#spencer reid x black plus size reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milla984 · 2 years ago

Text

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions.

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.”

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back.

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant.

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack.

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome.

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words.

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume.

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble.

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment.

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you.

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper.

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task.

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted.

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it.

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close.

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom.

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin.

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive.

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before.

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication.

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots.

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him.

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off.

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement.

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!”

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…”

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded.

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected.

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor.

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls.

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

1K notes · View notes

jhilsara · 3 months ago

Text

Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights pt. 4

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: Welcome to the holiday special! Set during season 8 you spend Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with Spencer.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Canon typical BAU themes, sick family members, holiday family fighting, (no Maeve...this is my fanfic and I say Spencer's had enough trauma)

Previous|Next

Halloween

Spencer had convinced you to go out with him, JJ, and Will. They were going to take Henry trick or treating and then go off to a bar their team frequently ventured into.

Spencer and his team had recently landed from a case and Spencer was grinning from ear to ear. Apparently, Henry had not wanted to go out on Halloween, but something changed his mind. Spencer refused to tell you what Henry’s costume was, declaring it a surprise.

Spencer had picked you up and you two were in your own costumes. You dressed as Katniss Everdeen from the new Hunger Games movie. You had dragged Spencer to go see it after you had him read it during one of their earlier book exchanges. Spencer was dressed as Doctor Frankenstein. Large white lab coat and ridiculous googles.

“Are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don’t know them that well.” You asked nervously.

Spencer just laughed and nodded. “I’m more than sure. JJ and Garcia have been hounding me to make time for you to hang out with them.”

“Because they like me or because they want to profile me?” You asked skeptically.

Spencer shrugged, “Honestly, could be either, both, or none of the above. But, JJ knows you helped Will from bleeding out so, you’re solid in her book.”

“I thought we agreed to not ever talk about the bank again?” You mumbled.

“I know I know; I won’t bring it up again.” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, knowing well it wouldn’t be the last time.

Once they arrive at JJ and Will’s house Henry answers the door and immediately you melt at the sight. Little Henry was dressed as Spencer, badge and all, and you had to bite your tongue from almost crying.

JJ popped up behind Henry and smiled at the two. “Nice costumes.” she said looking them over.

“Uncle Spencer, do I look like you?” Henry asked excitedly spinning in a circle.

Spencer leans down to pick up Henry, “You look just like me! I think I’m looking in a mirror Henry.”

The blonde boy giggled and hugged his uncle.

“Come on in, we’re almost ready to go. Will’s just finishing the dishes.” JJ said, ushering them in.

Will come’s around the corner with a rag in his hand as he looks for the source of noise, “I thought I heard y'all.” He said smiling.

Will comes up to you arms open for a hug, “Hey.”

you immediately hugged him, “Hey Will.”

You smiled when he pulled away. Will raised his hand to Spencer, who was still holding Henry.

“Can you watch him so we can go change real quick?” Will asked.

Spencer nodded, “Absolutely, go don’t worry about it.”

“Promise we’ll be quick; our costumes are easy.” JJ said with a grin.

The two hurry off to their bedroom and Spencer sets down Henry.

“Are you excited to go trick or treating bud?” Spencer asked softly.

Henry nodded in excitement. “Mommy and Daddy are going to be my back up.”

You just smiled as you watched Spencer interact with Henry. He easily kept him entertained and was overall, just great with the kid. you almost think you should have Spencer do some magic at the shop for the kids during the day sometime. He just easily knows what to do. It’s charming.

JJ and Will come around the corner and are in all black suits and sunglasses. You gave a loud guffaw of a laugh, having to cover your mouth.

“Oh, now this is just a stereotype.” Spencer said, trying to look upset, but his smile gave him away.

“What? We can’t poke fun at ourselves?” JJ said with a small spin in her fake FBI suit. A massive plastic badge hanging from her hip.

Spencer just shook his head.

“I feel spiffy, this isn’t a bad suit for a costume.” Will said looking over his sunglasses.

JJ laughed and then clapped her hands together looking at her son, “You ready Henry?”

Henry bounced in excitement and ran up to his parents.

“Wait, wait, before we go let me get pictures of you guys. It’s so cute.” You said, fishing out your phone.

Will, JJ, and Henry pose. Will and JJ make a Mr. And Mrs. Smith pose back-to-back that has you giggling.

��Perfect.” she smiled as she finished snapping a few pictures.

JJ moves to open the front door and ushered everyone out, “Come one we’re burning the night away!”

Henry had about an hour and a half of trick or treating in him before he started dragging his feet.

“You tired big guy?” Will asked his son as he picked him up.

Henry nodded slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“It’s bedtime for this one.” JJ said kissing the crown of Henry’s head.

Will adjusts Henry in his arms. “We’ll go put him to bed, we’ll meet everyone at the bar.”

Spencer and you nod, waving them off.

“He’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen.” You coo watching them walk off.

Spencer nodded, “He absolutely is.”

“You’re so good with him.” you crossed your arms. “Maybe you should lead a reading time or do a magic show at the bookstore.”

Spencer looks down at you, “Now you’re just extorting me for labor.”

You giggled, “I give you plenty of free coffee to warrant asking you for story time with the kids in the bookstore.”

Spencer makes a face. “Definitely extorting me.”

“I’d say it’s more a barter and trade system.” you said with a grin.

“Whatever, come on.” He laughed, grabbing your hand to lead you off to go to the bar.

You feel your face heat up from Spencer holding your hand, you go quiet and just let him lead you.

Once at the bar, Derek and Penelope are already seated in a back booth. Penelope spots the two first and she stands waving them over.

Penelope immediately grabs you from Spencer. “We need shots!” she declared as she dragged you with her to the bar.

Derek just laughed watching them leave.

“How many drinks has she had?” Spencer asked with a laugh.

“None. She was waiting.” Derek responded with a chuckle.

Penelope and you stand at the bar waiting to order shots. While they wait for the bar tender Penelope takes this time to chat you up.

“I can’t believe Spencer hasn’t brought you out until now! I mean- there was the wedding, but I’ve been begging him to let me hang out with you!” Penelope pouts.

You laughed, “Well, my schedules a little crazy. I’m always working at night so I can’t really go out like this all the time.” you told her.

Penelope nodded, “Right, you run a late-night cafe and bookstore, right?”

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I do. It’s a lot of fun and the inside is super comfortable. If you ever want to drop by, feel free to! I’d love for you to come by.” You told the blonde.

Penelope’s face bursts into a big grin. “That sounds great. I’ll make sure to take you up on that.”

Finally, the bartender makes his way over to them.

Over at the booth, JJ and Will finally made it in. The group is chattering amongst themselves, waiting for Penelope to come back with you.

JJ looked over to spot them at the bar, and she took an opportunity.

“So, Spence...” she started with a conspiratorial tone.

Spencer immediately froze and gives JJ a knowing look. “Why do I already not like where this is going?”

“It’s nothing serious just...” her eyes avert over to the bar, “Do you like her?” she whispered loudly across the table.

Derek started to laugh, looking at JJ with a raised brow. “Are we really about to press pretty boy on his love life right now?”

Spencer’s face is tinted pink as his eyes widen. “JJ...” he sighed.

“Spence.” She replied with a deadpan stare.

His eyes flickered over to try to see if Penelope and you were coming back. Hoping he could escape this grilling.

“I’m not gonna let this go, so you can answer here or at work with Rossi and Hotch in the room.” She said with a smirk.

Spencer sighed and looked down at his hands on the table. “She’s wonderful, and when she was a hostage, it really hit me in that moment that she’s important to me.” he murmured.

“She’s too sweet though...and I’m, me.” He said quietly.

Derek and JJ make a face. They didn’t believe that for a second. Before they could reply though, Penelope bounced back with you in tow.

“This conversation isn’t over Spence.” JJ murmured.

“Oh, everyone’s here!” Penelope shouts, moving to hug JJ in excitement.

Penelope shoots a playful glare at Spencer, “You better move boy genius because my spot is next to big man.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but slid over to get up. Penelope shot him a dazzling smile and moves to saddle herself next to Derek. Spencer gets back in the booth, and you slide next to him. With everyone in the booth, they’re basically brushing against each other. Your leg is pressed against his and you feel like you’re burning up. It could be the alcohol or your nerves, you’re unsure.

The night goes on and you drink far more than you probably should have. You're a light weight and Penelope Garcia just kept ordering shots for her, you, and JJ.

The three women are standing outside in the cold air chattering away while they wait for the others to close out their tabs.

You’re swaying on your feet humming a mindless tune and Penelope’s leaning against you.

“You’re so sweet- I understand why our boy wonder would keep you to himself.” Penelope giggled.

You shook your head, “No no, it’s not like that.” you giggled.

“Oh please,” JJ rolled her eyes her own smirk on her face. “You two were giving each other eyes all night.”

You gasped, “No we were not! He’s my best friend.”

JJ and Penelope give each other matching looks before humming in acknowledgement.

“I’m serious! I know what a sarcastic mmhmm means, I invented it.” You said with a frown.

The doors open and the three, much more sober, men come out.

“Come on baby girl, time to say goodbye. You need your bed.” Derek said pulling Penelope off you.

“Oh, my bed sounds fantastic!” she said excitedly, letting Derek lead her off.

“We better get going too, your momma can’t stay all night.” Will mentions to JJ.

“Bye Spence, bye Y/N!” JJ waved goodbye.

Spencer turned to look at you, and you’re still swaying a bit. Spencer wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady and starts to lead you back toward the subway.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

You immediately leaned your head on his shoulder wrapping your own arm around him to keep yourself balanced.

“You’re my favorite person Spencer.” you murmured as they walked down the street.

He chuckled softly, “You’re mine too.”

“No, no, I’m serious.” you said your words a bit slurred.

“I know.” he said softly.

You looked up at him, your eyes furrowed, “No, you don’t.” you said it a bit more seriously. “You’ve done more for me than I can explain.” you whispered.

Spencer paused and gently moved his free hand to press you closer to him, petting your head. “I think it’s the other way around.” He murmured into your hair.

The two stand there, your face pressed into Spencer’s shoulder for a while. It takes a cold breeze to make the two of you separate.

“Let’s get you home before you catch a cold.” he whispered, gently moving you forward again.

You just nodded, looking at your feet as they walked, trying to hide your flushed face.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was always awkward. You only remember Thanksgiving being fun when you were between five and ten. After your mother cheated, Thanksgiving had been... rough. To put it politely.

Even after your parents' divorce, they would still try to get together for Thanksgiving, but something tends to always go wrong.

There was the year you refused to come out of your room because you didn’t want to see your mother. So, Bridget tried to feed you under the bedroom door. Then there was the year that Bridget got food poisoning because their mom didn’t cook the chicken breast for Bridget all the way through. That one was rough. She was eleven and violently puking for three days straight. Or the year that Lauren brought her new boyfriend over. He had tried to make Bridget and you call him dad while Big Joe was sitting right there.

Thanksgiving has just not been their Holiday.

This year you had invited Spencer. He wasn’t going to Vegas to see his mother until Christmas, and he was just going to spend it alone. You offered for him to just spend it with you and Big Joe, it was always just the two of them recently. So, it wasn’t a big deal. Just a chill lunch, watch the parade on the tv, and send Spencer off with leftovers.

At least, that was your plan.

You're in the kitchen with Spencer, cutting veggies for the stuffing when the doorbell rings. You stand straight looking at Spencer in surprise.

“I’ll get it!” You shout to your dad, walking briskly to the door.

Upon opening the door, you see your baby sister. It’s such a shock it takes you a second to register what’s happening.

“Birdie?” You blinked in confusion and rubbed your eyes trying to see if you were seeing things.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Bridget’s boyfriend, Jamie, says excitedly and leans in to give a hug.

“Oh!” Jamie wraps you in a massive hug, squeezing you tightly. “I’m so happy to finally meet you and Bridget’s dad!”

You looked at him a little puzzled before turning to Bridget. “I thought,” You sighed trying to even your breathing. “I thought you were spending the holidays with Lauren again?”

Bridget just shrugged, “Changed my mind. Now can we go in, it’s freezing out here.”

You step aside to let them in and are bewildered that your sister even showed up. You make your way through the living room and stand next to your dad in his wheelchair. His eyes were half closed, a light snore as the television played the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“Daddy, daddy wake up. Birdie’s home.” You whispered.

Big Joe jolts a bit and grumbles, “I wasn’t asleep.”

“Sure, you weren’t daddy.” You patted your dad’s shoulder. “Anyway, Birdie’s here with her boyfriend Jamie.” You said making Big Joe look over at the two standing awkwardly in the doorway.

His face breaks into a grin, “Well, come in Pidgeon, no need to be shy.” He struggles to sit up a little straighter in his chair.

You look over at your sister and Jamie. Her boyfriend is all smiles, you swore if he had a tail, it would be wagging. Jamie walks over to shake your dad’s hand and introduce himself.

Bridget on the other hand, has her feet planted firmly to the floor. Unmoving. You watched her closely and saw just how pale Bridget was as she looked at their dad. She hadn’t seen their dad in a long time. She mostly just called, if that, but this was the first time in maybe two years that Bridget was standing in the same room as her father.

You look back at Jamie and her dad as they chatter. You see how thin her dad’s gotten. It’s not news to you, nothing about his health was. They were already on borrowed time, your dad truly beating the odds. As you look over at your baby sister, you realize that the last time Bridget saw their dad he could still walk easily. He only barely needed the wheelchair for bad days.

Bridget was in shock.

“Y/N! I need some help back here!” Spencer comes around the corner from the kitchen, covered in flour. He’s holding his hands up like he’s innocent.

“Oh, good god, Spencer, bless your heart. I’m coming!” you told him shooing him off back to the kitchen.

You go to Bridget and nudge her, “Birdie you and Jamie can keep daddy entertained right? I’m still cooking.”

Bridget just nodded slowly making her way over to the couch.

You sighed and went back into the kitchen.

“Spencer, I said to add a little flour to make a rue... not a half cup.” you laughed looking at him.

Spencer cleaned his hands with a small rag and looked over at you with a displeased frown.

“I need exact measurements, not... your southern shorthand.” He murmured.

You rolled your eyes and looked at the pot that was supposed to be your rue for the macaroni and cheese. You see the powder in the pot and shake your head.

“Southern shorthand’s about to make the best food you’ve ever eaten.” you told him with a raised brow.

“Grab me a clean one please. This one can go in the sink.” you point over to under the counter.

Spencer easily does that and moves to cutting and peeling potatoes.

“Was that your sister?” he asked.

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Yup.” you said with a pop of the P.

“Isn’t it a good thing she’s here?” he asked tentatively.

You sighed, “I mean,” you leaned back on your heels biting the inside of your cheek. “Yes. It is good. I just...” you turned to face him.

“Spencer, you didn’t see her face. It was like she didn’t recognize him.” you hissed in a whisper.

Spencer paused on peeling the potatoes and gave you a deadpan look. “Because she didn’t. When was the last time she really saw him?”

You paused, “When daddy could still walk on his own... She's only seen him in the chair once.” you sighed heavily.

Spencer moved closer to you and held your arms in reassurance, “She’s in shock. Just, give her some time.” He offered.

You nodded and rolled your sleeves up, “I’m just gonna focus on cooking right now.”

By the time you and Spencer finish everything the parade is over, and your sister has set up the small dining table. You and Spencer slowly bring out the food and your dad rolls himself up to the head of the table.

“What do you want to eat dad?” You asked him after everything was placed on the table.

“Everything, it’s Thanksgiving! I could eat a horse.” he said with a hearty laugh.

You shook your head at your dad but filled his plate. After you set his plate in front of him, everyone else builds a plate for themselves.

“Magpie, you still make homemade cranberry sauce?” Bridget asked, eying the small plate.

You nodded, “Yeah, you never liked the canned stuff.” you replied like it was obvious you’d make it the way she liked.

“I haven’t had Thanksgiving with y’all in years...” Bridget said.

You just shrugged. “It’s not that hard; besides, I’ve gotten so used to making it.”

Bridget bit her tongue. You and her dad hate cranberry sauce. Bridget was the only one who ate it. You don’t have to tell her you made it every year with the hope she’d come.

“Well, it’s the first time I have both my girls here, so let me say grace just this once.” Big Joe said with a smile.

Everyone nodded and closed their eyes.

“Dear lord, thank you for this meal. Thank you for blessin’ me with daughters who care so much. Thank you for providin’ them with such kind folk who care for them like I do. Please bless us today with the kindness and health to go on another year, amen.”

Big Joe smiles at his daughters and motions for them to eat. “C’mon let’s not let this go to waste.”

Their family meal was awkward.

You and Bridget flank the sides of their dad and Spencer and Jamie sit across from each other. The men trying to keep polite conversation while you and Bridget just stare at each other.

“This meals good Magpie, better than mom ever makes.” Bridget complimented.

“Well mom barely ever really cooks. I’m sure she just catered.” You bite back.

Spencer moves his hand to grip yours under the table. You sighed, “Thanks though, I try.”

Bridget turned to her boyfriend giving him a look that said, ‘I told you so.’

Jamie coughs, “So, you run a bookstore?” he asked.

You nod, “Yeah, I co-own it with a friend of mine. Part bookstore part cafe.”

“It’s a great shop, my favorite in town.” Spencer added.

You snorted, “You just say that cause I give you free coffee.”

“Oh, is that where you two meet? That’s romantic, a warm cozy book nook.” Jamie asked leaning forward.

Your and Spencer’s faces both burn deep burgundy colors.

“No no-”

“It’s not like that-”

“We’re not dating-”

“He’s my best friend we’re not-”

You start talking over each other going back and forth. Finally, they both just shut up.

“We’re friends. He’s not my boyfriend.” You finally said, avoiding Spencer’s eyes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we just assumed-” Bridget slammed her elbow into her boyfriend's side.

“Sorry.”

It’s an awkward meal.

After everyone eats Spencer and Jamie clean the table, rinsing off the dishes and loading them in the dishwasher. You and Bridget bring the leftovers into the kitchen, placing them on the counter.

“Can we talk?” Bridget asked with a nervous look.

You nod, unsure of what your sister wants to discuss. Bridget coughed looking at the two men, “Alone .”

“Ohhhhhhhhh.” Jamie and Spencer quickly make themselves scarce to leave the sisters alone.

Bridget moves to start packing up the leftover food. A nervous habit she picked up from their mother, she had to do something with her hands. You go to help her, trying to make whatever conversation this turns into less awkward.

“We need to talk about daddy.” Bridget whispered.

“We or you?” You asked with a raised brow.

Bridget sighed and looked at you, “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“Really? Because as I remember it, I’ve been trying to have a serious conversation with you about this for a while. The last time we discussed this you told me ‘Fuck you.’” you replied with a fake smile.

Bridget sighed and stared holes into the food she was packing into the glass Tupperware.

“I was scared ! No one wants to think about their dad dying!” She tried to say with a strained voice, her movement becoming more aggressive.

You slam your hands on the counter, “And you don’t think I’m scared Bridget?! I’m fucking terrified everyday I’m gonna wake up and find that he didn’t!”

You're breathing heavily, trying to stop the burning you feel at the corners of your eyes, you know yelling isn’t helpful right now, but it feels right.

“You chose to take care of him, he’d be better off with a full-time team! You are such a miserable bitch sometimes!” Bridget yelled right back.

Bridget’s anger has always been fierce and loud. While yours has always been passive. You can’t stand her trying to lecture you right now.

“I’d rather be a miserable bitch than a fucking coward who can’t even look daddy in the eyes.” You bite back.

Bridget throws her hands up, “You know what? Have a great fucking Thanksgiving. I’m not doing this right now.”

You crossed her arms, “Run away, like always.” you murmured under your breath glaring at the floor.

Bridget took a deep breath before turning toward her older sister, “I am trying. It might not be when or how you wanted, but I am trying.”

You didn’t respond expect for a flinch when you heard the front door slam behind her sister.

You stood alone in the kitchen and leaned over the sink.

“Magpie...”

You sigh, your dad’s tone tells you something's weighing on his heart, and you know it’s about Bridget.

You take a deep breath and try not to break into a sob. “Daddy-” your voice shook.

“Don’t hate her, Bridget isn’t like you.” Big Joe tells you, his voice gentle.

You are very aware that the walls are thin, and your dad heard you argue with Bridget., hell, everyone heard your argument with Bridget. That doesn’t make it any less hurtful or true.

“I don’t hate her; I just hate how she ignored you for so long and just-” you paused looking up. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” Big Joe rolled closer. He was using his soft dad voice, and it was the straw that broke your back.

Your lower lip started to shake, and you could feel the hot tears running down your face.

“All of it! None of it is fair, why... why did you have to be the one who’s sick?” you sobbed.

He grabbed your hands and held them tightly. “Magpie, the world’s not fair. No one made me sick, it just, it happens.”

“You’re my dad... I’m not ready to give you up.” you hiccupped through your tears.

Big Joe moves to stand on his shaky legs, he wraps you in a tight hug. You can feel how much smaller he’s gotten. The muscle deteriorating in his body.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Okay? I’ve been beating the odds, right? I can keep going.” He told you.

He pulled back to brush away your tears, “Don’t be mad at your sister... When I do go, you’ll have each other, you should take care.” he said.

“Bridget’s not cut me out of her life Magpie, she calls me every day when I’m in the doctor’s office.” He reassured you.

Your eyes widen, “She does?” You’re surprised.

Big Joe nods. “We don’t talk about the doctor’s visits or anything, but she calls every day, and we catch up. I know too much about Jamie by the way; he’s a chatty Cathy...”

“I didn’t know that.” you said with a frown.

Your dad shrugged, “I didn’t think it was important. It obviously was, you’ve been holding too much in Magpie.” he said softly.

You looked down a bit embarrassed. “You don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders... you’ve been doin’ that since you were thirteen. It’s not your job; your job is to live your life.”

You nodded, rubbing your face to dry the tears.

“Why don’t you go out with that nice friend of yours? I’ll be just fine right here.” He said referring to Spencer in the living room.

“Oh god, Spencer.” you sighed covering your face, “I look awful...”

Her dad chuckled, “He won’t mind. Now go on and get.” He grumbled.

You give a soft laugh, “You just want to watch the game in peace.” you said knowingly.

“Hell yeah, I do, you never liked football. I don’t know who raised you.” he joked, wheeling himself into the living room.

You follow behind him and into the living room. Spencer’s pacing circles in front of the couch. He only stops when he hears them come in.

“We’ve been kicked out.” you joked. You grab your coat and your purse, “Dad wants to watch the football game, and I have no interest in that.” you told him seeing Spencer’s confused face.

He nodded and grabbed his own coat, “Happy Thanksgiving Joe.”

Your dad nodded, “That’s Big Joe to you boy.” He teased Spencer.

You rolled your eyes and walked out with Spencer following behind. Outside the front door you felt Spencer gently grab your arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

You swallowed hard, “I’ve been better...” you murmured. “but I should probably apologize to Birdie for grilling her like that." You bite your cheek in thought.

Spencer shrugged, “You don’t have too immediately. It takes two to fight.”

You snort, “You’re the best, you know that?” you said moving to wrap your arm around him as they walked.

Spencer easily slides his own arm around your waist, “I’ve been told a time or two.” he responded smugly.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay okay, remind me to not boost your ego again.”

Spencer looked down at you and smiled softly. Your eyes were still rimmed red from crying, but you looked better than when you had come out of the kitchen. Spencer could hear the argument between the two sisters vividly. The walls of the apartment where thin and the animosity between the two women had been brewing all afternoon. They were bound to explode.

He rubs soothing circles into your back. He knows you’ll work it out. You're too bright to be dimmed so easily.

Christmas

Christmas morning was always fun. The past couple of years it’s been hard. It’s just been you and Big Joe, and honestly it just reminded you how lonely you were. Thanksgiving was always awkward, but Christmas has always been fun. Even when your mother was visiting, you still found some joy at Christmas. Now? You just longed for one where it wasn’t just the two of them.

There was going to be a Christmas that would just be you... you weren’t ready for that.

You missed baking cookies, trying to make gingerbread houses with Bridget, and curling in front of the fireplace wrapped in a million blankets watching those 70’s claymation holiday specials. You and Bridget’s giggles filling the living room as you slept in a fort made from couch cushions and sheets.

You missed being a family.

You sighed and turned the oven on, getting ready to make a small turkey for you and Big Joe. You had other food to still prep, and you were ready to just give up and order a pizza.

Halfway through boiling the eggs you heard a loud knock.

“Magpie were you expectin’ that friend of yours?” Her dad shouted.

You wipe your hands off and pokes your head into the living room, “No... I think he went to Vegas to visit his momma.” you said, walking toward the door.

“Surely to god it’s not a solicitor on Christmas?” you asked.

You open the door and see Bridget and Jamie. You stand there a little surprised. You hadn’t talked to her since Thanksgiving when they had a massive blow out argument.

“Y/N! Merry Christmas!” Jamie exclaimed holding what looked to be a pie in his hands. His smile was genuine as it reached his eyes.

“Merry Christmas Jamie...” you said in surprise.

Jamie walked past her but not before making a face at Bridget.

“Merry Christmas Big Joe!” Jamie’s voice carried off into the room.

Bridget’s holding a bag and looks embarrassed to be standing in front of you.

“I brought a peace offering...” Bridget said passing the bag over to you.

You raised your brow in question but opened the bag anyway.

Inside were two gingerbread house kits and a champagne bottle.

“I thought we could, maybe, try to bring back an old tradition...” She murmured looking at you hopefully.

“Birdie-” You started but she cuts you off.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out at Thanksgiving...I just... I’ve been trying so hard to think that daddy was gonna be just fine.” Bridget’s voice cracks.

“I- I can’t picture that the strongest person I know has to be rolled around in a chair, ya know?” she said, her voice watery as she tried to blink back her tears.

“Daddy’s sick Bridget. He’s already lasted longer than most, but...” you took a deep shaky breath of your own. “We only have a little time left with him.” you whispered.

“I know.” Bridget said firmly. “I’m gonna show up.” she promised.

You look down at the gingerbread houses and back at your baby sister. You pulled Birdie into a tight hug.

“Better late than never.” You whispered.

“I missed this.” Bridget said holding onto her sister.

“I missed you Birdie.”

The two sisters walk into the apartment together. You set the bag down under the tree.

“I’m cooking if you want to help?” You asked her.

“Ohhhhhh no. I don’t cook. I’m awful- you want Jamie.” Bridget said pointing to her boyfriend.

Jamie stands and mock salutes you, “Sous chef reporting for duty!”

You rolled your eyes and motions for him to follow you.

While Jamie’s in the kitchen, it makes the task so much faster for you. Faster than even when Spencer helped her. Jamie clearly knew how to cook and obviously made meals for your sister. The two busted out the mashed potatoes and deviled eggs easily. What would have taken you half of the morning and afternoon took you and Jamie just the morning to finish. It was great to have an extra pair of hands that knew what they were doing.

When you put the rolls in the oven to bake, you notice Jamie’s hand fidgeting in his pocket.

Now that you thought of it, his hand was constantly shooting down to check that he still had whatever it was in his pocket.

“If ya got a ring in there for Birdie, I’d suggest being less obvious.” you joked with a light laugh.

Jamie freezes and his face erupts into a bright red shade, “How... how did you know?” He stuttered out.

Your brows shoot up as you whip around to face Jamie. You look between him and the doorway and don’t hear anything to suggest Bridget heard them.

“I was joking!” you hissed out. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious! I love Bridget.” he whispered to you. “I wanted to propose with her family there, but it was either you guys or Lauren, and Bridget is fighting with her right now.”

“They’re fighting?” You asked in quiet surprise.

Jamie nodded, “Bridget called her after Thanksgiving and I don’t know much, but it was a screaming match over the phone.”

You make a face. “Sounds like mom.”

Jamie nodded in agreement.

“Well, let me see it!” you demanded, holding your hand out.

Jamie rolled his eyes but fished out the small box and handed it to you. You excitedly opened the box, and your eyes lit up. You passed the small velvet box back to Jamie.

“I think she’ll love it.” you said with a genuine smile. “So, are you proposing today?”

He nodded. Your face beams. “I’m so excited for you guys. Truly.”

“Just gotta find the right time.” He said holding the box tightly.

“There’s never a perfect time... just maybe do it before me and Birdie start building gingerbread houses.” You suggested.

“Why?” Jamie tilted his head in confusion.

“Because she brought champagne and we’re light weights.” you patted Jamie’s arm.

“Go on in the living room, I’ll finish up and get ready to serve soon.” You offered.

Jamie nodded and smiled, “You’re a good sister.”

You shrugged, “Not really, but appreciate the sentiment.” you teased.

Dinner goes wonderfully. Much better than Thanksgiving. You serve everyone their food and the conversations are lively and exciting.

“Your momma called me,” Big Joe said turning to Bridget.

Bridget freezes, like she used to as a kid who was caught, and she looks up at her dad.

“What about?” she asked.

Her dad gave her a pointed look, “You’re fightin’?”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “I got into it with her, it doesn’t matter.”

“She said you were fightin’ about me.” She sighed and looked at her dad.

“Well, what she neglected to tell you daddy, was she was trying to tell me how to take care of you. As if she knows anything more than Magpie does.” Bridget said stabbing her turkey aggressively.

Their dad nodded, “She did not tell me that part.”

“Sounds like Lauren...” You murmured shoving potatoes into your mouth.

Bridget gives you a pointed look, “Please, I don’t want to argue over mom right now.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “I won’t. My lips are sealed.”

After dinner they transferred to the living room and finally do a gift exchange. There weren’t a lot of presents, just a handful for each other. Plus, the gifts you made for your friends.

You already got your gift from Bridget, but you gave her a present. It was homemade cookies that were Bridget’s favorite as a kid. You got Josie to bake them for her.

“This is my apology for Thanksgiving...I shouldn’t have cornered you.” You said softly.

You smiled at your sister and Bridget went to wrap you in a hug.

Bridget and you both had a few presents from your dad, all of which were cute and sentimental.

Finally, Jamie gets ready to give Bridget his present. He hands Bridget her gift and it’s a beautiful print of the night sky and stars the day they met. While Bridget’s too busy looking at the print and getting teary eyes, Jamie drops to his knee.

He doesn’t even get the words out before Bridget immediately breaks into a sob.

Jamie gives a soft laugh, “Bridget Daniels, will you marry me?”

Bridget nods aggressively and throws herself at Jamie. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. “I had a whole speech prepared but then you started crying.” He chuckled into her neck.

“You know I’m a crier!” she blubbered, fat tears rolling down her face.

Jamie just laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

You were filming the whole time on your phone the second Jamie gave Bridget her first gift.

“Congratulations!”

“Well, what a good excuse to pop open the champagne you brought!” You teased pulling the bottle from the gift bag.

Bridget gasped, “Oh yes! Grab it!”

A few hours later you are three glasses deep in champagne and are trying to delicately place gumdrops strategically on the roof of your gingerbread house.

Bridget’s also three glasses in and keeps giggling as she looks down at her hand.

“Biiiiiiiiiirdie!” You drawl out looking over at your sister and her half-built house.

“Stop gigglin’ about your mushy love life and build! I don’t want to win because you half assed it!” You pout, sending a playful glare at your sister.

Bridget stuck her tongue out at you, “Magpie don’t be ugly. I’m two sheets to the wind and you know it!” Bridget said her accent seeping out of every syllable.

You just laughed loudly, snorting, “We’re both two sheets to the wind!”

The two are rolling on the floor filled with giggles. Jamie is sitting on the couch next to Big Joe in his chair just smiling at his fiancé.

“I haven’t seen them this giddy since they were only up to my knee.” Big Joe said with a gruff chortle.

“I told her to just apologize... Bridget’s so stubborn. She won’t ever admit that she looks up to her sister, but she spends a lot of time talking about her. Especially after that bank robbery she was in...”

Big Joe nodded; a scowl crosses his face at the memory of the bank robbery. “That was the worst day of my life.”

Big Joe turned to look at Jamie, “Did you know that boy from Thanksgiving is an FBI agent? He saved her.”

Jamie’s eyes grow big as saucers. “What?”

Big Joe nodded, “He saved my baby girl. I’ll always remember that.”

Jamie grows quiet thinking it over, “...and they aren’t dating?”

“Nope.”

You and Bridget are back to working on the gingerbread houses, with deadly focus as they build. Your hands are shaking as you pipe icing for decoration on your house. Bridget is holding her breath as she places small colored candy pieces as fake lights.

“Are you decorating the yard?” You asked her. You're looking at the cardboard base with laser focus.

“I want to make a snow man, so yes.” Bridget replied.

You sighed. “Fine I guess I’ll do something...” you pause biting your cheek in thought.

You ruffled through the bag of candy and came across the Sour Patch Kids. You gasp in excitement and start putting the small child shaped gummies all over the base.

Bridget looked over and pouted, “Hey! Those were for us to eat not decorate!” she whined.

You rolled your eyes, “Birdie don’t get your panties in a twist- here I only grabbed three!” you said, handing over the bag to your sister.

Bridget frowned, “Liar you used like, ten.” She said flipping you off.

“I’ll eat them! It’s my share.” You exclaimed with a sigh.

Bridget shoved the candy in her mouth, “You better, these are expensive.” She mumbled with her mouth full.

Before you can respond there’s a knock on the door. You bolt up and go to answer. Still tipsy you wobbled a bit before standing straight. You open the door, and your eyes widen as you see Spencer on the doorstep.

Your face is flushed from the champagne, and you’ve thrown a garland around yourself like a scarf, you looked a little ridiculous. Not to mention the remains of broken candy and frosting on you.

“Merry Christmas.” He said, Spencer’s eyes slowly roam your form, and an amused smile formed on his face.

You tried to wipe off whatever remains of the gingerbread house were on you, “Merry Christmas Spencer. I didn’t know you were coming by?” you said flustered.

Spencer shrugged, “I couldn’t make it out to see my mom this year, I’m not staying long though.” He said turning to pull something from his satchel.

You stand in the doorway wringing your hands and tilt your head in curiosity.

“Here!” he exclaimed, finding what he was looking for, he handed over a small, wrapped gift to you.

You gently grabbed the present from him, “I have yours inside- I can go grab it real quick.” you offered.

Spencer shakes his head, “No it’s okay. Open yours first.”

You can see how eager he is, so you do as he requested. You gently peel the wrapping paper off and it’s a jewelry box. You opened it and gasped seeing inside.

“Oh wow... Spencer...” you whispered, the breath knocked out of you as you looked at the gift.

It could be the champagne, or it could be that you are quick to cry, but your eyes well up with tears brimming and ready to fall.

“You don’t like it-” He whispered as he moved to grab the box.

You pull back away from him. You cradled your gift close, “No, Spencer this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever got me.” your voice cracked as you looked up at him, your tears falling.

You tried to wipe them away, “Sorry-” you hiccupped, “I’m a little drunk.”

Spencer just smiled at you.

“God, now your present sucks in comparison.” you murmured looking at the beautiful necklace he gave you.

Spencer snorts, “It’s not a contest.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the necklace, turning your back to him.

“Will you help me put it on?” you asked quietly.

Spencer comes up behind you and his hands gently grab the silver chain. His hands are warm in comparison to the cold metal touching your skin. His touch is feather light as he focuses on clipping your necklace. His breath tickles the nape of your neck, and it sends a shiver through your body.

“Sorry, it’s been out in the cold.” Spencer said, thinking your full body shiver was from the metal.

You don’t reply, not trusting yourself. He fumbles for a moment, but the necklace is on. A beautiful magpie feather pendant rests against your collarbone.

You turned back to him and tilted your head. “How... where did you even get this?” you asked holding the pendant in your hand.

“It’s a long story, but I've been looking for a magpie present for a while.” You looked down at the ground with a shy smile.

“I mean, that’s what your family calls you right? Magpie.” He whispered.

You smiled, “It’s special...for me and Birdie.” she murmured quietly.

“I thought so.” He replied softly, “I finally saw that in a store a while ago and it just, it made sense to me.” He said softly.

You looked up at him and gave a tiny smile, “Thank you Spencer, this was really sweet.” you pushed up on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Wait right here, let me grab your gift.” you told him.

You don’t see how red Spencer’s face is.

You quickly rush inside and grab Spencer’s gift from under the tree. Bridget and Jamie are nowhere to be found but you can hear idle chatter in the kitchen.

“Magpie,” You turned to see your dad looking at you expectantly.

You tilted your head, “What is it daddy?”

“That boy, the one at my front door,” He started.

Spencer. Big Joe was talking about Spencer. You bite your lip. There’s too much alcohol in you right now to have whatever conversation this is. Not to mention Spencer’s probably freezing.

“Spencer?” You asked for clarification.

“Yes! Him... Magpie, are you in love with him?” He asked.

You almost choke. You start coughing and look at your dad with wide eyes.

“Where did that come from?!” you exclaimed.

“Now, I ain’t stupid. I might be sick, but I got perfectly working eyes.” he said with a frown.

You sputter for a second, “What makes you think that? He’s my best friend.” you cross your arms defensively.

“Y/N.” Big Joe said sternly, giving his daughter a firm look. “I’ve seen how you look at that boy.”

“Daddy,” you sighed. “I don’t have time to date- I have the store and you-”

“Don’t use me as an excuse to not live your life, Magpie.” he said softly. Her dad reached out to hold your hand.

You took a shaky breath, “Daddy- I can’t, I have to go give him this present. I can’t do this right now.”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you, friends don’t look at each other like you two do.”

You go silent and bite your lip. You look down at the gift in your hands, “I think I do... but I don’t know if I’m ready.” you whispered.

Big Joe motions for you to bend down, opening his arms for a hug. You set Spencer’s gift over to the side and wrap your arms around your dad.

“If you’re gonna fall in love with anyone, I’m glad it’s him.” He whispered as he hugged you tight.

You pulled back and gave a sniffle, trying not to cry anymore.

“I have to go, he’s probably freezing.” you told your dad, grabbing Spencer’s gift before walking back outside.

You quickly rushed back to the door, Spencer still standing there, hands in his pockets.

“Sorry, dad stopped me.” you said, handing him a box.

Spencer nodded and gently opened the box. He pulled out a small diorama that was the size of a book. It was Sherlock Holmes apartment.

“It’s for your bookshelf. It’s like a little decoration. I thought Sherlock would be perfect.” you said softly.

“This is perfect, thank you.” He whispered looking at the details.

“There are a few loose items that are still in the box. Once you set it up it’ll look great.” you added.

Spencer put his gift back in the box and looked at you with a warm fondness that took your breath away for a moment. You’re still tipsy and feel warm all over and he’s looking at you with those big hazel doe eyes that have mesmerized you.

“Stop looking at me like that...” you murmured, your hand playing with the magpie charm on your neck.

Spencer chuckled, “Like what?” he tilted his head.

You frowned, “Like, I don’t know, your big puppy eyes... like I’m doing something special.”

Spencer tilted his head and stepped closer, “You are special.”

Your face heats up in a flush, “Merry Christmas.” He pulled you into a quick hug before turning to leave.

“Merry Christmas...” you murmured watching him leave.

You lean against the door when you come back inside and cover your face.

You heard murmured whispers from the living room and giggles.

“He’s cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute.” Bridget’s voice drifts toward you in a high-pitched tone.

“What are you? Twelve?!” You groaned walking back into the living room.

“Mmmmm maybe?” Bridget said with a giggle and threw her arms around you.

You rolled your eyes and tried to stop the flush from creeping down your body.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

55 notes · View notes

hotchs-big-hands · 1 year ago

Text

The Slaughterhouse

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader part 1 5.3k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Hiiiii everyone! I'm really happy to start my new series! It's a vast departure from my previous series lol but I hope you all enjoy regardless! As stated tho in the warnings it's gonna get dark so feel free to skip if you're not comfortable! But if you'd like to be tagged then please let me know! Happy reading 💖💖💖

A thin trail of red tinged water trickled down into the drain, not quite blending together more so than the red slowly spread out in the clear liquid like drops of crimson ink.

"Has Pen got a cute bandaid I could use, you think?" You asked the woman beside you as you rinsed a papercut you'd gained from the insultingly tall stack of paperwork on your desk. The woman, Emily Prentiss, shrugged slightly, tussling her silky, black hair.

"Maybe. I'll text her and ask."

"Thanks."

It didn't take long for the door to the women's restroom to burst open, almost slamming into the wall as a frantic Penelope Garcia rushed over to you, a pink first aid kit in her bejewelled hands.

"I'm here, I'm here! Nurse Garcia to the rescue!!" She cried, her blonde curls bouncing with every step. You chuckled at her as Emily stepped out of the way.

"Thank goodness, I was really starting to have second thoughts about my survival rate here."

Penelope was quick to spring into action, setting the kit down and upon opening it she retrieved an antiseptic wipe.

"Give me your hand, I'm going to clean the area." She instructed, eyes a little narrowed as she began to concentrate. You winced slightly when the antiseptic stung a little, but soon you were sporting an adorable pink bandaid with a Hello Kitty pattern on it. You held your hand out to admire it with a grin.

"Thanks so much, Pen!"

The ditzy blonde woman smiled.

"You are so welcome, my lovely."

"Come on, we need to head back to the bullpen before somebody notices we disappeared." Emily said pointedly, glancing at Penelope who returned the look. You grimaced slightly and took the empty bandaid wrapper to shove in the trashcan under your desk.

"Yeah true, we should go before I end up with another stack of paperwork." You muttered, heading towards the door and pulling it towards you. That somebody was none other than your up-tight, impersonal boss and unit chief Aaron Hotchner. Well, impersonal with you that is.

Your time in the BAU had only been a mere year, but it was long enough to form relationships with your coworkers. Whenever possible, you attended ladies' nights with Penelope, Emily and the only other woman in the BAU; Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau, spent time with the ever charmer Derek Morgan whilst he worked on his house projects and happily listened to the young Doctor Spencer Reid as he spoke extensively about chemistry or some sort of engineering related topic. Hell, sometimes you even offered an ear to the oldest member of the team; David Rossi, discussing his passion for cooking and other such things from his life.

But no matter what you tried, there was no breaking down the walls around Aaron Hotchner and at this point you'd begun to stop trying. And it hurt like hell. Not because he was your boss, you didn't care so much about that, but because you happened to like him very much. Probably too much even. He was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Even now you couldn't stop yourself from letting your eyes wander over to glance at him, to take in his tall stature and handsomely seasoned features. And you knew he had a kind and loving side to him as well from the interactions you'd witnessed between him and your coworkers. But the same couldn't be said for you. He never offered that olive branch to you, never spoke to you besides work related discussion when on cases. Hell, you basically knew nothing of his son besides the snippets the others had told you of the elusive boy. Not from Agent Hotchner, but from Emily, Derek, Penny...

There was no way of saying it didn't sting, because it did very much so. And it had been this way right from when you walked through the door per section chief Erin Strauss' recommendation. Your interview was tense between yourself, Hotchner and Rossi with the two of them seemingly being in disagreement about you. Rossi, on one hand, was adamant about your capabilities and of what you would bring to the team, whereas your now boss was reluctant. Nitpicky. Wanting to find something to use to keep you from the position in the team. And when he realised you were officially in the team on your first day, walking into the bullpen with your slightly busted brown box of desk essentials and trinkets, was when the walls were raised to impenetrable heights.

Sighing quietly, you returned to the bullpen, fingers of your uninjured hand fiddling with the balled up wrapper. Your eyes flicked to the familiar windowed office above the main desk area. The blinds were open. He no doubt knew yourself and Emily had disappeared for a short while. You scowled a little to yourself. What did it matter? As long as you got your work completed all the same then it didn't matter if you were at your desk the whole day or not. And it didn't matter what he thought, or if he even did take notice of your absence or if he knew why you were gone. Or if he worried over you. It didn't matter, you told yourself.

"Hey sweet thing, what's that frown for, huh?" You blinked as you were brought to the present by the voice of your friend Derek Morgan. You turned in your chair to face him with a sheepish grin.

"Oh, I'm just annoyed I got a papercut. Like are you kidding me?" You said humourously and the dark skinned man laughed, his teeth gleaming under the artificial office lights.

"Aww I'm sorry, did you accidentally touch these abs or something?" His eyes were shining mischievously now and you rolled your own with a scoff.

"Yeah yeah, you wish. The culprit was this pile of paperwork though."

In response, Derek formed a heart shape with his hands, only to break it when he moved his hands away from one another, pouting sadly as he slumped back in his chair. You giggled quietly and rolled your eyes before you returned your attention to the casefiles on your desk. But it wasn't long before you spotted the colourfully dressed Penny again as she rushed towards your unit chief's office, meaning there was a case about to unfold. You eyed your coworkers, who returned the glance, then automatically made a move to close the casefile you had open on your desk and added it to the paper tower. You rose from your seat just as the office door swung open again and Penny reappeared with Hotch behind her. As she made her way to the conference room the tall man leaned over the walkway in the direction of your colleagues and yourself.

"We have a case. Be in the conference room in 2 minutes." He said curtly, eyes flicking between each face. They lingered on you for a moment, brows pulled together in a deep frown, then moved away as he followed the blonde woman. Over time you'd come to understand that look; this case was bad. Very bad.

JJ was already in the conference room when you trailed in behind Reid, Rossi following behind you and closing the door as the last person in the room. You took a seat near the far side of the round table from the doorway, Emily moving to sit on your left. Your eyes drifted around the room, brows furrowing very slightly when you couldn't find the unit chief in his usual position at the table. The chair beside you made a sound as it was pulled out and to your horror you realised none other than Derek Morgan had taken Hotch's seat, which meant...

You heard Aaron Hotchner clear his throat to your right as he shifted to get comfortable in the chair, the leather squeaking beneath his weight. You didn't dare look his way, instead turning your head to Emily with a slightly skittish look in your eyes. To your horror she was already looking at you, a devilish smirk battling its way on her face.

"You okay there, (L/n)?" She asked sweetly. You scoffed.

"Always am."

You could have sworn you heard the man beside you draw in a sharp breath.

"Let's get started." He said in his smooth, deep voice.

JJ had laid out the casefiles for everyone to look at, but as you reached forward to grab your copy a tanned, hairy hand gently grasped your wrist. You flinched, body turning to the culprit as none other than your boss. He stared back, brows furrowed deeply and his emotions guarded.

"Careful."

You knew all eyes were on the two of you, the burn of the stares was almost unbearable, like fire ants crawling all over you. And then Penelope cleared her throat, ending the moment. Hotch retracted his hand from your wrist carefully and you turned your attention to the two blonde women about to present the case.

It became very apparent almost immediately why your boss was hesitant for you to open your casefile.

You had seen all manner of depravity in this field of work. And while you didn't exactly enjoy seeing the bodies of victims, even the most gruesome crimes didn't really affect you as much as they used to. But what you didn't expect was seeing the horribly mutilated corpses of women, women who had a common similarity with you. Every single one was fat like you. Well, as best as you could tell through the extent of the mutilations to the bodies. With the side-by-side comparison of the photos of the victims as they were alive and happy, their cheerful smiles besides the butchered bodies was... difficult. Hell, you could effortlessly imagine a photo of yourself alongside theirs with how similar their bodies were to yours.

The voices of your colleagues around you seemed distant as your eyes read the current details of the case. Over the course of 4 months, seven women of varied ethnicities, between the ages of 19 and 25, had all been found dumped naked in a variety of locations in a large town in Texas. Their bodies were butchered and there was evidence of violent sexual assault. A chilling detail was each victim had had their blood drained entirely. You couldn't stop your eyes from drifting back to the photos of their faces.

"(L/n)?"

You blinked, looking up to see who had spoken. All eyes were on you, causing you to wince slightly.

"Yeah?"

Beside you, Emily placed her hand on your arm.

"You alright?" She asked quietly. You were quiet for a moment.

"Oh, yeah I'm... fine. I was just reading the details." You managed to murmur.

"Any thoughts so far?" Rossi cut in, staring at you intently.

"Mhm, this killer holds a lot of resentment towards fat women from the way they've sliced and butchered their bodies. The blood draining is a bit unusual, however I don't think it's for ritualistic purposes."

"What do you suspect it to be about?" JJ spoke. You narrowed your eyes a little as you thought about it.

"I'm... not sure. Maybe there isn't a purpose other than to get rid of the mess."

Beside you, the leather of the chair Hotch sat on creaked under his movement when he closed his copy of the casefile and pushed away from the table.

"We'll continue to discuss theories on the plane. For now, get yourselves ready to go. Wheels up in thirty." He concluded and stood up from his seat, everyone else following along. You closed your file and made a move to follow behind Emily, when the familiar touch of Hotch's hand grasped your wrist gently again. "(L/n), a word."

Helplessly, you watched everyone file out of the room and you sighed gently. His hand dropped away and as you glanced down at your feet you could feel his scrutinizing stare.

"I need you to remain by my side for this case." He said bluntly.

"Huh?"

You frowned at him. This certainly wasn't what you thought he was going to say. You watched as his brow creased.

"I want to keep an eye on you."

What? You blinked at him.

"Why's that, sir? I don't quite follow."

"I don't want to be insensitive but you have seen the victims the unsub targeted. I just want to make sure you're safe." Hotch explained in as gentle of a way he had ever spoken to you. Oh... You swallowed thickly and nodded once.

"I see. Uh, well I appreciate it, sir. I should be okay though, I have you all around me after all."

It was your boss' turn to frown now, evidently displeased with your response. But he didn't push it, picking his casefile off the table and fixing his watch around his wrist.

"If you insist. But I don't approve of this though."

You nodded and cleared your throat, following him as he stalked out of the conference room. As he made a right turn towards his office, you continued forward until you were with the others again. JJ was the first to break the air of curiosity.

"What did Hotch want?" She asked you as she checked she had everything she needed in her go bag. You sighed and crossed over to your desk.

"Said he wants me to stay by his side, given the nature of what we're dealing with."

"And are you doing that?" Derek asked, eyeing you pointedly. You shook your head.

"I don't really want to have to hang back from working on this case as much as I intend on doing so."

Emily lightly nudged you when she approached your desk, her bag slung over one shoulder.

"Maybe he has a point though." She offered but you scrunched your nose up.

"I also don't really feel like spending the whole time with someone who acts like I'm as worthy of their time as a plank of rotting wood would be." You muttered to yourself as you shoved the casefile in your bag, missing the uncomfortable shared glances of your team mates when the subject of your conversation approached the group.

You felt Emily nudge you again and you straightened up, sealing your bag shut.

"Alright, alright I'm ready to go n..ow..." she wasn't looking at you, you realised, and your body tensed when you heard him speak.

"Let's head out." Agent Hotchner said roughly and turned to leave, face sour. Damn, you strongly hoped he hadn't heard you just now but judging from his expression you knew he must have done. Sighing softly, you picked your bag up and swung it over your shoulder. And followed behind the others to head to the airport. It was never a good idea to start a case off with conflict.

Work began immediately when the team met up with the Police department in Memphis, with everyone splitting up to take care of different tasks. Much to your relief, Hotch had teamed you up with Derek to visit the bar the latest victim had been last seen before her disappearance and murder. Despite the time in the day it was rowdy inside, a significant hum of conversation ever present as the two of you navigated around to interview staff and patrons. So far, there had been no luck though with finding any information on whoever was responsible for the crimes.

As your eyes drifted around the room they settled on a young woman who had just entered the bar. She stood around five feet six inches tall with dyed red curls which ended around her shoulders and her figure was similar to your own, albeit slightly bigger. Someone the unsub would target, you thought to yourself bitterly. Her eyes found you and she nervously approached you, gaze darting around. Nudging Derek subtly, you met the girl halfway across the bar. She was shaking.

"Hey, I'm agent (Y/n) (L/n) and this is agent Derek Morgan of the FBI. Are you alright?" You asked her gently and she cleared her throat.

"You're... you're investigating the murders, aren't you?" Her voice was quiet. You nodded and brought your hands up to take hold of her arms.

"I understand it's very frightening right now, but we're here to do whatever we can to find this person."

Derek eyed the young woman, gaze sincere but analysing.

"Do you have anyone of note who could be a person of interest?" He questioned her. Her eyes flitted to him.

"I... I'm not sure. There's a lot of people who treat us badly," She shifted around, folding her arms close to her body. "J-just five months ago there was a girl who got- um, assaulted because she rejected someone. She was like us, a bigger woman."

Derek's frown deepened.

"Is there records of the assault?"

She shook her head.

"Only of her initial report and visit to the hospital. She was um, too scared to say who it was." She scrunched her eyes shut for a second and shuddered. "H-her name was Amelia Dougherty."

A coldness sunk deep within your abdomen and you fought off the twitch of your lower lip. That was the first victim found dead four months ago. You offered a gentle squeeze of her arms.

"What's your name, lovey?" You said sweetly, feeling the young woman relax under your touch slightly.

"Carla. Carla Reynolds, ma'am."

Your thumbs soothingly brushed against her arms, hopeful she took it as encouragement.

"Well, Carla. I want to thank you for talking to us today. Right now though I need you to head home, protect yourself. Try your best not to go out and about alone if you can help it, yeah?" You instructed her and she nodded.

"Okay..."

With one last squeeze, you let go of her and smiled faintly. Beside you, Derek slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangle of card.

"If you think of anything or see anything suspicious, call my number. Thank you for your time, Miss Reynolds." He said politely, but not unkindly and you both watched as she quickly left the bar. You exhaled softly and turned to the man beside you.

"We certainly know the possible trigger that started this whole murder spree." You murmured. The man beside you nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket with the intention to make a call.

"We'll head back to the station with what we know. I'm gonna ask Garcia for any files on assault reports within the last few months before the murders." He said as he pressed his phone to his ear.

"Sure, I'll just have one last sweep around."

As the man turned to make a call, you let your eyes drift around the room again to analyse everyone. None seemed to stand out, nor were there any other larger women around at this point. Distantly, you could hear Derek chatting lightly to Penny on the other end of the line but you paid little mind to it. But as you turned around to make your way outside a flurry of people entered the bar and, as a consequence, someone bumped into you and caused you to stumble.

"Hey! Watch it, man!" You heard your companion snap, but whoever it was had long since disappeared into the crowd. You sighed and fixed your clothing.

"It's fine, Der. We have more important things to focus on right now anyway."

You could tell from the expression on Derek's face that he was reluctant to let this drop, but he didn't challenge you. And at this point he had finished the call anyway, so without any further delay the two of you headed outside to drive back to the station.

There were no patterns between any of the assault victims from before the murders. All were a much wider range of women, a wider age range, varying body types and there was a multitude of perpetrators committing these assaults as opposed to one, who was suspected to be acting alone committing the murders. And this didn't even include male victims either. The first day of the case was chalking up to being a frustrating dead-end.

Standing in front of the whiteboard that was covered in tacked on pictures and scrawled out notes, you rubbed a hand over your face as you felt your brain turn into cotton in your skull. It was then you felt a presence beside you, causing you to stiffen slightly.

"Got anything?" You heard the soft, deep rumble of Hotch's voice. You exhaled. As you glanced to your side you realised how close to one another you were and the scent of his cologne hit your senses. It made your head feel a bit fuzzy.

"Other than what we already have, no. Maybe just theories on why the unsub picked out these women in particular." You murmured.

"Let's talk about them."

You turned to him with a slight nod, eyes reluctant to leave the board.

"Well, the photographs; the body language suggests a lot of discomfort. The women don't really like being the centre of attention. They're insecure." You began, motioning to the pictures of the victims from when they were still alive. "The unsub will have taken advantage of this, approaching the women in clubs and bars to flirt with them."

Hotch hummed, his focus entirely on you.

"It would seem likely, yes."

"But why go with the guy if they were so insecure?" A different voice chimed into the conversation, causing the two of you to turn. Behind you, Spencer stared with a furrowed brow and you sighed gently.

"If you're in a position where you've never had anyone show interest in you, or at least never seem genuine about it, it really messes with your self esteem. So having someone spend time with you flirting with you will inevitably cause you to drop your defense a bit. Because, well, you've never experienced this before." You turned to the board again and grabbed one of the markers to write some notes down. "With this I can only imagine the unsub is definitely above average in attractiveness but not so much to the point where the victims wouldn't trust their supposed interest."

"Most likely in the late twenties to early thirties. But we'll continue the profile with fresh eyes in the morning." Hotch said and he motioned to address the others. "We should stop for the night and check in to the hotel. We'll be up early in the morning."

There was a mutual sound of agreement from your colleagues but before you could say anything more to your unit chief, he was walking away briskly and pulling his phone out of his pocket to seemingly make a call. He never seemed to linger around you more than what was required of him. You puffed out a breath and capped the pen in your hand again before setting it down. To your left, you were aware of Emily approaching you.

"Sooo..." She began and you huffed.

"Oh, don't start."

"I didn't say anything!"

With a scowl you turned to her, noting the grin she was trying desperately to fend off. You folded your arms.

"Don't be sly with me, dumbass." You spat and she chuckled.

"You know I don't mean any ill-will. Just wondering how you're getting on."

You scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah sure you are."

"Well, I'm sure it's not easy working beside the man you're definitely not interested in!"

A tired grumble left you as you crossed the room to grab your casefile.

“Girl, we are literally trying to solve a serial murder case right now. I got no time to be thinking about anything but this.”

Emily chuckled and leaned her weight onto her hand braced on the table in the centre of the room.

“I know you’re struggling hard not to think about him though.”

You jabbed her with your elbow and scowled at her.

“That’s enough out of you. Now come on, we’re done for the day.” You said and tucked the manila folder under your arm, not missing the little chuckle from the raven haired woman. Once everyone was ready to depart, you found yourself in the same car as the girls and Reid, sitting in the back as you scrolled through your phone. There was a group chat you all used, originally created for strictly case related situations, but with Garcia around there was no way it was going to remain professional for long. And so now it was a mix of light-hearted conversation and sharing as well as more serious messages. The aforementioned had sent a series of messages in response to knowing you were all retiring for the night and you idly sent your own, typically the one to try and send things that would bring a smile to everyone’s faces. The lights from distant buildings and streetlamps would occasionally light up the interior of the car, illuminating your grip on your phone and the face of Reid sitting beside you in the back seat.

Before long, you had reached your destination following behind the car Derek, Rossi and Hotch were in. After parking up, you all grabbed your bags and trailed in behind the two eldest members of the team as they strode towards the reception desk. After a few minutes, the remainder of you decided to take up the couches in the foyer, realising Hotch and Rossi were taking longer than you thought to sort out the rooms. This was not a good sign, only further proven when they turned to the group, mild agitation on their faces. You sighed.

“Oh no, they don’t look too happy, do they?” You mumbled to Derek, leaning towards him. He chuckled.

“No, they do not. I can only imagine what that means.”

And soon enough the situation was brought to light.

“There was a mishap with the booking and there’s no longer enough rooms for one each,” Hotch said flatly, his shoulders slumped and his jaw clenched. “We’ll have to double up.”

Shit. Your eyes flicked to Emily immediately and your heart jolted upon realising she was staring at you with a widening grin. Oh no.

She pushed up off the couch and grabbed her bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder.

“Let’s go, JJ.” She declared and the blonde woman’s head shot up, gaze switching between the two of you. And much to your dismay, she too stood up and followed Emily to grab their room keys.

“Sure.”

Your eyes drifted towards Derek and Reid, feeling slightly hopeful knowing Derek didn’t often enjoy sharing with the young doctor. It startled you when he winked at you, then dragged the wild-haired man to stand up with him.

“C’mon, pretty boy. It’s you and me now.”

Reid seemingly had nothing to say, his brow crooked as slight confusion settled in. Now all that remained was the last two eldest members. Slowly, you turned to look at the eldest.

“...Rossi?”

“Actually, you’ll be sharing with me.” the man beside him spoke, drawing your attention. Hotch eyed you carefully, his brows pulled together slightly. You swallowed.

“I could always take the single room..?” you offered weakly.

“No, I would feel more at ease if you were sharing.”

Rossi raised his brows as he sniffed loudly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“And I need my peace and quiet, so I will take the single.” he said and before you could protest the seasoned agent spun on his heel and retreated towards the elevators.

You sighed gently, slowly rising to your feet and awkwardly approaching Hotch.

“Okay… I guess that leaves us then.”

“Yes. If you don’t mind.” he said, brows pulled together. You held your tongue.

“I don’t.”

With a slight nod, he turned away to find the elevators and you quickly followed, pattering after him with your go-bag held at your side. Hotch reached the elevators quickly, holding the doors open for you then pressing the number for your floor. The ride up was silent, painfully so and despite being less than a minute long it felt as though the seconds had been dragged out to an hour long. Tiredly, you dumped your bag in front of you, eyes wandering around the steel walls around you the longer the ride took. Should you speak? You had no idea, unsure what to even say to the man. As though feeling the same discomfort, Hotch cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to another in the empty space the both of you were in. The chime of the elevator stopping to open its doors startled you, blinking a few times at the sound.

As you turned your attention to your bag, Hotch’s hand appeared in view and briskly grabbed the handles of your bag and picked it up. You gasped, looking up at him and realising he was watching you. You drew in a sharp breath.

“Um, thanks.”

“Mhm.”

Once again, he held the elevator door open with his elbow, his hands full with your bag and his. You didn’t comment on it, instead smiling sheepishly and uttering another ‘thank you’ as you passed him. He led the way again, stalking down the carpeted corridor until he stopped in front of a random door. He placed the bags down and made a move to unlock the door, the keys jangling being the only noise in that moment. You both heard the click of the lock coming loose and, after picking the bags up again, Hotch pushed the door open to step inside. But as you followed, you bumped into his solid form and earned a quiet grunt from him, not expecting him to have stopped so suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” you wondered aloud, inching around him to see the problem- oh. Hm.

One king-sized bed sat in the centre of the room against the left wall, not the two beds you were both expecting. Fuck.

“I’ll return to the front desk and see if there’s anything they can do to change this.” Hotch said and you turned to look back at him.

“You know there isn’t anything available, though. Let’s just, um, head in and sort out in the morning.”

The longer you stared at the seeming displeasure on his face, the worse you began to feel about sharing with him. Great, he probably was regretting this now.

“Are you certain?”

It made you frown.

“I’m tired, sir. I just want to have a shower and get some rest.” you muttered. He let out a heavy sigh, deepening the uncomfortable feeling in your lower abdomen, but relented by following you inside the room and closing the door when he had deposited the bags onto the bed.

“You can take the first shower.” he offered quietly and your face twitched into a miniature smile.

“Thanks. Won’t be long. You can choose which side to sleep on.”

Unpacking your toiletries and your (regretful choice) of pyjamas, you tiptoed towards the shower room after kicking your shoes off. Hotch had already made claim of the table in the room, spreading out his work across the surface. You closed the door behind you quickly when he shrugged his suit jacket off and loosened his tie, electing to restrict yourself from seeing him in anything less than his standard clothing for your own wellbeing.

You began to undress, untucking your shirt from your trousers, when you finally noticed something truly off.

Your FBI ID was gone. With one brow quirked, you searched through your pockets and in your toiletry bag, expecting to have maybe misplaced it in a sleepy state. But no… You swallowed thickly and opened the shower room door again. Automatically, Hotch’s head moved to your direction from where he was seated on the side of the bed nearest the hotel room door and he tilted his head.

“What is it?”

You cleared your throat.

“U-uhm… My ID; it’s gone.”

Wooooooo spooooky idk idk I HOPE PPL ENJOYED THIS FIRST PART it's not gonna be jolly from here on out until the end 🥴 if you'd like to be tagged let me know!

Taglist:

@southernraven, @deludedfruitcake , @tgskitten , @zaddyhotch , @cm-slvts-31 , @dins-cyarika @midnghtprentiss

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x plus size!reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

269 notes · View notes