#luke alvez hurt/comfort

[prentissluvr]

cariño — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x gn!bau!reader ➖⟢ genre : hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : car crash, mentions of blood and injuries, concussion, pet names (honey, sweetheart, cariño, baby), swearing, only light editing ➖⟢ wc : 3.6K ➖⟢ listen to : cariño by the marías summary : you get injured while chasing after an unsub, and luke is there to take care of you.

also i think i was subconsciously inspired by one of my fav luke fics concussed at the end lol so check that one out, too!!

adrenaline pumps through your veins the way it always does during a car chase. this one is entirely chaotic as you weave the large black suv through other innocent cars, trying to keep up with the unsub. luke is in the passenger's seat, feeding you updates and directions from garcia as you step on the gas.

“left up ahead!” luke instructs, and your hands grip the wheel tight as you yank it to the side last minute to avoid hitting traffic. the tires squeal, but you make the turn and find yourself on an open road, houses and office buildings quickly fading into trees. you can see the unsub’s car just as it rounds a corner in front of you, and you increase your speed without the danger of hitting a civilian’s car. for a moment, you’re glad because this makes your capture easier, then that exact thought spikes confusion and worry in your mind.

“why the hell’d he turn here?” you question through gritted teeth, “it would be harder for us to get to him if he kept on the busier roads.”

“shit,” luke curses in agreement, “garcia, what’s past the corner we’re about to round?”

there’s a moment of silence as you continue speeding down the road. “nothing!” comes penelope’s voice through luke’s phone.

“nothing?” he repeats to confirm.

“no, nothing, is there supposed to be something?” garcia asks, worry quickly seeping into her tone.

“we need to slow down,” luke dictates as you’re already easing up on the gas and preparing to step on the brakes. but the speed of the car makes almost no difference as you round the corner, eyes peeled and body tensed to react quickly to anything the unsub might throw your way. maybe he’s stopped the car in attempts to surprise you into breaking or swerving dangerously, likely waiting with a gun in hand to try and shoot you down.

what you don’t expect, what none of you could have expected at all, is the new car that comes barelling into the road, hidden by a driveway to the left, right after the curve.

luke shouts your name in warning, and with a glimpse of the dark grey vehicle in the corner of your eye, you slam back on the gas and swerve further left in hopes that the car catch the tail end of the suv and send the it spinning down the road, rather than t-bone you and send you off the side of the road.

you’re not quick enough, just about no one could be. the grey car was ready for you, and it hits the driver’s side with a sickening crunch before running you right off the road. the airbags inflate almost right on impact and the car lurches to a halt when it bends to the will of a tall, thick tree.

it happens beyond fast, all of it a blur of sharp pain and the mixed voices of luke’s exclaimations and penelope’s worried voice calling your names until there’s nothing at all.

—

when luke wakes, he can still hear penelope’s voice. it takes a long, groggy and painful moment for it to come into focus. he groans as he forces his eyes open.

“luke! luke, oh my god! are you there? can you hear me? luke, answer me, please,” her voice is completely panicked, and oddly far away. luke realizes his phone must have fallen to the ground in the crash. then he remembers there’s been a crash.

“garcia?” he croaks out, trying to sit up from where he’s awoken against the door to turn his pained neck, because the most important thing he remembers then is that you were driving.

“luke! thank god. oh my god. there’s an ambulance on the way. luke, are you okay? i can’t hear you well and where’s y/n? are they okay?” garcia is practically begging for good news as she rambles out questions to him.

“i’m fine,” he calls to her, lying, “concussion, probably. i’m checking on y/n right now.” he’s trying to sound calm for her sake, but he’s silently panicking because he hasn’t heard a sound from your side of the car. you probably took the brunt of the hit, too. he’s terrified of what he’ll see when he finally can get a decent look at you.

there’s blood dripping down your face, reflecting the sunlight seeping in through the broken car windows as it seeps past your closed eyelids. you’re knocked out cold, far colder than he was, and your head slumps against the deflated airbag on the steering wheel. you’re facing him, and he thinks that seeing you like this is his worst nightmare. but his head is starting to clear up, probably only momentarily, and though his whole body aches, he can tell that nothing’s broken. with ample effort, he reaches over to you, calling your name softly, then urgently as he presses his fingers to your pulse point. when he feels the weak throb of blood pumping through your veins, he heaves a sigh of relief.

“they’re alive,” he calls to garcia, “still knocked out,” he explains, the strain in his voice evident. “i need to focus on them, okay garcia? have you called emily?”

“i patched her in while you were still out, she’s on the way with jj and spence. do you promise you’re okay?” she’s still talking like she’s barely breathing.

“garcia, i need you to breathe while i try to wake them up, okay?” it’s taking all of luke’s control to stay calm for garcia as he struggles to be closer to you. he checks for breathing, then for any obvious injuries other than your head. then, he’s stroking the side of your face, so gentle as he calls out your name.

“okay, okay, i can do that,” comes garcia’s muffled voice, but luke’s already practically tuned her out. all he’s worried about is you, the way your face looks calm now, even covered in blood, and the way it’ll inevitably twist in pain when you wake. he keeps calling your name, but there’s no response. he’s too afraid to move you for fear of making any unseen injuries worse.

“garcia, how long for the ambulence?” he calls, panic beginning to seep into his voice.

“it’s three minutes out,” she responds, and if he weren’t so preoccupied with you, he’d be able to picture the fear in her face, the severe furrow of her eyebrows, maybe tears on her cheeks as she prays you’ll be okay. but all he sees is the way you’re stuck in your seat, trapped between the front of the car that hit you, its driver long gone by now, and the front dashboard that’s been pushed forward by the strength of the tree and collision.

the way he says your name is like the pleading of a desperate prayer. his shaky hand is still on the side of your face, the pad of his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“c’mon, honey. you gotta wake up.”

with that comes the first sign of life outside of your shallow breaths and weak heartbeat. your brows furrow slightly and a quiet groan escapes the back of your throat.

“hey, hey. that’s it, cariño, c’mon. can you hear me?” he begs. he gets another pained whimper and slight flutter of your eyelids, but your eyes still don’t open. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. you’re alright. wake up, y/n. come on, you got this.”

when your eyes finally flit open, everything’s blurry. you blink once, twice, as you try to focus on the voice that you think might be calling your name. it’s familiar, but sounds far away. then you groan and your face contorts in pain. everything hurts, bad. 

“don’t try to move, okay?” those are the first words you catch and can put the meaning together, “you’re alright, the ambulence will be here soon. cariño, can you hear me?”

you try to say yes, but all you can get out is a strangled, “hmm.” luke. you want to say his name as his face comes into focus and you register his gentle hand on your face. the soft brush of his thumb and the gentle sound of his voice are comforting, even as the pain grows with every waking moment.

“that’s good, you’re doing so good,” he reassures. he hates the way your cheek and forehead are shoved uncomfortably against the steering wheel, so as carefully as he can, he maneuvers his other hand to cup your head so you can rest against him instead of the hard, unorgiving surface of the wheel. your face pinches in pain when he does so, but you relax a little once your cheek settles against the soft skin of his palm.

“there you go, that’s a little better, huh? can you see me?”

this time your hum is a little more intelligible as a clear, “mhmm.” you try to keep your eyes and senses focused on luke and his pretty, worried face, but it’s difficult when the pain is so ever present, digging into your ribs and hips and chest and legs and god, your head is pounding, spinning, stabbing, throbbing in pain. luke wants to cry himself when he feels your tears mix with your blood on his hands.

“shhh, you’re gonna be okay. i know it hurts, but the ambulance is almost here, baby,” his words are comforting, and you don’t want him to stop, but it only gets worse.

“luke,” you groan, unable to say much else to express how much pain you’re in and how much you need him to keep saying sweet things and calling you pretty names.

“yeah, i know, i know. ‘m right here, i got you. we’re gonna get you fixed up so soon. just stay with me, okay? ambulance’s almost here.”

“okay,” you agree breathily, but your eyes want to close and try to shut the pain out.

“no, no, stay awake, honey. i need you to stay awake, okay?” he repeats. “you hear that? that’s the ambulance, it’s almost here,” he assures you. sure enough, if you focus, you can hear the sirens as they get closer.

“okay. ‘m awake,” you mumble, pinching your eyebrows together in concentration and squeezing your eyes shut for just a moment before focusing your eyes back on luke’s concerned face.

“that’s good, there you go. don’t worry about anything else, i got you. you stay awake, and i’ll take care of the rest, alright?” his gaze leaves you for just a moment as the ambulance pulls up and the emts run out of the vehicle to help.

“yeah,” you respond, and he can feel your jaw clenching against his palm every time you hold back a little cry of pain. he hates it because it’s often, because even now, you’re acting strong for the sake of someone else.

then there’s a paramedic opening the door to the passengers side, requesting for him to get out and to the ambulance.

“not until you get them out,” luke protests, not even bothering to look away from you, “i’m staying with them.”

“sir, i’m sorry, but we need you to get out so we can reach them. that door isn’t going to open until we can move the other car, and we need to stabilize your friend as soon as possible,” the medic explains. luke holds back a curse and clenches his jaw in anger because he knows he needs to leave you, but would rather do anything but that.

“cariño, i have to get out so the medics can help you, but i’ll be back with you the second i can, okay?” he explains to you gently, already slipping his hands away from your head with all the care in the world.

you whine in protest, and though what he’s saying makes sense, you don’t want him to be away from you for even a moment.

“i know. i’m so sorry, but i’ll be right back, okay honey?” his heart is practically breaking as he pulls away from you and stumbles out of the car with the help of a medic. within seconds, another medic has crawled into the car, speaking comfortingly as she assesses the situation up close. and while you appreciate her gentleness, it’s not nearly as comforting as having luke. it’s a task, but the other medic gets luke to sit down on the side of the road a few feet away before climbing into the car from the back seat to help stabilize your neck and get you sitting upright in your seat.

luke wants to throw something or cry, or maybe both, when he hears your pained sounds coming from the car. more than anything, he wants to be near you to hold your hand, but he knows there’s not enough room for him and the medics to do their jobs.

when there’s nothing left for them to do until they can move you, they allow luke to climb back into the car and hold your hand from the back seat after checking him for severe injuries.

“hey, there. i’m back, sweetheart, just like i promised,” he says as he reaches over the console to curl his fingers around yours.

“mhmm,” you hum in relief, unable to really speak with the brace around your neck.

only moments later, more emergency vehicles arrive, including a black suv that luke knows to contain emily, jj, and spencer.

“we’ll be able to get you out so soon, now. and emily, jj, and spence are here to help, too,” luke tells you, hoping to bring you a bit of good news. in your current state, he doesn’t expect you to answer aloud, but he smiles a bit when you squeeze his hand.

—

at the hospital, hours later, luke sits in your dark room, holding your hand and resting his head against your forearm. it was practically hell to him, being made to rest in a hospital bed himself for an hour or two before they let him sit in your room instead. his concussion is mild, much more so than yours. you’re sleeping soundly, a little frown on your face that luke both wishes would go away and can’t help but find it oddly adorable. matt reported to him that you woke up once before, dazed and confused from your injury before falling back asleep.

the darkness of your room helps him, but his head still pounds dully as he wishes you’d wake up so he can say something to you, so he can hear your voice and maybe feel just a little bit less worried about you.

with his head down, he doesn’t see your eyes drift slowly open, but he feels the twitch of your fingers inside his own hand. immediately, he raises his head to check on you, and his gaze softens infinitely when he sees you’re awake.

“hey,” he whispers, “how are you feeling?” 

you take in a raspy breath before speaking, “um… i’m okay, i think. my head hurts,” you pout. “what… what happened?” the nurses had warned that you might suffer from some temporary retrograde amnesia.

“we were in a car crash,” honey, he wants to add.

you inhale sharply, “oh. are you okay?” you sound so worried and sweet that luke wants to soothe you with a kiss to your cheeks, your forehead, anywhere you’d let him. he settles for squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“i’m very okay,” he reassures, happily glossing over the fact that his head hurts, too. “that’s why i’m here, to take care of you, because you have a bad concussion.”

“oh,” you repeat, and from the way you’re talking and the tone of your voice, luke concludes that you’re still clearly affected by the concussion, “is everyone else okay? we’re on a case, right?”

“yeah, we’re on a case,” he has to hold back from the pet names again, “and everyone’s okay, just a little worried about you.”

your brow furrows at that, and he thinks your eyes grow a little shiny from tears. “don’t wan’ anybody to worry about me,” you fuss.

“oh, sweetheart,” it slips out so easy and natural that he can’t hold it back, “we just want to be sure that you’re okay,” he explains, so soft and sweet, “but since you’ll be just fine, we won’t worry too much, okay?”

“okay,” you sigh. the pout stays stuck to your lips, but you don’t protest anymore and he thinks tears are avoidable, now.

“i’m gonna grab a doctor to check on you,” luke tells you as he begins to stand and let his hand slip away from yours. your hand tightens around his and the tears spring right back into your eyes.

“don’t go,” you whine all sweet and simple.

“i promise i’ll be right back, but i need to get a doctor to make sure everything’s alright, okay?”

you shake your head, then squeeze your eyes shut in pain. that action sends a few tears out and rolling down the sides of your face. when your eyes open, a few more drops spill out as your breathing grows a little heavy and panicked.

luke settles right back down at your side and squeezes your hand with renewed urgency, “okay, okay. i got it, i’m here.” he brings his other hand to the side of your face, ever so gentle to avoid hurting you as he wipes at your tears, “i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” 

he sighs, but his face softens when you relax into his touch. “will you tell me when it’s okay for me to get a doctor? i promise it’ll only take a second, and it’ll help me not to worry about you,” he adds.

this makes your expression turn conflicted. it’s plain to him that you’re mulling over the options carefully in that pretty little head of yours.

after long consideration, you relent, “okay. but you can’t be gone long, please.”

“i won’t, i promise. i’ll be right back, okay?”

“okay,” you agree, but your voice is so sad that luke would rather do anything than leave your side. your fingers chase after his as he gets up, even when your muscles are tired, pained, and weak.

luke flags down a nurse, who gets a doctor to show up within a few minutes. she comes and confirms that your status is the same as before, all you need is rest and to be extra careful goin forward. you sigh in relief when she says that you should be discharged tomorrow or the day after, and you’re cleared to fly soon after that as long as you’re continually resting. your memory from around the time before the crash might remain spotty, but should clear up at least a little with time and proper care.

“luke,” you mumble once the doctor’s gone.

“yeah? can i get you something? water?” he asks, all caring and concerned.

“no. well, water would be nice in a minute, but luke,” you implore, “i jus’ really like you, and i wish that you’d kiss me. i’m pretty sure i’ve wished that for a while. but i definitely wish it now.”

those words nearly knock the breath out of his lungs, but he has to recompose himself quickly to deal with the fact that you’re only saying so because you’re severely concussed.

“i also wish you were my boyfriend,” you continue.

“i really like you, too,” he says, beginning gentle and truthful to ease into the fact that he can’t kiss you right now.

“so you’ll kiss me?” you slur hopefully. he sighs because he knows his answer probably won’t come across well in your current state.

“i will if that’s what you still want when your head clears up a little more, okay?” he concedes. he means it, too. he really would like to kiss you.

“but not now?” you sound so disappointed that luke is having trouble holding back. your eyes are shiny again and he wants to kiss the tears away.

“i’m sorry, but not yet.” the pronounced pout on your lips does not help his case.

“do you not want to?” you ask helplessly, and there’s tears slipping down your face again.

“oh, hey, don’t cry. i do, i promise i do, but i can’t right now,” he explains without making any headway in calming you down. you don’t seem to believe him.

he stands to lean over you and lay both of his hands against your face to wipe the tears gently awake. from the pinch of your brows and tightness of your lips, he thinks you’re probably crying from the pain, too. he shushes you softly as he presses a whisper of a kiss to your forehead when he can’t hold back from doing so anymore.

“it’s okay. don’t cry,” he mumbles into the bandage wrapped around your head. for good measure, he kisses the skin of your forehead again, since the first one seemed to calm you down significantly. it appears that the contact of his lips to your skin, regardless of whether it was on your own lips or not, was enough to sedate and please you, because the tears have stopped and there’s a little smile on your face when he looks.

“can you hug me, too?” you ask sweetly.

“of course i can,” he confirms as he wraps his arms around you, as careful and soft as possible. 

he holds you until your hand drops from his shoulder and you say plainly, “i’m tired.” he moves away slightly, brushing his thumb sweetly under your eye before he settles back down on the chair.

“alright. why don’t you go to sleep, then? i’ll be here when you wake up, cariño.”

your smile turns a little dopey at that word. “cariño,” you slur out. “i hope you’ll kiss me then, cariño.” with that, you send his heart into a flutter as your eyes drift closed and your breathing evens out.

he whispers, “i will, cariño, i will.”

[sammyluvr]

cariño — luke alvez

cw : gn!bau!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, car crash, mentions of blood and injuries, concussion, pet names (honey, sweetheart, cariño, baby), swearing, only light editing, 3.6K.

summary : you get injured while chasing after an unsub, and luke is there to take care of you. also i think i was subconsciously inspired by one of my fav luke fics concussed at the end lol so check that one out, too!!

adrenaline pumps through your veins the way it always does during a car chase. this one is entirely chaotic as you weave the large black suv through other innocent cars, trying to keep up with the unsub. luke is in the passenger’s seat, feeding you updates and directions from garcia as you step on the gas.

“left up ahead!” luke instructs, and your hands grip the wheel tight as you yank it to the side last minute to avoid hitting traffic. the tires squeal, but you make the turn and find yourself on an open road, houses and office buildings quickly fading into trees. you can see the unsub’s car just as it rounds a corner in front of you, and you increase your speed without the danger of hitting a civilian’s car. for a moment, you’re glad because this makes your capture easier, then that exact thought spikes confusion and worry in your mind.

“why the hell’d he turn here?” you question through gritted teeth, “it would be harder for us to get to him if he kept on the busier roads.”

“shit,” luke curses in agreement, “garcia, what’s past the corner we’re about to round?”

there’s a moment of silence as you continue speeding down the road. “nothing!” comes penelope’s voice through luke’s phone.

“nothing?” he repeats to confirm.

“no, nothing, is there supposed to be something?” garcia asks, worry quickly seeping into her tone.

“we need to slow down,” luke dictates as you’re already easing up on the gas and preparing to step on the brakes. but the speed of the car makes almost no difference as you round the corner, eyes peeled and body tensed to react quickly to anything the unsub might throw your way. maybe he’s stopped the car in attempts to surprise you into breaking or swerving dangerously, likely waiting with a gun in hand to try and shoot you down.

what you don’t expect, what none of you could have expected at all, is the new car that comes barelling into the road, hidden by a driveway to the left, right after the curve.

luke shouts your name in warning, and with a glimpse of the dark grey vehicle in the corner of your eye, you slam back on the gas and swerve further left in hopes that the car catch the tail end of the suv and send the it spinning down the road, rather than t-bone you and send you off the side of the road.

you’re not quick enough, just about no one could be. the grey car was ready for you, and it hits the driver’s side with a sickening crunch before running you right off the road. the airbags inflate almost right on impact and the car lurches to a halt when it bends to the will of a tall, thick tree.

it happens beyond fast, all of it a blur of sharp pain and the mixed voices of luke’s exclaimations and penelope’s worried voice calling your names until there’s nothing at all.

—

when luke wakes, he can still hear penelope’s voice. it takes a long, groggy and painful moment for it to come into focus. he groans as he forces his eyes open.

“luke! luke, oh my god! are you there? can you hear me? luke, answer me, please,” her voice is completely panicked, and oddly far away. luke realizes his phone must have fallen to the ground in the crash. then he remembers there’s been a crash.

“garcia?” he croaks out, trying to sit up from where he’s awoken against the door to turn his pained neck, because the most important thing he remembers then is that you were driving.

“luke! thank god. oh my god. there’s an ambulance on the way. luke, are you okay? i can’t hear you well and where’s y/n? are they okay?” garcia is practically begging for good news as she rambles out questions to him.

“i’m fine,” he calls to her, lying, “concussion, probably. i’m checking on y/n right now.” he’s trying to sound calm for her sake, but he’s silently panicking because he hasn’t heard a sound from your side of the car. you probably took the brunt of the hit, too. he’s terrified of what he’ll see when he finally can get a decent look at you.

there’s blood dripping down your face, reflecting the sunlight seeping in through the broken car windows as it seeps past your closed eyelids. you’re knocked out cold, far colder than he was, and your head slumps against the deflated airbag on the steering wheel. you’re facing him, and he thinks that seeing you like this is his worst nightmare. but his head is starting to clear up, probably only momentarily, and though his whole body aches, he can tell that nothing’s broken. with ample effort, he reaches over to you, calling your name softly, then urgently as he presses his fingers to your pulse point. when he feels the weak throb of blood pumping through your veins, he heaves a sigh of relief.

“they’re alive,” he calls to garcia, “still knocked out,” he explains, the strain in his voice evident. “i need to focus on them, okay garcia? have you called emily?”

“i patched her in while you were still out, she’s on the way with jj and spence. do you promise you’re okay?” she’s still talking like she’s barely breathing.

“garcia, i need you to breathe while i try to wake them up, okay?” it’s taking all of luke’s control to stay calm for garcia as he struggles to be closer to you. he checks for breathing, then for any obvious injuries other than your head. then, he’s stroking the side of your face, so gentle as he calls out your name.

“okay, okay, i can do that,” comes garcia’s muffled voice, but luke’s already practically tuned her out. all he’s worried about is you, the way your face looks calm now, even covered in blood, and the way it’ll inevitably twist in pain when you wake. he keeps calling your name, but there’s no response. he’s too afraid to move you for fear of making any unseen injuries worse.

“garcia, how long for the ambulence?” he calls, panic beginning to seep into his voice.

“it’s three minutes out,” she responds, and if he weren’t so preoccupied with you, he’d be able to picture the fear in her face, the severe furrow of her eyebrows, maybe tears on her cheeks as she prays you’ll be okay. but all he sees is the way you’re stuck in your seat, trapped between the front of the car that hit you, its driver long gone by now, and the front dashboard that’s been pushed forward by the strength of the tree and collision.

the way he says your name is like the pleading of a desperate prayer. his shaky hand is still on the side of your face, the pad of his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“c’mon, honey. you gotta wake up.”

with that comes the first sign of life outside of your shallow breaths and weak heartbeat. your brows furrow slightly and a quiet groan escapes the back of your throat.

“hey, hey. that’s it, cariño, c’mon. can you hear me?” he begs. he gets another pained whimper and slight flutter of your eyelids, but your eyes still don’t open. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. you’re alright. wake up, y/n. come on, you got this.”

when your eyes finally flit open, everything’s blurry. you blink once, twice, as you try to focus on the voice that you think might be calling your name. it’s familiar, but sounds far away. then you groan and your face contorts in pain. everything hurts, bad. 

“don’t try to move, okay?” those are the first words you catch and can put the meaning together, “you’re alright, the ambulence will be here soon. cariño, can you hear me?”

you try to say yes, but all you can get out is a strangled, “hmm.” luke. you want to say his name as his face comes into focus and you register his gentle hand on your face. the soft brush of his thumb and the gentle sound of his voice are comforting, even as the pain grows with every waking moment.

“that’s good, you’re doing so good,” he reassures. he hates the way your cheek and forehead are shoved uncomfortably against the steering wheel, so as carefully as he can, he maneuvers his other hand to cup your head so you can rest against him instead of the hard, unorgiving surface of the wheel. your face pinches in pain when he does so, but you relax a little once your cheek settles against the soft skin of his palm.

“there you go, that’s a little better, huh? can you see me?”

this time your hum is a little more intelligible as a clear, “mhmm.” you try to keep your eyes and senses focused on luke and his pretty, worried face, but it’s difficult when the pain is so ever present, digging into your ribs and hips and chest and legs and god, your head is pounding, spinning, stabbing, throbbing in pain. luke wants to cry himself when he feels your tears mix with your blood on his hands.

“shhh, you’re gonna be okay. i know it hurts, but the ambulance is almost here, baby,” his words are comforting, and you don’t want him to stop, but it only gets worse.

“luke,” you groan, unable to say much else to express how much pain you’re in and how much you need him to keep saying sweet things and calling you pretty names.

“yeah, i know, i know. ‘m right here, i got you. we’re gonna get you fixed up so soon. just stay with me, okay? ambulance’s almost here.”

“okay,” you agree breathily, but your eyes want to close and try to shut the pain out.

“no, no, stay awake, honey. i need you to stay awake, okay?” he repeats. “you hear that? that’s the ambulance, it’s almost here,” he assures you. sure enough, if you focus, you can hear the sirens as they get closer.

“okay. ‘m awake,” you mumble, pinching your eyebrows together in concentration and squeezing your eyes shut for just a moment before focusing your eyes back on luke’s concerned face.

“that’s good, there you go. don’t worry about anything else, i got you. you stay awake, and i’ll take care of the rest, alright?” his gaze leaves you for just a moment as the ambulance pulls up and the emts run out of the vehicle to help.

“yeah,” you respond, and he can feel your jaw clenching against his palm every time you hold back a little cry of pain. he hates it because it’s often, because even now, you’re acting strong for the sake of someone else.

then there’s a paramedic opening the door to the passengers side, requesting for him to get out and to the ambulance.

“not until you get them out,” luke protests, not even bothering to look away from you, “i’m staying with them.”

“sir, i’m sorry, but we need you to get out so we can reach them. that door isn’t going to open until we can move the other car, and we need to stabilize your friend as soon as possible,” the medic explains. luke holds back a curse and clenches his jaw in anger because he knows he needs to leave you, but would rather do anything but that.

“cariño, i have to get out so the medics can help you, but i’ll be back with you the second i can, okay?” he explains to you gently, already slipping his hands away from your head with all the care in the world.

you whine in protest, and though what he’s saying makes sense, you don’t want him to be away from you for even a moment.

“i know. i’m so sorry, but i’ll be right back, okay honey?” his heart is practically breaking as he pulls away from you and stumbles out of the car with the help of a medic. within seconds, another medic has crawled into the car, speaking comfortingly as she assesses the situation up close. and while you appreciate her gentleness, it’s not nearly as comforting as having luke. it’s a task, but the other medic gets luke to sit down on the side of the road a few feet away before climbing into the car from the back seat to help stabilize your neck and get you sitting upright in your seat.

luke wants to throw something or cry, or maybe both, when he hears your pained sounds coming from the car. more than anything, he wants to be near you to hold your hand, but he knows there’s not enough room for him and the medics to do their jobs.

when there’s nothing left for them to do until they can move you, they allow luke to climb back into the car and hold your hand from the back seat after checking him for severe injuries.

“hey, there. i’m back, sweetheart, just like i promised,” he says as he reaches over the console to curl his fingers around yours.

“mhmm,” you hum in relief, unable to really speak with the brace around your neck.

only moments later, more emergency vehicles arrive, including a black suv that luke knows to contain emily, jj, and spencer.

“we’ll be able to get you out so soon, now. and emily, jj, and spence are here to help, too,” luke tells you, hoping to bring you a bit of good news. in your current state, he doesn’t expect you to answer aloud, but he smiles a bit when you squeeze his hand.

—

at the hospital, hours later, luke sits in your dark room, holding your hand and resting his head against your forearm. it was practically hell to him, being made to rest in a hospital bed himself for an hour or two before they let him sit in your room instead. his concussion is mild, much more so than yours. you’re sleeping soundly, a little frown on your face that luke both wishes would go away and can’t help but find it oddly adorable. matt reported to him that you woke up once before, dazed and confused from your injury before falling back asleep.

the darkness of your room helps him, but his head still pounds dully as he wishes you’d wake up so he can say something to you, so he can hear your voice and maybe feel just a little bit less worried about you.

with his head down, he doesn’t see your eyes drift slowly open, but he feels the twitch of your fingers inside his own hand. immediately, he raises his head to check on you, and his gaze softens infinitely when he sees you’re awake.

“hey,” he whispers, “how are you feeling?” 

you take in a raspy breath before speaking, “um… i’m okay, i think. my head hurts,” you pout. “what… what happened?” the nurses had warned that you might suffer from some temporary retrograde amnesia.

“we were in a car crash,” honey, he wants to add.

you inhale sharply, “oh. are you okay?” you sound so worried and sweet that luke wants to soothe you with a kiss to your cheeks, your forehead, anywhere you’d let him. he settles for squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“i’m very okay,” he reassures, happily glossing over the fact that his head hurts, too. “that’s why i’m here, to take care of you, because you have a bad concussion.”

“oh,” you repeat, and from the way you’re talking and the tone of your voice, luke concludes that you’re still clearly affected by the concussion, “is everyone else okay? we’re on a case, right?”

“yeah, we’re on a case,” he has to hold back from the pet names again, “and everyone’s okay, just a little worried about you.”

your brow furrows at that, and he thinks your eyes grow a little shiny from tears. “don’t wan’ anybody to worry about me,” you fuss.

“oh, sweetheart,” it slips out so easy and natural that he can’t hold it back, “we just want to be sure that you’re okay,” he explains, so soft and sweet, “but since you’ll be just fine, we won’t worry too much, okay?”

“okay,” you sigh. the pout stays stuck to your lips, but you don’t protest anymore and he thinks tears are avoidable, now.

“i’m gonna grab a doctor to check on you,” luke tells you as he begins to stand and let his hand slip away from yours. your hand tightens around his and the tears spring right back into your eyes.

“don’t go,” you whine all sweet and simple.

“i promise i’ll be right back, but i need to get a doctor to make sure everything’s alright, okay?”

you shake your head, then squeeze your eyes shut in pain. that action sends a few tears out and rolling down the sides of your face. when your eyes open, a few more drops spill out as your breathing grows a little heavy and panicked.

luke settles right back down at your side and squeezes your hand with renewed urgency, “okay, okay. i got it, i’m here.” he brings his other hand to the side of your face, ever so gentle to avoid hurting you as he wipes at your tears, “i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” 

he sighs, but his face softens when you relax into his touch. “will you tell me when it’s okay for me to get a doctor? i promise it’ll only take a second, and it’ll help me not to worry about you,” he adds.

this makes your expression turn conflicted. it’s plain to him that you’re mulling over the options carefully in that pretty little head of yours.

after long consideration, you relent, “okay. but you can’t be gone long, please.”

“i won’t, i promise. i’ll be right back, okay?”

“okay,” you agree, but your voice is so sad that luke would rather do anything than leave your side. your fingers chase after his as he gets up, even when your muscles are tired, pained, and weak.

luke flags down a nurse, who gets a doctor to show up within a few minutes. she comes and confirms that your status is the same as before, all you need is rest and to be extra careful goin forward. you sigh in relief when she says that you should be discharged tomorrow or the day after, and you’re cleared to fly soon after that as long as you’re continually resting. your memory from around the time before the crash might remain spotty, but should clear up at least a little with time and proper care.

“luke,” you mumble once the doctor’s gone.

“yeah? can i get you something? water?” he asks, all caring and concerned.

“no. well, water would be nice in a minute, but luke,” you implore, “i jus’ really like you, and i wish that you’d kiss me. i’m pretty sure i’ve wished that for a while. but i definitely wish it now.”

those words nearly knock the breath out of his lungs, but he has to recompose himself quickly to deal with the fact that you’re only saying so because you’re severely concussed.

“i also wish you were my boyfriend,” you continue.

“i really like you, too,” he says, beginning gentle and truthful to ease into the fact that he can’t kiss you right now.

“so you’ll kiss me?” you slur hopefully. he sighs because he knows his answer probably won’t come across well in your current state.

“i will if that’s what you still want when your head clears up a little more, okay?” he concedes. he means it, too. he really would like to kiss you.

“but not now?” you sound so disappointed that luke is having trouble holding back. your eyes are shiny again and he wants to kiss the tears away.

“i’m sorry, but not yet.” the pronounced pout on your lips does not help his case.

“do you not want to?” you ask helplessly, and there’s tears slipping down your face again.

“oh, hey, don’t cry. i do, i promise i do, but i can’t right now,” he explains without making any headway in calming you down. you don’t seem to believe him.

he stands to lean over you and lay both of his hands against your face to wipe the tears gently awake. from the pinch of your brows and tightness of your lips, he thinks you’re probably crying from the pain, too. he shushes you softly as he presses a whisper of a kiss to your forehead when he can’t hold back from doing so anymore.

“it’s okay. don’t cry,” he mumbles into the bandage wrapped around your head. for good measure, he kisses the skin of your forehead again, since the first one seemed to calm you down significantly. it appears that the contact of his lips to your skin, regardless of whether it was on your own lips or not, was enough to sedate and please you, because the tears have stopped and there’s a little smile on your face when he looks.

“can you hug me, too?” you ask sweetly.

“of course i can,” he confirms as he wraps his arms around you, as careful and soft as possible. 

he holds you until your hand drops from his shoulder and you say plainly, “i’m tired.” he moves away slightly, brushing his thumb sweetly under your eye before he settles back down on the chair.

“alright. why don’t you go to sleep, then? i’ll be here when you wake up, cariño.”

your smile turns a little dopey at that word. “cariño,” you slur out. “i hope you’ll kiss me then, cariño.” with that, you send his heart into a flutter as your eyes drift closed and your breathing evens out.

he whispers, “i will, cariño, i will.”

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader. 

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck. 

Spencer wasn't well. 

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious. 

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break” 

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing." 

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do” 

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me” 

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[ralvezfanatic]

sorry i made a whole poll on what fic i should work on just to make completely new fics that weren't planned

im just a silly little guy who cant manage it's time nor actually complete things before starting something new

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Cinderella Moment

@flufftober day 4 Cinderella Moment Garvez 1,317 words of wump and fluff *not the typical rags to riches Cinder moment* In which Penelope discovers what made Luke the man he is and realizes they may have more in common than she ever thought.

It wasn’t some big dramatic gesture, it wasn’t some obvious visual change, it wasn’t anything at all…but her. And him. And that. The story. 

The story that broke her heart. 

And tore down the canvas of his perfectly painted veneer, transforming him before her very eyes.

“Go on, I give you carte blanche. I know you haven’t done it, even after all this time. Look me up, find my secrets, Penelope.” It was an invitation, an opening. There were things in his past he…never brought up. Things that didn’t feel right, but things that explained so much and he wanted her to know, needed her to see him. See all of him. 

-15 years old, dad dead. Called to duty for Desert Shield. Not many deaths in the grand scheme of things, but a major one in the scheme of a teenage boy. Not a month later, sister kidnapped…tortured…murdered. The clipping stated she didn’t often walk home alone, but that this day she happened to be. Crime of opportunity-  

Penelope looked at him in crushed horror, unsure what to say. Luke wasn’t one for talking about his personal life, let alone his family, beyond a joke here or there. The closest anyone got was meeting Phil, her meeting Lisa… but even that wasn’t his choice. And now here he was giving her permission to see this painful thing. This horrible thing. To know it and understand. He was entrusting her with this very secret part of himself. 

Luke pulled out the extra chair she kept in her office, “It was me” he started weakly, “It was my fault. I was…so mad. Mad at him for leaving us. Mad at my mother, mad at my grandmother, mad at popi. I just lost my dad and they all expected me to suddenly take on this role. Be this big, strong, reserved, protector.

‘A Man’

I wasn’t allowed to…miss him. Express my feelings. I felt trapped and confused, frustrated, and angry. I was mad that I had to walk with her. That she got to cry, and miss him, and…that I couldn’t. 

“You are the man now, hijo,” like I was ready for that. Like I didn’t have the same feelings that needed worked through on top of everything else going on in my life. 

I couldn’t focus in class, I felt estranged from everyone, I wasn’t turning anything in…then one day I decided to skip. After lunch I walked out the doors of our high school without a word. It’s funny, even then, I knew if I acted like I was supposed to be doing it, no one would stope me. And I left. Went to the river. I threw rocks, and the rain fell and I cried, and yelled, letting my tears mix with the raindrops and my wails melt into the wind. 

I was gonna go back, I was going to wait for her when school ended, but I lost track of time… and when I got back to school, no one was there, so I went home thinking she left without me. But she wasn’t there either. 

But the police were. Not enough time had passed to make a report, but as far as my mother was concerned her husband was dead and her two kids were missing. Dad’s captain took her distress seriously, looking out for the widow of one of their own. 

Seeing the cops, I was panicked and scared. I thought I was going to be in so much trouble. For skipping, for not being with her. It was my fault. It was my duty.Iwas supposed to take care of her, look out for her…

The evening stretched into night, turned into day. Three days. They searched for for her for three days. 

My mother wouldn’t even look at me. 

The sound she made when the call came in…They asked her if there was anyone else who could identify the body. They knew. 

I needed to do right, I needed to make it up to her. To him. To all of them. I let everyone down, if I could tell them with confidence this wasn’t her, she was still out there, she was just lost, we would find her…

But it was her... As unrecognizable as she was… what he did to her. 

From that point on I made myself as agreeable as possible. I was early to school, I was home every day on time, I kept the house clean, and did my homework and didn’t make a fuss, and I tried to anticipate what everyone would need. I was strong. And I was stoic. I was a man. And when graduation came I joined the Army, and then I became what they needed. And when I got out, I joined the FBI and worked on tracking down criminals…and then I met the BAU 

I told Rossi I wasn’t his guy, I was a manhunter, I was no good in an office…but really, I wasn’t sure I was ready. To face the things I knew you all saw every day. If there was even one case that looked like her…I’d become obsessed finding him. I’d want to track him down, hurt him. I told Hotch I wanted to kill Cullen for what he did, and that was my partner. My brother. But not my blood. What would I do if the man who killed my sister came across my desk? I’d make it right. I wouldn’t be able to stop. I wouldn’t stop. I’d fix it… I couldn’t go back, but I could fix it.”

She watched as he blinked the tears away. Even now shoving those emotions down. And then it made sense. All of him. Every bit of Luke. His character, his behavior, how there was this dark streak, how there was this playful little boy that would pop out from time to time, how he took on everyone else’s problems and challenges and made himself as helpful as possible and needed to be everyone’s champion. 

He blamed himself, was told it was his fault. Was living a life of correcting that one moment, a moment he didn’t do. Mentally flogging himself for 30 years, but he was 15, a kid, he wasn’t responsible for the actions of some sick adult. 

Penelope rose, then stooped in front of him, stern, “Luke Alvez, don’t you dare blame that hurt boy for the actions of some twisted sick individual. It was not your fault. It is not your fault.” She understood. She understood better than anyone might. The guilt that kind of situation lays on you, even without someone blaming you outwardly, you blame yourself, and poor Luke, he was literally blamed. She was looking up at him, her hands holding his, his eyes tired, sad, sunken. So broken, so un-Luke-like.

“Penelope, I know, but if I had just been there, if I hadn’t-“

“No.” She cut him off firmly, hand letting go, softly framing his face, thumb tenderly soothing a cheek. “There is no ‘but’, you were a child. You were hurt. He did that. You cannot take on the weight of someone else’s actions. You know that. You can’t say what would or wouldn’t have happened. Luke Alvez, you’re too good for that.  You are a good man. You are a good person.” As she said it, Penelope stood, pulling him up with her, hugging him tightly, her face smooshing into his chest, lips just over heart. Her brow furrowed with her own bitter regret, regret that it took this to make her see, that it took this long. 

As tight as Penelope was hugging him, Luke squeezed back double, desperate to keep her close, that this admission wouldn’t send her running. And as he did, he could have sworn he felt the glide of her lips, the jump of her jaw, of Penelope whispering I love you.

[spritehouse]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid, past Luke Alvez/Original Female Character Characters: Luke Alvez (Criminal Minds), Spencer Reid, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: luke alvez centric, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol, Past Relationship(s), Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Hurt Luke Alvez, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Past Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, past unhealthy relationships, good boyfriend spencer reid, Bad Friends Series: Part 7 of What Used to be Mine Summary:

He winces as the question slips out, knowing her answer is the same; his old friends are hers too, and he never told them what she did to him. He was young, hurt, and scared— scared he was blowing it out of proportion, scared of ruining her life because she was his best friend, and their friends would side with him over her, so he never told. “I miss you.” Her voice is soft, spider-silk smooth, weaving a web of lies that Luke failed to see the first time, but he knows better now.

- or, luke runs into his ex at a bar and calls spencer

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[totheblood]

in between | s.r.

pairing: post-prison!spencer reid x best friend!reader

summary: things are different, spencer's different. but how he feels about you is the one thing that has never changed. the only problem is now you have a boyfriend.

warnings: smut ! 18+ mdni!! lowkey cheating (lol), cursing, problematic reader, angst.

a/n: i am never beating the star has a cheating kink allegations!! I DO NOT I PROMISE... but yeah... this got away from me, i am touch starved and ovulating. reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses.. PLEASE SEND SPENCER REQUESTS!!!

wc: 5.9k

"I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring."

Spencer was different after he got out.

It wasn’t like you could expect any less. Much less would change you for the worse and you knew that, but something about the way Spencer sat slumped over in his desk doing paperwork made your heart sink. He wasn’t as chatty as he used to be, he didn’t have that glimmer in his eyes, and his voice sounded hollow when he spoke. Under his eyes were permanent dark circles and his lips seemed to form a scorn whenever anyone wasn’t looking. Or when he thought no one was looking.

You sat at your desk, pink mug in your hands as you watched him. Watched his eyebrows crease, and watched him flip through the file in his hand as he pressed a free hand to his temple, rubbing it in small circles. Spencer was on edge all the time and he looked like it. You could tell he made an effort with you to be kinder, gentler, but it always came out sounding rehearsed, his face betraying him like it always did. Spencer Reid, your best friend, was now a completely changed person and it killed you that you couldn’t stop it. 

Pushing yourself from your desk chair you approached him, a small smile on your voice as you gently spoke, “Hey.”

He tensed for a second. He still wasn’t used to people sneaking up on him. He made a conscious effort to fix his face before turning to look up at you, his body relaxing upon seeing your face. Placing the file down on the desk, he leaned back in his chair returning your small smile as he spoke, “Hey,”

His voice was quiet as he spoke. He was tired and up close you could just see how much. 

“You, um…” your voice trailed off making his eyebrows raise, “are you okay?” The question was stupid, you knew the answer but it never hurt to ask. Your fingernails gripped the mug handle as you swallowed down the nerves, “are you sleeping?”

Spencer thought of how to answer truthfully. If he was being honest, of course, he wasn’t okay, he hadn’t been okay for a while, but instead, he just gave you a slight nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice was a little raspy as he spoke, but he turned away from you and back to the file on his desk. He was lying and you both knew it, but you weren’t his therapist and he was not about to open that can of worms on a Thursday. 

“Of course, yeah,” you awkwardly mumbled, “you know I’m still here, right? I’m still me, you know? You’re my best friend… and I, um, miss you.” 

He turned back to you, his face visibly softening as you spoke. He knew you were there for him, you were the only person he would allow to be there for him. He just didn’t know how to open back up or ask for help. Instead, he nodded his head, “I know… and I miss you too.”

“Spence, I-” you spoke but were promptly cut off by none other than Luke Alvez placing a hand on the small of your back as he whispered to you, “We still on for tonight?” 

It felt too intimate, too personal for Spencer to hear, but worst of all it made his stomach sink. He clenched his jaw tightly as he watched the interaction and took note of how you leaned into him. You were comfortable with him, comfortable enough that you should have told Spencer long before now. 

“Yeah,” you whispered back as you smiled sheepishly at Luke, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. 

“Great,” he smiled, removing his hand as he nodded slightly at Spencer before making his way over to his own desk.  

“You guys are going out?” He asked, his tone his own one-off attempt to keep his tone neutral and controlled, but came out more strained than usual. 

“Yeah,” you replied like you were ashamed of it, “it just kind of happened when you were… gone,” you rubbed at the back of your neck nervously, “I was just a mess without you and he was… well, he was there. There for me, I mean.”

Spencer kept his expression neutral, but he felt like a part of him was being taken from him, “So you’re dating now?”

“Kinda,” you squinted your eyes, trying to think of the perfect way to word it, “I mean, yes, like we haven’t labeled it but I think we’re exclusive. I don’t know we haven’t really talked too much about it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” He said, his voice low and laced with bitterness. He had already felt like he missed out on so much and in a way became an outsider in a team he once called his family. But when it came to you, it struck a different chord. 

“When would that come up, Spence?” you replied, giving half of a laugh to soften the blow, “I wasn’t going to tell you about who I was hooking up with while visiting you in prison. It just didn’t seem fair and then you came back and didn’t seem interested in what I had going on. I just didn’t think you cared to know that.”

“Not interested in what you had going on?” he repeated back, the words sour on his tongue, “You think I didn’t care to know? I was in prison, that didn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

“I know that, Sp-” he cut you off.

“I was in prison, stuck in a cell, for months thinking I was never going to get out and you were… dating,” he didn’t know why he said it, it just kind of spilled out. Like all the bitterness and resentment he had been feeling had finally reached the surface and was spilling over. 

“What was I supposed to do?” you whisper-yelled, “Stop my life forever because you weren’t here? It was hard for me, Spence, and god I missed you more than anything but I needed the pain to stop and he… he stopped it.” 

“Pain? You were in pain? Well, I spent 270 days in a 6 by 8 prison cell. I was the one in pain! You don’t know what it was like!” He knew he was wrong, but it was like all of his anger, pain, and frustration was coming out and he didn’t know how to stop it. He knew it wasn’t a big deal. Logically, he knew that. But right now, all he wanted to do was get it out.

You took a step back suddenly, forcing reality to wash over him as your eyes got slightly glossy, guilt painted all over your face, “I’m sorry… I thought you would be happy for me… I thought…” 

You turned your head from him slightly, avoiding his gaze as you shook your head, “Nevermind, I’ll um, I’ll see you around.”

Spencer watched as you stepped back and saw the hurt look on your face. The anger and irritation faded almost immediately and in its place was guilt and remorse. He had hurt the one person he never wanted to hurt. He reached out a hand to try and stop you from leaving.

"Wait... please don't go," He spoke in a softer and more vulnerable tone.

Your own expression softened at this, like he was a child reaching out for you, scared there were monsters under his bed. His hand linked onto your fingers gently. You could pull away if you wanted to, but didn’t, “What?”

Spencer held onto your hand gently as he stood up from his chair and took a few steps closer to you. He looked at you anxiously, knowing that he needed to explain himself. He didn't want you to leave, especially not like this.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just... I feel left out. I felt forgotten," he explained, trying to keep his voice soft, but there was a hint of worry and jealousy in his tone.

"I know, I know, I mean I'm sorry," you replied, shaking your head, "you're my best friend, I should have told you."

Spencer sighed and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm just... I'm on edge lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you. I shouldn't have acted like an ass to you."

He spoke in a sincere tone, his expression softening as he watched your face. 

You let out a small giggle, taking your hand back from him but gently nudging his shoulder, "You've been through a lot. you deserve to be an ass sometimes," she teased. 

Spencer let out a small breath of relief when he heard you laugh. It was like you were his again, and that part that had been missing found it’s way home.  He managed a small smile at your words, feeling a little lighter.

"Maybe, but not to you. You're probably the only person who I shouldn't take my anger out on. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you replied almost too quickly, "you won't lose me, I promise."

"You promise?" he asked quietly, his tone filled with vulnerability.

You lifted your pinky finger for him to take with his, "Pinky promise."

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile as he saw your pinky offered to him. He looked at it for a moment before linking his own pinky with yours and giving them a small squeeze.

"Pinky promise."

You smiled up at him, the bright smile you reserved especially for him as you clicked your teeth, “Well, I gotta… get back to paperwork, Spence, but I’m  glad you’re back.”

Spencer smiled faintly at your bright smile, that only you seemed to bring out in him these days. "Yeah, I should get back to work, too. But, um..." He paused for a moment, his expression growing more anxious as he spoke, “Tonight, with Alvez… do you think you could cancel?”

"Why? What's wrong?" you asked, a worried expression clouding your face as you lightly gripped his forearm. It used to be a comforting touch but right now it felt foreign. 

"I just-" He let out a slow breath and paused before continuing, "I just want to spend time with you, alone. I feel like we haven't really had time to connect since I got out, and I miss you."

He wanted to feel guilty, he really did but a part of him couldn’t. He did want to spend time with you, but he also just didn’t want your time to be taken up by Luke. 

“Oh, Spence,” you cooed, voice soft as you took your hand back, “of course I can cancel. My place or  yours?” 

Spencer's expression softened and relief washed over him at your words. He couldn't help but smile faintly as you agreed, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He thought for a moment before replying, "Your place. I haven't been there in a while, and I need a change of scenery."

"My place it is," you smiled, "I'll go cancel with him right now,"

He watched as you walked over to Alvez and told him you were canceling, and then told him you were canceling for Spencer. Spencer couldn't hear the two of you but it looked like you were fighting. He was talking with his hands, rolling his eyes as you put up a defensive hand. It was clear he was upset and it ended with Alvez throwing down a file on his desk and storming away.

Spencer's expression grew a little more worried as he saw the interaction between you and Alvez. When he saw Alvez throw down the file on his desk and storm away, he felt a pang of guilt. He knew that you had canceled because of him, and it was causing problems between you and Alvez. He watched as Alvez walked away and he let out a slow, heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Later that night, you were in your living room, sprawled out on the couch watching tv as you heard the familiar knocks of Spencer on the door. Opening it up you gave him a bright smile, your PJs in full effect, "Good evening, Doctor," you smiled at him, taking a step to the side to let him in.

Spencer smiled faintly at the sight of you, dressed in your PJs. It was a comfortable and familiar sight to him, and it made him feel at ease. He chuckled softly at your greeting, "Good evening, SSA Y/L/N," he teased in return, his voice a little more relaxed than usual.

You giggled, letting him in, "On a last-name basis, huh?" you laughed again. "I say we watch Doctor Who Series Two, what do you think?"

Spencer chuckled as he walked inside and nodded in agreement. He closed the door behind him and made his way over to her couch, plopping himself down on one end, and resting his arm on the back of the couch. In a way, he hated how well you knew him. He hated how as long as he lived there would be one person in the world to know what he needed and that she would be putting on his favorite season of his favorite show and making it seem like it was her own idea. He hated that you existed and he couldn’t have you. 

"Sounds perfect. Doctor Who marathon it is," he replied with a smile.

"Perfect," you smiled, plopping down on the other end, remote in hand as you moved to put on the show, Spence, who is your favorite companion," you asked absentmindedly as you flipped through the catalog. 

Spencer chuckled at your question and thought for a moment before answering. He shifted around on the couch until he was facing you, his expression pondering.

"Hmm, that's a tough one," he started, his voice thoughtful as he considered the question, "I've always had a soft spot for Donna Noble. She was funny, and her chemistry with the Doctor was hilarious. But Ten and Rose... they'll always have a special place in my heart."

“Ten and Rose are..." you blushed to yourself, "They are endgame to me even though they clearly aren't endgame, but I don't care."

Spencer chuckled at your blushing as you spoke about Ten and Rose, and he nodded in agreement, "Right? They had such incredible chemistry. It's hard not to root for them. The way Ten always looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. It was like he saw the universe in her eyes," he agreed, his expression growing fond as he spoke.

"Yeah," you smiled, your smile fading as you clicked on the first episode of series two. Spencer noticed your smile fade and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. He leaned a little closer to you, watching your expression.

"Hey, you okay?"

He spoke quietly, his voice filled with a hint of worry.

“Yeah, it's fine. I just... don't like being in a fight with Luke. it's like why can’t we be more like... Ten and Rose..." you shook your head, "It's stupid, whatever.”

Spencer's expression softened as he listened to you, understanding your frustration. He gave you a reassuring smile and spoke in a gentle tone, "It's not stupid, you're allowed to feel that way. Comparing what you have to some fictional characters... it's natural to yearn for that kind of connection,” He paused for a moment, studying your face, before continuing, "Why do you think you and Alvez can't be like Ten and Rose?"

"I don't know," you shook your head, "it's like I can't do anything right. He's- and I shouldn't be telling you this, but when you were away we would get into so many fights over you. He'd be mad if I went to visit you, or if I was too upset about missing you and he just always kept insinuating that I was like in love with you or something,”

Spencer's expression faltered as you spoke. He could already sense Alvez was jealous of your close friendship, but to hear he had been trying to discourage you from visiting him while he was away... it angered him. But it was the implication that you may have feelings for him that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. But he pushed that feeling down for the moment, trying to focus on what you were saying, "He said you were in love with me?"

"Yea," you whispered, "but I told him it wasn't like that. That we were just friends but he didn't believe it. He still doesn't."

"Why doesn't he believe you?" He asked softly, his eyes studying your face.

"I dont know," you groaned, "I mean we don't have a conventional friendship, me and you, but it was like a piece of me was locked up with you in that prison. I just wasn’t me without you and he saw that and took it as me being in love with you," you replied, ignoring the implications of what that meant.

Spencer couldn't help the pang of guilt that went through him at your words. He knew that being locked up had affected you just as much as it had affected him. He understood that without him, you had felt like a part of you was missing, but it still broke his heart to hear it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice tinged with guilt, "I never wanted to make things difficult for you... or put you in a position like that."

"You didn't, Spence," you sat up quickly, putting your hand over his that was situated in his lap, "You didn't do anything okay, my... partner or whatever he is should be able to trust me."

Spencer's expression softened at your touch, and his heart skipped a beat as you covered his hand with yours. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, feeling a wave of emotions wash over him. Your words made him feel a little better, but he couldn't shake off the guilt entirely, "I know, but..." He trailed off for a moment before continuing in a softer tone, "I just wish I could make things right for you, y'know?"

"Not your job," you smiled in a desperate attempt to comfort him, "I'd rather have you in my life than some man who didn't believe me anyway."

Spencer sighed, feeling a mixture of comfort and guilt at your words. He knew that it wasn't his job to fix things between you and Luke, but he hated seeing you hurt or upset. He gave your hand a small, affectionate squeeze as he spoke, "I'm always going to be in your life, no matter what. You're stuck with me."

"Oh, kill me now," you joked, voice soft as you leaned your head on his shoulder, "Eternity with you though?" you whispered, "Not the worst thing in the world."

Spencer chuckled softly at your joke, and he couldn't help but smile as you rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you a little closer to him, "Eternity with me, huh?" He repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice, "You sure you could handle it?"

"You sure you could handle it?" you giggled, softly pushing him down on the couch causing him to topple over into the couch. If this was anyone else he would have pushed you back immediately, tell you to not push him like that, but it was you. And you could do whatever you wanted to him. 

"Hey, hey, easy on the doctor!” Spencer protested jokingly as he fell backward into the couch. He looked up at you, a hint of playfulness in his eyes, as he sprawled out comfortably, "You're not getting rid of me that easy," he teased with a chuckle.

"Hey, hey, not easy on the doctor," you giggled again, leaning over on top of him, taking a pillow, and pretending to smother him as you climbed on top of him, straddling him. 

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as you straddled him, and he couldn't help blushing slightly at the sudden closeness of your body on top of his. His breathing hitched a little, but he tried to keep his expression playful. He pretended to struggle against you as you leaned over him with the pillow, "Hey now, watch it!” he protested, though his voice was filled with amusement.

You giggled as she pressed the pillow further into his face, "'m putting you out of your misery Doctor,"

Spencer laughed even louder, feigning resistance as you pressed the pillow further into his face, "Mercy! Mercy! I surrender!" He jokingly spoke in a dramatic tone, his voice muffled by the pillow. He tried to pull the pillow away from his face to look up at you.

Pulling the pillow off of his face, you smiled down at him, the laugh slowly dying in your throat as you realized the compromised position, “Oh.”

Spencer was panting slightly from the fake struggle, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked up at you. His gaze met yours and he felt a wave of heat wash over him as he fully realized your position, with you straddling him on the couch, hips pressed slightly down into him. He couldn't help but take in the sight of you on top of him, his heart racing.

"I, um… didn't realize,” you spoke quickly, your own self out of breath, panting as you began to move to get off him, "I'm sorry, shit." 

"No, no, wait., "Spencer's hand reached out quickly and gently grabbed your wrist as you tried to move off him. He swallowed, his heart racing a mile a minute. He couldn't deny the tension in the air or the way his body reacted to how close you were. This was straight out of a dream he knew he had, "Please... don't move," he whispered, his voice low.

Your breathing was heavy as you looked down at him, hair tousled and in your PJs, "Spence," you whispered, voice low. 

Spencer looked up at you, feeling his body hum with desire as he took you in. Your tousled hair, the sight of you in your PJs, it was all so real and intimate. It was domestic in nature and it made his heart do a flip. He swallowed, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. At the sound of you whispering his name, his grip on your wrist tightened just a fraction, "Yeah?” He whispered back, his own voice thick and dry. 

"Is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" you joked, the tension still thick and palatable as it sat it the pit of your stomach.

Spencer's breath hitched at your joke, with the way he was reacting it was clear he hadn’t been touched in months. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound sending shivers down his spine. He shifted beneath you, your body still straddling him, and he could feel the weight of your body against him, the tension between you palpable, "Maybe it's both," he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire.

You breathed out, a shaky breath but still a breath, as you rocked your hips a little bit against him, desperate for friction, "I'm not a cheater," you whispered. 

Spencer's breath caught in his throat as you rocked your hips against him, and it took everything in him not to buck his hips in response. He tried to control his breathing, his body reacting to your touch almost involuntarily. He swallowed, his voice a little rougher than usual as he replied, "I know you're not. You've never been," He placed his hands on your hips, holding you in place lightly, his thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin of your waist under your shirt.

Your skin burned where his hands met your hips. It made you want to do more. It made you want to continue, a soft sigh that sounded like a moan falling from your lips, swallowing quickly as you stared down at him. 

Spencer's heart raced as you let out that small sigh, a mix of a moan, and he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. He could feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room almost tangible, "You're driving me crazy," he breathed out, his thumbs continuing to stroke your skin, his touch growing a little firmer, more possessive. His pupils were blown out, soft brown eyes looking up at you like it was you who held the universe in your hands. 

"I'm not-" you shook your head, "not doing anything," you whispered, hips grinding down slowly as you took another deep breath in. Your brain was telling you to quit while you were ahead, but every bone in your body seemed physically incapable of stopping. 

Spencer's breath hitched at the feel of your hips grinding down against him, and he involuntarily tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin. "Oh, you're doing plenty," he whispered back, his voice low and laced with barely suppressed need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?”

"No," you whispered, hands trailing up his chest as he held you, "explain it to me."

Spencer let out a ragged breath, trying to form coherent words, "You... you drive me crazy. You always have," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "The way you look at me, talk to me, touch me..." He paused, gathering himself, before continuing. "The way you're straddling me right now, your body pressed against mine, it's... it's like you were made for me."

You closed your eyes, grinding down harder involuntarily. It was okay to dry hump your best friend, right? That didn't count as cheating, right? Your mind tried to convince yourself this was okay, that you weren’t awful, but you were spurred on by his words, your panties dampening as he held you. 

Spencer groaned as you ground down harder against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he opened them again, his gaze filled with undisguised desire, "This... we shouldn't," he managed to say, even as his hands continued to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him, his body responding without even thinking, "You're with Luke... we can't... we can't do this," his words were a whisper, but even he could hear the lack of conviction behind them.

You ground down again, in tandem with him, "You're- you're right," you panted, "maybe we should stop," your own eyes fluttered closed. 

Spencer groaned again, his grip on your hips tightening even more, his body moving in time with yours, almost involuntarily. His heart was racing, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he tried to slow himself down, to think clearly, "Yeah, we... we should stop," he agreed, his voice a little hoarse, but his body betrayed his words, still rocking against you, needing the friction, the closeness.

"Oh god, fuck," you groaned, eyes fluttering closed as you rocked harder, faster, "Yeah... yeah... should stop," you repeated.

"Fuck..." Spencer couldn't help but curse under his breath, his hips bucking up to meet yours with each movement, his body on fire with need. He was losing his mind, his last shred of control slipping away as he felt the heat between you growing more and more intense, "We... we need to stop... now..." he managed to breathe out, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands holding onto your hips like a lifeline, almost desperately.

"Mhm," you moaned in agreement but never stopped your movements. Instead, you continued to rock against him, ignoring how the spaghetti strap of your pajamas had started to fall off your shoulder, "So stop," you whispered, not stopping.

Spencer's eyes were fixed on the spaghetti strap that was falling off your shoulder, his brain nearly short-circuiting at the sight. He groaned, the sound almost guttural, as he tried to steady his breathing. "I'm- I'm trying, I'm trying..." He was trying, he really was, but with your body moving against him like that, your hips rocking in just the right way, he couldn't help but move with you, his body responding on autopilot.

"How hard?" you whispered, a giggle falling from your lips that turned quickly into a strangled moan, as his hands pushed your hips down into him. Spencer's grip on your hips tightened even more, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pushed you down into him. His breathing was ragged now, his body trembling with need, as he felt you against him.

"So goddamn hard," he groaned, his voice strained, as he tried to hold back. "You have no idea how hard you’re making this for me."

"I can," you panted out, "I can feel it… How hard it is for you," you giggled, eyes fluttering shut again as you gripped his shoulder. It was all him at this point, he was pulling you down into him, his hips bucking up. The friction all felt too good, too real, and you weren’t stopping. There was no way you could. 

Spencer was losing himself completely in the feeling of you against him, the sound of your voice, the way your touch burned through him. His head was spinning, his body on fire with need and desire. He pulled you down harder against him, his hips bucking up involuntarily, the friction between you sending sparks through his body. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants, as he pulled you down closer to him, "God... you feel so good," he groaned, his lips brushing against your collarbone, his breath hitched and shallow.

When his lips touched you, you gasped, a loud moan coming from your lips that sounded too much like his name.  You wanted this and you wanted it desperately. It was almost pathetic how much you wanted this.

The sound of your moan, his name on your lips, it was like a punch to the gut. Spencer's grip on your hips involuntarily tightened, his body reacting almost violently to the sound, the need in your voice. "Say it again," he groaned, his lips moving against your skin, leaving a trail of hot, hungry kisses along your collarbone. "Say my name again."

"Fuck," you hissed back a moan, "Spencer," you practically chanted, hand gripping the arm of the couch behind him as you ground together, "Spencer," you chanted again, a lot less coherent as she bit back a moan. 

Each time you said his name, it sounded like a prayer, and Spencer felt like he was losing his mind. His hips bucked up against yours as he heard it again and again, the sound sending shockwaves through his body. He buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps as he fought to keep himself together, "God, say it again," he begged, his voice thick with need and hunger, "Please, say my name again, just like that."

"Spencer- ah, fuck," you cried out, whimpering pathetically as your body moved for you, "Spencer."

Spencer was drowning in you, in the sound of you saying his name. It was the only thing he could hear, the only thing he could focus on. He was coming undone under you, his body reacting involuntarily to your touch and your voice.

"That's it," he breathed against your skin, his lips on your neck, his body moving with yours. "Just like that, baby, just like that. Say my name, say it again."

"Spencer," you cried out as his movements picked up, as they became more aggressive. You just kept chanting it like it was the air you breathed, like it was the only word you knew. Spencer was wild with need, overwhelmed by the sound of his name falling from your lips, the feel of your body against his. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you down into him, moving against you with a desperate, frenzied rhythm.

"You're killing me," he groaned, his voice thick with desire and frustration. "God, you're going to kill me."

He buried his face in your neck, his lips moving against your skin, his breath hot and labored. He was losing himself completely in the moment, driven by pure need and desire, "I can't- I can't stop," he panted between kisses, his voice ragged and strained. "I need you, I need you so bad."

"Fuck, Spencer," you cried out, body almost shaking on top of him. If this was wrong, why did it feel so good?

Spencer was lost in you, undone by your words, your sounds, your touch. Your body shaking on top of him, the sound of his name falling from your lips was like a drug, addictive and potent. He clutched you tighter, his grip almost bruising, as he moved against you frantically, desperately, chasing the release that was building inside him, "That's it, that's it," he panted, his own body trembling, "Don't stop, baby, don't stop."

He felt the orgasm building inside him, a wave of pleasure and heat rolling through him, his body shaking as he pulled you down into him again and again, "Oh god, I'm- I'm gonna-"

The words were lost in a strangled moan, his body arching up off the couch as he found his release, his grip on you still tight. 

“Oh god, I’m,” you panted, crying out his name like a hymn, “I’m cumming,” you breathed out. It was all too good, like he was made for you just in this moment. 

Spencer's heart felt like it was going to burst as he heard you call his name, the sound like a prayer as your body trembled on top of him, "Yes, yes, yes," he whispered hoarsely, his arms holding you tightly against him, his own body still shaking with aftershocks from his orgasm, "That's it, baby, let go, let go for me."

Your body stopped moving, collapsing on top of him as you came undone, holding onto him like he might float away. He caught you against him as you collapsed on top of him, his body still throbbing with the aftershocks. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breathing ragged and labored. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his lips brushing against your skin, as he tried to slow his racing heart.

"That was... incredible," he panted, his voice still hoarse.

"That was..." your voice trailed off as you sat up quickly, realizing you were still clothed as she stood up and off the couch pathetically, "that was cheating, oh god."

Your sudden movement jerked Spencer out of his blissful state, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, his mind still fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure, "Whoa, whoa, hey, calm down."

He sat up, his heart still racing as he reached for your hand, trying to steady you, "It's okay, it's okay, we're okay."

“No it’s not,” you whispered, pulling your hand back from him as he reached for you. It made his chest sting, but all he did was blink, “I think you should leave,” 

“What?”

“You should go, Spence,” you reiterated, eyes looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“If that’s what you want me to do,” he spoke. His voice almost sounded broken and you didn’t like the feeling of being the one who caused it. 

“It is,” you replied quickly, arms folded across your chest. You turned away from him completely, ignoring the sound of the door slamming closed as he stepped outside.

[to-thelakes]

I think Luke is low-key a little possessive. Not in like a jealous you can't talk to anyone way but like marking you up and wanting you to tell him you're his during sex. He also enjoys seeing you in his clothes

yours

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; luke wants to give you all the pleasure he can but maybe he gives a little too much

warnings; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+, smut, pure smut, breeding kink (if you squint), overstimulation (so much overstimulation), a lot of talk of fluids, reader squirts once, luke marks reader up, hurt/comfort but not really hurt (reader is just overstimulated and pleasure drunk), little bit of crying because of said overstimulation, just really horny, dom!luke, sub!reader

notes; i feel like the actual fic may have veered away from the ask a bit but i kind of took luke being possessive and fucking ran with it, like RAN with it, uhm, yeah, a 3k one-shot of just luke and reader being horny, i've shared like horny one-shots before but this feels like a new level so uhm, i hope you enjoy and any feedback is helpful since i literally never share my smutty writings!

masterlist

Luke’s arms were caging you in as he slowly thrusted into you. He had already pulled two or three orgasms from just slowly fucking into you and your mind was drunk on pleasure. He was kissing you as you moaned and whined into his mouth. His tongue licking into your mouth as your nails dug into his chest, scratching at his tanned skin. Every sensation was maddening.

And then his lips slipped from yours and down to your neck. He nipped at your skin and you threw your head back, giving him access to every inch of skin on your throat. He had already left hickeys that you knew weren’t gonna fade for days but you really didn’t care. You loved when he marked you up. You also knew that he loved doing it.

“My pretty carina,” He mumbled against your throat and you whined. His thrusts were still slow, dragging everything out as you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt like you were being slowly torn apart and it was like nothing you’d ever experienced, even with him. He had come back from a case desperate and needy and he hadn’t even cum yet. Instead, he was trying to draw as many orgasms from you as he could.

“Luke,” You whined, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. Your walls contracted around him and he groaned against your neck. His head fell forward, his forehead resting against your throat as he squeezed his eyes shut. You were whining and kneening, digging your fingers into any part of him that you could, “Oh God,” You moaned as your back arched. He was desperately trying to hold back blowing his load as his teeth sunk into your neck. The way you felt around him only made it harder to control and everything shunted forward as you gushed around him. It was dripping down your ass and thighs, coating every part of you in sticky slick. But Luke didn’t let up.

“Luke,” You whined, throwing your head back as he continued his slow, even thrusts. Your walls were so sensitive and your legs were shaking, “Please,” You continued, not even entirely sure what you were begging for. Luke smirked against your skin before he lifted his head up so he could look at you. He rested his hand against your cheek as he continued his measured thrusts.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, somehow still put together despite everything. Your cunt was wet, warm and he was slipping in and out so easily. You didn’t understand how he was able to hold on for this long. You felt your sanity beginning to slip as he continued to thrust into you, your mind so drunk on pleasure that you couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t even respond to his question which made him smirk, “Am I making you feel good?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his tone. You tried desperately to nod, moaning as he adjusted his hips to get a better angle. His cock hit your cervix with every thrust and you could barely think straight, “Who’s making you feel good?” He continued as he rested his forehead against yours. Your breaths were mingling as you whined and keened, chest pressed against his as your fingers moved to drag down his chest.

“You, you are,” You moaned out as he shoved into you particularly harshly. Your eyes fell closed as you dug your nails into his back, “Just you, only you, oh God, Luke,” You devolved into mindlessly whining and panting as you felt another orgasm already begin to make itself known. Your walls were contracting around him and he squeezed his eyes shut again. It was getting harder and harder to hold himself back.

“Am I gonna make you cum again? Cum for me, baby.” His voice was in your ear and it sent you over the edge. Your nails dug into his back, leaving crescent shaped marks on his shoulders as you gushed around him. Your legs were shaking, wrapped around his waist as you convulsed, desperately trying to work through the orgasm but it was getting harder. Especially when he was still slowly thrusting into you, your walls were so oversensitive, you felt like you were losing your mind. Eyes squeezed shut, panting, whining and your back arched while your nails dug into his back. It was probably painful but he made no indication that it bothered him as your head was thrown back. It was impossible to even think.

And he was still thrusting into you. Every single one sent pleasure tickling up your spine and it was toeing the fine line between pleasure and pain and you could feel yourself slipping away. You weren’t even sure how long he had been thrusting into you and you knew that you were whining and moaning his name but you weren’t sure what you were saying. You were babbling as he continued to suck hickeys into your neck and mumble about how you were his and only his. It was maddening.

“Fuck,” Luke whined, goddamn whined against your throat as he felt your tightening around him again. You were panting, breathless and dazed as you felt yourself cumming again. Tears were dripping down your face, your pleasure-addled mind completely lost in itself as he thrusted again and again. But it was getting too much and he abruptly pulled out just as you came.

You squirted, goddamn squirted but without his cock to squeeze around, you had nothing to latch onto. You damn near sobbed as you clawed at his back, trying to work through your orgasm without anything. Luke was panting against your throat, hands digging into the mattress as he tried to calm himself down.

“Luke,” You whined, your orgasm finally having passed and your hand lazily moved to tug at his hair. Every movement was sluggish and slow and your grip was weak but he lifted his head up anyway. Your eyes were barely able to focus on him, tears of pleasure still streaming down your face as you tried to tug him to you, “Please, cum in me, please,” You begged. You rested your forehead against his, pressing soft kisses to his lips between whimpers of ‘please’. Luke’s eyes fell closed as his hand moved to cup your jaw.

“You want me to fill you up?” He asked. You nodded your head as you tugged at his hair with a weak grip. “Please, I’m yours. Want you to show me how much you love me. Want you. Just you, please. Please, I need to feel it,” You were begging breathlessly, not even entirely sure what you were saying. It was just endless babble as you told him that you belonged to him and that you needed him. Luke groaned against your lips before he looked down to line himself back up before he slipped in. You let out a high-pitched whine. Your walls were so sensitive but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to cum, you needed him to.

“Tell me who you belong to,” He whispered against your lips as he began to fuck into you again. His thrusts started off slow and he watched your mouth fall open. Your body gave in to him again as your legs fell from around his waist.

“You, just you. Always belonged to you, Luke,” You rambled. It was almost like a mantra, a chant and you couldn’t think of saying anything else. His name was the only thing your pleasure-addled mind could come out with and his thrusts began to speed up. It wasn’t slow anymore, it was rough and you were being fucked back into the headboard as you whined. Your head was thrown back and his lips attached to your collarbones, biting and sucking at the skin between his groans and pants. Your walls were squeezing around him involuntarily as he thrusted harder and faster, chasing his orgasm. They became less rhythmic and you knew he was going to cum.

“Please, wanna feel you,” You begged as he moved, “I belong to you. Wanna feel you dripping inside me all day.” Luke moaned against your chest, your words making his hips stutter before he buried into you and painted your walls white with his cum. He panted against your collarbone as he thrusted once or twice more before he settled against you. His dick was still buried in you as he collapsed against your body.

His head rested above your heart and he could hear how fast it was beating as he panted, desperately trying to get his breath back.

“Fuck, Luke,” You mumbled softly. He chuckled, his chest rumbling and you whined softly, feeling his dick change positions inside of you, “I can’t- I can’t take anymore,” You muttered after a moment. Your voice was so quiet and fragile. Luke understood what you meant and though he felt boneless from his own orgasm, he lifted up enough to support himself.

“Just breathe, I’m gonna pull out,” He warned you. One hand rested against your face as he slowly pulled his softening dick from you. You whined at the loss, your eyes squeezing shut to prevent tears from falling before you pressed your thighs together. The sticky wetness of your cunt and thighs was something that you were both incredibly familiar with and it made Luke pout when you closed your legs.

“Give me a- give me a minute,” You mumbled, voice cracking. Luke nodded and he moved up so that he was cupping your face.

“It’s okay,” He whispered softly against your lips. You hummed out in response before you let out a ragged breath, “You did so well. You were perfect,” He added. Your shoulders sagged at the praise, the feelings of euphoria somehow becoming even better with his soft praise. His lips moved to kiss your forehead, “You need to get cleaned up though,” He reminded. You whined and shook your head side-to-side, thinking about how overstimulating it would be on your poor abused cunt. You didn’t even want to think about it.

“No, no, no. Let me just. I wanna stay here, let me stay here,” You begged, hands moving to cover your face as the tears began to blur your vision all over again. The very thought of getting out of bed made you want to start crying. Your emotions were all out of whack after the mind-blowing number of orgasms that he had given you. You could feel the lump forming in your throat at even the thought of anything touching your cunt right now.

“Hey, hey,” Luke’s voice softened as he took a gentle hold of your wrist. He had never seen you so emotionally wrecked from him fucking you. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. It twinged at his gut but he did his best to ignore it so he could take care of you, “I’m right here. Baby, look at me.” His voice was so soft yet commanding. It was hard not to listen to him as you forced your eyes open and let him take your wrists away. Tears were blurring your vision and a few of them began to fall as he admired you with such love, “What’s wrong?” He asked. You let out a choked sob at his question and your hands moved to tug at his neck, wanting to hold him.

“Too sensitive, don’t, can’t touch it,” You rambled. Luke let you drag him into a hug, letting you hold his hand as he did his best to keep any pressure off your lower half.

“Okay, what about a bath? Nobody has to touch it,” He suggested from where you had forced him onto your chest. You nodded and he smiled softly. He took a hold of your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before he moved to sit up on his knees, “I’ll run a bath. Just stay here,” He said. You nodded but your lip was quivering. It was clear that you didn’t want him to leave but he knew that he needed to get you both cleaned up in whatever way he could. His own thighs and dick were covered in your slick and as much as he loved the feeling, he also knew that he needed to clean it up at some point.

Once Luke had disappeared into the bathroom, you curled up on your side. Your cunt was still so sensitive and the only way you could stop feeling the twinge was by relaxing your thighs. It took everything in you to concentrate on that so your emotions were going haywire.

You wanted Luke back with you in bed, you needed his touch and even though he was only the room over, you began to cry. It was soft at first, little hiccuping sobs before they got louder. You needed to be with Luke and so, you pushed yourself off the bed.

Your legs were shaky, like jelly, from the way he’d fucked you and you were barely able to keep yourself upright but you used the dresser and the walls of your bedroom to get to the ensuite. You were still sobbing, they were soft but ugly noises as you pushed the door open. Luke’s head snapped up and his face broke into a frown when he saw your disheveled state.

“What, what happened? Are you okay?” He asked quickly. You stumbled over to him before wrapping your arms around him.

“Just needed you,” You managed between soft hiccuping sobs. He was still frowning as he wrapped you up in a hug. He had never seen you like this after sex. It honestly terrified him and the guilt was wrapping him up. You were sobbing, covered in marks and he knew that you liked it. He knew that it didn’t bother you and you would have used the safe word if something went too far that you didn’t like but you hadn’t. He didn’t know what to think.

“Did I hurt you?” Luke asked as he wrapped you up in his arms. You shook your head.

“Felt so good,” You mumbled between hiccups. His hand ran soothing circles across your back and it was calming the tears down, “Felt so good but wanted to be with you. I didn’t want to be without you. Just needed your arms around me.” You were rambling, your emotions really were haywire. Luke didn’t know what to think and so he just caressed your hair and rubbed your back until your sobs had subsided.

The bath was also drawn and so he switched the taps off before he let you towards it. He insisted that you get in first and so, you slipped into the water. It was warm and you instantly felt so much better. It soothed your frayed nerves but when you looked at Luke, he seemed hesitant to join you. His mouth was set into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly. Your eyes were still red and puffy and your cheeks were tear-streaked but Luke made you feel better. He had made everything so much better. You reached out for his hand but he seemed hesitant to touch it, “Please, get in the bath,” You mumbled, feeling your eyes get teary again. You were beginning to think that you had done something wrong and the terror gripped you, “Please,” Your voice cracked. Luke was quick to kneel down on the bathroom floor so he was on the same level as you. His hand held you.

“Did I cross a line?” He asked, voice serious. You shook your head. Your mind was so scrambled but that was one thing you were sure of, “I need words.” Your head fell forward and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I would have said something. You didn’t, you didn’t cross a line. Please, I want you here. Please,” You were practically begging for him and even if you were still an emotional wreck, he noted that it was the most put together you had sounded since he had cum.

With a reluctant nod of his head, he got up to his feet and slipped into the bath behind you. Within seconds, you had curled up on his chest and you rested your head against his pec. You were just glad that he was here.

The two of you stayed in the bath until the water was cold, sitting in comfortable silence apart from when you mumbled to each other about cleaning up. Luke had done his best to be gentle as he washed your thighs and your cunt was less sensitive which meant he was able to gently wipe across it. Your clit twitched but otherwise, you felt fine.

You were then able to turn your attention to him and as you came back from the emotional wreck that Luke’s fucking had made you, you cleaned him up. You started with his thighs before you spread water across his chest and arms. You kissed his face, showing him all that love that he wanted and as the bath went on, the rigidness of his shoulders began to relax.

Once you had both gotten out, he seemed to have fully relaxed again. You were also feeling more sober and sane than you had all night. Luke helped you dry off and then he gave you his shirt to wear to bed. You didn’t argue, you never would. You loved his shirts and when you slipped it on, you felt at ease. Luke also loved to see you in his shirts. It made him grin and when you looked at him with those adoring features, he couldn’t help the smile that overtook him.

The two of you slipped into bed after Luke changed the sheets and when you were safely snuggled up to him, he broached the question again. It was clear that Luke was a little surprised by just how fucked out you had been and when he asked if what he did was okay, you once again reassured him that you loved it. 

You also confessed that you had never felt so turned on and he had pulled more orgasms from you than any man ever had. That did boost Luke’s ego a little but he was still concerned. You had been so emotional and you told him that you were only crying because you missed him and wanted to hug him. You reassured him over and over again that you had never been in pain and even let it slip that you wouldn’t mind him doing that again.

That was probably what surprised Luke the most. Considering how sensitive and upset you had been and how desperate you were for nobody to touch your cunt, you wanted to feel it again. That’s what finally soothed Luke’s guilty conscience. It was the way that you smirked over it, giggling to yourself at the thought of him fucking you like that again.

“I hope it wasn’t a one time thing,” You muttered as you traced shapes across his abdomen. You were tracing stars and squares and triangles and swirly patterns, trying not to think too much about how good it felt. If you thought too much, you’d be wet again and you’d wanna beg Luke to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight again. But considering how freaked out it made Luke, you didn’t want to put him through that again. Not until he was ready, “You can do that again whenever you want,” You added, “But if you never want to do it again, I understand.” Luke’s hand moved to your chin and he lifted up your jaw. “If you want me to do it again, I’m more than happy but not tonight,” He responded before he pressed a soft, slow, long kiss to your lips. He pulled back and you whined softly, wishing that maybe it could have lasted longer.

“Maybe not tonight,” You muttered. He hummed out in response before pressing a kiss to your temple and settling back into bed. You were exhausted, it was beginning to seep back in and the conversation continued until you fell asleep curled against his side.

<3

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

welcome to the bakery

currently playing; the bakery by melanie martinez "pack it, box it, flip it, top it... the bakery, i'm tryna make some more"

this was inspired by @bunnys-kisses so go check out their page, such incredible stuff <3

when you request, please make sure to let me know if it's from my smut prompts or my soft ones [soft request prompts are still in the works]

hey lovely, how can i help? may i take your order? what do you feel like today? personally i'm in need of some iced tea and all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and server of your choosing please, please, please don't forget to indicate who you want me to write about!! also please keep in mind that i haven't written anything in a while so it might take a bit for me to back into the groove of it. <3

the bakeries i currently have open are: formula one, resident evil, bridgerton and criminal minds, just for now.[but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!]

the servers i'm currently writing for include; charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lewis hamiltion, pierre gasly, lando norris, max verstappen, oscar piastri, leon kennedy, carlos oliveria, chris redfield, anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, spencer reid, aaron hotchner and luke alvez.

i do also accept polyam relationships! [pairing + reader] but only three people just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @jude-duarte-wannabe and i'll get your order together when i can also let me know if you want your order to...

be extra hot; real smutty or have sweetener; extra fluffy

let me know if want to be added to my taglist by commenting <3 followed by the person.

the bakery menu;

pound cake; "i can be rough and i don't want to hurt you"

churro's; "does my sweet boy need comforting"

cheese scone; "let your brother find out, i don't fucking care"

mille-feuille; "that's it, shit, such a good fucking girl"

cinnamon buns; "no promises"

gingerbread; "i mean i would totally make out with her/him but like platonically, you know"

baguette; "give me a minute, i really need to tickle the shit out of you"

pretzel; "i was never meant to fall for you"

cornbread; "you taste really good"

strawberry shortcake; "he's so cute, i really want to bite him"

soda bread; "wait a second... am i your lockscreen'

focaccia; "i could beat the shit out of you" "i know"

choux pastry; "i can't believe i ever loved you"

pumpkin muffin; "shut up... my girls asleep"

dinner roll; "holy shit, you still love him/her"

cakepop; "goodnight to my future wife, fuck the rest of you"

pull apart bread; "i love you"

souffle; "i'll be gentle"

powdered doughnuts; "marry me"

s'more; "the accent got to you, didn't it"

waffles; "you spill a single fucking drop and we're starting again"

shortbread biscuits; "if he pisses me off again, i'm fucking his girl"

red velvet cupcake; "does he know that i cum deep inside his little angel'

pancakes; "no, we can't, not here"

coffee cake; "i need to breed you"

french toast; "i don't think it'll fit"

crepes; "go back to sleep, you don't need to be awake for this sweetcheeks"

sweet pastry; "i'm trying to get you pregnant, now shut up and let me concentrate"

butter tart; "stop, don't fake it"

sugar pie; "stop wriggling"

zebra cake; "i'll make it fit"

carrot cake; "dirty girl"

date scone; "i'm going to make you a mama and your going to make me a daddy"

cookie; "do you feel that, how fucking deep i am"

brownie; "no fucking touching"

cheesecake; "don't yell at me"

pumpkin pie; "are you nibbling on me"

chocolate cake; "i'll use protection, i promise"

spice pie; "i wonder if your brother know that i cum inside you"

apple crumble; "i can't do this while you cat/dog is watching"

sausage roll; "i hate being your secret"

blueberry slice; "but what if somebody see's"

mushroom pie; "that looks like it hurt"

apple tart; "what do you mean you want me to choke you"

lemon slice; "i forget how small you are sometimes"

swiss roll; "your glasses are fogging up"

truffle; "send me an audio of you moaning"

oaty slice; "you smell like me"

cream puff; "this ends when your pregnant"

custard slice; "no hiding your face"

victoria sponge; "you wanna hold my hand"

english muffin; "i could die between these legs"

bagel; "where you going, this ain't over"

banana bread; "i can't believe you broke my bed"

hot cross buns; "i'll pay for the damages"

apple turnover; "can you keep it down"

fudge; "what do you mean noise complaint"

peach cake; "i've never done this"

tiramisu; "how could you be so stupid"

crumb cake; "nobody has to know"

custard tart; "you gonna let me cum inside"

date pudding; "your going to let me rawdog you, oh fuck"

mince pie; "so fucking dumb"

angel food cake; "did you just squirt, since when could you do that"

savory scroll; "stop stressing, i'm not going to post it"

chocolate chip cookie; "did you just call me pretty boy"

croissant; "don't you dare"

elcairs; "don't, leave them on"

chocolate mousse; "i'm sorry"

boston cream pie; "fuck it's dripping down your legs"

and to drink;

coffee; somnophilia kink

tea; semi public

juice; breeding kink

mocha; daddy kink

peppermint tea; mommy kink

vodka shot; rough sex

sparkling water; gentle sex

oat milk; one night stand

soy milk; friends with benefits

coconut milk; friends to lovers

almond milk; grumpy x sunshine

energy drink; doggy style

turmeric latte; fake dating

cold brew; possessive

espresso shot; dirty talking

chamomile tea; choking kink

glass of water; aftercare

herbal tea; soft but only for you

milkshake; size kink

pina colada; pregnancy

matcha latte; mixed with smau

cider; body worship

mai tai; loss of virginity

margarita; unprotected sex

chai; biting or hickeys [please let me know which]

earl grey; big cock

tonic water; age gap

soda; protected sex

root beer; caught in the act

americano; oral sex

whiskey; degrading language

vitamin water; dom/sub dynamics

irish coffee; drunk sex

lemon water; secret relationship

dark roast; sub character

hot chocolate; sub reader

iced tea; accentally leaking relationship

flat white; brothers best friend

iced latte; best friends brother

iced mocha latte; plus sized reader

smoothie; belly bulge

doppio coffee; wall sex

green tea; spiting kink

cortado; belly kisses

affogato; a bet

lemon ginger tea; single mom/dad

berry smoothie; accidental pregnancy

sunshine smoothies; fake dating

cappuccino; secret baby

rice milk; baby fever

cashew milk; somebody flirts with your bf/gf

iced chai; forehead kisses

[prentissluvr]

anything for you — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x gn!bau!reader ➖⟢ genre : hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : crying, kissing, only light editing ➖⟢ wc : 2.5K summary : luke admits he'd do anything for you after you open up about a hard case

crying in a public bathroom is the worst. and yet, for most, it is unavoidable at some point or another. this evening, it’s your turn to cry in a public bathroom. sloped pathetically against the stall door, you thank the lord that you’ve mastered the art of crying silently, because the last thing you want is a coworker to walk in and hear you. 

however, you do curse the fact that you couldn’t just wait to cry until you got home. of course, that’s what you had planned to do, but the volatility of human emotions wholly foiled said plans when your tired feet found their way to your desk in the half empty bullpen. you had collapsed into your chair, dropping your go-bag to the floor without a second thought when the inevitable sting of tears that come with a rough case decided to show up early. swallowing hard, you realized the tears weren’t going to go anywhere but your cheeks to drip off your chin and land on your white dress shirt.

that’s why you’re crying in the public bathroom of a federal building, hoping you aren’t gone long enough to arouse suspicion among any fellow bau agents who haven’t yet gone home.

with a final deep breath, you wipe your fingers over your eyes and straighten up your shirt before walking out of the stall. at the sink, you dab some cold water right under your eyes to reduce the puffiness just long enough for you to get past your far too intuitive coworkers and head home. gently drying away any remaining wetness or glaringly obvious signs of your bathroom activities from your face, you take in your appearance in the mirror and decide that this is the best that you’ll get. your eyes are still red, but not too much that they can’t be explained away with excuses of a long flight, or maybe early-spring allergies.

the issue is that you assumed you’d have a good minute to pull yourself together a bit more if you walk a little slow. as you exit the bathroom with a loud, defeated huff of breath leaving your lips, you look up to see luke alvez headed in your direction, seemingly on the way to the bathrooms himself.

you curse to yourself because you can tell that he saw you first, which means he caught you uncomposed.

“hey, luke,” you greet him as normal, throwing him a casual smile and praying he doesn’t think anything of your slightly disheveled state. “see you tomorrow!” you plan to brush past him as he heads your way, but he stops in front of you, rather than proceeding to the restroom.

“actually, i was looking for you,” he says, his own voice casual. 

“mm, aren’t you always,” you tease, easily slipping into your normal mode of conversation with him despite your slightly unstable emotional state.

“i just can’t help myself,” he grins at you, shrugging and raising his eyebrows like he can’t deny it before his expression turns a bit more serious, earnest in the way it gets when he really means something. “i wanted to check up on you though, you seemed really exhausted on the jet.” it’s easy for you to tell that your tiredness on the way back home is not the only thing that he’s noticed, but you try to play along like it is.

“i appreciate that, and yeah, i’m honestly exhausted, but that’s nothing new, is it? it was a long case,” you try to word it like you’re conceding a bit, rather than full on denying him so you don’t come across as defensive.

“right, of course,” he smiles kindly, and you know he’s only saying that because he’s respecting the fact that you don’t want to talk about it. he doesn’t really believe you. “well either way, even if you’re just tired, you’ll tell me if there’s anything i can do for you, yeah? i just wanted to remind you that i’m always willing to lend an ear, treat you to takeout or a movie, or really anything at all. i don’t want you to feel like you can’t open up to me about a hard case, or anything like that.” he drops plenty of obvious hints, but his voice is sweet through and through, without a hint of accusation or prying. he makes it so easy to tell that he means what he says, that he wants to help, and that he cares about you. the way he looks at you has you craving to cave for him, his eyes all soft and earnest and full of respect.

“thank you, luke,” you smile half-heartedly, voice softer and more truthful than before. you wonder if your not-so-little crush on him makes it dangerous for you to take him up on any of those offers, but you also think maybe you just don’t care. why pass up a perfect opportunity to spend time with just him and his sweet self. “maybe… maybe we can just talk a little on the way to my car if you’re ready to go home?” the smile he gives you has your knees feeling just a bit weak. does he have to look at you like he’d do anything for you?

“i’d love that,” he says, all soft in a way that makes you crazy. he walks with you, side by side on the way to grab your things from the bullpen, and you wonder what it’d feel like if he were to sling his arm over your shoulders and pull you in close. not that you haven’t felt his arms around you before, but something about him makes you crave after any sort of casual intimacy with him. but instead, he grabs your bag for you, and you have to walk even farther apart from him. you thank him, of course, for carrying it for you, and you wonder how to tell him that he has a beautiful smile. as you wait for the elevator, he asks what you wanted to talk about.

clearing your throat, you feel awkward and unsure how to start. you haven’t even decided if you want to tell him just how bad this case was, if you want to gloss over it, or if you want to talk about something else entirely to take your mind off of things. 

“i, um–” the ding of the elevator interrupts you before you can really begin. inside, you press the button to the garage floor and lean against the cool metal of the back wall. he settles next to you for the short ride. you sigh deeply, and you can feel luke’s eyes on you, likely curious and concerned, but not so much that it reads as pity.

in the small time frame of a moment, you think about the way luke has always jumped to take care of you, even when you first started out. sometimes it’s as subtle as a small smile when he’s passing you by, a genuine, casual praise when you contribute something to the profile, or a cup of coffee or tea just the way you like it. other times it’s a hug he needs just as much as you after a close call in the field, or a steady hand, gentle touch, and furrowed brow when you get even slightly injured. he always has the right words for you and he always makes it known that he is as fiercely loyal to you as he is to the rest of the team.

“i know you know it already,” you finally start, “but this case was hard for me.” he nods, understanding and compassion filling up his features in an instant. “honestly not sure if i really want to get into it right now, but– but maybe later. it just…hit a sore spot and i’m still grappling with the aftermath of that. you know this, but when the case is active it’s kind of hard to deal with anything else. so when we got back it kind of really hit me, y’know, the fact that i haven’t been able to process it yet. now i just want to go to bed,” you chuckle half-heartedly, feeling a new level of exhaustion sinking in.

“believe me, i get that,” he mirrors your tired laugh, always so observant to the way you want a conversation to go. this time, he knows you don’t want it to be heavy or highly emotional. “i’m sorry this case struck close to home like that, that always sucks,” he says empathetically. “nights like this i always fall asleep to one of my favorite movies,” he keeps talking as the elevator doors open and you walk out and towards the parking garage, “don’t have to think about what’s bothering you yet and you don’t have to worry about missing something when you fall asleep. not sure if that’s your kind of thing, but it might not hurt to give it a try.”

you smile at his genuine advice. “it certainly wouldn’t,” you agree, infinitely grateful for the way luke treats you almost too good. the two of you stall at the edge of the parking garage before heading in, not quite sure where the other has parked their car. an idea sparks in your mind, and you think it’s the exhaustion that makes you say it out loud. “listen, uh, not sure if this is too much to ask for tonight, but… any chance i can take you up on that offer for take out and a movie? not sure if a movie all by myself would do the trick.”

the bright smile on luke’s face might be a bit inappropriate for the context, but you couldn’t care less, because your own thoughts about how handsome he looks like this aren’t any better.

“of course, you could never ask for anything that would be too much. anything to help, anything for you,” he drops that bomb like it’s so easy to say, so easy to feel that way about you. earlier you had cursed the look in his eyes that seemed to say that, and now you have no idea what to do once he’s said those words aloud, confirmed them without a single doubt. “we’ll take my car, c’mon.” he gestures with his head in the general direction, casually leading you along as if he hadn’t just made your heart race so fast you begin to forget that you cried today at all. “plus, there’s nothing better than roxy to make you feel better. she’ll be excited to see you.”

you try to regain any semblance of your composure as you follow him along. “i’m excited to see her, too,” you smile, “thank you, luke,” you say once again.

“it’s my pleasure, seriously.” he uses that same voice he always uses for you, full of conviction and with at least the hint of a smile. he’s always smiling around you, and you wonder if it could be because it makes you smile back. he told you last week after work one day, casual and soft, that he likes your smile. 

once you reach his car, he tosses your bags in the back seat before turning to open the passenger side door for you. but you’re already there, hand on the handle and his fingers curl right over yours.

“sorry,” he laughs out quietly, but he doesn’t move away. you’re far more relaxed than you were earlier than night, but with you so close, he can still see the hurt swimming around in your pink-rimmed eyes. you see his features soften into something akin to maybe love, and his voice is quiet with care. “can i hug you?” he asks, like this time it would be different, because he’s certainly hugged you before. you take in the sweet gaze of his eyes, and you nod readily.

“of course,” you whisper back, and you mean that. he can hug you whenever he likes.

it takes less than an instant for you to be folded up into his arms, his hands reaching around you like he’s been waiting to do this all night, one hand coming to rest securely on the back of your head and the other on your back. your own arms curl around his middle and you just melt into his embrace. you hadn’t even realized just how much you needed this, and now you have it, perfect and warm against the nighttime breeze that’s begun to filter into the open air of the lot.

he rubs up and down your back until the gentle silence of it all is broken up by the sounds of someone backing their car up to head home. luke pulls away slowly, soft as the feel of his arms around you and lingers there, looking at you under the flickering garage lights like you’re an angel.

you feel a little bashful under his gaze, torn between making a teasing quip about how he can’t get enough of you or kissing him right on the lips. instead, you pull him back to you without warning, smushing your face into his shoulder and sighing happily when you pull a surprised laugh from him. he returns the hug with equal force, squeezing you close before pressing a solid kiss to your hairline. you pull back just a bit to take him in, unable to control the smile spreading across your face. his arms don’t leave their place wrapped around you.

“you sure know how to turn someone’s night around,” you grin.

“i bet i could come up with one more thing that might help you out,” he says cheekily. 

you raise your eyebrows. “oh, really? and what might that be, luke alvez?” god, he loves the way you say his name, the way you run your hands up to loop around his neck.

“well,” he copies you by saying your full name back. you love the way he says it, too. “i could kiss you, if you wouldn’t mind.” you practically swoon at the way he always remains unfailingly respectful, even when he has that playful lilt to his voice.

you make an overexaggerated expression of contemplation as he shifts his hands to settle on your waist. “hmm, i might have to think about that.” in response, he tugs you even closer to him, that teasing smile you’ve come to seek out pulling at his pretty lips.

“do you? and how long will that take? because i’m not sure if i can wait for long,” he teases back. 

“i guess it’d be alright if you kissed me now,” you concede, still with that playful tone.

“just alright?” he questions, eyebrows raised.

deciding you’re done teasing, with that smile he finds to be just irresistible, you tell him, “luke, if you don’t kiss me right now, i swe–” then, without a second to spare, his lips are on yours, and every last worry of yours melts away to make way for his soft lips, his steady hands, and the fact that he’d do anything for you.

[sammyluvr]

mi cielo — luke alvez

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, pet names (mi cielo), food mentions, mentions of a bad day at work, swearing, only lightly edited, 1.1K words. requested ! for my 200+ followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : memorizing their favorite things and treating them when they have a bad day.

luke swings his arm over your shoulders, startling you slightly.

“i thought you left with the others?” you ask, laughing a little at yourself as you calm down the second you realize it’s him. you allow yourself to lean into his side a bit as you walk to the elevator, like you always do when you’re not on the clock.

“i was waiting for you, l/n! c’mon! we’re going to your favorite taco stand, it should still be open. i’m dying for their horchata,” he quips, grinning right at you. it takes all of your willpower not to stumble as you walk into the elevator or fumble over your words. his smile is practically blindingly pretty.

“i’m tired,” you complain, but luke can hear that your resistance is lighthearted and completely moveable. he doesn’t even have to ask a second time for you to relent, and if he could smile wider, he would. “it’s my turn to drive,” you remind him, because he’s always trying to trick you into letting him take on that job.

“mm-mm, nope! no way, i’m treating you tonight!” he argues through his smile.

“luke, you treat me all the time, let me at least do something,” you push, trying to concentrate on convincing him to let you do a favor instead of the feeling of his warm hand against your upper arm or his strong arm heavy over your shoulders. the two of you are quite close, you knew each other even before luke joined the team. so this sort of physical affection is common and casual, but it never fails to send so many butterflies swarming around your stomach because the way you feel about him is anything but casual.

luke pretends to think before answering, “next time.” 

the doors to the elevator ding open, and you groan in playful frustration. “you always say that, and you never let me. you should quit being such a gentleman.”

“other people would beg to differ,” he chimes, and though you know it’s a joke, and you know about just about anyone and everyone in his life (there’s no one right now, and it’s wonderful and makes you stir-crazy at the same time), you can’t help the pang of jealousy. you’re not the only one who gets to experience luke, the gentleman. “besides, that’s not true,” he pushes on, and with his arm around your shoulder, you have no choice but to follow his lead to his own car, “you do plenty of things for me.”

“mmm, like what?” you play along, unable to stop the smile on your own face, even after such a shit day at work. he never fails to make you feel better, lighter, like you’re not alone.

“well, you always buy me my favorite snacks,” he begins motioning vaguely with his free hand as he talks, “you pamper roxy, you introduced me to the best taco stand in dc, and helped me settle in when i joined. and, most importantly, you do a wonderful job of sitting there and looking good! it’s a huge favor when there’s nothing to do in the bullpen.”

you let out a sharp laugh, half to cover up the fact that your cheeks are warming considerably at his last example. “that’s my most important contribution to this friendship?” you question with a playful elbow in his side.

“ahh, you know i’m joking,” luke relents, before putting on that tone of voice where he’s totally messing with you, but trying to sound completely serious, “it’s obviously your love for roxy that’s the most important.”

“mm, you’re so right. that’s cuz roxy’s way more important than you. have i ever told you i like her more than you?” you tease right back.

it’s his turn to let out a pretend offended bark of laughter, “you know, you actually have! plenty of times, you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” you miss his warmth the second he slides his arm from around your shoulders in favor of opening the passenger’s side door to his car, then rounding the vehicle to get in. you’re already buckled as he settles into his seat.

the taco stand is doubly nice because it’s beyond delicious and not too far at all from the office. you’re extra lucky tonight to find a nearby parking space and a short line. when you approach, the worker smiles at the two of you, recognizing you easily after your couple of years coming here together.

luke orders your usual, along with his, not even having to ask if that’s what you want. somehow he knows the days you want to shake it up, and is even more sure of the days you want the comfort of familiarity. you know it’s useless to argue about who’s paying, so you don’t even try tonight.

“so are you two together yet?” the worker asks. this isn’t uncommon coming from the folks at this stand or some of the regulars like doña lina, who always fawns over the two of you when you happen to be getting food at the same time. her son, juan, is the one who just asked, his voice more teasing than his mother’s. 

“ay, todavía no,” luke jokes. not yet, you translate in your head. you should be used to people thinking the two of you should get together. i mean, hell, you think about it all the time. but luke always goes along with it, always says not yet, like eventually he’ll say, yes, finally. you want that day like it’s your childhood dream career. probably a little fictitious, but without a care in the world about that. you just want it, plain and simple, and goodness, do you dream about it.

then luke says something that he normally doesn’t. instead of ignoring your flustered state, or the way you try to laugh and joke it off, he turns to you, putting his arm right back around your shoulders where you think it absolutely belongs.

“someday, right, mi cielo?” he asks it, staring right into your eyes as he says those words, as he calls you his sky. and he’s either the cruelest man in the world and playing a sick, sick joke on you, or he’s completely serious. and because you know he’s not cruel, not on purpose, anyways, you have to think that he means it. so, grabbing onto that tight, and swallowing the butterflies that try to fly up from your stomach and lodge themselves in your throat, you make sure he knows you mean it, too.

you grin right back at him, “sure thing, handsome.”

[kitkatpadywaks]

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Last Updated: 19th November 2024

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[tlou-reid]

Fearless ❆ Luke Alvez

☃︎SUMMARY: luke is so so so smitten for his girl.

☃︎WARNINGS: this is tooth-rotting fluff and i am not sorry about it

☃︎NOTE: i love writing for luke <3 that is my bf fr pls send requests for him when they are open again!

☃︎swiftmas masterlist!

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

There’s something ‘bout the way the street looks when it’s just rained. There’s a glow off the pavement, you walk me to the car.

Luke’s hand was protectively around your waist as you stepped out of the restaurant. He was laughing at something Emily said, looking away from you but holding you close. You felt bad, keeping the waitress there just until close. Everyone had gotten wrapped up in the conversation, not realizing the team and their partners had been sitting there for almost three hours.

Luke’s attention turns back to you as you start to step off the curb. “Woah,” he smiles, stopping you from pressing your pretty high heels into the puddle that had accumulated. He stepped down, comfortably placing one hand on each side of your waist. He lifts you, just briefly, to get you over the puddle. Then, he gently places you back on the asphalt.

Your feet plant on the ground and you let out a giggle, reaching down to hold his hand. “I didn’t even realize it had rained.” He declares, before waving a final goodbye to where Emily and JJ are heading to their cars.

The parking lot was empty besides the team’s cars and the few employees that hadn’t left yet. “Thank you,” You smile at him again, moving your hand to his muscular bicep, and pulling him closer to you. “Of course,” he had a wide smile on his face, one that showed his dimples. His brown eyes were full of fondness as he looked at you.

“Whatcha looking at?” He asked, walking around to your side of the car. His hand reached to open the passenger side door for you when you answered. “The way the streetlights reflect off of the puddles.” Luke’s gaze followed your eyes, seeing the way the lights looked like little diamonds in the water.

And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there, in the middle of the parking lot.

You’re about to sit in the passenger seat when you get an idea. “Hey, Luke,” you call for his attention. He watched as you looked around the parking lot. The rest of the team had pulled off, leaving just you guys there. “You wanna dance?”

Even though Luke had been up since six o’clock this morning and his muscles still hurt from the case they had wrapped up, there was nothing he wanted more than to dance with you in this deserted parking lot.

He let out a chuckle, reopening the door all the way for you, and said, “Absolutely.” Luke didn’t think he’d ever seen you smile as wide as you were right now. You placed your feet back on the ground, reached for Luke’s hand, and pulled him to behind the car, where there was plenty of open space for you to dance.

You went to turn around and pull him close so you could begin swaying with him, but he was gone when you reached for him. Luke made his way to the driver’s seat, reaching in and turning on the car, He, then, turned back to look at you. “What do you wanna dance to?” he asked, holding his phone up. You let out another giggle, “Play Taylor Swift!” You called. Luke knew that was going to be your answer.

Lover quickly began playing through the car’s speakers. He left the door open and turned the volume all the way up. You would’ve been embarrassed if the moment wasn’t so sweet. Luke sauntered his way back towards, emphasizing the swing of his hips.

He reached out for you, pulling you close and swaying your bodies together. “I love you, princesa.” He whispered into the crown of your head as the song reached the bridge. You didn't answer, but the way you leaned your head onto his shoulder told him all he needed to know.

You two danced the entire song, he even sang the words into your ear. When it ended and you pulled away, you flashed him the biggest smile you could muster. Luke laughed, “Another?” Before you could answer, the sound of the crew from the restaurant interrupted you.

You shook your head no because of this, not wanting to be embarrassed by the people around you two. “Let’s go home,” you smiled at him, excited to crawl into bed and enjoy his body heat. Luke nodded, once again going to open the passenger side for you.

Once you both settled in, you started to sing along to one of your favorite Taylor Swift songs:

“We’re driving down the road, I wonder if you know, I’m trying so hard not to get caught up now…”

[fuckingstrange]

——————————————————————————————————————

Trust him.

——————————————————————————————————————

WARNINGS: Reader has trust issues, HURT/COMFORT + SMUT, sweet smut tho, praising, pet names ("baby", "good boy"), cumming early, sexual undressing(?), Luke doesn't cum in this but he will in the next one, kinda non-beta read

WORDS: 1,170+

PAIRING: Luke Alvez x M!Reader

——————————————————————————————————————

·a/n - Comments/Reblogs are appreciated! I love feedback!

——————————————————————————————————————

You follow Luke's guidance, letting him push you onto your back, surprising yourself with how close you're letting him - emotionally and physically. You feel him slot between your legs, his lips brushing against yours delicately, as if he was making sure to treat you with care, as if you were something fragile. In his mind — You are fragile. You own a heart shattered enough to cut somebody's foot if they were to step on it. The sight of blood would be anything but foreign to you.

His skilled fingers start working on your shirt, pausing about halfway down the line of tan buttons. “Are you okay with his?” You hear him ask, though your mind is so clouded with anxiety and fear you're unsure you can even verbally respond without betraying yourself in some way.

You don't know if you're okay with it. You have to ask yourself if you truly want this, though end up giving yourself no better answer than when he asked. You love him, and you think he loves you. But with how many times somebody has told you that then ended up hurting you, you're not sure if he's being truthful.

Luke notices the empty stare you have, the slight tremble in your hands as you think of the worst that could happen. You've trusted him enough that you stayed in this relationship with him for seven, coming up on eight months now. You've let him in enough that he can tell the nod of approval you gave him was forced. He leans back, looking down at you. “Baby.. we don't have to do this if you don't want to, y'know?” He says while rubbing your hip, the touch meant to be soothing.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking him up and down as you conjure up reasons to trust him this deeply. Your mind runs in circles for a few minutes, your gaze directed at his face, trying to read any hidden meanings behind him trying to get in your pants. Your heart begs for the deep connection, wanting nothing more than to be his and have him be yours. Your fear-riddled mind has no chance against your heart, but it does have you whispering “Spare my heart, please,” as you pull him down to meet your lips again.

Luke's own heart aches at your plea, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He can't help but mumble soft words of reassurance, saying, “I'll heal that heart of yours” before he lets his tounge slip between your lips.

The kiss is gentle. It's soft and slow. Something you're not used to with past relationships. You lean into it, sighing quietly and falling to your back, this time bringing him with you, letting the weight of his body press you down into the couch.

His hand moves up your side until it finds your hands, your fingers interlacing as he presses it down next to your head. Luke definitely isn't pinning you, scared that you're too mentally fragile to be restrained in any way shape or form during sex, he's simply holding your hand for comfort. You feel him give it a soft squeeze, which you do back to reassure him as well.

Luke adjusts himself, and for a minute you think he's simply straddling your leg before you feel his knee press up against your crotch. Your eyes immediately open from the foreign feeling of it, a boyish moan slipping past your lips and drowning in the kiss when he starts rocking his knee against you. You squeeze his hand tight, feeling your heart begin to pound in your chest while your cock hardens in your boxers. You start to squirm beneath him when his lips find their way to your jawline.

You give him a mix of a moan and a whine as you start rocking your hips to meet his knee, the movement slow but feeling good anyways. Heat rises to your cheeks when you hear him mumble a praise, the words “good boy” and “keep going” slipping from Luke's lips before he can even think about it. You pull your hand away from his to wrap your arms around him, pulling him even closer than he was before. He takes the opportunity to resume unbuttoning your shirt, working off the other half of buttons he hadn't before. You feel your cheeks burning, feeling on fire from being so exposed to him.

You close your eyes, not sure if you're ready to see the look on his face when he sees you like this. He works off the last button, the loose brown material sliding off and getting splayed out on the couch beneath you. You feel him start to pull off of you, letting your arms drop so he can sit up. You feel his eyes on you, making your breath hitch as you wait for some kind of degrading moment. But nothing comes. The silence hurts. More than if he were to be calling you ugly. His knee has stopped moving, your hips protesting the absence of friction with a rut against him.

Luke stares at you like you're a work of art, his hand coming up to ghost along the bare skin of your waist, causing you to flinch and whine. He soothes you with a kiss, his tounge finding it's way into your mouth as he resumes the movement of his knee, grinding it against your hardened cock.

“You're gorgeous. So.. fine.” He mumbles against your lips, his hands resting on your chest so he can focus on providing you with more friction, more pressure against your aching cock.

You can barely hear him with how much you're paying attention to the feeling of it all. His knee moving against you, his tounge brushing over yours, his hands on your chest causing goosebumps to rise. You whimper as your hips buck involuntarily, your hands shooting to grasp at his sides, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You have to pull back from the kiss, croaking out a weak warning of “If you don't- if- I'm gonna-”, only to cut yourself off with a pant or whine each time.

Luke seems to take this as a challenge, hearing you're about to cum just from his knee alone makes him want to moan. His hands slide from your chest to your hips, purposely brushing over your nipples to earn a gasp. He grabs your hips and starts guiding their movement, making sure you don't have to lift a finger to get what you need. The second he hears you start to beg, involuntary “please”’s falling from your lips, he knows you're just about there. He makes sure to keep the same slow but deep rhythm of his knee, not wanting to pull you off the path to your orgasm.

He encourages you almost absent-mindedly, praising you for each noise that you let out, praising you for each drop of cum that soaks into your boxers. His knee grinds into you even as you let go, making you moan louder than you ever thought you'd be comfortable with. You squirm, you moan, you cry, as you cum. But you find yourself not caring one bit. Because Luke is the one making you do it.

[foundfam2754]

if criminal minds was a family, my pov

disclaimer: this doesn't include every character from every season, but on the characters that I connected with and fit with my headcanons the most -- i.e., these aren't fact, just how i see it <3

also i.e., pls pls don't be mad if we have different headcanons

the basics:

aaron hotchner: father, single dad, can be strict but will always listen to and be there for his kids, doesn't smile very often but has the BEST, most contagious laugh

david rossi: cool, fun uncle, gave the kids their first sip of alcohol (only when they're 21 though), the more 'chill adult', a playboy, but finally married their aunt krystall who is their favorite

derek morgan-hotchner: oldest child & son, very protective of his siblings, a little bit of a playboy but does settle down, smart without trying

emily prentiss-hotchner: nicknames are em and ems, second oldest, oldest daughter, very smart (smarter than her little brother spencer sometimes) and the most emotionally intelligent of the siblings though this surprises most people because she's very rebellious and very private - opens up to people but with time

jennifer jareau-hotchner : nicknames are JJ and jaje, middle child, quiet and responsible, very popular athlete, surprisingly kind of a badass when her family or friends (especially her little brother and sister) are hurt

spencer reid-hotchner: nickname is spence, youngest son, penelope's twin, very smart with an IQ of 187 and very sensitive, sometimes gets bullied but always protected by older brother derek, a bit nerdy like his twin

penelope garcia-hotchner: nickname are pen, penny and garcie, youngest child and daughter, spencer's twin, a little bit loud and boisterous at times but also very sensitive and kind, great at computers and majored in comp-sci in college

tara lewis, matt simmons, luke alvez: triplets, but not related to the hotchners, though they have been family friends with them for years and are treated as family

luke: very popular, football player and jock but not a playboy at all, a little quiet and secretly a nerd, LOVES musicals and baking

tara: very smart, loves psychology and crime-thrillers, very funny and and a bit of a smart-alec, loves teasing her little brother luke

matt: nickname is matty, very mature, very kind and very responsible, also a football player with his brother, often breaks up the arguments between tara and luke when one or the other takes it too far

other details of the headcanon

aaron is currently dating beth who will hopefully be the family's step-mom soon (aaron has been planning to propose for a long time and the kids keep teasing their dad that it'll never happen)

though derek is a playboy all throughout high school, he eventually settles down with a smart girl on the pre-med track in college named savannah

derek often gets into fights with his dad, especially when he was younger, but that's happens less as he gets older and when he finds comfort in savannah

JJ's been dating her high-school sweetheart, Will, since freshman year, they've already started planning how many kids they want and their names (as it stands: 2 boys and a girl, henry, michael and maggie)

matt has also been dating kristy forever, since high-school and they both want a big family

emily, jj and tara are an unlikely trio of best friends; emily has only ever told the other two her biggest fear

derek, matt and luke are also best friends and often include spencer in their hang-outs

penelope and luke were very 'will they, won't they' for a long time because penelope often resisted luke's charm because she was afraid of getting hurt, but eventally start dating and are everyone's favorite couple

penelope dated a bunch of assholes before luke (kevin, shane, tyler) and is part of the reason why she was afraid to date luke -- luke is aware of this and does her best to treat her like a queen

spencer just started dating max but can see himself marrying this girl; max has helped him come out of his shell

spencer is the older twin by 5 minutes and often holds this over penelope's head

matt is the oldest triplet, then tara and then luke (who is the baby and treated as such by his siblings)

spencer and penelope are built-in best friends and watch doctor-who, marvel and star-trek marathons together -- max and luke join these when each couple starts dating

tara, luke and matt often see aaron/dave as parental figures and lean on them for support

they are all very protective of each other, but everyone is the most protective of penelope

tara and penelope call luke 'lukey' as a nickname to bug him, but he secretly loves it

the eight kids (penelope, luke, matt, tara, emily, jj, spencer, derek) don't have that much of an age gap between them so they are all very close, hang-out a lot and very much fit the found-family trope

dave and aaron take the kids (including matt, tara and luke) on a family trip every year -- 2024 is going to be a beach trip

Okay, I have a lot more, but these are some :) love to hear your thoughts on this