#but derek thinks he somehow knows and is just making fun of him

[star-mum]

hello lovelies, I'm finally free : D

Once again, I'll read it without checking the tags, I'm in the mood for surprises :3

"Isaac Lahey pulled you far away to somewhere secluded" we're starting with SEX !!! pwp? maybe (well not without completely cause i know you, but little plot?)

"which would soon be filled with sweaty assholes" usually it's the other way around

"11. McCall" : O

oh okay not cheating... (said dejectedly)

"his eyes flashing that glowing golden yellow" JAOAOWIAJA W AAAAHH I'VE MISSED WOLF SHENANIGANS (literally giggling and kicking my feet)

"and fuck you senseless, feeling like an overeager dog" derek is an idiot cause this FUCKING RULES !!!!!

"Your gut had shriveled up when you saw that it was one with Scott’s name and lacrosse number on it" Lydia knows EXACTLY what she's doing, don't be fooled

"if it meant that you had been misleading him or leading him on" I think he knows, yes Scott is stupid but he can smell Isaac on us afterwards

(you have no idea how much I've missed these dumb dogs and their dumb abo dynamics)

(I'm also on my ovulation period so very horny) (sorry if tmi)

(if youre not sunny and you're reading this, I am not sorry actually, you chose this)

"She was excited that the two of you would look ‘coordinated’ cheering for your ‘boyfriends’" this was calculated, don't fall for her lies !!!!

"weird spiritual sexual codependency" delicious

"All of it was to make Isaac jealous - to get some kind of a rise out of him" terrible for Scott but he'll live... not the first time this has happened to him

"feeling of his teeth digging into your neck" hihi 🫣🤭🤭

"the first small indicator of his facade cracking" he's the pathetic pussy

"Was supposed to be treasured as yours" 🥺

"knowing that those tights emphasized your thick thighs" FAT READER !!!!!!

"he slashed his claws across your chest, shredding the fabric to pieces" scared is the best way to be horny, Eleanor Shellstrop always right

"you would have been angrier about if not for the very pretty boy currently sucking on your face" sacrifices must be made...

"You have to ‘take it off’ too" please for the love of god, I am NOT fucking you in this dumbass get up, Isaac

"You act like a dumb slut all the time.” SKSKKSKS YEEEEAAAHHH (I love all your readers so much, they're so fun)

"You don’t have to be so mean" QOAJAIAKAN he is SO cute tho

"He wouldn’t take a step in any direction if it wasn’t to stand in your shadow. He didn’t worship anywhere if it wasn’t at your altar" WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW

"Owning a pet meant that sometimes you came off with a few tiny wounds" i love this so much

"cooling the salvia he had left there" this is always my favorite typo in ANY smut fic ever cause it's just proof the writer was going at the speed of light to bring the vision to life (i can fear the frantic typing)

"Get on your knees for me like a good dog" hell yeah

"more than eager to shove his face into the folds of your perfect pussy" every single guy in this show has this energy, they all eat pussy like they're starved

"There was no skill to it" but damn it if he's not giving it his all

"Behave.” “I wasn’t done.” i love them

"beyond human strength helping him to easily lift you" one of my FAVORITE things in this show

"Such a sweet little puppy. Good fucking dog" LOVE IT HERE

"the metal started to crumble beneath his fist" ‼️‼️OJNANAOAKANA HIHI 🫣

"Especially knowing that he would be able to smell that cum on you for hours" another one of my favorite things about this show :3

"Somehow, at six-foot-one, he looked so terribly small" he just has that pathetic sad vibe to him

"I’ll even get you a dog collar with my name on it so that everyone can know you’re mine" HE'D WEAR IT !!!!!!

I LOVED THIS !!! I LOVE IT HERE !!! this felt like coming home, I've missed this

seriously the ending of this semester was so fucking stressful (for a myriad of reasons) I REALLY NEEDED SOMETHING NICE LIKE THIS !!!!

The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty

If you wanna start a fight,

You better throw the first punch - make it a good one.

And if you wanna make it through the night,

You better say my name like:

The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty.

Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

What you and Isaac had going on wasn't exactly public - and whatever it was didn't have a title. Sexual, friendship, two souls entwined and bound to each other in an utterly complicated way.

Whatever. It didn't have a label. The two of you didn't need one.

But Isaac definitely didn't expect to see you showing up to a lacrosse game wearing Scott's number with the name McCall boldly across your chest. All he knew from the moment he saw that stupid shirt on your chest was that the night was going to end with it shredded to pieces.

(He had no clue that was precisely your plan from the start, because you knew how to guide him exactly where you wanted him - every. Single. Time.)

Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!Fem!Reader. Best Friends with Benefits (Secret Relationship) to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 7,200

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: this is primarily a smut fic - there is some slight plot; this does take place in a high school setting, but just for the sake of clarity/for the sake of argument, the characters are eighteen or older; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina and breasts (but as with all my fics, the primary pronouns used are you/yours); mention of the reader wearing a skirt;there is some descriptions of the reader being curvy/plus sized (as with many of my fics - and I always just picture Isaac with a plus sized girl) (absolutely no bias there), and there is mentions of Isaac being taller than the reader, but that is based on the assumption that at 6.1, he would be taller than most people; there is also mentions of Isaac lifting the reader due to his supernatural strength, but her back is also supported by a wall so it’s not wholly unrealistic; mentions of background Scott x reader (mostly the reader using Scott to make Isaac jealous and Scott having feelings for the reader that she does not return), and this would have been when Scott and Allison were broken up because I would not do my girl wrong like that (you can even interpret this as Scott using the reader to help ‘get over’ Allison if you want); some non-detailed mentions of the abuse Isaac received from his father (which is pretty difficult not to mention in an Isaac fic); there is some dom/sub themes - Isaac is submissive and the reader is more dominant; Isaac is jealous and possessive - very slight angst because it discusses Isaac’s jealousy coming from a place of being hurt; this is not the first time that Isaac and the reader have had sex with each other; Isaac and the reader have been best friends since before his father’s death (and his werewolfism) and they recently started having sex, and they have a murky situationship; the reader clearly knows that Isaac is a werewolf; mention of Isaac ‘pinning the reader down’ and fucking her (in a memory) (and she loved it); Isaac calls the reader a ‘slut’ and a ‘whore’ - not in a kinky way, but over the fact that he is deeply offended that she was flirting with Scott and pretending to like him; in turn, the reader calls Isaac a slut in a kinky way; the reader also calls Isaac ‘puppy’ and ‘good boy’; hair pulling - Isaac receiving; something like subspace is described (regarding what Isaac is feeling) but the word ‘subspace’ is never used during the fic; the characters do not discuss having a safe word in place, but they trust each other due to their history and know how to nonverbally balance each other’s needs; Isaac using his claws to shred a shirt that the reader wears with Scott’s numbers on it, and in the process he accidentally scratches her chest slightly (but she likes she slight pain); very slight blood kink - Isaac licks up the blood from these small cuts; I feel like there should be a warning for the endless amounts of dog imagery because I cannot stop comparing Isaac to a kicked dog because it works to well; lacrosse pads being used for slut activities; oral sex - reader receiving; Isaac has an extreme scent kink (he loves the way the reader smells); praise kink - Isaac loves being praised by the reader; penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex; (surprisingly, there’s no breeding kink in this); I think that’s actually it for this - one stray joke about the reader getting Isaac a dog dollar.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. As soon as the request hit my inbox, I knew I was going to write it at some point. Part of me kind of feels bad that I didn't write the expected jealousy = dominance - you may notice when you read the fic, I started out writing Isaac as dominant, but I cannot help writing him as submissive, and it turned into this interesting painting of 'his dominance is a performed act, and submissiveness is his true self' and 'his jealousy is possessiveness, not dominance' and possessiveness is a very submissive trait. (I could go more into depth about this in another post, and I probably will.) People often associate possessiveness with Doms, but I see Isaac as the most possessive Sub ever because he's a wolf. Anyway - I am really happy with how this turned out, and even if it's not what the original requester intended, I think the point of a request is that the author gets to interpret it and write it in their own style. And this is definitely how I would write it most true to my style. Also this has references to Season 3 - like Lydia dating Aiden and Isaac fighting the Alpha pack, but this is set after a lacrosse game, and in S3, they were in the off season of lacrosse. and I can guarantee you my autistic ass is the only one who cares about that and you didn't even notice until I pointed it out. So please - carry on.

...

The lacrosse field of Beacon Hills High School was absolutely buzzing. 

The night air was filled with cheers as the team and many fans were celebrating another win, while the opposing team sulked in disappointment as they packed onto their bus with their heads hung low, their coach screaming at them for the loss. Chatter and celebration filled the air - but you didn’t get a single moment to be a part of it as Isaac Lahey pulled you far away to somewhere secluded. Somewhere only he could get to have you.  

He currently had you pinned up against one of the lockers in the girls’ locker room. It was a place that nobody would think to look for the two of you - a place that wouldn’t be entered for the rest of the night, unlike the boys’, which would soon be filled with sweaty assholes shedding their kits and getting a shower before they went off to some party to celebrate their victory. Isaac had locked the door to make sure that the two of you would be left alone, and left the lights off so that nobody would be suspicious of any light coming from the crack beneath the door. 

But right now, none of those details mattered. 

All that mattered was that stupid number in the middle of your chest. That stupid block lettering sitting across your perfect round breasts. 

11. McCall. 

You could claim that you had worn it as a joke. But as Isaac locked his jaw stiffly, staring you down - you didn’t think that you would be getting away with that claim. 

“Take it off.” Isaac growled at you, his eyes flashing that glowing golden yellow, a visual that made your breath tight in your chest and made your cunt quiver. 

You remembered the first time you had seen that glow coming from his eyes - the first night he had found you after he received The Bite, when he was still high on adrenaline and warned by Derek not to do anything ‘stupid’. And the stupid thing he had done was climb up the side of your house, claw in through your bedroom window with the clumsy hands he barely knew how to use, and pin you down to your bed and fuck you senseless, feeling like an overeager dog with intensely swollen balls, feeling like he was too strong and going through puberty all over again. 

It had been one of the best nights of your life. 

“What?” You said, your voice even, calm, not even close to mocking dubious. “Take what off?” 

You were faking confusion - faking it poorly, easily signaling to him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. 

It was a dare. You were egging him on purposefully. The two of you always had the best sex when you did. That’s what the whole night was about, after all. 

Lydia had gotten the shirts made - she had gotten one for herself with Aiden’s name and lacrosse number on it, and she had told you that it was cheaper to ‘order multiple at a time’, and then she had pulled out one in your size. Your gut had shriveled up when you saw that it was one with Scott’s name and lacrosse number on it. 

A plain white tee shirt in a feminine, tight fit with burgundy vinyl lettering to match the school’s colours. Lydia had ordered them in white because she said it would be easier to make into an outfit, and she didn’t want to ‘wear that god awful colour’ with her nice coats. 

You had gone on one single date with Scott. He asked you out, you said yes. It had been a pleasant, average evening that ended with a bit of kissing. It was nice - Scott was a great guy. But it definitely hadn’t been anything special. It had only driven home in your mind that you definitely didn’t have those feelings for Scott. And you felt guilty for every single time you had flirted with him in Isaac’s presence just to make Isaac jealous, if it meant that you had been misleading him or leading him on. 

A while ago, Lydia had been talking about guys, and she said something about ‘you and Scott’ and not even fully paying attention, you agreed with her. And then she cheered, and you realized that she had been talking about romantic couplings among your friend group. She thought that your flirting with Scott and the one single date meant that the two of you were dating - so she took this as a greenlight to order you the shirt. She was excited that the two of you would look ‘coordinated’ cheering for your ‘boyfriends’ in the stands. 

But more than anything, you felt awkward correcting her because you couldn’t exactly tell her about the thing that you and Isaac had going on. 

Mostly because you had no clue what to call it. 

The two of you had been best friends for years, and you had been his rock and his confidant before anybody else knew what was going on with his father. And then, shortly after he had made the grand transformation from abused introvert to powerful (hot) werewolf, the two of you had started… this. 

Some might call it ‘friends with benefits’, some might call it a weird spiritual sexual codependency that had truly begun with you patching up his wounds from the beatings his father had given him. Either way, the slight flirting of your normal friendship ramped up tenfold, and now, every single time the two of you were behind closed doors together, the intense sexual tension in the air built until you were both partially unclothed and moaning. 

And in the outside world, the two of you were constantly at war. You were constantly in the throes of a game that nobody else knew was going on. You both refused to name each other as a romantic partner, but you were constantly in some kind of effort to get the other’s attention or make the other person jealous. He flirted with Allison and Erica, and… that stupid game was the only reason you had gone on a date with Scott. It had been a relatively nice date, but you hadn’t felt a single sense of the spark with Scott that you did with Isaac. 

And it was the only reason that you were wearing the stupid shirt that Lydia had given to you. It was the only reason you had sat in the stands beside Lydia with your jacket unzipped and even taken off all night in the cold, showing off that shirt, loudly cheering for Scott, putting on a show. 

All of it was to make Isaac jealous - to get some kind of a rise out of him. 

And it had worked so damn well. Seeing his clenched jaw, his flared nostrils… seeing the way his sharp fangs extended out over his lips as if he couldn’t control them while he looked at you with hellish lust in his eyes… you were almost terrified by how well you had succeeded. Almost. 

“Take. It. Off.” He growled, grinding on each word, his chest now heaving with the effort. 

“Make me.” You mumbled in reply, entirely confident, hoping that further teasing would only wind him up more. Hoping that it would only beautifully play into your game. 

He stepped closer to you and when you instinctively took a step back, your body hit the cold metal of the lockers, and you swallowed harshly as your body pumped with more lust. It was oddly thrilling to be so trapped - only because it was Isaac. And because you knew there was only one way this could end. 

Because your body was preparing for the sensations you knew came next - the ghost of his touch already lingering on you, your mind replaying those past events like grooves in a record. It caused you to become wetter and wetter just thinking about the feeling of his teeth digging into your neck, the feeling of his hands possessively gripping your hips, the feeling of his cock splitting you open. 

His breath ghosted over your forehead, his height towering over you somehow not intimidating at all as he pressed his hard body (disappointingly still clad in lacrosse pads, keeping you from feeling the true ridges of his muscles) up against you, truly ensuring that you could not escape. Not that you would want to escape from him. 

He took a thick sniff into the air, his nostrils flaring widely, and you knew he could smell it on you - the lust, the pure attraction you felt toward him, the adrenaline. Or maybe it was just the pure smell of your pussy pathetically leaking into your underwear that he was picking up on. Either way, he let out a whine, the first small indicator of his facade cracking, and you felt his hips jolt toward you, instinctively seeking friction. 

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” 

Isaac growled, still trying to sound tough, the words bordering on a pained howl. There was a unique agony in his voice as he stared down the length of your body and continued to fixate on those numbers on your chest, true haunting dancing in his pretty baby blues. 

Your gut twisted horribly as you realized it. This wasn’t just something he could brush off in the name of sex. You had really hurt him this time. Perhaps you had gone too far this time. Something that had started out as a well-meaning game of cat and mouse had turned into truly taunting a wolf - and unintentionally, you had wounded that wolf. 

That wolf that, even if it was never spoken, was supposed to be yours. Was supposed to be treasured as yours. 

You had gotten so caught up in playing the stupid game that you had made a terrible mistake. 

But you needed to see it through now. 

You reached up and grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. 

“Make me.” You repeated the words, and Isaac let out another huff. “Make me take it off, Isaac.” He replied to this with a growl from deep in his chest, a sound that vibrated through your hands on his delicate, angelic face. “Make me yours.” 

He reached up with one hand in the middle of your chest and gently pushed you back, making sure your body was stiff and firm against the metal of the lockers, propping you there like hanging art on a wall. And then he took a small step to distance himself, his eyes flickering up and down your body sharply, drinking you in even though he had seen you thousands of times before. 

It had been torture - pure torture all night. From the moment he had seen you unzip your jacket, revealing that fucking shirt with Scott’s name on it (and the fact that you had paired it with a tiny little skirt and a pair of sheer tights… knowing that those tights emphasized your thick thighs, his favourite part of your body… just to torture him…) - he had been tempted to ditch off the field completely and run up into the stands just to tear it off you. Just to prove a fucking point. 

But that hadn’t even been the worst part of it. No. One of the words parts had been the fact that he was forced to stay on the field all night listening. Over-hearing you chatting it up with Lydia and Allison about your ‘date’ with Scott, talking about kissing him, theorizing about what having sex with him might be like. You had known he was listening the whole time. You knew his hearing was enhanced enough, and you knew that he had a special knack for picking up on your voice in a crowd. You had been doing it on purpose. 

And every time he glanced over between goals and saw Scott’s name stretched across your perfect tits… it killed him a little more inside. 

While thinking about all this, while thinking about the fact that he had been waiting to do this all night - 

Isaac raised up his hand, very intentionally flaring his claws, bold enough for you to see what his next move would be so that you could anticipate it and wouldn’t be afraid. And his cock began to throb almost painfully between his legs when he saw you push your chest out, arching your back against the lockers as you licked your lips, silently begging for it. 

Clearly, you didn’t wear Scott’s name proudly. You were aching him to tear the shirt off you, downright lustful at the thought - biting your lip, batting your eyelashes at him, the scent of your lust even more potent in the air down. 

Such a beautiful fucking tease. 

With delicate precision, he slashed his claws across your chest, shredding the fabric to pieces and feeling a cathartic vindication as the name and number of another guy fell apart and began to fall off you. 

A twinge of guilt nearly ruined the moment as he saw the slightest bit of blood glinting across your perfect skin, gathering in your cleavage along your gorgeous stretch marks, but you didn’t seem to care, and you didn’t seem to be in the slightest bit of pain. In fact, you let out a purely lustful moan and arched your back even more, pushing your chest toward him more - making you look like a perfect porno in your shredded clothing with your red lace bra now revealed underneath. 

Though in a moment, you reached up, pulling the scraps of the fabric away and shucking off the useless remains of the shirt, throwing it to the ground like the garbage that it now was. In the back of your mind, you guessed that now you would have to put on your jacket  - which you had been carrying in your hand and tossed off to the side earlier, and zip it up completely to cover yourself in order to leave. But that didn’t matter now. You didn’t care if you would have to leave here in just your bra if you meant you got to have what would likely come next. 

Isaac indulged in the sound of your pretty panting, the way you licked your lips, and the perfect, accelerated thumping of your heartbeat in his ears. 

“Better.” He sighed in relief, much preferring the sight of your chest heaving, nearly bare in front of him than the visual of Scott’s fucking name plastered across you like he owned you. He never did, he never would - 

You let out another hot moan in response, and Isaac found himself licking his lips. 

While he stood there, frozen with his lust, too busy visually admiring you, you were driven forward by your maddening need. You grabbed the front of his jersey and yanked him forward into a heated kiss. It was a mouth that you knew well from experience by now, and it was only a second before the two of you were exchanging moans and a clash of tongues. 

He craned down, his hands possessively grappled for your thighs, those claws making quick work of your tights, putting runs and even huge holes in the sheer material, quickly exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. It was something you would have been angrier about if not for the very pretty boy currently sucking on your face. 

One of his hands moved to claw at the seam of your tights, but you quickly clamped your legs shut, trapping his wrist from moving any further, much to his whiny disappointment. You used your hold on the front of his jersey to push him away, and you were met with the most sweetly crestfallen expression - wide, glossy, sad eyes staring you down while he curled his lip, clearly wondering what he had done wrong. Wondering what he had done to be denied. 

“Not so fast.” You scolded him gently. “You have to ‘take it off’ too.” You told him, running your fingers down the front of his chest, more than offended by all the padding he was wearing in addition to the clothing. Far too much coverage. 

“I’m not the one who was acting like a whore.” Isaac huffed, clearly still wounded from the fact that you had worn Scott’s numbers. The word sounded strangely good on his lips, but still, you rolled your eyes. From him, it wasn’t dominance or power. It was slowly turning into bratty defiance in your little game. “I wasn’t out there shaking my ass in front of the crowd while wearing some other guy’s fucking number, acting like a dumb slut-” 

“Oh, please.” You let out a dark laugh, and Isaac swallowed thickly, knowing that you had truly arrived. After all the winding up - the main event had finally started. “You act like a dumb slut all the time.” 

Isaac let out a sharp breath at your words, loving how easily you tossed the words back at him. Something inside of him was absolutely purring at the harsh title that was now freshly branded into his skin. This was the moment that his brain began to melt between his ears, and any sense of the ‘tough guy’ act that he put on for the rest of the world was completely gone. 

From this point on, he was dissolving into the sweet puppy that only you were allowed to know. 

“Like now, for example.” You continued on, more venom lacing through your lips. You put on your most threatening voice, hating to get firm with him, but knowing it was necessary. “So you can strip down, and fucking behave yourself, or I can get dressed and go find Scott and see what fucking him would be like instead.” 

Isaac glared at you, and you saw that horrible quiver come across his lip again. Before you could worry that you had gone too far, he reached up and began pulling off his gear, and you heard a few muffled complaints as his pads hit the floor. 

“You don’t have to be so mean,” He told you, nothing more than a petulant whine at this point. 

He was ready to be compliant with you - ready to do whatever you said because he needed it just as much as you did. 

When he was shirtless, you didn’t wait for him to ditch his bottoms before you leaped into action once again. You reached out and tucked your fingers into the waistband of his shorts, hauling him toward you - and much like a loyal dog tight on a leash, he let himself be so easily pulled, even though he was much stronger than you and he could have overpowered you if he wanted to. 

But that was the glory of it. He was a statue of might, standing over six feet tall, shredded with muscles that were enhanced with supernatural strength, and yet - he wouldn’t hurt a fly without your permission. He wouldn’t take a step in any direction if it wasn’t to stand in your shadow. 

He didn’t worship anywhere if it wasn’t at your altar. 

He had sought out guidance anywhere and everywhere since his father had died - Derek, Scott, Deaton, even Erica. But he had only found sanity and solace at the palace of your lips. 

Which was why he moaned into your mouth as you kissed him again, quickly shoving your tongue past his teeth to remind him of why he was here. He belonged to you, and he shouldn’t do anything without your sacred permission. 

You got a firm grip on his hair and caused a sting across his scalp with how possessively you were holding onto him, causing pleasant tingles through his whole body as he was reminded of that lovely feeling of being held by you, being owned by you. You used the hold to force him tighter into your mouth, angling his head just the way you needed to kiss him firmer, deeper, controlling every single aspect of it - causing a sweet whimper out of him as he was guided like a puppet on a string. 

He had been the one to drag you here with a demanding, tight grip on your wrist - he had been the one to practically throw you up against the lockers in anger. He thought this whole thing had been his idea. 

But this had never been his game. 

Any tough moves he made out on the lacrosse field, any intimidation he managed with people like Stiles or the Alphas he had battled during the summer - it was all a farce. You were the only person that knew deep down, he was a puppy, just looking for guidance. At the end of the day, after everything he had been through in life - he was just looking for somewhere soft to lay his pretty head. 

Isaac let out a whine as you pulled away from the kiss to take a breath. He instantly wanted to protest, instantly began chasing your mouth. He didn’t care if he drowned in your mouth, if he died due to lack of oxygen. 

But of course, he didn’t settle for a lack of contact. 

While you combed your fingers through his hair and used the other hand to start untying the knot of his shorts, he immediately dipped his head down, seeking more of your precious skin. His neck almost became pained from the awkward angle, having to lean so far down due to his height - but he didn’t care. He dipped his head between your breasts and immediately began laving his tongue over the small cuts he had unintentionally left there. From him, it was a wordless apology, hanging his head in shame at the fact that he could ever hurt you, no matter how small, no matter how meaningless the tiny scratches were to you. 

In your mind, it didn’t matter. Owning a pet meant that sometimes you came off with a few tiny wounds. You would end up loving the scars. You let out small hiss at the sting of saliva, and then began moaning, and he was quickly driven mad by the twang of your blood on his tongue. 

“Isaac-” You moaned out hotly. 

He believed that he was a beast being fed by you, bound to devour you disastrously sooner or later - but you knew not to be afraid. He could do you no real harm. You could never truly be afraid of someone with such delicate sadness in his eyes. 

Especially not when he humped your hip like a lost puppy and whined against your skin like he had been kicked in the gut. His cock throbbed painfully inside his athletic cup, far too fucking restricted, crying out for your touch. He was grateful when you pushed down his shorts and his thin athletic pants underneath, and then took care to strip off his underwear and cup without hurting his sensitive, now very hard cock. 

“Aww, puppy.” You cooed - it was a playful pet name that you had used with him many times before, but for some reason, it practically punched him in the gut, easily forcing the air out of his lungs when he heard it. 

His responsive moan crescendoed into a harsh growl between his teeth when you reached out and grabbed his cock with a cool hand - it was an immediate contrast, his skin boiling hot with blood thumping so hard underneath, making his cock so rigid that it practically vibrated under your touch. The tip of his dick leaked furiously into your hand as you began casually pumping him, no distinct rhythm or precision in your movements, purposefully teasing him. 

“You need this, don’t you?” You purred, voice purposefully honey-sweet as you lapped up his reactions. “You need me.” 

“I need you.” Isaac panted in return without hesitation. “I need you, please.” 

You ran your thumb over the leaking slit of his cock, indulging in just how wet he was, loving how it showed his desperation, plain and clear. You also couldn’t help but to love the beautiful little whimper he let out from the back of his throat, the way his breath puffed across the exposed skin of your breasts, cooling the salvia he had left there. Your skin becoming more exposed as he reached a hand up and yanked down your bra, putting strain on the straps where they sat on your shoulders. 

“You gonna earn it?” You posed, feeling the devil on your shoulder, unable to resist. Isaac only whined in response. “Get on your knees for me like a good dog.” 

Isaac’s breath caught in his throat. 

When he had first become a werewolf and you had found out about it, you had made a good many ‘dog’ jokes about him. And he used to hate them. But over time, he had come to love the comparison because he loved being your dog. (It’s why the nickname ‘puppy’ put a warm fondness in his gut rather than making him feel humiliated.)  

He knew, at the end of the day, that it was true. He needed to be owned by you, he needed a damn leash. He was intensely loyal, despite himself. And no matter what, at the end of the day, he would always return to you, head down, looking for praise, looking to be fed - whether that was a feeding of the soul, or stupidly literal, who knows. 

Any other time, the words would have been embarrassing - it would have been something he argued against. But this time - he practically let out a bark to demonstrate his pure loyalty to you, and he rushed to follow the simple order. Even though he hated your touch leaving his cock as he dropped to his knees on the cold tiled floor (thankful that he was still wearing his knee pads where his clothing was caught in a tangle just above them), he was more than eager to serve you. He used a careful, precise claw to reach up and shred a hole in the crotch of your tights, quick to destroy your underwear as well when he found them in his way. 

“Good boy.” You easily praised him, and he found his brain once again delightfully fuzzy at the simple words. 

Your fingers were in his hair again, but he didn’t even need your touch driving him forward. He was drawn to your exposed cunt like a madman, more than eager to shove his face into the folds of your perfect pussy. He used a hand to lift your perfect plump thigh and pull it up over his shoulder, inviting you to sit some of your weight on him so that he could be closer to you, ever closer, closer. He shoved his tongue deep into your hot, wet hole and shoved his nose between your folds, unintentionally bumping against your clit, just hungry to taste and smell as much of you as he possibly could. 

“Isaac!” You moaned out, using your hold on his hair to try and keep him in place while you humped against his face, causing him to moan enthusiastically into your pussy. “Oh fuck, puppy! You’re so good.” 

The combination of the praise and the nickname was absolutely dizzying, and along with your wetness on his tongue, your smell so potent and perfect surrounding him - he felt as though he didn’t deserve something this good. But he didn’t care. He quickly became obsessed with drowning himself in you - with one hand possessively gripping your thigh beside his head and the other gripping the edge of your skirt, moaning frantically into you while he fucked his tongue in and out of you, lapping up as much of your taste as he could. 

“Oh fuck - such a sweet puppy, so good for me.” 

There was no skill to it. 

He was growing dumb between the ears, becoming more and more of the dog that you accused him of being - nothing but animal instincts and the loyal need to please you. He humped his hips into the air and his cock began leaking openly onto the floor, leaving a pathetic puddle of precum there that neither of you would notice, something that would have the janitor questioning later. 

Currently, all Isaac cared about was the taste of your pussy on his tongue, the wonderful essence of you that reminded him he was home. All he cared about was being good for you while getting a reward that he barely deserved; all he cared about was the wonderful heat of your pulsing cunt under his lips with your vibrating little button bouncing on his nose, getting to smother himself in your perfect scent. 

“Yes baby, so fucking good-” 

All of his moaning and insistent tongue-fucking meant that you were drawing close to your orgasm very quickly. 

Your thighs began to shake, your muscles jolting beside his head and he continued to lap it right up. He moaned even harder, angling his head to drive his tongue deeper into you as you became wetter, and he only basked as there was more for him to consume. You panted in harsh gasps as beautiful jolts of pleasure rang through your cunt while his tongue pierced you again, and again, and again, fucking you in the most perfectly thoughtless way. 

Your fingers dug into his scalp and he didn’t even care that you used the touch to drive him further to smothering while you rubbed your pussy across his face, smearing your wetness all over his cheeks and his chin, coating him so perfectly in your smell. He could only enjoy it as you came all over him and tipped your head back against the lockers behind you, your moans echoing against the walls like a perfect concert while the boys in the locker room across the hall were none the wiser. (The chatter of their conversations and the sound of their showers completely muting out the sound of your moans from reaching their ears.) 

“Fuck, Isaac! Oh, puppy! Such a good boy!” 

Isaac moaned at your words and his cock was downright throbbing now. 

But even though, in the back of his mind, his dick was cold in the air of the room and he wanted nothing more than to sink into your perfect pussy, he still felt a deep pang of disappointment when you used your grip on his hair to pull him away from your perfect, wet cunt. He let out a whine showing that disappointment, and fought to keep your leg on his shoulder as you moved to pull away. But still, he ultimately conceded to you when you patted his hand off your thigh and scolded him with a glare and a quiet warning of: 

“Behave.” 

“I wasn’t done.” He complained, his voice small. 

But still, he settled for licking your taste off his lips, looking up at you through his lashes from down on his knees. You combed your finger through his hair again, unable to stop yourself from admiring him, even if he was being a bit of a selfish brat. 

He was just so damn pretty. 

Porcelain skin stretched over perfect muscles, big pretty blue eyes staring up at you, his cock out and still leaking, bright red now due to being neglected by you. You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect sight. You couldn’t help but to reach down and drag your thumb through some of the lingering wetness on his chin and feed it to him - and of course, he ate it right up, sucking the digit eagerly into his mouth and moaning around it. 

“Oh? So you don’t want to fuck me then?” You posed, playing off his words with a teasing statement that easily drove him mad. 

These words quickly sparked him to action. 

He jumped up off his knees, rising to his tall height once again, somehow so unintimidating. Such a sweet little wolf. 

With your back pinned up against the lockers for support, he grabbed your legs and pulled you up off the ground, his beyond human strength helping him to easily lift you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist - and just a moment later, as his cock perfectly lined up with your soaked entrance, you easily fell onto that perfect, stiff shaft. 

He didn’t hesitate to fuck up into you. He knew you didn’t need soft and you definitely weren’t expecting it, and any sense of patience he might have had was long gone. There was no sweetness, no slowness - all that was left was his pure possessive need to be close to you and your guiding hand driving him on, encouraging him as you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving marks that would never last with his werewolf healing. 

“Good boy.” You told him, your breath slipping away for a moment as you were reminded of just how perfectly his cock could split you open. “Fuck, Isaac.” 

He kept one hand tight on your hip and the other went above your head, hanging onto the top of the lockers, desperate to hold on to something as he felt your perfect, hot wetness gripping his cock. Following his instincts, he fucked forward, slamming his hips into you, needing to feel more, needing to be closer to your warmth - needing more of you. 

“Need you.” He panted, his head falling to press his forehead close to yours, something that felt sweetly intimate for the situation, his eyes squinted tightly as he became overwhelmed by the sensations. “Fuck - need you, need you so much.” 

“Come on, puppy.” You encouraged him. “Come on, take what you need.” 

You tightened your legs around his waist, his movements nearly threatening to buck you off as he moved his hips so wildly - sheer need absolutely tight in every muscle as thick whines poured from his lips. You were eager to soothe him, your hands running up and down his sweaty back - some of it lingering from the hard work he had done during the game and some of new from how hard he was fucking you now, lighting up all the nerve endings inside your pussy, making you feel so perfect. 

“Such a good boy.” You moaned, your breath brushing against his lips - his mouth open as he struggled for air and continued to whimper sweetly for you. “Such a sweet little puppy. Good fucking dog.” 

Isaac let out a growl, fucking into you harder, his brain pure static at this point. 

Yes - he was a good dog. He was your good dog. 

He couldn’t help it when the pleasure surged through him, the pure energy, and his grip on the lockers above your head tightened so much that the metal started to crumble beneath his fist as if it was nothing more than a piece of paper. You heard the terrible shrieking groan of the metal, but you didn’t even bother to look up - you couldn’t have taken your eyes off Isaac in those moments. You were far too enraptured by your puppy in front of you, by the nearly pained look on his face, by the feeling of his perfect cock splitting you open as he faithfully fucked up into your pussy, not stopping for even a moment. 

You brought a hand to his face, grasping his jaw between your thumb and forefinger, digging the touch in - just a twinge of pain to get his attention, a firm grip to remind him that he was yours. 

“Look at me.” You demanded, your breath hot, your voice shaking slightly as the pleasure shook your body. “Come on, puppy - look at me.” 

He forced his eyes open, eager to be good for you, eager to do as you said. He gulped air in as he continued to grip onto your hip, the locker crumbling even more into a mess as the tension in his muscles was wrought into it, forced there rather than ever be taken out on you - even unconsciously, he could never use too much force on you. 

The silken blue that looked at you was a sight so beautiful that you couldn’t bear to look away, a mess of lust and ravenous madness, a prayer of devotion to you that was far too complex for words. You gave him a small, sweet kiss on the lips that he moaned so deeply at, his hips stuttering terribly as his balls downright ached - 

“Cum for me.” You demanded, the words a firm smack against his mouth, a punch to his gut that made him cry out. “Cum for me, puppy, be a good boy, come on-” 

He let out a strangled moan that dissolved into a downright filthy whimper from the back of his throat as his hips sped up, his skin practically blurring as he was now given precious permission from you. Your cunt became utterly sore with the speed and pressure his pelvis kept hitting you with, continually pounding into you with that impossible strength, the sound resonating harshly through the room, nearly threatening to break you. 

But it was only a few breathless moments later that a moan punched through his gut and you heard something that resembled your name choked through his throat - and then he fucked into you one last time, his hips then becoming glued to yours, almost entirely still in contrast to moments before. He ground against you sharply, overstimulating your swollen clit with the stiffness of his pelvis as he seemingly tried to merge with you through persistent will alone as he pumped his cum inside of you in warm spurts. 

“Good puppy,” You hummed, continuing to run your hands up and down his back and through his hair. You kissed down his cheek and his neck and along his shoulder, praising him, soothing him, worshipping him just like he deserved while his cock throbbed inside of you. “Good boy. So fucking good for me.” 

He moaned in return, words lost to the stupidly thick tongue inside of his mouth - one that was only capable of licking up and down your neck while he humped his cock inside of you for a few more moments, enjoying your soothing words and the warmth of your pussy around him as his orgasm ebbed away. 

Unfortunately, it couldn’t last forever like that. 

You pulled him in for one last kiss - one that the two of you savoured with a moan and a dip of tongues into each other’s mouths as he pulled his cock out of you. 

(Distantly, you had a thought about how you would have to walk out of here with no underwear - because you definitely weren’t going to keep on the scraps that he had left you, gaping with remnants of his cum inside of you. And you did feel a strange sense of satisfaction in that. Especially knowing that he would be able to smell that cum on you for hours with his werewolf nose, even if you went home and changed your clothes before Lydia’s mandatory ‘Lacrosse Team Win’ celebration party - and that was enough of a reason not to take a shower and scrub the scent off.) 

He let you down and you were unsteady on your legs, much like a baby deer, still having to lean on the lockers for support while he moved to grab some toilet paper from one of the stalls to help clean you both up. 

A heavy silence fell over the two of you, unlike any other time that you had sex with Isaac. 

While you righted your clothes (prying what was left of your underwear out from underneath your tights and throwing them away, along with the scraps of the shirt that had started this all, fixing your skirt, and putting your jacket on over your bra for some coverage) - and Isaac got dressed, you wondered what would happen next. Your eyes landed on the huge dent that was now in the top of the row of lockers, and you genuinely weren’t sure if you should ask him to try and fix it, or if it would just be better to leave it like that and let people wonder. 

“Please…” 

Isaac mumbled out, his voice so quiet, raspy around the edges due to the moaning he had just done. When you whipped your head toward him, he worked up the courage to finish the sentence. 

“Please… don’t talk about Scott anymore.” 

You stared at him, puzzled, as he put on his jersey (his pads still left on the floor, seeing as he didn’t need them anymore). Clearly, his mind had been on a completely different track. He was staring you down with those sad, glassy eyes once again, and you felt a terrible twinge of guilt tighten in your gut. 

You knew that he was the jealous type. That was why you had done all this. But you couldn’t go on being his secret fling, his secret fuck. His perfect confidant with no public title. 

So you prodded that wound one last time. 

“Why not?” You asked, risking it all. 

You would either leave this losing your best friend, the best sex of your life, and the person you loved most in the whole world - or you would leave this as a whole, better person. 

Isaac swallowed, and bowed his head, unable to look you in the eyes. Somehow, at six-foot-one, he looked so terribly small. He might not be able to do this. He might be too broken to live up to it. But you hoped, you prayed that he would - 

“Because I-” He shuddered, verging on tears. And somehow, he was able to get the words out. “Because I’m in love with you.” 

Everything inside of you lit up. More perfect than any orgasm, better than the feeling of his cock inside of you - this was what you had been missing the whole time. 

“And look, I understand that you might have just been playing around,” He continued, his words having a terrible meaning - acknowledging your game in wearing Scott’s numbers, and voicing his insecurities in your relationship, believing that you had been unserious with him because you had never loved him at all. “But it kills me to see you with other guys. I can’t-” 

You stepped forward, using a hand on the side of his jaw to pull him into another kiss. In a moment, he understood the passion, the warmth - something that went far beyond sexual needs. The way you guided him because you knew exactly what he needed. The unspoken connection the two of you always had that now needed those words. 

“Isaac, you should know I love you too.” You told him. “That I’ve been in love with you - since forever.” 

He let out a tense breath of relief. 

“I won’t talk about anyone else like that, or flirt with anyone, or anything along those lines, if that’s what you want.” You assured him. “You are mine, and I’m yours. Okay, pup?” 

He flushed at the nickname, and nodded, and you smiled brightly. 

“I’ll even get you a dog collar with my name on it so that everyone can know you’re mine.” You said - your tone was distinctly joking, but you didn’t miss the way he bit his lip, and the lustful light that grew in his eyes. 

“Shut up.” He laughed, shaking his head. 

(He definitely wouldn’t end up masturbating to thoughts of that later. Definitely not.)

...

Please keep in mind, there will not be a continuation or a 'part 2'. This is a oneshot, meaning that it is a complete story on its own and I do not feel the need to continue it. If you comment asking for a Part 2 or asking for a continuation after I have written this ending message, I consider that to be extremely rude and unkind.

If you are going to comment, please comment about the content of the fic that has been written. I love discussing the characters that I write about with other people in the comments and connecting with fellow fans. I work very hard on my fics and I always appreciate comments, but I do not appreciate when people only comment asking for more rather than wanting to discuss what I have already worked hard on.

Even if you don't comment, I hope you enjoyed, and if you want more from me because you enjoyed this fanfic a lot, you should definitely check out my Teen Wolf Masterlist, which has a lot of similar fics!

Happy Reading,

Sunny ☀️

[pkrosche]

Nerd!Stiles trying to get Jock!Derek excited about passing physics, tell me I'm wrong 😆

[reiderwriter]

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

[pinkolve]

Better-A Spencer Reid Fanfiction

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Summary: Penelope drags you to a bar to meet one Spencer Reid, insisting he's 'just your type.' (She was right.)

Genre: Fluff fluff fluff!!!!

CW: Reader acts a little overstimulated and socially anxious, reader wears glasses, fem!reader, very awkward!reader (to match spencer's freak), use of y/n, first person point of view, early seasons spencer reid because he's my baby, reader is very insecure, reader has an inner monologue, ooey gooey mushy cheesy fluff

Word Count: 1,065

A/N: Hello again!! I'm kind of proud of this one, I think it's pretty cute. I'm thinking of making a part two where you guys go on a nice little date, lemme know if you'd read it!!!

“These heels are fucking stupid.” I groan to Penny.

“At least they look super hot.” Penny shrugged, trying to make me feel better.

“Yeah, not on me.” I groan again, stumbling a little.

“Oh don’t give me that.” I nod right away, waving off her comment.

“Right right, sorry.” Penny had told me I need to stop being so negative about myself. Clearly, I wasn’t doing very well.

“I’m so used to flats, how does any woman manage this?! Jesus Christ!” Penny just laughed.

“We’re almost there, sugar, just take it easy.” We rounded a corner and the bar came into view. We walked up the sidewalk towards the door.

“Remind me why I let you convince me into doing this?” She offered me a hand when my ankle bent a little.

“Hot nerd, remember?”

“Right, right. Spencer’s his name?” I ask.

“Yup! You’re gonna love him, everyone does.” She opens the door and we walk in, the loud music reaching my ears within seconds. I can somehow smell every single person’s drink at once. The music is already starting to get on my nerves. This guy better be as hot as Penny insists he is.

“Please tell me he’s here already. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand the smell in this place.” My face sours.

“Yeah, yeah! He said he’s somewhere at the bar with Derek!” She looked at me with sympathy. “I promise everything will be alright, I’ll drive you home whenever you’re ready to go.” She smiles and grabs my hand gently.

“Thanks, Pen.” I smile back and let her lead me to the bar. I look down as a bit of hair gets stuck in my lip gloss. I sputter, trying to pull it away. Right when I look up I’m face to face with the infamous Spencer Reid. I notice Penny’s hand is no longer holding my own but I can’t look away from his gaze to find her.

“Hey.” His cheeks are dusted pink, and he offers me an awkward smile. All the words I could possibly say back get caught in my throat. My face is impossibly hot and I can feel every single part of my body practically light on fire. Penny was right…He is insanely hot. I push my glasses up on my face and shake my head.

“Hi, sorry!” I giggle nervously, already embarrassed with myself. “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.” He replies. His voice is soft and quiet, like he’s telling me a secret.

“So, Derek and I are gonna go get our groove on!” Penny’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look over at her as does Spencer. “You two lovebirds have fun!” She squeals before dragging Derek off to the dance floor. I stare at them as they walk off, feeling almost betrayed that she would leave me to fend for myself like this.

“Did she drag you here too?” Spencer’s voice pulls me back in. I look over and his eyes are already locked on my own.

“Yeah, she did.” I laugh. “I mean, I can’t say she had to force me. I was looking forward to meeting you. She did have to force me to put on these devil heels though.” I scowl down at my feet. Spencer lets out a breathy chuckle. I look back up at him with a wide smile.

“She did have to force me. I’m not really good with social interactions. But I’m glad I caved and came anyway.” He looked down at his hands, smiling.

“She talked you up a lot, she really wanted me to come tonight.”

“She talked you up too.” He nodded to himself.

“Oh god, what’d she say about me?” I cringe, remembering all the horrible things she knows about me.

“She said you were sweet, and funny. She also may or may not have used the term, ‘smoking hot,’ when referring to you as well.” Spencer huffed out a short laugh, still staring at his hands.

“Oh geez.” I rub a hand over my forehead. “She always makes me sound way better than I actually am.” Spencer finally looks at me again, his smile suddenly gone.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows furrowed. I worry I upset him somehow.

“Well-” I take a big gulp. “I just mean that she always says I’m ‘super hot’ and makes me sound like some kind of super model, but I’m very far from it.” My reply is met with silence. Great, you already scared him off with your self-deprecation. Can you be normal for even a second?!

“Honestly, how she described you wasn’t correct at all.” Spencer pauses. And this is the part where he admits that he thought I’d be much hotter than I am. “She said you were ‘smoking hot,’ but I’d say you’re much more…’a goddess who walks the earth.’” He thinks for a second before laughing. “God, that was so cheesy wasn’t it?” He brings a hand up to cover his face. I’m beyond stunned. I can’t even bring myself to move a muscle. I can’t even make my fingers so much as twitch. Spencer’s smile fades and his face is still covered by his hand. I start to realize he probably thinks he’s ruined this, just as I did a couple seconds ago.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said something that kind about me.” Spencer moves his hand and meets my gaze. His face is just as red as mine feels. “Guys always tell me I’m hot or…Something along those lines. But no one has ever said something so…” I pause. “I don’t even have a word for it. I feel like I’m about to burst into tears like a fuckin’ idiot. That was the sweetest thing I have ever heard.” My eyes are watery as I stare up at him. He’s so different. Spencer’s smile returns and his eyes practically fucking sparkle.

“I’m surprised no one’s ever said something like that to you before. Were all the people you met blind perhaps?” I burst out in a fit of giggles. Spencer watches me laugh with the most dopey smile on his face.

“Apparently they might have been.” I laugh. I take a deep breath. “You know…How Penny described you wasn’t quite correct either.” His face falters.

“Am I better or worse than she described?”

“Better.” I respond without missing a beat. “So much better.” I sigh dreamily.

[homemadesterekpie]

4k+ words fic where Stiles and the betas go out shopping together and Stiles gets a cute pair of pink underwear… some very fun things ensues lol

ao3 link

~*~

Stiles and the betas go out shopping to a big mall a few towns over one rainy saturday just for something to do.

They invite their Alpha of course but he waves them off saying he has things to do (he has a meeting with Deaton and then he wants to work out in peace and maybe catch up on some reading).

Stiles is a little disappointed but he’s too excited to go shopping to let it damper his mood and seeing Derek slip his credit card to Boyd as they leave make him forget his disappointment altogether.

They four of them pile into the jeep and go on their way. Isaac whines until they let him have the aux so he can put on the playlist he made for the hour or so of road they have to travel to get to the mall.

Boyd is Stiles' gps in the passenger seat and Erica talks over him every time so they end up missing an exit and she hollers in laughter as Stiles threatens to leave her at the side of the road to which just make her laugh harder because they both know she'd just make it to the mall faster by running there.

They finally get there and start their shopping. They could separate and all go to the places they want to check out alone but they stick together, as they always do these days.

They're in a small fancy-ish clothing store Erica wanted to go in to look when Stiles spots a cute little pair of underwear he suddenly really wants to get. They're simple but they're pastel pink, feminine and so soft that Stiles almost weeps. He knows they'd feel heavenly on his skin. He spends long minutes at the clothing rack, just hovering and feeling the fabric with his fingers.

Isaac comes up at his side so quietly Stiles jumps when he tells him to just fucking get them. Stiles blushes and sends him a heatless glare. Isaac just rolls his eyes. Even if he feels embarrassed Stiles takes the hanger with the underwear in his size and sends a ‘here! happy?’ look to the beta before marching to where Erica and Boyd are looking at clothes together.

Erica has a few hangers in her hands already and is asking Boyd's opinion on some of the dresses she's looking at when he and Isaac walk up to them.

Boyd immediately zeroes in on what Stiles is holding and lifts a subtle eyebrow but Stiles stubbornly doesn't look at him. Erica doesn't finish the sentence she's saying and takes a look at him then at his hands and immediately says "ooh good choice, Stiles" in a genuine tone, making him blush harder but somehow it also makes his shoulders relax a little too.

Not long after that they go to the register and Boyd pays with Derek's credit card. Stiles blushes harder.

He spends the rest of the shopping trip in a bit of a daze. His thoughts always circling back to the cute underwear wrapped up nicely in the dainty little bag he's carrying.

He can't wait to try them on. He really hopes they're as comfortable and as soft as they look. He wonders what they'll look like on him and he has to think of something else because his face already feels hot and he knows his cheeks are probably red and blotchy.

He's grateful for the distraction when they stop at the food court to grab something to eat and drink.

They regroup and talk about the things they bought and where they want to go next. Boyd mentions Derek asked him to grab a few things and how he needs a new pair of running sneakers. Isaac says he still wants to check out the music store while Erica says she still hasn't found the dress she's been eyeing online.

They all grab themselves slushies before going back to their shopping. Stiles and Boyd go over the stuff Derek wants them to get and then direct their little group to the related stores. After that they hit the music store and Isaac is in heaven getting himself some CDs. Then Erica finds the dress she's been looking for and Boyd finds a really cool pair of running sneakers and then everyone is happy.

They're all in a really good mood and pleasantly worn out when they make their way back to the jeep. Boyd helps Stiles storing the bags in the trunk.

Then Boyd holds out a hand to Stiles, silently asking for the keys and Stiles doesn't hesitate and passes them over. The beta drives them back home while Stiles dozes in the passenger seat.

He's alert again when Boyd turns into the loft's parking lot. The betas don't let Stiles take any bags as they unload the trunk only passing him the little one containing his purchase and brutally reminding him of it.

He debates leaving it in the jeep to take home later but then something very much alike boldness makes him clutch the bag harder and follow the betas into the building and up to the loft with it in his hands.

Derek immediately lets them know he ordered pizza when they slide open the door. Stiles deduces that Derek felt them enter the territory again and acted accordingly making him the best Alpha in the world.

He smiles a little dopily as he delicately puts down the dainty bag on the coffee table in front of Derek and goes to sit beside him on the couch.

He watches Derek from the corner of his eyes so he doesn't miss it when Derek gives the little bag a look before putting away the book he's holding.

The betas join in around them, chatting away, mostly Isaac and Erica, Boyd just puts down the bags he's holding and sits on the lazy boy near the couch, sighing happily like the old man he is. Erica joins him right away, sitting in his lap while Isaac sits on one of the armrests, sliding an arm around Boyd's shoulders comfortably.

The atmosphere is so warm and cozy Stiles almost starts dozing again but the idea of pizza keeps him awake. He just lets the betas tell Derek all about their shopping trip while he unwinds.

Eventually the food comes and they're all rejuvenated by the power of pizza and soda.

After eating the betas start pulling their purchases out of the bags and butterflies start fluttering in Stiles' stomach.

He hesitantly stretches himself to grab the small bag from the coffee table and just sits there fidgeting with it with his fingers for a few moments.

He doesn't look to check but he's certain Derek is looking at him as he does so, his gaze always feeling like a physical weight to Stiles.

Suddenly coming to a decision, Stiles stands and goes to the bathroom. He doesn't second guess himself as he quickly takes off his pants and underwear and changes into the new ones. He takes only a few seconds to look down at himself and marvel at how cute they look on him and how soft they are on his skin, exactly how he wished they would before putting his pants back on.

He puts his old underwear in the bag and leaves it in the bathroom out of the way before going back into the living room, sitting right back down beside Derek.

The betas are chatting together but when Stiles looks at them, Erica sends him a small knowing smirk and he blushes. He tries to brush her off but he can't really manage it, he's too riled up and obviously she's right. Stiles is doing this for one reason only, they all know it.

Erica then announces she wants to go for a run. She pulls Boyd and Isaac up with her as she gets up to leave. The two other betas don't give any protest and both give Stiles sidelong glances as they follow Erica out of the loft.

The door slides shut and immediately the air starts feeling heavy even to Stiles' human senses but even so he makes himself wait a few minutes before finally asking Derek if he wants to see what he got today.

He doesn't look at Derek when he does because if he looks at him Stiles will lose the little resolve he has.

Derek clears his throat before assuring Stiles that he does want to see.

So Stiles stands and takes two little steps to put himself in front of Derek, practically in between his legs and with shaking hands he undoes his pants and pushes them down slowly before stepping out of them, still looking anywhere but at Derek.

His t-shirt is short enough that he knows Derek can see the underwear fully. Pink and soft on his pale skin.

The moment drags on and Stiles starts playing with the hem of his t-shirt nervously. He stutters a little when he asks Derek in a whisper if he likes them.

Not a second later, Derek's hand is on one of his thighs, thumb brushing the fabric of the panties gently. The touch makes him gasp and forces Stiles to look down at the Alpha but the Alpha isn't looking at him.

He's looking at Stiles' panties with such intensity that it makes Stiles fidget a little self-consciously but at that, Derek looks up sharply and breathes out the words ‘so pretty’.

Stiles blushes pleasantly at the words, under the heavy gaze and slowly he moves to straddle Derek on the couch, sliding his arms around his strong shoulders.

Derek welcomes him in and immediately goes to palm Stiles' ass, gently feeling the fabric and the curves there, making Stiles let out a small pleased sound.

When Derek seems content just kneading his ass and running his fingers on the soft fabric, Stiles settles his head on his Alpha’s shoulder and starts playing with his hair gently.

It lasts until two of Derek’s fingers sneak into his panties from one side to lay at the cleft of his ass, making Stiles shiver pleasantly in anticipation.

The other hand at his ass leaves altogether and there’s a small wet sound. Stiles knows what that means and he can’t help the little wrecked moan from escaping his lips, his dick hardening in his panties.

In the next moment, Derek’s second hand sneaks into his panties as well, sliding fingers to his crack then down to his hole.

Stiles gasps as Derek spreads the wetness of his spit there, rubbing and massaging the ring of muscle until it’s all soft and wet.

Derek’s other hand is entirely into his panties now too, kneading and pulling the cheek to the side a little, giving his other fingers better access.

A thick finger finally breaches him and Derek starts thrusting it in and out of him gently but oh so firmly and Stiles hides his face into his Alpha’s shoulder, muffling his little whines.

A second fingers joins the first, thrusting back in more insistently and a little faster and Stiles can’t hide his face anymore, he needs to breath. The friction and stretch is almost too much but it’s also so fucking good he can’t think.

Then Derek curls his fingers on a particularly hard thrust and Stiles grunts, bucking his hips, seeking friction for his now rock hard dick.

With his eyes tightly shut he can just cling on to Derek’s shoulders and moan brokenly as Derek does it again and again.

When a third finger is added to his hole, Stiles knows he’s going to come. He’s going to come just like this on Derek’s fingers. He’s going to come untouched, his dick completely forgotten.

Derek is breathing hard into his neck and that’s one of the only signs Stiles has that proves just how much his Alpha is enjoying this just as much as he is.

It doesn’t take long until he’s is on the edge and he clings to Derek desperately and starts begging incoherently. It’s only when Derek finally says the words “do it, come for me, baby.” that Stiles goes over the edge, coming hard into his panties, feeling completely wrecked.

It takes a while for his breathing to get back to normal, to come back down from his high, boneless in his Alpha’s lap. He hums happily a few times as Derek rubs a hand up and down his back comfortingly.

He shifts a little to get more comfortable and he feels it. His Alpha’s hard on pressing right under his ass. His own dick gives an interested twitch and familiar heat floods his lower stomach.

He grinds his ass down on it experimentally and Derek lets out a chuckle and puts his lips to Stiles’ ear to call him insatiable to witch just makes Stiles grind down harder and more insistently because yeah he is insatiable.

Derek made him come on his fingers and now he wants to come on his dick and he wants Derek to come inside him.

Derek’s fingers go back to his hole gently and with his lips still at his ear he asks Stiles if he wants his dick in his ass. Stiles nods enthusiastically and whines out that yes he wants Derek’s dick in him, he wants it so bad.

Derek shushes him with a chuckle and pulls the panties to the side as much as he can to reveal Stiles’ hole. Then Derek shifts and there’s the sound of his belt being undone and his zipper lowering and Stiles shakes with anticipation.

Another wet sound as Derek gathers more spit on his fingers to slather on his dick before bringing the wet tip of it to Stiles’ hole.

He teases him a little, rubbing the tip up and down’s Stiles’ hole spreading spit and precome all over and making Stiles absolutely crazy. He grips Derek’s hair in his fingers and tells Derek through gritted teeth to fucking fuck him.

Derek lets out a laugh but he doesn’t need to be told twice and slides the head inside Stiles with no problem. He’s is so stretched from his finger fucking that there’s barely no pain from the stretch or from the harsh friction from the lack of lube.

It’s just wet enough to make everything hot and dirty and he’s speechless, his mouth slack with pleasure as Derek holds him in place by the waist and thrusts up into him with little movements until finally he’s balls deep and Stiles is seated on his dick.

He’s so big inside him, Stiles can feel him everywhere and it’s like his brain became mush the moment Derek seated him on his dick. He might say some of it out loud because Derek puts a hand at the back of his neck, thumb rubbing and hums a few times as if answering to what Stiles is babbling on about.

Stiles melts into him even more, letting his Alpha enclose him with his hands, with his body and his mind goes almost blank, all thoughts gone where all that’s left is Derek and all of his body’s sensations.

He’s not sure how long Derek stays motionless, letting him adjust and rubbing his neck tenderly but eventually he thrusts up into Stiles gently as if unsure and Stiles mewls with pleasure and buries his hands into Derek’s hair again, gluing his open mouth to his tanned neck, panting.

The next thrust is firmer, much more sure and the next one after that even more so and Stiles starts petting Derek’s hair almost mechanically with shaking fingers while making small encouraging noises right under his ear.

The harder Derek fucks into him the more desperate Stiles becomes, he’s practically glued to Derek but it still doesn’t feel close enough. He clings to Derek harder and shifts a little to start moving his hips in time with the thrusts as much as he can with Derek holding him in place by his neck and waist. He pants wetly into Derek’s stubbled cheek as they move together, feeling the soft growls of pleasure there at his jaw, driving him Stiles even more desperate.

Only a few moments later he’s whining in discomfort because his thighs start aching and he still doesn’t feel close enough to Derek.

There might be tears involved and he’s whimpering pitifully and immediately Derek shushes him gently moving the hand at his neck to his hair and he says something but Stiles doesn’t understand him. The words are distant and almost distorted.

Derek pulls Stiles away from his body just enough so he can look at him but Stiles starts protesting because no, why, what’s happening, did he do something wrong? But Derek takes his face into one hand and takes a good look at him. Stiles blinks slowly a few times to try and see Derek properly and when he does he gives his Alpha a dopy little smile.

He’s so handsome like this, Stiles loves him so so much. Can he continue to fuck him now? please? He’s pretty sure this time that he’s saying all of that out loud.

Derek cups his cheek gently and pulls Stiles’ face to his to give him a little kiss on the forehead before kissing him on the lips. Stiles shivers into it and then moans because it makes Derek’s dick inside of him shift a little. His moan automatically deepens their kiss and Stiles goes back to clinging to Derek’s neck with his hands but his thighs still aches and he whines again.

In the next moment, there’s a swift movement of air and Derek is standing with Stiles tight in his arms not breaking their kiss or pulling out as Stiles is distantly aware of Derek walking away from the livingroom.

He’s delicately deposited on the bed onto his back and again Derek doesn’t break the kiss. Stiles feels him pushing down his jeans more before thrusting into him again making him gasp into their kiss. Stiles automatically hugs his legs high around his Alpha’s waist and the next thrusts are deep and hard and so perfect.

Their kiss breaks naturally as Stiles pulls Derek down flush against him, circling his arms around his neck while Derek buries his face into his neck and starts mouthing at it, nibbling and sucking, marking him all up.

Like this Stiles’ voice rings out around them, unbidden and mixing in with the obscene sound of their skin slapping together, the creaking of the bed under them and Derek’s rumbling growls that grows louder the longer he fucks Stiles.

With his dick rubbing on both of their shirts in between their bodies and the way Derek is fucking into him so perfectly, Stiles knows he won’t last. He’s already flirting with the edge of his second orgasm and some of his earlier desperation comes back. He doesn’t want to come again so soon.

Derek’s thrusts stutters to a stop abruptly when Stiles suddenly shouts at him to stop. He lifts himself on one arm to look down at Stiles, asking if he’s okay and his hair is a mess, his eyes glowing red, fangs poking at his lower lip a little.

Stiles admires him for a few seconds before nodding and pushing at Derek’s shoulders insistently until the Alpha rolls off of him, inevitably pulling out of him in the process. Immediately, Stiles rolls onto his belly, pushing his hips up a little on wide spread knees then tells Derek to fuck him like this.

Slowly, Derek lifts a hand to run it through Stiles’ hair and Stiles pushes into the touch without thinking, enjoying the soft touch.

Then he leans in and kisses Stiles on the shoulder before moving back and out of sight behind Stiles.

Big hands caresses his back, pushing his t-shirt down to his armpits in the same movement before going back to his hips, his panties.

Derek grips the panties firmly with one hand before lining himself up to his hole again with the other and Stiles lets out a curse. The head goes in and Derek’s other hand is back to his hips and he thrusts back into him way too gently for Stiles’ liking.

But he doesn’t have to say anything because the next thrust is hard, so hard that Stiles lets out a strangled shout that kind of sounds like a YES! and that’s all Derek needs because he starts ramming into him wildly, so hard and fast Stiles can’t make a sound or even breath for the first few seconds.

Then, finally, air enter his lungs and he lets out a litany of incoherent words that are half praise and half cursing. Somehow that makes Derek growl dangerously behind him and the grip on the panties tighten and Stiles knows they won’t make it through this and somehow he fucks into Stiles harder.

Stiles can’t do anything else but take it but that’s exactly how he wants it. Face down into the bedding with his dick bobbing under him he knows he won’t even need to touch it. He’s at the edge again and this time he embraces it because Derek is making those wild growling sounds now and they can only mean one thing. They’re both close, so close, he can almost taste it.

Derek lets go of his hip, instead grabbing the back of his neck and pushing down and Stiles is lost, he comes abruptly, soiling the bed under him, his eyes tightly shut, grunting.

Derek doesn’t stop fucking into him at his wild pace, fucking him through all of it until he’s scrambling for purchase on the bed desperately and whimpering, the sensations getting too much and on verge of painful.

But then Derek lets out the loudest growl Stiles has ever heard from him, thrusting one last time into his hole hard and deep and he’s coming. Stiles can feel it, warmth filling him up down there and he whines.

After a moment of stillness, Derek pulls out gently and lets go of him and Stiles crumples down to the bed, boneless and breathing hard. He’s worn out but he’s so sated. He feels high, so fucking high it’s like he’s on a cloud and he has the awareness that he’ll be coming down soon and hard.

The bed dips a little beside him and he shifts onto his side towards it tiredly, seeking his Alpha.

He’s pulled into a warm naked chest and he snuggles into it, humming happily when Derek’s arms enfolds him tightly. He’s sure he’s going to fall asleep in a second but somehow he doesn’t, his body somehow too aware to let him fall asleep.

He’s aware of Derek is rubbing a thumb at his neck absentmindedly, he can hear the soothing sound of his heart beating in his chest under his ear, he notices that Derek lost his henley because only now he remembers that Derek had it on earlier. He starts playing with Derek’s chest hair faintly.

As he feels himself coming down from his high cloud, a weird nagging feeling of worry creeps onto him. He worries that somehow what they’ve just done was wrong or not wrong exactly but somehow bad. He can’t really figure out why he’s feeling this way or where it even roots from.

As soon as he’s come down enough that he can form complete sentences again he asks Derek if it was good. Derek just hums back sleepily and Stiles tries again and asks if Derek enjoyed it.

There’s a silence and Derek stops rubbing his neck with his thumb and now Stiles feels like crying a little and he’s starting to be aware that it’s not normal and that upsets him more.

Derek shifts until he can look at Stiles’ face and he cups his cheek gently before asking Stiles if he’s okay. He calls him baby as he does and that helps him calm down a little but he asks Derek again if he enjoyed it, in a little unsure voice Stiles is sure he’s never used before.

Derek rubs his thumb on his cheekbone and searches his eyes for a moment before assuring him that he more than enjoyed it. That Stiles had been perfect and so good for him and that he couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Flooded with sheer relief, Stiles tells Derek that he’s so glad because he loved it, he loved it so much, that it had felt so good and so right.

Derek gives him a fond smile before kissing him softly on the lips and the nagging worry Stiles felt a moment ago dissipates entirely.

Derek continues to hold him and nuzzles his skin from time to time until Stiles has fully come down and he’s so exhausted. He feels Derek take the ruined panties off of him then his shirt before cleaning him up and tucking him into bed and joining him.

He’s just about to fall asleep when he remembers he wants to say something and he whispers the words softly. I love you, Derek.

Soft lips brush his forehead and the words are said back to him just as softly. I love you too, Stiles.

He’s asleep not a second later.

[michelle-is-writing]

Stunt Driving, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8k~

3rd person, Spencer x fem!reader

Other than Derek Morgan, Spencer didn't know anyone that could drive so recklessly, yet, still be safe at the same time. That was until Agent (Y/n) (L/n) was hired at the BAU. She was intelligent, but she couldn't compare to that of Spencer's list of achievements. (Y/n) didn't graduate high school at age twelve, nor did she have several masters degrees or Ph.D.'s under her belt. Instead, she slightly leisured and worked hard at the same time. She gained her degrees with good grades while making memories with those around her. One person she grew close to was her father.

Being an auto mechanic who worked at home, (Y/n)'s father got to work on a lot of cars, especially those from the seventies and eighties. Once the cars were fixed, (Y/n)'s dad always took it for a drive with her in the passenger seat, and even though it probably wasn't the best idea, he would teach her how to drive fast - whether it be to have fun (again, probably not the best idea) or get out of a dangerous situation. The things learned by (Y/n) would last her a lifetime and would prove to be necessary in this current moment.

Driving one of the FBI's SUV at ninety miles per hour wasn't something that Spencer imagined himself experiencing today, and as he looked at the beautiful woman in the driver's seat beside him, he didn't exactly know what to think. She seemed so focused on what she was doing, and because of the mileage they were reaching, Spencer was thankful for this. However, there was still that screaming statistic in the back of his mind, shouting, "40% of all accidents are caused by speeding over 75 miles per hour!"

"(Y/n), slow down!" Spencer yelled as she swerved in and out of traffic, the unsub's car merely twenty feet away from their vehicle. Gripping the safety handle above him as hard as he could, Spencer felt like he could have a heart attack any moment now. She was unsafe in her driving because of the speed she was traveling at, yet, she was somehow keeping them safe by her constant reflexes and quick reaction times. "You're going to get us killed!"

"Spencer," (Y/n) said his name, swiftly checking her mirrors before speeding into the next lane, the engine screaming as she did so. Looking over into the driver side window, Spencer could see the unsub constantly checking over his shoulder, his panic only growing once he sees the BAU's vehicle next to his. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Spencer asked his coworker, her gorgeous (e/c) eyes flashing over to his for a quick second. Despite being in such a tense situation, Spencer couldn't help but be lured in by her eyes as his heart had grown for the woman as soon as she started working in the BAU. Fortunately, (Y/n) felt the same, he just didn't know it.

"I need you to trust me," She repeats her words, gaining an almost groan from Spencer. He was trusting her enough by putting his life in her hands at the wheel, what else did she want?

"You know better than anyone how to calculate an unsub's next move," She reminds him, the unsub speeding up to get ahead of their SUV. "And you and I both know he's going to swerve in front of me at some point and slam on his breaks," she points out, frowning as she yanks the car into the same lane as the unsub. "I need you to tell me when you think that's going to happen."

Determination laced throughout her voice, (Y/n)'s eyes stayed glued on the banged-up car in front of her as the RPMs of their vehicle bounced between its high and low numbers. Not knowing what her full plan was, Spencer questioned himself as to why he quietly nodded at her words, but nonetheless, still turned his head to watch the car in front of them. As facts about the unsub came to mind, Spencer compiled everything into one of his long, drawn out equations before estimating when the murderer would do just as (Y/n) had said.

It was only when he saw the unsub sit closer to the wheel with a tighter grip on it that Spencer felt he was going to change his moves. "Now," Spencer told the woman, watching as she slowed their vehicle down only slightly, but still deliberately. Seconds after the SUV reached 80, the car in front of her slammed on the breaks, causing (Y/n) to smirk as she knew her plan was in full effect.

Quickly swerving into the line beside her, she wastes no time before lining her front wheels up to his back ones and slamming into him, effectively making him begin to slide uncontrollably on the road, the side of his vehicle pinned to the front of their SUV. Spencer watched in panic as the unsub tried to regain control of his car, only to swerve away and into a field. Sitting back against his chair with a sigh, Spencer shut his eyes as he felt the car begin to finally slow down. He'd never done a pit maneuver on anyone before, having only read about it before in books or hearing about it in news cases.

For a second, he let himself relax until he felt the SUV start reversing before swerving in a 180 degree motion, making his eyes shoot back open and see their vehicle now facing the same direction as the unsub. The wheels immediately regained traction against the asphalt before lunging into the dirt and across the grass covered field. The unsub had barely any time to react and drive away as the SUV made contact with the front end, pushing it farther into the field all the while further destroying the car and preventing it from driving anymore.

Now stopped, (Y/n) threw her seatbelt off and dashed out of her seat. Once again, Spencer found himself watching the scene unfold in front of him, his eyes glued to the way (Y/n) held her pistol all the while dragging the unsub out of the vehicle. Surprisingly, the man's arms eventually came up to hold his head, showing he was still alive despite being hit twice.

It's only then that Spencer snapped out of his haze, clambering out of the vehicle behind her as she tugged the injured man onto his stomach. Aside from the man's cries, the sound of sirens began to follow them much to Spencer's delight. They couldn't keep up with the unsub, losing him in traffic due to his speeds, but that wasn't a hard challenge for (Y/n).

Clearly.

It was merely thirty seconds later that the rest of the team joined them, followed by several ambulances and police vehicles that promptly looked over the murderer before taking him away to jail. This left both Spencer and (Y/n) to be checked over despite being alright throughout it all. It took hardly any time for Spencer to be declared fine, leaving him to make sure (Y/n) was okay.

Walking over to her ambulance, he saw an EMS worker finish wrapping up (Y/n)'s slightly bleeding wrist, his steps now a bit more panicked as he came closer to her. "I cut my hand on a piece of glass when handcuffing the guy," (Y/n) quickly explained to the worried man, smiling at him. "I'm okay, Spence, really."

Feeling his heart warm up in response to (Y/n) calling him the nickname she adopted for him, he saw himself sitting next to her and sighing. "Where did you...?" Spencer began, not knowing where to go with his question. Instead of waiting for him to continue, she smirked and finished for him.

"Where did I learn to do that?" She asked for clarification, receiving a nod in response. Still smiling, she happily answered him. "When I was younger, my dad fixed cars, but you already knew that," She explained, Spencer nodding along as she spoke.

"Well, he also liked stunts and he taught me a few things too," she shrugged, "The pit maneuver was nothing, but that j-turn was something else," She explained, the Spencer's ears perking up as she answered his next question without him even saying it.

Her smile slowly died down before she slid a hand over to his resting on the ambulance, albeit a bit cautiously. However, his unchanging expression showed her it was okay, and so, she left her hand on top of his.

"I am sorry if I scared you, Spencer," She apologized, "Not everyone's used to... well, my driving, but I can't help it," They both shared a small laugh at this, staring at each other for a few moments before she spoke up once more. "Still, I hope you don't see me as reckless or immature."

In response to her words, Spencer let out a small laugh before wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her close. Perhaps it was the chaotic experience they just faced, or maybe it was the longing stares and touches they sometimes exchanged, but Spencer didn't know where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from. In fact, the only thing that reassured him of his actions was (Y/n) reciprocating them and nuzzling into his side ever so slightly.

"You didn't scare me," Spencer lied, putting on a genuine smile due to the happiness he felt from the combination of (Y/n)'s touch and words. "To be honest, I thought it was kind of hot," The words left his lips as awkward as they could, followed by a dark blush taking over his porcelain cheeks.

Although, (Y/n) paid no mind to his embarrassment, and instead, she couldn't help but lean up and gently kiss Spencer's soft lips. They were slightly swollen from him biting them in the car out of anxiousness and fright, but (Y/n) didn't care. She was happy just to be kissing the man, and even more elated at the sensation of him kissing back.

A small amount of applause filled the area around them, causing the two to part and look around to see their teammates grinning and clapping their hands.

"I knew it!" JJ yelled, clapping her hands together with an excited smile. "This was going to happen sooner or later,"

Beside JJ was Emily, smiling as well while clapping her on the back. Spencer and (Y/n) then began to stutter to Emily that they wouldn't let this interfere with their work, but the dark-haired woman simply held up a hand in response. "It's okay, I know you two, and I know you'll still be the same excellent workers," The smile she wore grew into that of a smirk, anticipating her next reply. "Just a bit more cuddly... and cute."

Relieved, both (Y/n) and Spencer couldn't help but let out a small sigh simultaneously, causing them to look back at each other with sheepish smiles from being caught. Barely any words had been expressed between the two when it came to their new relationship, but one thing was definite: (Y/n)'s motor-loving heart had become entangled with Spencer's chess-loving one, and he was happy.

[0viraptoraskblog]

Any more derek headcanons? ^^

Yes!

Derek Goffard Headcanons 🧨

General: (this first one has been in my mind for forever)

Derek absolutely shot other kids with bottle rockets when he was young. He LOVED playing with sparklers, fireworks, everything like that. I have a hc that when he was 12ish his dad hosted a big get together in the summer (I’d say Fourth of July, but this is Canada..) and Derek got into the firework stash. He discovered and stole a bunch of Roman candles, and discovered how fun it was to shoot people with them— let’s just say a lot of kids went home with serious burns. He was definitely punished, but his love for fireworks started there.

His voice sometimes cracks when he’s angry. He hates it, because it makes him sound immature, and only happens at the worst times.

His dad never let him have any pets growing up. When he was really young he wanted a dog, as many kids do, but the answer was always no. That’s why he loves having MC all for himself even more, because finally he’s in charge, and he’ll do whatever he wants with his pet. His property.

Has a gaming PC, but it’s hidden around one of the corners in his room (not in view of the door) so no one sees. He likes to keep his room looking like a hotel just in case someone comes in— on the surface, it looks flawless, just as he’s been conditioned to be in public; so all his personal stuff is tucked away.

Speaking of, he’s constantly rage quitting games. I don’t think he’d smash something but he’s definitely cussing out the screen if he dies/loses.

The tracking device that he put in your arm connects to his phone— so he can always see where you are. Of course, that’s probably chained up in his room, but he still likes checking on you. When he’s away at a conference or something it definitely motivates him to know that you’re at home, right there waiting for when he gets back.

(This is mostly canon, but still) He actually doesn’t like his blonde hair. He does it because his dad is blonde— possibly because his dad told him to bleach it— but also because his dads the head of the household, and it only makes sense that his heir would give off the same powerful image. But he does enjoy it when his roots grow out; that’s why he purposely lets them do so before his desert trip. It’s a mental act of rebellion, or letting himself show instead of his dad’s image. Because this is his week.

He makes a terrible amount of sex jokes. Mostly online or in front of you, because he can’t do it in front of family/business partners, so you get the worst of it. It’s purposely very annoying.

NSFW

One of his favorite things to do with MC is have you suck him off. He gets to see you being completely obedient/submissive to him, and he doesn’t have to get all undressed (it’s quick if he needs it to be). He also just enjoys making you choke.

Definitely wants to top, always. However, if you could some way somehow convince (or force) him to bottom, a small part of him would enjoy it. He’s had fantasies/dreams before— that he tries to suppress— of that scenario, and he secretly likes the idea. He’d never admit it though, because he would never willingly give up that control. Part of it makes him uncomfortable, or even disgusted.. and yet still hard.

[mydearzero]

Hello!! I was wondering if maybe you could do something with sub!Spencer and dacryphilia?

I also just wanted to say that I really enjoy reading all of your work and I'm so impressed with what you write! You have become one of my favorite writers on this platform!

now this, this is too good to not write. thanks for reading and the request! it's an honorary title to be called one of your favourites so I thank you! ♡

Pretty When You Cry | sub!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You hear Spencer crying after he'd overheard you joke about him with Derek. You better check in on him, right? Except he's definitely not crying. You find him in a... compromising situation. But he's not crying. You better rectify that.

Contents: NO Y/N, sub!Spencer, dom!Reader, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, praise kink, overuse of 'good boy', If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2.7K words

"I bet he keeps his socks on," you joked, stealing a piece of candy from Derek and popping it in your mouth. He threw his head back in a hearty chuckle. 

"Or he takes only one off. Whichever one fits the vibe stays, since he's always mismatching." Derek added. He was about to continue, but you cut him off with a panicked look, spotting Spencer with a frown on his face. 

"If you guys wanted to know whether I keep my socks on, you could've just asked. There's no need to speculate and joke about my sex life behind my back. But I guess that's what pricks do." Spencer stomped to his desk, not making any eye contact. 

"No need to get so worked up over it, Reid. You should really take that edge off, somehow. You can whine either way." You continued chewing on the tough candy, taking another one from Morgan and throwing it in Spencer's direction when he didn't reply. 

"Yeah, Pretty Boy. When's the last time you got laid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. Spencer visibly tensed before pushing himself away from his desk and walking off. 

Convinced you'd upset him, you told Derek you'd go after him. Derek shrugged, saying he was heading home. 

You nearly collided with Hotch as he was leaving his office, clearly headed home. 

"Don't stay too late, there's a lot of catching up to do that can wait until tomorrow morning," he mentioned before walking to the elevator.   

You knocked on Rossi's door, entering when he answered. "Hey, did you see where Reid went? I think I might've upset him," you cringed. 

"I'm pretty sure there's nothing you can do that could possibly upset the kid. But he walked down the hall to the left from what I saw." Rossi clasped his hands together. 

"Thanks, Rossi. You're a lifesaver." 

You bid him goodbye before following his directions down the hall. You heard soft noises from one of the empty offices near the end of the long, winding hallway. It sounded like... Spencer? 

Was he crying? You hadn't thought he was that upset. 

You creaked the door open as silently as humanly possible, ready to console him and apologize for your teasing. 

You couldn't see him clearly, the light from the hallway polluting your vision into the dimly lit office. But you could hear him. God, could you hear him. 

The soft whines emitting from his throat drowned out the barely audible noise of his slick hand sliding over his hard length. 

Your heart rate skyrocketed. Spencer's touching himself. You felt a wicked smile creep upon your lips. 

You listened in on him a little longer, determining whether you were daydreaming or if the universe was really throwing this situation in your lap. 

His soft whines turned into pleas. It was obvious this wasn't the first time for his current fantasy. It seemed played out. 

You knew it was your lucky day when a begging whisper of your name fell off his lips. Oh, this was going to be fun. 

Your hand crept through the gap of the door, hand blindly seeking the light switch. You found it but didn't yet turn it on. 

You heard him get closer to the edge, exactly where you wanted him. When the noises of his hand sped up, desperately so, you made your move. 

You slammed the door open and turned on the bright, white light simultaneously. Spencer jumped to gather himself, wide eyes meeting your own. 

"What are you doing, Spencer?" Your tone was mocking. You already knew the answer, and Spencer had never felt more caught. His breath was haggard, eyes glazed over, lips pouting. He looked like a little puppy. 

"I'm- I was just- Uh-" Spencer stammered. You gave him a condescending smile. 

"I- Uh- I- You what, Spencer?" You finally walked into the room, closing the door behind you. You took slow steps towards the leather couch. 

Spencer was frozen. You never called him by his first name. He'd managed to haphazardly tuck himself back into his pants, but a small wet spot was already forming on the front. He'd been so close. 

He refused to look at you, choosing to stare at his lap, where his hands were unsubtly crossed over his crotch. You examined him for a second before taking his chin in your hand, squeezing his cheeks slightly. You turned his face upwards, forcing him to meet your eyes. 

"Answer my question, Spencer," you demanded. He looked up at you through damp lashes. He'd really worked up a sweat. 

He made a couple desperate noises but couldn't utter a coherent sentence. You raised your eyebrows. A constricted sigh left him as he looked at you in desperation. 

"What's the matter, baby? You usually have so much to say. Don't you have an answer for me, boy genius?" You pouted sarcastically. Your grip on his chin tightened. 

"I-" Spencer's eyes glazed over. 

"-was touching myself? Yeah, I gathered as much," you finished for him. You turned his face, examining it from every angle as you slowly brought your foot up to his crotch. 

"Move your hands, Pretty Boy," you demanded, pressing your foot against them. Spencer's eyes squeezed shut, slowly moving his hands. You chuckled darkly as you felt up his length. 

You tossed his head to the side and pushed on his shoulder, making him fall back against the couch. You slowly moved your legs to either side of his, straddling him. You moved your hips experimentally, purposely grinding against his clothed cock for good measure. 

His hands reached for your waist, but you grabbed his wrists before he could. "No touching. Sit on them if you think you can't stop yourself." 

Spencer moved quickly, tucking his hands under his thighs. You ran your fingers over the side of his face. He really was pretty. You stroked a finger between his eyebrows in an attempt to iron out the crease. His face and entire body were tense with anticipation. 

You ground your hips agonizingly slow. Your sluggish movement was obviously not enough for the whimpering man under you, but he knew better than to do anything about it. 

You would've continued your teasing longer, but you knew he'd been close to coming seconds before you barged in. You felt the wet spot on his slacks grow larger with the movement. He trashed, uncertainty written on his face. He had to touch you, had to move, had to do something, but he couldn't. 

"Please," Spencer uttered the magic word you'd been waiting for. You smiled and got off his lap, getting on your knees in front of the couch. 

You reached for his belt and undid it, all while your eyes never left his. You slowly tugged the slacks down, along with his boxers. His cock bounced free instantly, throbbing and red. Spencer clenched his eyes shut at the sensation. 

"Nu-uh, Spence. Look at me. Don't you want to be a good boy?" Your fingers wrapped around his shaft menacingly. 

"Yes! Yes, please. Want to be a good boy for you. Only you. Please," he begged. 

You smiled in satisfaction as you gave him a squeeze. Spencer threw his head back at the sensation, only to push it back and meet your eyes like you'd enforced. 

You moved forward and leaned over his lap, bringing the tip of his weeping dick to your mouth. You gave the slit a kittenish lick, collecting some pre-cum on your tongue. 

You saw Spencer breathe heavily, trying to contain himself. He bit his lip, attempting to suppress any noise, but failing miserably. 

You never took him into your mouth fully, only licking around the tip and squeezing his shaft every so often. 

"So good for me, Spence. You're gonna have to be quiet, though. Rossi's still here, and you know what a gossip he is," You stroked him as you spoke. You sped up your pace, enjoying seeing him try to stay quiet. 

His legs twitched, and you knew he was getting close. You quickly pulled your hand off him and got up off the floor. A loud groan left him at the loss of sensation, hips shooting up off the couch. 

The sound of his frantic breaths was like music to your ears. 

You moved to stand over him, tugging at the hem of his sweater vest. 

"C'mon, baby. Hands up," you urged, pulling the fabric over his head. You reached for his tie, undoing it and setting it aside for later. 

"Take your shirt off," you commanded, stepping back to watch the show. Spencer removed his hands from where he sat on them, watching you as he struggled to unbutton the shirt. You leaned against the desk nonchalantly, admiring your fingernails. 

He nearly sobbed in despair, shaking hands unable to undo the buttons. You liked him like this; helpless and desperate. You laughed at him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he finally got the last button opened. He hastily rid himself of the shirt and searched your face for approval. 

"Hmm, good job, baby. Now, put those hands back where they came from. Remember, no touching," you reminded him. He tucked them back under his legs, and you pet his hair in approval before reaching for where you'd placed his tie. 

"Say 'Ah'," you motioned for him to copy you. He hesitantly opened his mouth. You raised an eyebrow, and he quickly opened it further. You placed the fabric of his tie in his mouth, tying it behind his head. He gurgled a little, struggling to give the makeshift gag a place. 

You got back on his lap, putting a hand in his hair and tugging at the roots. Spencer yelped but clearly liked the pain, eyes dilating. You moved his head backwards, exposing his neck for you. You placed a few kisses on his jaw, before moving down to his neck. You sucked several spots before finding the sweet spot that had him whimpering once again. His hands shot up from under his thighs, reaching for your ass. 

You removed your mouth from his neck, yanking at his hair. "Did I give you permission to touch me?" 

Spencer shook his head aggressively. 

"Words, baby." 

"N-no, ma'am," he stuttered. You smirked. Ma'am, huh? You liked the sound of that. 

"Good boy," you whispered in his ear. His hips ground upwards, desperate for attention. You decided you were done toying with him. You were glad you'd worn a somewhat loose skirt to work that day. 

You reached between your thighs, pulling your underwear aside. You lined yourself up, steadying yourself with one hand on Spencer's shoulder, the other on his cock. 

You sunk down, only slipping the tip inside before stopping. Your legs were going to kill you tomorrow, holding up your weight above his length, but it was worth it for the tears welling up in Spencer's eyes. 

"You're gonna cry?" You mocked, hand returning to grip his chin and squish his cheeks. He tried to keep it in, but the second you sunk down, fully sheathing him inside, the tears spilt, rolling down his cheeks. 

"You're so pretty when you cry, Spencer. My gorgeous little crybaby," You admitted. You lifted your hips, pushing them back down against his harshly. More tears ran down his face. 

"Shh, baby. Filling me up so nicely. Such a good boy for me." You assured him, setting a slow pace and bouncing on his cock. 

"Please, faster. Just a little, please," Spencer pleaded through the gag, almost unintelligibly. You pretended to think it over. 

"No, I don't think I will," you decided. It was mean. He begged you so nicely. A sob wrecked his throat. There it is. 

He convulsed in a mixture of pleasure and desperation, hips snapping up to meet yours. 

"Please, oh my God, Please!" It was like the only words left in his vocabulary were ones to beg for you. He sounded angelic. 

You barely increased your speed, but Spencer went berserk over it. You brought a hand to his face, wiping away the tears and looking into his eyes. 

"Such a good boy, so pretty. You're so good for me, Spencer," you babbled, losing your grip on the situation. He was hitting the right spot inside you over and over again. 

You closed your eyes in pleasure, frantically sliding on his dick. "Fuck, Spencer," a breathy moan escaped you. 

A newfound, frenzied whine reached your ears. You opened your eyes to look at Spencer, who seemed to calm at the eye contact. He wanted to watch you, make sure he was being good. 

"M-more, Fu-more, Pl-please," Spencer stuttered. He could barely get the words out over the gag and pleasure soaring through his veins. 

You obeyed, bringing your hands back to his hair and tugging harshly. You leaned forward to whisper in his ear, taking the tie out of his mouth. "You can touch me, now. Touch me, Spencer. Make me come. Make me come like a good boy."

Spencer groaned loudly at the words, hands immediately moving to your waist. His hips started moving uncontrollably, desperately chasing his release. 

You tugged at his hair in warning. "I said make me come, baby. I didn't say you could." 

His eyes widened, and he quickly moved his hands between your bodies, seeking eye contact to ask for permission. You nodded wildly, growing more desperate for your own release. 

His fingers made quick work of finding your clit, rubbing ferociously. The sensation sent you reeling, moaning loudly in his ear. A particularly sharp thrust nearly made you scream, tightening your grip on his gorgeous locks. "Shit, Spencer! Fuck, so good. So fucking good, baby. So big inside of me." 

You could feel Spencer was nearing his release again. This time, you had no intention to stop him, but he didn't know that. He was still frantically trying to tip you over the edge and succeeding. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, losing your grip on his hair and falling forward against his naked chest. Your hands found leverage on the couch, digging your nails in the leather as Spencer continued fucking up into you. 

"Please, can I come? Please, let me come with you. 've been a good boy, right?" Spencer begged. His desperate whines sounded so good, incoherent mumbles of "Oh my God" and "Please" repeatedly falling off his lips. 

"Yes, you can come for me, Spencer. Come with me. Make me come on your cock," you encouraged.

Spencer snapped, no longer caring if anybody heard him. His whines and moans were getting higher in pitch and shorter in frequency, mirroring your own. 

"F-feel so good around me. So tight. So good. Gonna come, g- gonna," Spencer's hips stuttered, thick length throbbing as he pushed it deep inside one last time. 

"Fuck, Spencer!" 

"Oh my God, oh my God, f-fuck," Spencer was unusually vulgar as he coated your walls. You sat down on his cock for a minute, gathering your breath and wiping the tears and other fluids from Spencer's face. 

You pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes and smiled timidly at him. "Hi." 

Spencer laughed a little and smiled back, breath still irregular. "Hi, yourself." 

"You good? I didn't go too far? I'm sorry for springing that on you, Reid. I didn't mean to make you cry." You ran your hands over his chest. 

"No! It was perfect. I loved it. T'was just really intense, you know?" He reassured you. "And please, we're past the last name basis now, don't you think?" You nodded and smiled, admiring his face for a second longer before carefully sliding yourself off him. 

Spencer winced, incredibly sensitive. Your sadistic side bubbled to the surface, if only for a split second, and gave his overstimulated cock a couple of tugs. He trashed against your touch, loud, pained wails falling from his lips. You let him go, walking to the desk and grabbing a couple of tissues to clean yourself up. 

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," you smirked. Spencer's chest was heaving, but there was a satisfied smile on his face. 

"I guess you do have your answer now. I still have my socks on."

[problemchildtm]

Demolition

Derek Morgan x bau!reader

Angst/fluff~ 1.9k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[purplesimmer455]

Years ago, in Willow Creek:

Iseul Kang sits across from her brother Min Jun at the dining table. She glances to her right, where her dad is making the family recipe of Japchae, before nudging her brother with her foot. He gives her an annoyed glance. "What?" He mouths. "Want to play MySims Racing later?" She mouths back, and he nods. She turns back to her homework just as her mom comes back into the room. "Issy, are you almost done with your homework?" Nari asks in Korean. "Yes, mom." Iseul says, giving her an innocent look and hiding the fortune teller she'd been making with a paper from her notebook. It has four colors listed on the outside flaps, then once a flap is opened, it has a couple numbers and finally a fortune. "Good. Appa's almost done cooking so I want you two to wash up and I'll help you finish the rest later," Nari says, and both kids nod.

During dinner, Iseul's dad asks the kids about their day. "Good, I guess." Min Jun says. "Just good?" Dae Hyun jokes. "Ugh, Daaad," Min Jun grumbles, and Nari shoots him a warning glance. "Sweetpea, don't sass your Appa," She says. "It's okay, Nari. And how's my butterfly?" Dae Hyun asks, smiling at Iseul. "Good too, Appa." Iseul says with a big smile, recounting her day and telling her mom and dad everything about her friends and teachers, and casually mentioning about the new girl in her class who has pretty curly hair and does cool drawings with chalk. Dae Hyun listens and he chimes in with some stories of his own, growing up as a kid in Korea and getting up to mischief with friends.

After dinner, Nari checks in on Min Jun, and Dae Hyun tucks Iseul into bed. "Goodnight," he says, bending down to kiss her. "'Night," Iseul mumbles, snuggling into her bed. Dae Hyun heads to his room, gets into bed, and Nari snuggles up to him, putting her head on his shoulder. He kisses her and she smiles sleepily. "Issy's asleep?" She asks, and he nods. "Min Jun is just grumpy because Derek broke up with him again. I just don't think Derek is right for him, I liked that person he met at his cooking club more," Nari adds, and Dae Hyun sighs. "Me too, but the kids will take their own paths and learn, just like we did right? The most we can do is support them through their choices," he adds, and Nari nods. "You're right, baby. I just miss Min Jun being our snugglebug like Iseul is, and telling us everything . Soon, he'll be going off to college" she adds wistfully and Dae Hyun nods. "I know, but we still have our little butterfly at home," he says and Nari hums in agreement, cuddling closer to him as they drift off.

Edit: I think tumblr restricted this post, even though it's fairly innocent/family photos. I was wondering if it somehow marked the second to last photo of Dae Hyun and Nari cuddling in bed because her (randomized by the game) pajama wear is a bra and shorts so maybe it was like “the scandal 🫣😵‍💫” or it's just some random nonsense it chose to mark against? 👀😂

Also, pardon the extremely long post, I went from having no idea what to write in this flashback to suddenly feeling inspired by a mix of Inside Out as well as my own childhood (though I grew up in the 2000s/2010s while Iseul grew up in the 80s-90s in her childhood). I based some stuff like the family dynamics and how the Kangs speak mostly Korean at home based on my family, because we speak mostly Urdu and Punjabi at home. Also, the paper fortune teller Iseul made is something that my friends and sister would make for fun and play with for hours. 😄

[reidmarieprentiss]

Picture You

Summary: Spencer is a model. You are the photographer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), briefs photoshoot, use of Y/N

Word count: 3.1k

a/n: can't get mgg model days out of my head ,, but i know that guy was sooo confident ,, needed awkward spence to shake things up

main masterlist

After discovering that Derek was scouted by a modeling agency and occasionally does photo shoots for fun, Spencer Reid becomes intrigued. While he doesn’t see himself as desperately attractive, he acknowledges that his features might be somewhat pleasing. With curiosity piqued, Spencer quickly finds an agency and books a few shoots of his own. All the money he earns from the shoots is carefully set aside to fund his ongoing education—because as Spencer knows all too well, continually going back to college can be quite expensive.

—

Spencer couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place, even as he started to get used to the whole modeling thing. He enjoyed the experience in some ways, but the part where he had to “act natural” while simultaneously posing in front of a room full of people, all staring at him and snapping pictures, still made him feel incredibly awkward. Today was no exception. As he stood in the dressing room, a team of stylists fussed over his hair, skin, and the various outfits he’d be wearing—or rather, barely wearing—during the shoot. 

He gave himself his now routine mental pep talk, trying to convince his nerves that he could do this, that it wasn’t as bad as his mind was making it out to be. But the second he finally stepped onto the set, his stomach twisted painfully. He was going to puke—he was sure of it. The reason? The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing behind the camera, ready to direct today’s shoot. Spencer couldn’t believe it. You have got to be kidding me. Someone is playing a joke on me, he thought, panic and disbelief swirling inside him. 

And of course, today’s shoot had to be for men’s loungewear—specifically the kind that consisted of the thinnest, most revealing, sometimes just straight-up skin-tight briefs. The kind that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure, but all he could think was how utterly mortified he was to be standing there, about to model these barely-there garments in front of her. In front of you.

—

Spencer could feel the nervous sweat starting to form on his brow as he watched you approach, a friendly smile lighting up your face. His heart raced, and he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to flee. Most of the photographers he’d worked with simply shouted directions from behind the camera, kept things impersonal, and told him when he could leave. But, of course, you had to be the exception.

You stopped just a few steps away from him, your presence somehow both soothing and utterly terrifying at the same time. Spencer could barely muster the courage to meet your eyes as you spoke, your voice warm and genuinely kind.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, extending a hand. “I’ll be the photographer for today’s shoot. I just wanted to check in and make sure there isn’t anything you’re uncomfortable with or not willing to do. I don’t want to push you.”

Spencer’s mind raced, trying to process the fact that you were not only acknowledging him but also concerned about his comfort. It was such a stark contrast to the usual experience that he was momentarily stunned into silence. He knew he should respond, say something, anything, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess. All he could think about was how close you were, how your eyes seemed to hold a genuine kindness that was making it hard for him to breathe.

Finally, he managed to find his voice, though it came out a bit shakier than he’d hoped. “Oh, um, hi. I’m Spencer. It’s, uh, nice to meet you too.” He mentally cringed at how awkward he sounded, but he pushed through. “I think, uh, everything’s fine. I mean, it’s a bit…different, but I’m okay with it. I guess I’m just, um, not used to this kind of thing.”

He wasn’t sure if he was making any sense, but the way you continued to smile at him, so patient and understanding, made him feel just a little bit more at ease. He could hardly believe someone so beautiful could also be so kind, especially in an industry that often felt cold and impersonal to him. Your presence was like a balm to his anxiety, even if he was still struggling to find his footing.

“You’re new to modeling? That’s great!” you said, your enthusiasm genuine and infectious. “Well, I won’t ask anything too crazy of you. Today should be pretty simple—cozy, casual stuff. But if at any point you’re uncomfortable or don’t like something, you let me know, okay? We can’t get this done if you’re not comfortable.”

Spencer nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around how reassuring you were being. “Okay, yeah, I will. Thank you,” he managed to say, his voice a little steadier this time.

Your eyes sparkled with encouragement, and it did wonders for his frayed nerves. “No problem at all, Spencer. We’re in this together, so communication is key.”

He was grateful for the way you made it seem like a partnership, not just a job he had to endure. The way you spoke to him, like he mattered in the process, was something he hadn’t expected. And as much as he was dreading the idea of standing there in those revealing briefs, the knowledge that you genuinely cared about his comfort made it seem a little less daunting. 

As the shoot began, Spencer emerged from the dressing area wearing a pair of thin joggers that clung just right to his long legs and a skin-tight long sleeve that left little to the imagination, highlighting every lean muscle in his torso. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked—how the clothes seemed almost tailor-made for him, accentuating his tall frame and, god, his perky nipples in the cold air of the room. It was a bit surprising, to say the least, but you quickly reminded yourself that this was a job, and you were a professional.

You raised the camera, focusing on the task at hand. “Alright, Spencer, let’s start with something simple,” you called out, keeping your voice as steady and encouraging as possible. “Just stand naturally, hands in your pockets, and look off to the side like you’re thinking about something pleasant.”

Spencer followed your direction, slipping his hands into his pockets and glancing to the side, his expression somewhere between thoughtful and serene. Through the lens, you could see the quiet intensity in his gaze, the way his features softened just slightly as he settled into the pose. He looked incredible—much better than he likely gave himself credit for—but you kept your thoughts to yourself, focusing on capturing the best possible shots.

“Perfect,” you said, your voice warm but still professional. “Now, how about we try you leaning against the wall, just relax into it, like you’re at home and completely comfortable.”

Spencer moved to the wall, resting his back against it and crossing his arms over his chest. His initial nervousness was still visible in the way his shoulders tensed slightly, but as the shoot progressed, you could see him slowly easing into the process. He was a natural, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

You clicked away, adjusting angles, and occasionally guiding his poses with gentle suggestions. “Maybe uncross your arms, let one hand rest by your side and the other in your hair,” you said, watching as he complied, his movements a little more fluid now. “Yes, just like that.”

Despite the lingering nerves that you could still sense in him, Spencer was doing remarkably well. He listened attentively, taking your guidance without hesitation, and the way he responded made your job easier than you’d anticipated.

But even as you maintained your professional demeanor, there was no denying the fact that Spencer was far more captivating than you had expected. The camera loved him, and with each click of the shutter, you found yourself more and more impressed by how effortlessly he seemed to embody the role, despite his initial discomfort.

Still, you kept those thoughts to yourself, maintaining the focus and professionalism that the job demanded. You were here to do a job, and that meant putting aside any personal reactions, no matter how difficult it might be. And as the shoot continued, you guided him with the same steady hand, making sure he felt as comfortable as possible in front of the lens.

As the shoot progressed, the outfits became increasingly revealing, each change pushing Spencer a little further out of his comfort zone. He tried to keep his mind focused, reminding himself that this was just another job, another step toward his goals, but the final outfit—the briefs—loomed ahead like a daunting challenge. No top, no bottoms, just the thinnest, most form-fitting briefs. It was one thing to model clothes that covered him, but this? This was a whole new level of vulnerability.

Back in the dressing room, Spencer took a deep breath as he slipped into the briefs, trying to calm the rising tide of anxiety in his chest. The fabric clung to him, leaving nothing to the imagination, and he couldn’t help but feel exposed, almost naked. Just as he was about to take another steadying breath, he heard a knock on the door.

“Spencer?” your voice called from the other side, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Yeah?” he squeaked, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

“I just wanted to let you know that I asked the crew to leave for this portion of the shoot,” you explained, your tone warm and considerate. “They got us all set up, but it will just be you and me. I know it can be weird to be so exposed in front of so many people.”

Spencer felt a rush of relief mixed with a new wave of nerves. “Oh, uh, thank you so much. That’s very thoughtful,” he managed to respond, trying to sound more composed than he felt.

“You got it! See you out there, stud,” you added with a playful lilt in your voice before stepping away.

Now Spencer was definitely panicking. Stud? Did you just call him stud? And the fact that it was going to be just the two of you in the room, with him standing there in nothing but his underwear? Great. Fantastic. Just what he needed to calm his nerves.

He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror, trying to convince himself that he could do this, that it wasn’t as bad as his mind was making it out to be. But there was no turning back now. He had to do this, and he had to do it well. With one last deep breath, he stepped out of the dressing room, feeling the cool air against his bare skin, every nerve in his body tingling with a mix of anticipation and dread. The set was quiet now, the absence of the usual bustle making the space feel almost intimate, which only heightened his awareness of the situation.

And then there you were, waiting for him with that same patient, understanding smile. It should have been comforting, but all Spencer could think about was how exposed he was, how every tiny flaw was on display. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to completely embarrass himself in front of you.

But he had to push through, had to focus on the task at hand. He walked to the designated spot, feeling your eyes on him the entire time, and tried to channel every ounce of professionalism he had. This was just another shoot, he told himself. Just another shoot. Except this time, it was just you, him, and a whole lot of skin.

The shoot was going fine—Spencer kept telling himself that over and over again, trying to stay focused. But despite his best efforts, his mind was wandering, spiraling into a chaotic mess of nerves and self-consciousness. The directions you were giving him started to blur together, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to get it right. His thoughts were a million miles away, and it was showing in his awkward, stilted movements.

But instead of getting frustrated or upset, you handled it with such grace. You understood, far more than he expected anyone would. When his poses didn’t quite hit the mark, you didn’t bark orders or show any sign of impatience. Instead, you walked over to him, your steps slow and deliberate, and gently guided him into position. Your touch was light but firm, your hands on his arms, his shoulders, adjusting his posture, tilting his chin—each movement precise and careful.

Spencer’s mind went blank. Completely, utterly blank. All the mental pep talks and reassurances he had given himself earlier evaporated in an instant, leaving only the undeniable, physical reality of the moment. He was a man, after all—a man standing there in practically nothing, with a beautiful, kind, and very real woman touching him. His body reacted in a way that was completely beyond his control, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He felt the heat rush to his face as he noticed your eyes flicker downward, your own cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. You had noticed. Of course, you had noticed.

Spencer felt a wave of mortification crash over him, his heart pounding in his chest as he desperately searched for something to say. Anything to make this moment less excruciating. “I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice thick with embarrassment. 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes, every fiber of his being screaming at him to disappear, to somehow melt into the floor and escape the mortifying situation. His body had betrayed him in the worst possible way, and now he was standing there, exposed in more ways than one, with no idea how to salvage what little dignity he had left.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you quickly composed yourself, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Um, no. no! It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, your voice filled with reassurance. You offered him a small, understanding smile, hoping to alleviate some of the embarrassment you could see written all over his face. “Happens all the time.”

Spencer looked at you, still flustered, but now with a hint of curiosity and disbelief in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe you or not.

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, your own cheeks still warm, before you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “Well… no,” you admitted, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation. “But it’s okay!”

Spencer blinked, his mortification momentarily giving way to confusion. The way you were handling the situation—so casual, so accepting—was both surprising and strangely comforting. It didn’t completely erase the awkwardness he felt, but it helped, if only a little.

“I mean, it’s a natural reaction,” you continued, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Really.” You met his gaze, your eyes full of sincerity, hoping he could see that you weren’t just saying it to make him feel better—you genuinely meant it.

Spencer’s tension eased just a fraction, the knot in his stomach loosening ever so slightly. He still felt exposed, still felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock, but your understanding made it a little easier to breathe. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice soft but grateful.

You nodded, giving him another reassuring smile as you tried to keep things as professional as possible. “We can take a break, we, uh, need you—um, soft.”

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, immediately covering his face with both hands. This couldn’t be happening. “That’s not going to happen while you’re here,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

“What? I didn’t hear that,” you said, leaning in slightly, trying to catch his words.

Spencer lowered his hands just enough to repeat himself, his cheeks burning with humiliation. “That, um, isn’t going to happen if you’re here,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked in surprise as the realization hit you. “Oh… oh!” you said, your own cheeks flushing slightly as you finally understood what he meant.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I’ll just leave. This is so unprofessional,” Spencer muttered, already starting to turn away, his mind racing with thoughts of how he’d ruined everything. How could he face you after this? He was certain this was the end of his brief modeling venture.

But before he could take another step, you called out to him, your voice soft but firm. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice laced with both embarrassment and uncertainty as he paused, half-expecting you to reprimand him.

“Is it because of me, or because I’m a woman?” you asked, your tone gentle but curious.

He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. “It’s… you,” he finally admitted, his voice small, the truth spilling out before he could stop it.

There was a brief moment of silence as you processed his words, and then, to his utter disbelief, you spoke up again. “In that case… do you want to get a coffee after this?”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he turned back to face you, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to process what you’d just said. “You—wait, what?” he stammered, hardly believing his ears.

“I mean, if it’s me, then maybe we should get to know each other a little better,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, though there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes. “I know this situation is… well, it’s awkward, but it doesn’t have to be the end of the world.”

Spencer could hardly believe what he was hearing. Here he was, in the most embarrassing situation of his life, and instead of being horrified or offended, you were… asking him out? It was the last thing he had expected, but as the initial shock wore off, he felt a glimmer of hope break through the embarrassment.

“I… I’d like that,” he finally managed to say, a tentative smile forming on his face. “I’d really like that.”

You nodded, relieved that he hadn’t completely shut down after your offer. “Great. Let’s finish this shoot, and then we can go.”

From that day forward, Spencer made a quiet decision—he would only model for shoots where you were the photographer.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

[thenightshadowqueen]

Top ten SFTH character couples

(in my biased opinion)

Okay, first of all I’m so sorry to anyone who followed me for anything other than Shoot from the Hip content; I swear I’ll put in more variety. Someday. (Also go check out Shoot from the Hip.) Second of all, I did not join Tumblr with the intention of making a bunch of lists, but they’re fun to write and people seem to enjoy them, so here goes.

10. Justin x the Beetroots MC (headcanon)

Listen, I do NOT condone the whole “if they’re bullying you, that means they like you” bullshit. That being said, years and years later, after both of them have grown as people, I think they could have a really sweet relationship, at least after they work through everything.

9. André Beetroot x Xavier (canon, somehow)

I kind of ship this in a joking way, but also kind of not? They make sense together in a really weird, fucked-up way, and I’m so here for it. (I cannot believe that they’ve canonically hooked up. Multiple times. I love AJ so much for giving us this.)

8. Andrew x Nigel (headcanon)

It’s so toxic. It’s so toxic, and I know that, and it would never be okay in real life, but some dark part of me is really fascinated by the possibilities. (I cannot emphasise enough how much I am intrigued by this in FICTION ONLY.)

7. Jack and Jackie (canon)

Complete turnaround from the last two, but these two are genuinely so sweet. I honestly don’t even have much to say about them, but I love them. So much.

6. François x Mimi (canon)

They are so toxic. They’re horrible people, and they only make each other worse. And I love it. (You know, making this list did make me worry about my mental health slightly. Just slightly.)

5. Toby x the meth wife (canon)

First of all, this is the gayest straight-presenting relationship I’ve ever seen, and I love it. (I totally headcanon them both as bi/pan/queer/etc., but that’s not the point of this post.) And honestly, they’re so supportive of each other. They’re, like, genuinely a healthy couple (in a SFTH play? Can you imagine?). They have so much love for each other, and I could talk about them all day, but I’m fairly sure no one needs that, so I’ll stop.

4. Andrews x Betruva (headcanon)

Listen, I might be a little biased because they’re new, but they kind of have everything I look for in a ship. They have millennia of history, which is always a good start. They’re ancient nemeses. They founded a church named after them both???? Honestly how much more gay can you get?

3. Esmerelda x the vampire slayer (canon)

I like to imagine that Esmeralda survived, and they fall in love, and they have to work through the trauma of the slayer (I think I saw the fanon name Samantha? But I’m not sure) trying to kill Esmeralda. There’s just so much angst potential, and oh, now I want to write a fanfic.

2. Bubba x Jeramiah (canon)

They’re a fucking classic, okay, and they’re a classic for a reason. They are the best gay cowboys, and I love them so much. I know I should have more to say, but I feel like it would just be incoherent screaming.

1. Derek x Titch (canon)

Listen, who else could it be? They are so fundamentally amazing. It’s a classic case of “he fell first, he fell harder” (even if we don’t get to see a lot of the “he fell harder” part, I believe it with all my heart). I love Titch working though his issues and learning to open up, and I love Derek being so helplessly in love with him. I love them so much, and they deserve the top spot.

[13as07]

Motherhood #1

(Kakashi Hatake)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Garajiru]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

None

[Idea inspired by Criminal Minds - Garcia and Derek; Season 8, Episode 11]

Word Count: 3,979

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

———————————————————————

My whole body aches as I walk across the grassy field of the Third Training Ground. I'll never understand why Kakashi insists on training so far away from the main parts of the village. Well... I do understand. Despite how he comes off, he is a very sentimental person.

Pain sizzles across my rib cages, a side effect from littered stitches across my skin. I'm never going to hear the end of it when Kakashi finds out.

I should wait until he's done training with his students. I know he's a personal guy and I get it, especially with our line of work, but I want to see him. The burning need for him has been clawing at my heart for the past week. That burning only grew once the stab wounds registered in my head, and somehow became even heavier as needles were being threaded through me to close my wounds. He's going to be pissy or at least off his game when I find him, but that's okay. I know he'll smooth himself out.

As if the universe wants to apologize, a mix of 'why's', groans, and 'Sensei!'s fill the meadow. I can feel a smile perk up at the sounds.

I've heard a lot about my husband's little genins; Sasuke the Uchiha boy who shows great potential if he could get over his attitude, Naruto the chakra-packed spaz-ball who dreams of being Hokage, and Sakara the kunoichi with impressive chakra control who's just a little too distracted by Sasuke.

My smile only grows as the big blob of my husband and his three little blobs fall into my sight. The yellow and orange blob - I think that one is Naruto - is bobbing up and down. What a cute little jumping bean; well jumping blob.

Despite the burning across my sides, I hurry up my pace to get to Kakashi faster.

Once I can make out the details of my dotting husband, the burning in my heart starts cooling off. God, I miss him so much when we're apart. The seemingly unreachable retirement in our future sounds so good right now.

"Calm down, guys. It's just a progress exercise," Kashi's voice rings out, paired with the soft clinking of the bells wrapped around his belt loop. Before I left he mentioned redoing the bell test with his genins to check how they've improved. I guess today is the day.

"Oh, come on Kakashi-Sensei! Do you have to? We all know I'm already the best, do you really have to double-check it?" Blondie whines as he messes with his headband. That is definitely the spaz-ball.

"Being less sucky than Sakura doesn't make you the best," the raven-haired boy mumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Naruto.

Sasuke's eyes catch me for a second before he glances at his Sensei for guidance. Said Sensei hasn't caught wind of me yet, curtsy of his back being turned towards me with his students facing the both of us.

Sakura's face sinks at her crush's words before a closed-eyes smile crosses her face. "I think it'll be fun to do the bell exercise again, Sensei!" When her eyes snap open, they catch on me too, just like the Uchiha did a second ago. Unlike the boy though, her face scrunches up as she stays focused on me. "Sensei-"

I jump forward, arms wrapping around my husband. I immediately regret it when my stitches come into rough contact with Kakashi's vest. A pain-filled whine slips out as I bury my head between his shoulder blades. "That hurt," I whine again, softly digging my fingertips into his stomach.

"Then maybe don't do that," Kash teases, his smile slipping through his words.

My head lifts before falling back down, softly headbutting his back. "Don't be mean."

A soft chuckle fills the air, spilling out from my husband. The sound fills me with warm, the good love-filled kind instead of the longing kind of heat. "My little crybaby," he mumbles, shifting in my hold so my head is against his chest instead of his back. "Why are you being such a crybaby?"

"I'm not being a crybaby," I bite back but it comes out as a pout instead of the strong 'don't fuck with me' attitude I was trying to have.

"Aww, now you're being pouty," he continues to tease as his hands slide under my shirt.

Despite his teasing tone, everything else about Kakashi is serious. His hands are soft and nimble as he rubs them over my skin, checking for new wounds from my mission. His eye repeatedly scanning me, looking for obvious wounds and any sign of real distress.

"I might have had a not-so-perfect mission," I mumble, glancing behind him at his students. They're all looking at each other in confusion, hushed whispers - and Naruto's failing attempt at being quiet - being passed between them.

     "What does that mean?" Kashi asks, his fingers light as he comes into contact with my wrappings.

     It's taken some practice, but I can see the small cracks in his calm composure. His eyebrows are ever so slightly pushed forward, jaw locked almost unnoticeably under his mask, eye slightly wider than normal, and a drop of worry hidden in his words. From an outsider, he'd look as calm as ever, but not to me. I can see the storm brewing under it.

     "I was stabbed a couple of times but it's not that big of the deal. No casualties and my squad came out less harmed than me, so over all a good mission."

     Another slip of composer; his fingers stiffing a bit as he dips them under the bandages. "I can't believe you were stabbed," he whispers, face inching closer to me so I can pick up on the soft volume.

     I feel bad about not being able to wait to see him. I know it's difficult for him to keep his composure when I'm hurt, and even more difficult when we're around people because he's worried his composure will slip.

     "I got stabbed in my vest," I mumble back, wrapping my hands slightly around his arms before I stand up a bit straighter. I use the extra height to nuzzle myself against his cheek. "It's just a couple of stitches, I'm okay."

     "Why don't they make better vests?" Kash mumbles to himself more than me, his focus on his hands as if he could see them through my shirt.

     His breath has picked up too, fingers not so light as they cling to my wrappings. My poor anxiety-filled husband is getting into his head way too much. "They're not stabproof. It's like when your watch gets wet and stops working. That's water resistant not waterproof. They need to make our vests knife-proof. They should-"

     "I... am... fine..." I breathe out, following each word with a kiss. First to his reviled eye, then to his cheek at the edge of his mask, and lastly, a light one against his masked lips.

     "I know but-"

     My hands dip further down his arms, tugging my shirt up gently so the edge of my bandages is exposed. "See? I'm fine?" I tease a bit, dipping my head behind his ear before pressing another soft kiss into him.

     When I fall back into place, Kakashi's eye is dancing over the edge of my wrap, fingers lightly dancing over my skin again. A barely visible pink pokes out from his mask. My partner might be a very composed man, but he's still a man. One that falls victim to the shaping of my waist, especially when it's empathized by a skirt or crop top; or bandages in this case.

     "It's just a couple of stitches," I repeat before dropping my hands back to my sides, my shirt following pursuit.

     "How... how, um..." Kakashi's flustered state is adorable, the pink getting deeper and his eye still locked in please even though his favorite sight is gone. "How long do you need to be taped up like this?"

     "I don't know. A couple of days maybe," I answer, letting my own eyes wander over him. I'm as pleased to look over Kashi's body as he is to look over mine; though his v-line is my favorite part.  A soft hum comes from him, his body going back to his actual calmness instead of his fake composure. "You relaxed now?" I tease, pulling away from his touch.

     "Ya, I'm relaxed now," he husks out, stepping forward in a slow attempt to chase me.

     "Sensei!" All three of his students call, pulling my husband back down to Earth.

     I think he missed me as much as I missed him. The thought makes me happy, tugging another small smirk to my face.

     "Students!" He calls, eye going wide as he looks at me. Perhaps Kakashi doesn't want me around his students because I'm too much of a distraction. Oh well, one day of distraction won't hurt. "Students," he repeats, turning away from me to face the children he's responsible for.

     "Sensei, who's the cute lady?" Naruto asks, his eyes wide as well as he looks over me.

     "Um..."

     "You can call me Mrs. Hatake!" I chirp out, sidestepping Kashi so his students can see me better.

     "She's not even that good-looking," the little emo boy says, rolling his eyes at Naruto's compliment.

     "And you're not as badass as you think you are," I respond, tone still chirpy as I smile at the Uchiha.

     "Maybe let's not insult Sensei's girlfriend," Sakura pipes in, sending a glare at her heartthrob.

     "Wife," Kakashi corrects, a small smile on his face. My heart jumps a bit at the word. I don't think I'll ever get used to him calling me his wife.

     "Wife?!" They all call out, surprise on their face as they look at me.

     "Wife," Kashi repeats, tugging his glove off his left hand before grabbing at mine. He holds up our hands, showing off our matching wedding bands to his students.

     The bands are basic but cute; black with blue lightening strips through them. Gai teases that Kakashi had them made this way to mimic his Chidori as a fail-proof claim to me. I don't mind the teasing, I find it adorable that Kashi wants people to know for certain that he's my husband. What better way to do that than marking me with his personal ninjutsu?

     "You... are married to someone like that?" His kunoichi asks, face scrunched up in disbelief.

     "Is that supposed to be an insult, Sakura?" Kash asks, his face still covered in a smile as he wiggles his glove back on.

     "No, you're just so..." she makes another face, causing a laugh to brew in my chest. "And she's so pretty."

     "You're pretty too, Sakura. I like the color of your hair," I answer, sending the kid a compliment back. Her face shifts to a smile instead of the previous face of disbelief. Good, I'm making a good impression on my husband's students.

     "You know Sakura's name?!" Naruto asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

     I hum a yes, turning my attention to him. "I know your name too, Naruto, and I know Mr Moody over there is Sasuke."

     Naruto - somehow - beams even more with happiness, and Sasuke's face scrunches in disapproval. "How do you know our names?" The ball of chakra asks, his in-place bouncing shifting to actual bouncing.

     "Because she's a jounin, duh. Do you ever use your head Naruto?" Mr Moody asks, paired with another eye roll.

     "Actually, I'm just a chunin. I'm not as skilled as your Sensei," I correct, sending Naruto a soft smile of reassurance.

     "Like a C-level chunin or a B-level chunin?" Sasuke asks, his attention finally caught.

     "Usually B-leveled but I do take C-level missions on occasion."

     "You just got back from a mission, ya?" He asks, body language opening up some. I'm three for three in the student department. That is a solid win.

     "Yes, I did. Maybe we can talk about it over some food, hm?" I gently push, sending Kakashi a sheepish smile. I know he's going to give me what I want; he always does, but I should have asked him privately before bringing it up to his students.

     On the other hand, Kakashi is out of his groove so I'm sure his students are out of a training mindset as well. Some food would help set them back on track, maybe. Probably not, but I want to get to know his students a little more. After all, they're a big part of his life, which makes them a big part of my life.

"Really?! Can we, Sensei? Can we? Can we? Can we?" Naruto cheers, running circles around Kash as he pleads.

"Alright, alright!" He calls, stopping Naruto in his tracks. "We can take a small break and go eat at Ramen Ichiraku, but as soon as we're done eating we are doing the bell test. Y/N can't wiggle you guys out of that," Kashi answers, sending me a warning look, telling me to not even try to stop their testing again after we eat.

"Yes!" Naruto cheers, darting in the direction of the village's main road.

Sasuke rolls his eyes again but follows after his squad mate, his pace notably slower than Naruto's. Sakura follows suit, trying her best to get Sasuke to promise to sit next to her. He is having none of it though, at least not until Naruto offers to sit next to her. Then he seems a little more interested in the offer. The little Uchiha boy takes after his Sensei more than he knows.

—————————————

"That sounds so cool," Naruto yells around a mouth full of noodles. I'll have to send Iruka a passing comment about his kid's lack of table manners. Despite that, Naruto is still adorable and the cutest little fuzz-ball I've ever met.

"Didn't feel cool when I was getting stitched up," I reply a small chuckle following my words.

"If you can take the cut, you can take the stitch," Kakashi teases despite the tighter grip he has on my hand under the table. Mr. Play-It-Cool isn't as laid back as he's pretending.

     "What about you guys? You just got back from the Village hidden in the Mist, ya?" I push gently, trying to change the subject. I can almost hear the 'thank you' brewing in my husband's throat, even if he'd never voice it. The relaxed fingers tangled in mine are enough of an approval. "That must have been fun."

     "It was alright," Sasuke mumbles, chopsticks messing with his noodles. Little Moody isn't as good at playing off his emotions as his Sensei.

     "You got your second tomoe, right?" I try again, turning my focus to Sasuke. He's a closed-off one, just like Kakashi... and his brother.

     The Uchahi's eyes go a bit wide before his full attention is on me. "Um... ya, I guess."

     "You guess? I feel like that's something you would know."

     "I did, ya," he mumbles before turning his attention back to his bowl.

     "Well, that's quite the accomplishment. Your father would be proud."

     I should not have said that. Sasuke's grip on his chopsticks tightens, head snaps back up, glare directed at me, as he pushes himself to his feet. The stool he was standing on clinks to the ground, making Sakura jump. It would be a cute scene if the Uchahi didn't have murder in his eyes.

"And what do you know about my father? Nothing. Just like you know nothing about me, so stop trying to be a mother hen. I don't need you to be one, neither does Naruto or Sakura, so knock it off. And while you're at it stop pretending you know anything about the sharingan too, cause you don't."

     A soft smile sits on my face as I look over Sasuke. He reminds me so much of Kakashi, right down to the similar anger they have. The only difference is I managed to get Kashi to process his anger for the death of his loved ones.

     "Are you done?" I ask gently, ignoring the feeling of Kakashi repeatedly squeezing my hand under the table. That, and the stare he's burning into me.

     "Yes," the Uchiha hisses out, eyes squinting in anger.

     "Well, first, information on anything - sharingan included - is available at the library. Second, your Sensei has a sharingan so I know a good deal about it. Third, there's a difference between me wanting to get to know you and me wanting to mother you. Fourth, I did meet your father quite a few times before his death so I can say for certain that you were one of his pride and joys."

     "Oh," is the only answer I get back, but I don't mind since it seems my speech worked. Sasuke is still a bit on edge but his body language relaxes a bit before he picks his stool back up. I'll count that as a win. What a little spitfire.

The feeling of Kakashi's hold on my hand tightens again, pulling me out of the situation. I turn my attention to him, being met with a soft masked smile. Flowers of love blossom in my chest at the sight. God I love this man, and our little make-shift family. Maybe Sasuke is right, maybe I am accidentally trying to mother my husband's students.

—————————————

"Hatake!" A voice rings out, pulling my attention away from Gai. I've spent the day helping him train his students, aka being an example dummy for new taijutsus he wants to show his genins. It's not all bad, he promised me dinner to "ease my bruises".

"Yes?" I call back, glancing at Gai and his students before turning towards the noise.

Gai's mini-me - Lee - is beaming with joy as he races past me. "If it isn't my greatest competitor for Sakura's heart!" He yells, falling back into his defensive pose. I swear this new generation of Shinobis is just packed full of energy.

     Sasuke makes a face at Lee before turning his attention to me. "Sensei wants you," he murmurs before turning in his heels.

I shoot Gai an apologetic smile before heading off after the Uchahi. It's funny watching him trying to stay a step or two ahead of me. Given, that it doesn't last long, him falling back to a normal pace.

Most of the walk is uneventful, nothing more than silence and eye daggers being thrown at me. "I don't like you," Sasuke finally says once we get to the outer fields of the village.

"Well, I don't like you either," I shoot back, trying to keep the smile off my mouth.

Once again Sasuke makes a face, this time in surprise instead of disgust like earlier. "You can't say that to me."

"And yet, I did," I answer, letting the smirk settle on my face.

"You have an attitude problem."

"I'm copying you, so maybe you have an attitude problem."

Another face, this time leaving him as the spitting image of his mother. It's always surprised me how much Sasuke looks like his mom. Will Kashi and my child look that much like me? Or take after their father? I hope they at least get their father's Shinobi skills. Though, children can't be something I think of right now. Kakashi has his hands full as is.

     Once again silence falls between the genin and I, but this time it's a comfortable silence instead of the anger brewing one from before. As we walk, Sasuke occasionally bumps into me, his nose scrunching up each time followed by a couple of side steps away from me. Despite his efforts, the little Uchahi keeps hovering back to my side and continues to bump into me. It's good to know under all the brewing, Sasuke is still a child.

     "Look!" Naruto's voice echoes across the empty field, his blob coming into view again. "Lady Hatake!" He screams, dragging out my Clan name as he races across the field, Sakura in tow but she's screaming for Sasuke instead of me.

     "Naruto!" I call back, bracing myself for impact. Despite my preparation, I still end up taking a step or two back when Naruto's body collides with mine. His limbs stab into me in a few different places, bones colliding against my own along with my stitches. I suck in the hiss of pain trying to slide out as I hold on to the small boy.

     "Naruto," Sasuke hisses out, dagger eyes back on his face. "Be careful. Hatake is still hurt, dumbie." An eye roll is paired with the end of his sentence, along with a disappointed tongue click.

     "Oh, right. Sorry Lady Hatake."

     "It's all right," I hum, straightening the boy before letting him go. "What are you guys working on?"

     "Chakra control! Which I'm doing awesome at, by the way," Sakura answers, a proud smile across her face. I can't help but smile too at how proud she is of herself. My husband does have some good genins.

     "Hello," Kakashi's voice rings out, pulling my attention away from his students, but not for long.

     "Nah-uh! You get her all to yourself all the time Sensei, wait your turn!" Naruto barks, a sorry attempt at a glare on his face. "Guess what Lady Hatake!"

     "What?" I ask, glancing down at the chakra ball before looking back at my husband. He's beaming - well beaming as much as he lets himself outside of the safety of our house.

     "I tried a new ramen last night!"

     "Oh ya?" My empty question is followed by a twenty-minute conversation about some spicy ramen Naruto tried. It's also filled with Sakura reminding him that he's stupid and Sasuke's disapproval being openly shared.

     "Okay, that's enough about your dinner, Naruto," Kashi pipes up, cutting Naruto off. "You can have her back in a minute. Go... see who can hang upside longest." He mumbles, shrugging towards the tree a couple of feet away.

     "It's totally going to be me," Naruto cheers, running off towards the tree.

     "No way I'm going to let you beat me!" Sasuke yells, dashing after his squad mate, Sakura hot on his heels.

     The thought of children crawls back into my head. I already adore Kash's students, I can only imagine how much I'd adore our children.

     "Hey, Kash-"

     "Love-"

     Silence follows our accidental overlap, before being chased away by both of us chuckling. "What were you going to say?" I ask, soaking in my husband's appearance. No matter how many times or how long I look at him, Kakashi is always the most handsome man in the world.

"I think we should go to dinner tonight," he answers, glancing at his students. As ordered, all three are hanging upside down like bats. Though, Sakura looks tired so the competition will probably end up being between the boys.

"Why's that?" I ask my attention also on the genins. My chest bubbles with joy as I watch the boys try to tug each other off the branches.

"I want to talk about having a baby."

"What?" The word is torn from my lungs as my head flips back to Kakashi.

He's stood there, arms crossed and a faint smile under his mask. "I want to have a baby." He repeats, my head spinning a bit. Maybe he's more prepared for a child than I thought.

"Kash-" I start again, but end up getting cut off for the second time today.

"Naruto is cheating!" Sakura yells, waving her hands around to try and get Kakashi's attention.

     "I'll see you tonight. Naruto! Knock it off!" My eyes trail after him as I watch his path toward his students. The idea of motherhood seemed so lovely a second ago, but now? It's terrifying.

———————————————————————

[sequinsmile-x]

Benediction

A half-asleep Jack calls Emily 'Mom', and it leads to a long overdue conversation between her and Aaron.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is for the lovely @astridncs who asked for a fic where Jack calls Emily 'mom' and she and Aaron talk about it afterwards.

I really hope you enjoy this <3

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans as she shifts on the couch, her hand pressed against her bump as she tries to get comfortable, an annoyed hiss escaping her as she fails to do so. 

“You okay over there, Bella?”

She narrows her eyes at Dave as she tries to move again. She feels a familiar pair of hands on her back and looks up at Aaron, flashing him a grateful smile as he adjusts the cushion behind her, ensuring it supports the part of her back he knows hurts the most. 

Before she got pregnant, back when the idea of having a baby with the love of her life felt like nothing more than treacherous hope, she knew he’d be overprotective. That he’d use his knowledge of her to anticipate what she needed often before she even knew. She’d always assumed that it would annoy her, that the slightly over the top care would feel like coddling, but she’d found herself loving it. She’d even seek it out, happy for the first time in her life to let someone look after her - sinking into the safety and comfort that her husband gave her at every turn.

She’d joked to JJ recently that she was sure it was the baby. That the little girl growing in her belly already knew she had her father wrapped around her tiny little finger and was somehow influencing Emily to enjoy it too. 

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling tightly at the team scattered around Dave’s living room, “I’m the size of a house and might never be comfortable again,” she complains, her lips twitching in a smile when she sees varying degrees of amusement cross her friends faces, “But I’m fine.”

“Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” Aaron asks and she looks up at him, shaking her head as he kisses her hairline.

“It’s okay,” she replies, her smile getting wider when she hears Jack and Henry playing in the next room, their laughter warming her from the inside out, “It’s not like our couch is any better for my back,” she smiles as Jack’s laugh gets louder, “Besides, the boys are having fun.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure,” she smiles and nods, cupping his cheek as she drags him into a kiss, making a point of kissing him again when she hears Dave and Derek playfully groan. She rolls her eyes as she pulls back and rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder, “I am allowed to kiss him you know, he is my husband,” her lips curl into a smile and Aaron knows exactly what she’s going to say before she says it, shaking his head lovingly at her before she even starts to speak, “In fact we do more than kissing,” she says, pressing her hand on her bump, “How do you think-”

“That’s enough, Em,” Derek says playfully, cutting over her, shaking his head, “There are kids around.” 

She rolls her eyes again, “Jack and Henry are next door they can’t hear us.”

“I was talking about Reid,” he deadpans, making them all laugh as Spencer scoffs, shaking his head as he mutters that he knew what sex was. 

The evening passes by quickly as it often did, and it was moments like this she’d reflect on how different her life looked these days. Just a few years ago she couldn’t imagine still being here, the idea of feeling safe and happy again in the place she’d called home before Ian had torn through her life almost laughable. But then Aaron happened. Sweet, kind, right in front of her this whole time Aaron. He’d helped her help herself. He’d encouraged and pushed her when she needed it and left her alone when she needed that too, slowly but surely ensuring she found the happy, achingly ordinary, ending she would have once thought was beyond her. 

She smiles at the feeling of her baby shifting in her stomach and she rubs a soothing circle over her shirt. Aaron squeezes her shoulder and she looks up at him, the soft smile on his face his way of checking in with her and she knows all she’d have to do is nod and he’d take her home no questions asked. 

She’s about to do just that, the aching in her back and the exhaustion that came with being 7 months pregnant getting to her, when she’s interrupted by a small hand on her knee.

“Aunt Emily?” Henry says, his smile wide as she looks at him. 

“Yes, honey,” she replies, reaching out and running her fingers through his hair, “Is everything okay?” 

“Jack fell asleep.”

Emily feels Aaron’s chuckle more than she hears it, the vibration of it passing from his chest to hers as he kisses the side of her head before he stands up.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says and he winks at Henry, “Thanks, Henry.” 

“You’re welcome, Uncle Hotch.” 

Aaron sighs as Dave and Derek both chuckle, their mission to make the young boy call him Uncle Hotch successful despite his attempts to assure the young boy he could call him Aaron. Henry runs towards an equally amused JJ and Will and settles in between his parents, and he knows it won’t be long until he is asleep too. 

“You’re going to have to help me up, honey,” Emily grumbles, taking the hand he already has offered out to her, “I don’t think I’m too far off needing an industrial hoist.” 

He stamps a kiss on her cheek, “You’re beautiful,” he says as he squeezes her hand. He looks at the rest of the team and waves, “See you all Monday. Unless we get a case.” 

“I’ll make sure we don’t,” Penelope says, sipping her wine as she winks and Aaron raises his eyebrow at her, choosing not to comment as they all exchange goodbyes and he and Emily walk the short distance to the room Jack had fallen asleep in. 

They both smile at the sight of him curled up on the couch, toys that Dave had specifically bought for when he and Henry came over scattered around the room. Emily walks over and sits on the arm of the couch and runs her fingers through his hair.

“Jack? Honey, it’s time to go home,” she says quietly as he groans, burrowing his face briefly into the cushion beneath his head before he opens his eyes and looks up at her. “Can you carry me, Mommy?” He mutters, his words slurring in a way that lets her know he’s not entirely awake, but it makes her freeze, her breath catching in her chest as her cheeks immediately feel red hot. 

She could count on one hand the number of times he’d called her mom or some variety of it. It was rare, usually only slipping past his lips when he was sleepy like tonight or sick. Mama whimpered against her neck as she tried to help him through a fever. 

Initially, she’d struggled with her place in Jack’s life. She loved him, she had done since long before she and Aaron got together - her love and affection for the little boy easier to name than it had been for his father at first. Sometimes she worried that she loved Jack too much, that she was edging into taking a place in his life that hadn’t been made for her, a gap left behind by his mother that could never be filled. As her relationship with Aaron, and Jack by association, grew her worries did too. Blooming and taking up space in her chest as her love for the little boy she loved as her own would make her ache. 

Now that she was only a couple of months away from having the baby, she was thinking about it more than ever. She never wanted Jack to feel like she loved the little girl currently doing somersaults in her belly more than she loved him. She knew that was impossible, that she couldn’t love Jack anymore if she’d carried him herself, but she knew they had to talk to him about it again in more detail now their family was so close to growing. 

Aaron reacts first. He walks across the room and squeezes her shoulder first, his expression soft and reassuring as she looks up at him, a flash in his eyes that tells her later. And he picks Jack up, lifting him into his arms like he weighs nothing.

“She can’t buddy because of the baby,” he says as Jack wraps his arms around his neck, “But I’ll carry you to the car.” 

Jack hums, seemingly satisfied with that and he rests his head on his father’s shoulder, “Ice cream when we get home?” 

The question makes them both laugh, snapping Emily out of whatever remained of the trance she’d fallen into, and she stands before she reaches over and moves his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead. 

“Of course,” she replies, even though they all know he’ll be asleep again before they pull out of Dave’s driveway. She smiles at her husband and blows out a steady breath, “Let’s go home.”

___

Aaron pulls Jack’s bedroom door shut behind him, taking care to do it as slowly and as quietly as possible so his son stays asleep. He smiles as he hears his wife moving around downstairs, the familiar sound of the pantry door opening, the squeak he could never quite fix, echoing up towards him. 

He’d seen the look on her face when Jack called her ‘mommy.’ It was the same fleeting expression she’d had every time it happened, joy immediately chased away by guilt. A reddening of her cheeks that inevitably came when she didn’t know how to feel, as if she was embarrassed that she couldn’t name the emotion.  

They’d talked about it before. She’d always been so careful to not overstep, especially at first, but it made him ache that she still worried about it. That there was any part of her that doubted her place in Jack’s life. 

He smiles as he steps into the kitchen and he gives himself a moment to watch her, his smile getting wider as she pours candy into a bowl, a delighted look on her face as she sneaks a piece to eat immediately. 

“I could have made you a snack if you wanted me to, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when she looks up at him like she’d been caught out, “I would have even left out the fruit I usually force on you.” 

She hums as she places the bowl down on the counter, “My hero.” 

He walks over and kisses her, his hand automatically drawn to her back, rubbing circles where he knew she felt the most pain, her groan of satisfaction against his lips confirming he’d found the right spot. 

“Go sit down sweetheart,” he says, stamping his lips against hers again, “I’ll make you a hot chocolate and bring it and your snack to you.” 

She kisses him, taking a moment to nip his lower lip before she pulls back, “You are very close to earning yourself a date with me and my mountain of pillows on our bed.”

He chuckles as he tucks some hair behind her ear, “We’ll see how you feel later.” 

He watches as she walks towards the living room, her hand on her bump as she goes, whispering a conversation to the baby in French. Something just for the two of them that he knows will continue once their daughter is born. The thought of it makes him giddy, happiness sparking in his gut as he thinks of his wife and their little girl, who he’s sure will be a mini version of her, talking to each other in French with matching smiles on their faces as he and Jack didn’t understand a word they were saying. 

By the time he’s walking into the living room, hot chocolate and snack in hand, she’s turned on the TV. The sound is low, something she still did on instinct from when they lived in his old apartment together so she didn’t wake Jack up down the hall. It was unnecessary now that Jack’s room was upstairs, but she still did it anyway. One of the many subtle, but important, ways she loved his son. 

“Here you go.” 

She smiles as she takes the mug from him, the warmth of it between her palms making her sigh contentedly, “Thanks, honey.” 

“Anytime, you know that,” he assures her as he sits down next to her, watching her carefully as she sips her drink and moans in delight. She narrows her eyes as their eyes meet and she notices him staring.

“What?”

For a moment, he considers not saying anything, letting the moment at Dave’s pass them by. He decides to say something, not wanting her to spend any more time doubting her place in his son's life. 

In their son’s life.

“It doesn’t bother me, you know.” 

She frowns, her eyebrows knitting together, “What do you mean?” 

“When Jack calls you Mom,” he says carefully, not missing how her grip on her mug tightens as her eyes go slightly wide. 

Her breath catches in her chest and she licks her lower lip as she tries to figure out how to respond, her lungs stuffed full of all the anxiety she’d felt earlier, “Aaron…I…”

“I know you worry about it,” he says, taking the mug from her hands and placing it down before he links his fingers through hers, “But you shouldn’t,” he smiles as he lifts their joint hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, “You are his mom. Haley is too,” he kisses her knuckles again as tears start to shine in her eyes, her lips pressing together in an attempt to stop them from shaking, “And that will be true whether he calls you Emily or starts to call you Mom more often,” he reaches out and wipes a tear from her cheek, smiling when she leans into his palm, “I think it’s important that you know that. You are his Mom.” 

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she leans forward, his repeated declaration, something she hadn’t even known she’d needed to hear, still hanging in the air around them. She sinks into his embrace and wraps her arms around him, taking a second to breathe him in. 

“I love him so much,” she says, sniffing as she pulls back.

“I know you do, Em. He does too.” 

She laughs through her tears and shakes her head at herself, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says, wiping more tears from her cheeks, “I can’t stop crying.” 

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he says, kissing her cheek and then her forehead, “You’re pregnant with our little girl,” he smiles as he pulls back, “And you’re the best mom our kids could ask for.” 

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to suppress her smile, love for him, for the family they were building, threatening to overwhelm her. She cups his cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away.

“Oh, you are so getting lucky tonight,” she says, kissing him again, the action lost to their wide smiles. 

He pulls back just enough to wink at her, “I am always lucky when I’m with you.” 

-x-

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[cumulo-stratus]

hii!! luv ur layout sm! also I have a little request >_< !

do you think you could do a Spencer x Male!Reader fic where Reader is having a rough week, just super overwhelmed and eventually he just has a meltdown over something small that everyone can tell that he isn't crying over that. and then Spencer feels horrible for not having noticed his boyfriend struggling and he immediately goes and comforts him and takes him home to relax. at home he just helps Reader calm down finally, making sure he okay and apologizing for not noticing the little signs earlier. maybe just have him holding Reader and kissing him (like all over his face and hands) until he falls asleep?

the melting down over nth efinitely hasnt happened to me btw 🤗.. but if it had i wouldve loved to be comforted like that + by Spencer

Mellifluous

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!reader

Summary: Mellifluous; Sweet-sounding; pleasing to the ear. Spencer's voice is Mellifluous

Warnings: descriptions of being overwhelmed/having a meltdown , reader yells at Spencer, use of y/n, not proof-read, boys kissing 🤩

A/N: thank you so much for the request lovie!! I had so much fun writing this especially since i have t written as much lately! mwah 🫶

wc: 1.2k

It was all wrong. 

Emily wouldn't stop clicking her pen, somehow Rossi was managing to breathe loud enough you could hear, and Derek wouldn't stop trying to chat up some trainee. Although to most people these seemed like regular, not at all bothersome noises, and most of the time they were- today it was going to drive you mad. So there you sat in your office chair, paralyzed, but somehow incredibly fidgety at the same time. And no one seemed to notice, mostly because they were wrapped up in their own excited conversations about the upcoming weekend. 

“Hey y/n would you mind double checking this consultation I'm doing?” Spencer's tone was perfectly friendly, as well as his general demeanor. Although in his hurriedness to finish his work for the day—he had planned a surprise date for you—he hadn’t noticed your unusual state. Usually the master profiler/boyfriend would have noticed these things, but it was for a good reason. 

“Oh my god Spencer- can you just shut up for once?!?!” you raised your voice at spencer and tears stung your cheeks when you were done speaking. Spencer was immediately taken aback at your tone, you never raised your voice at spencer, ever. For the split second after you spoke, everyone, including yourself, was stunned silent and still. You took the opportunity to dash out the doors of the BAU and down the stairs, still rubbing tears off your cheeks. 

Back in the bullpen, everyone was still silent until Spencer broke it by saying “ something’s wrong, tell hotch i'm going to check on him-” Spencer didn't seem angry, more like concerned, it was his boyfriend after all. Spencer did give anyone the chance to respond before he had grabbed your things and his, knowing he probably wouldn’t be back to the office. He could finish his paper work tomorrow, Spencer thought to himself as he rushed down the many stairs down to the first floor of Quintico. His only focus in that moment was you, and making sure you were alright.

When he arrived in the large parking garage under Quantico he found what he was expecting, you and your car gone. Since you had carpooled in together Spencer was left to walk the 15 minutes back to your shared apartment. 

The walk back was brisk, in all senses of the word. Spencer was eager to his boyfriend, make sure he was okay. His fingers twitched as gripped the strap of his leather bag tighter. 

The lights were off in your apartment when Spencer arrived, and in that moment Spencer was eternally grateful for the apartment key you had given him for emergencies.

“Y/n?”

Spencer's voice echoed solemnly into the quiet of the dark apartment. Even though it was only five pm, practically all the light had disappeared under the horizon. 

No response came, Spencer wasn't expecting one. His calling of your name was more of an announcement of his arrival than an actual calling for you. 

Spencer finally crept his way towards the living room and away from the entrance area, after dropping his messenger and shoes, knowing you didn't like shoes in your house, and you were often particular about these things. 

The floorboards of the god knows how old apartment building creaked underneath his brightly socked feet as he approached the couch. Spencer knew he was going in the right direction when he heard small sniffles and stifled sobs coming from the couch.

Spencer's heart breaks right there at the sound of his boyfriend's cries. “Sweety?” Spencer speaks with a softness to tone as if he was speaking to a spooked animal. 

As Spencer rounded the couch you came into view, you were sitting criss cross, your head bowed trying to calm your breathing. Your hands sat pressed against your ears, trying to block out the ringing. Spencer knew it was irrational, you couldn't stop the ringing with your hands- but you couldn’t think that far right now. It was one step at a time. 

Spencer could see your whole body tilting back and forth slightly in a self soothing motion. “Can I hold your hand?” Spencer was always careful to ask permission, especially as someone who found physical touch to be unnerving himself sometimes too. 

you nodded, and Spencer carefully pulled your palms away from your ears and into his hands. His skin was soft, but cold. You found it grounding. He started placing soft, feather light kisses all over your knuckles and fingers. 

Even simply Spencer's presence had a calming effect, it often did. Although a few stray tears sometimes fell, or the occasional hiccup erupted, you felt a good bit better, and the grounding of his cold fingers in your burnings ones allowed you to focus on something, bring yourself back to the present and away from the sound of emily clicking her pen incessantly. 

Spencer started trailing said featherlight kisses up your arms, scattering them here and there until he reached your shoulders. It isn't in any way sexually charged, like one would expect- it was an act of intimacy in the most comforting of ways. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed when spencer placed a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“wanna talk about it?” Spencer always had an ability to read you, he had already figured out what was most likely the cause of your burst of anger. But talking always helped, Spencer always helped.

Something about his voice, his touch, his everything, had a calming effect on you. “No, I just want you” you said, voice barely above a whisper. But in the silence of the apartment it felt like a shout. 

Spencer smiled softly at your request, nodding. He then rose from his kneeling position on the soft carpet, sitting on the couch next to you and pulling you into his arms. Spencer places little kisses on your face and lips ever so softly, kissing away the last of the stray tears. 

you sat there in comfortable silence, Spencer's fingers gently carding through your hair, and your fingers idly fidgeting with the promise ring you gave him. Spencer still pressed the occasional gentle kiss to your forehead, still not saying anything. 

The silence was comfortable for a while, until you felt Spencer start to shift slightly under you, preparing to get up off the couch. Spencer thought you couldn't tell, but in the tail ends of the breakdown still lingering in your mind, your senses were still hyper alert.

“Don’t go. I don't wanna be alone tonight..” your voice trailed off in embarrassment, not used to feeling unusually vulnerable like this. But Spencer was quick to reassure you, “don't worry honey, i'm just gonna bring you to bed. You're practically falling asleep right here,"Spencer chuckled toward the end of his sentence, causing you to let out a breath that could constitute a laugh as well. 

you sighed, looking ruefully at where you'd previously nested yourself into Spencer's arms. When you arrive at the end of your trip to your bedroom, Spencer carefully releases you onto the bed. He almost immediately climbed in next to you, beginning to softly card through your hair with his slender fingers again. 

“ i love you..”

spencer spoke into the darkness of the quiet apartment, hoping for your answer. But the only response spencer was given was the sound of soft snores falling from your lips as you unconsciously curled yourself farther into spencers embrace, leaving spencer to let the rythmic sound of your breaths, lulling him to sleep as well.

The End

[theshypinkflower]

IM ALIVE RETAIL BIT MY ASS SOBS anyway.... what if.... tpof cast with pets.... my bbg derek would probably have nontraditional pets lol but i also could see him with a smug bastard man cat

- 💫

🧨Derek:

-honestly it could be a lot of things cause, duh, he’s rich

-I imagine he’s gone through a lot of pets. Traditional and non traditional. Sal actually really loves dogs, so needless to say Derek has had his fair share of poodles and Doberman.

-Buuuuuuut there’s also been times where they’ve had animals that definitely shouldn’t be pets. Like a baby panther! I feel Derek really liked the baby panther but they had to get rid of it cause it was starting to get out of its cutesy phase (also they can’t really take care of a wild animal…)

-Derek’s gothic sister somehow got a raccoon in the house and kept for three days until Sal found out and made her out it back outside

-They probably have an aquarium but there’s just no connection with the fishies in said aquarium. They don’t have names. They get fed and get their tank cleaned and that’s about it.

-Pets are less companion and more novelty or accessory to Derek.

-Sal’s dogs always purebred. He enters them in competitions and they know how to do lots of tricks.

🍩Celia:

-MAJOR cat lady vibes. A girl as sleek and elegant as her deserves a pet that gives off the same vibe! She wants one of those fluffy white cats that look cute with little bows or a little ginger short hair.

-Harold of course HAS to have a pet allergy so…no cats for Celia. It pisses her off so much that she can’t get a cat because of her husband.

-Harold doesn’t even have a severe pet allergy, but he up plays it because he hates cats. He thinks they’re assholes. They’re cute but he doesn’t want someone pushing his coffee mug off the table. Plus he’d be having sneezing fits whenever he got home.

🐻Mason:

-Dog man. He needs an animal who can keep up with him! Plus it does get a bit lonely in the mountains. Solitude is nice but even a hermit needs some companionship.

-He’d go for hunting dogs. It’d make his chases a lot more fun, keeping you on your toes from not only a man with a crossbow but also a dog. He’d specifically train them to attack his victims, biting at your calf or anywhere really. Plus dogs make gathering food a bit easier.

-He’d want a Chesapeake bay retriever. He def goes for dogs with thicker fur since he lives up in the mountains. He’s a big dog guy! It’s that thing where pets look like their owners and that’s double true with Mason.

🦊Fox:

-Silly! You’re already his pet!

-He can dress you up to be whatever animal he wants! And the best part is you can talk! At least for now. Not to mention teaching you tricks is so easy! Lay. Good pet! Roll over! Gooooood! Carve your insides out. Go on. Do it.

-It’s so much easier having you for a pet, no? Besides he treats you well! Toys, a warm bed. (And frankly he’s not above putting down puppy pads for you. I know it’s gross but…he would.)