in his hand, he shifts it under his arm and turns to Emily opposite your empty seat.

Before he can even finish his inhale, she's already speaking. “Last time I saw her, she had to go print something out.”

“When was that?”

Emily looks away from the bright light of her screen in favor of checking her watch. “About fifteen minutes ago?” She shrugs, “I assume she got caught up with something.”

She spins around in her chair in a rather dramatic manner, turning to face JJ in the desk behind her. “You seen my desk buddy anywhere?”

“Printer.” She doesn't even look up.

“That's what I said.”

JJ hums a little. “She probably just got distracted.” She looks over her shoulder at Spencer for the first time, though not for long. “I'd check the printer.”

With a spark of genius, Emily's brows lift as she turns back to her screen. “If she's not there, she could be with Garcia.”

JJ just points her finger over at Emily and hums, still lounging back in her chair as her focus glares at whatever she's filling out at her computer.

“Thanks, guys.” Spencer sets his book down on your desk, turning on his heel to find the printing room where you have supposedly been hanging out for the past fifteen minutes.

He doesn't know what would keep you that long. You're not social enough to have gotten caught up talking, and your distractions are so easy as to keep you from returning to your desk (especially not when Emily is there to keep you company).

Plus, you hate the printing room. The printers are practically always running, and there's this weird clacking noise from one of the machines that unnerves you every time you have the misfortune of having to listen to it.

As he expects, you're not there. There's one guy standing in front of one of the printers, beating his hand on the side to get it to work. Other than that, however, you're nowhere to be found and Spencer is starting to worry.

Realistically, he knows that he shouldn't. You're in a building surrounded by FBI agents, and you're smart enough to know exactly how to tip someone off if you're in trouble. You're so smart, you'd realize there was danger long before it actually hit (because you pay too much attention to little details and sometimes forget about the more obvious things in front of you). He's lucky enough that any UnSub striking the FBI is likely too intelligent not to be meticulous.

But anyway, it doesn't matter because you're not in danger, and maybe you're just with Penelope or using the bathroom or (not in the break room, he already checked) or even–

Shoot.

“Hi.”

Penelope’s door was open, so he let himself in with a gentle knock on the door. Derek is there. He's leaning against one of her desks as she works. They're talking about something Spencer suspects to be too suggestive for his interest.

“Oh!” Penelope turns around in her seat with so much enthusiasm. She almost seems amazed as she looks upon him. “Spencer Reid, coming to visit me. Hello! How are you, my little knick knack?”

Derek chuckles, gesturing for him to join the two with a charming smile.

“I'm good,” he says. He asks about you.

Penelope’s brows join together as she shakes her head. “Oh, I don't know,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I have not seen her. Why? Is she okay?” Her worry creates a crease at her brows that deepens with every second that her question is unanswered.

“You lost your girl, pretty boy?” Derek gently nudges Spencer's shoulder.

“Not lost, just…” he shrugs, “misplaced.”

He hums. “She hasn't come by, no. Last time I saw her was early in the break room with you.”

Spencer scratches the back of his neck. Sorting through his mind about all the places you could be. If you left the building, you would've told someone, so you're definitely still here. You don't have any meetings either, so he's genuinely confused as to where you could possibly be hiding.

“I was hoping I'd find her here.”

Penelope raises a suggestive hand. “Well, I can look on the cameras, if you want.” She wheels around in her chair. She's already tapping away on her keyboard with a loud clickity-clack. “I'm sure we can find her somewhere in here.”

“When did you last see her?” Derek asks.

“I saw her at her desk twenty one minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago, but Emily said she went to the printing room about fifteen minutes ago.”

Penelope mutters to herself as she types in her perimeters. “Okay. Printers, fifteen minutes. And…” She clicks her tongue. “There she is!”

Spencer feels a wave of relief at seeing you standing by one of the machines. You're popping your knuckles, staring dutifully at the printer like you're determined to grab them and go.

“Okay, waiting on papers. Let's fast forward a bit, and then…” Penelope’s as fast as the cameras as she watches you leave the room with your stack clutched to your chest. Your gaze is following your feet, which are taking you down the halls and in the wrong direction of your desk.

When you turn into a room, all of them are a little confused. Derek most of all. “My office?” He turns to Spencer with a furrowed brow. “What's she doin’ in my office?”

“Cameras don't show her leaving. She should still be in there right now.” Penelope adjusts her glasses on her nose, turning back around.

“That’s odd,” he mumbles. “Thank you, Garcia.”

Spencer's already locked into his task when he turns around without another word. Derek calls him, interrupting his alertness.

“Whatever you do,” he tilts his head like he's warning him, his eyes narrowed playfully as he smirks, “keep it PG in my office, okay?”

Spencer almost blushes at the notion. Penelope smacks him square in his chest, looking up like he's scolding Derek for his behavior. But he only raises his hands high in surrender. “Hey! Mama, I'm just jokin’,” he laughs, his face split into one of his charming smiles. “I'm playin’!”

Spencer purses his lips in that dorky way that you always say you love. He excuses himself in favor of finding you. The path to Derek's office is an easy and familiar path. He ends up opening the door not long after.

He doesn't see you.

Spencer's eyes sweep the office once more and find Derek's chair further away from his desk than it's meant to be—that is, if he pushed it in properly to begin with.

With a gentle sigh, he takes slow, quiet steps to round the large desk. He kneels when he gets to the other side, feeling the worry dissolve and take another shape all within the same second.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is so soft, this quiet little whisper that doesn't stir you too much.

You have your arms wrapped around your knees, your face buried away within them. You don't move, and you don't seem to be crying, so at least that isn't an issue. Your voice is muffled by your arms.

“Hi.” You don't look up. “How’d you find me?” you mutter, still not moving from your position.

“Penelope.”

You sigh, finally lifting your head. “Penny.” He almost laughs at the way you say it, like you're accusing her of a crime.

“Can I join you?” he asks gently.

You nod without a word. Spencer moves to sit across from you. He's so long, it takes quite a bit of maneuvering to fit himself into the small space. He's slouched over like some real life origami. His legs have no choice but to reach all the way over into your space and box you in with him. You don't mind much.

He lets you both sit in silence for a while. You seem to really need it. He doesn't decide to speak until you finally look at his face, your eyes flitting across it like you're trying to find something.

“What's wrong?”

You shake your head, looking away again. It breaks his heart to watch the way you huddle into yourself. “It's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” he protests kindly. He reaches a hand out to cradle the back of your leg. His hand is warm, it feels good even through the fabric of your slacks. “Not if it's making you feel like this.”

You don't respond. Spencer's mouth twitches to the side. He taps your leg lightly. “What happened?”

You sigh, taking a moment before you lift your head to see him again. There's a tiny crease in his brows. His eyes are narrowed just a bit. He's genuinely concerned, and it makes you feel bad because the reason you're upset is so…trivial.

“We deal with death every day, and most of the time, I come out of it okay,” you say under your breath, shaking your head at yourself, “but this is what gets me.”

“What's ‘this’?” he presses gently.

You lick your bottom lip and speak slowly. “I went to print some papers, and this lady walked up and waved at me, so I waved back at her and…”

He thinks he knows where this is going. “Yeah?”

There’s an element of self-depreciation when you respond, and your words from earlier echo sadly in his head at the thought that you might be hearing it, too—it’s stupid. “Well, it turns out, she’s not even waving at me. She’s waving to this other lady standing next to me.” You shake your head, looking down as if to remember something. “And she kinda, like…gave me this look.”

“Was it a mean one?” He hopes not. He loves you too much for someone to be giving you mean looks. He wants you to feel safe and happy, and you don’t.

You shake your head. “No, she looked…maybe a little confused or even, like…apologetic, but it was a look.” He watches you bury your head again, hiding away in your embarrassment. “I should not be hiding because of a look.”

Spencer sets a reassuring hand on your knee. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed about something like that.”

When you lift your head again, he can see tears you’d tried so hard to keep back shining in your eyes. His heartstrings tug behind his ribcage. He thinks you’re gonna kill him one day. “I know!” you sniffle, refusing to let any of your tears spill. “I know, but I do, and it’s ridiculous.”

“But…” he says, like he isn’t finished, “it’s also perfectly okay to be embarrassed about something like that.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and looking to the side again. “Please.” A tear spills over, and you catch it quickly. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard. He’s worried you’ll draw blood. “I overreact or underreact to literally everything. When are my feelings ever reasonable?”

He would scoot closer if his body structure allowed it, but, alas, he is too long. “All the time. They never stop being reasonable,” he reassures. He sighs gently, wanting so badly to make sure you know how much he adores you. “Can I hold your hand?”

You look back at him, swallowing thickly as you slowly raise your hand for him to take. It means a lot, actually, that he wants to hold your hand. Too many germs. Your chest feels warm with your adoration of him. He gives you a smile, and you almost hide for a different reason.

Holding his eye contact is so hard sometimes. He has such pretty eyes, it’s a shame how hard it is to look at them when you get like this. You want to kiss him, to let him know.

Instead, you just squeeze his hand. “She probably already forgot it happened.” You chew on your bottom lip. “And I’ve been hiding under Derek’s desk for the past, like, ten minutes because I can’t forget about it.”

Spencer doesn’t want to tell you that it’s been twelve minutes and sixteen seconds. You hide your face once again more, dramatically this time. “This will haunt me forever.”

His lip quirks but he tries not to smile too much. “Hey.”

“I know. It’s childish.”

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” he smiles. He ducks his head in the hopes of catching your eyes, but he waits for you to look up first. “You know what I’m going to say?”

You do look at him. He’s so sweet, now you can’t look away. “What?”

He leans forward, feeling his back spine stretching as he does. His large hand sets against your cheek, and you lean into the warmth. He gives you a smile that you call charming, though he probably wouldn’t agree. “I love you.”

You can’t help it. The way he makes you feel is reminiscent of a teenager who just shared eye contact with her crush. He wipes your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb, clearing away any water left behind by the few tears that had escaped your clutches. “Stop,” you giggle, turning away.

He guides your face back. His grin is this huge, mushy thing on his face that squints his eyes until his lashes kiss. “Never,” he mutters affectionately. He loves to see you smile. “I love you. Especially when you care a little too much about an accidental wave.”

You catch him in his words, raising your brows accusingly. He’s helping your anxiety tremendously, and you probably won’t realize it until you’ve fully recovered. “So you agree that this is stupid?”

He laughs, shaking his head quickly. His voice, not as soft anymore, is filled to the brim with his happiness “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that I love you because you’re so amazing, and I want you to know it.” He traces the underside of your eyelashes, reluctantly slipping his hand off your cheek. “No matter how many times you wave at someone who isn’t actually waving at you.”

You’re still giggly. “Spencer.” You shift your legs, not without difficulty, to sit in a criss-cross position. Spencer mimics you (with even more difficulty than you). He has to bend down a little so he’ll fit.

“It’s the truth.”

“Well…” you try to dull your giggles to a simmering bubbly feeling in your chest, “I love you, too. Even when I think you’re crazy for loving me…” You think about that for a moment. “Especially when I think you’re crazy for loving me.”

Spencer holds your cheek again and pulls you in for a kiss. You savor this one, your noses brushing affectionately as you do. Spencer doesn’t kiss you at work.

“Will you come back to your desk with me?” he whispers, his lips brushing yours.

You nod gently. “Yeah.”

Spencer smiles, pecking your cheek. He lets go of you to untuck himself from under the desk. He has to stretch his body out before he offers his hand for you. You take it, hoisting yourself up to stand next to him. “Those are mine.” You gesture toward the papers on Derek’s desk as you brush off your pants.

He doesn’t wait for you, he just scoops them into his hands. “I’ve got them.”

“Thanks,” you grin. He sneaks one more kiss, this one to your temple.

You look up at him and hold your arms open, a quiet request. Spencer’s happy to answer your request, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that pulls you closer to him than you feel like you’ve ever been. He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and sighing longingly.

When you pull away, you walk with him. His hand hangs down by his side, and you glance at it as you brush your pinky with his. He smiles, but he doesn’t look over at you.

It’s been hardly ten seconds since you left the office, and your phone is ringing. You furrow your brow, fishing it from your pocket and glancing down at the screen. You sigh gently, silently appreciating her because she means so much.

You put her on speaker. “Penny?”

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” she asks immediately, her voice full of worry. You glance at Spencer, who still doesn’t turn to you. He’s smiling, though, so you know that he knows you’re watching him.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” she asks. “I can go to you. I’ll bring the squishy that you like!”

Your voice fades into a laugh. “I’m okay, Pen, really.”

“Did my desk help?”

The way Derek’s voice sounds when he speaks up makes you flush a little. You keep your voice level, still looking up to stare at Spencer. You trust him not to let you run into anything as he suppresses his smile with the thin line of his lips. “Yes, Morgan, it was very nice.” You raise a brow. “Am I going to hear Prentiss next?”

He laughs. “Just li’l ole me.”

“And me. I’m still here.” Penelope makes you laugh.

“Goodbye, both of you.”

“Bye, honey bun.” “Bye!” You hang up on them.

Spencer’s warmth seeps into your side. You resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder because you’re supposed to be professional at work. Instead, you sigh and let your pinkies brush. “I love our friends.”

Spencer smiles. “Me, too.”

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake Tag yourself here...

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,” and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[blackynsupremacy]

“HI, MS. PARKER!”

pairing: female!reader x female!bff x oldermale!character

inspo: friday (1995)

18+ vibes, so minors dni! contains: age gap, flirting, teasing, mention of a threesome, arousal, implied smut, swearing.

the neighbor: clark kent, steve rogers, thor odinson, logan howlett, derek morgan, dean winchester, erik killmonger, john winchester, bucky barnes or any character the reader has in mind!

taglist: @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @rosiestalez @zombiehe4rt @sabrinasopposite @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

the sun adores the illuminated skin of you and your best friend. it’s friday, ya’ll ain’t got work nor classes, so you decided it was a beautiful day to take a bike ride through the neighborhood. it’s a blazing temperature of eighty-seven, so of course you’re both scantily clad in black halters and denim cut offs with slides before you hit the block. as you peddle around the corner, you spot him. it was one of your neighbors that had a decade on your twenty-five year old selves, but who gave a damn when he’s this—fine and recently divorced. your eyes gawk at how each of his muscles flexes in that tight-ass white tank top while performing the most mundane tasks such as mowing the lawn or fixing his car. the stains of perspiration leave a glistening mess on areas of his skin such as his arms, chest, and neck. you and your friend give each other a smirk, a glint of mischief within your eyes. you simultaneously wave at the man and greet him in the “friendliest” tone as you have done in prior occasions.

“heeeey!” you both squeal and let a few giggles escape as if you were back in your high school days.

he stops what he’s doing and lifts his head up at the harmony of your voices. he wipes the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand as an amicable grin curves on his lips. he raises a bulging arm in the air, a baritone voice resonating to reciprocate the greeting.

“hey, ladies! how ya doin’?”

“we’re good!”

you turn your heads to secretly converse with each other as the raunchiest of thoughts run circles through your minds. your friend mutters under her breath on your behalves.

“we’d be better if you’d let us fuck.”

he peered at you both with a tantalizing gaze, an arched brow and a piqued smirk that thankfully, both of you couldn’t see. this was a weekly routine of this teasing and he played right along with ya’ll. he hadn’t really got any play since the divorce finalized because he was just trying to focus on himself, but how could he focus with these two pyt’s basically eye fucking him each time they pass by as their bodies bounced on their bikes? the aching sensation of his dick hardens as he couldn’t deny the fact that he was just as intrigued as you and your friend. he often battled with himself as to which one he would take first, but then again—why not both at the same time?

“i’m sorry, what’d you say, honey?” he feignedly inquired.

to say ya’ll were gagged was an understatement because there’s no way that man heard what your friend said. albeit it was true that both of you held a strong attraction to the older male, ya’ll weren’t gonna let him know that too quick.

you stammered to save your asses.

“uh—nothing! have a good one, sir!”

the heat of embarrassment rushed on your faces as you waved again and peddled off a few more blocks before retiring back to your home. after that encounter, you both needed a cold shower to cool off the area that needed it the most.

later that evening as you both were binging your favorite reality show, your phones pinged at the same time. you both picked them up to see you got a new message from an unknown number and they put you in a group chat: you, your friend, and the unknown person.

the message read:

you know i’ve heard you loud and clear earlier.

baffled, you read the message and you took it upon yourself to respond:

i’m sorry. who’s this and how’d you get our numbers?

don’t act so coy. you girls like to tease me every week on those bikes.

•••

it’s driving me fucking crazy.

it dawns on you both that this unknown person was…your neighbor.

“oh…” you started.

“…shit.” your friend finished your thought and she responds in the chat.

we didn’t mean to tease! we just wanted to say hi real quick because you looked so busy.

“and so damn fine.” you mutter, eyes not pulling from the screen awaiting the next response.

•••

let’s cut to the chase. it’s obvious you want to—have your way with me. i feel the same way, so if you stunning young ladies wanna know how a real man does it, swing by my place in the next 10 minutes. ;)

•••

you said you want to fuck, so let’s fuck.

you both stare at your phones then at each other not knowing that as you were reading each word your thighs instinctively clenched together to hold in the arousal that was erupting between your legs. as if you were speaking telepathically, you both deserved to relieve some tension with one of the finest men on your street. you kept your end of the bargain because within ten minutes you’re both standing in anticipation at his front door. you were getting a taste of your own medicine as his sculpted figure leaned against the frame. one of his forearms supporting his body while his other hand “tries” to grasp onto the cotton towel that was lowering at his navel. he skips the formalities by using his large, two fingers to beckon you both into the house and you both simply follow his command.

a ménage a toi—who knew that this was a way to spend a friday evening?