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#criminal minds fic
headkiss · 2 days
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I’ve got a slightly angsty idea for Hotch if you’d like it:
Reader gets into an accident of some kind and ends up in the hospital, and Hotch is worrying out of his mind the whole time because he’s on a case or something, but all is well and it’s fluffy at the end and just love and “don’t ever scare me like that again” and all that good stuff
hiii thank u so much for ur request!!! sorry it’s taken a couple of months to get to </3 i hope u like it!! | 0.6k mentions of a car accident and a teeny tiny injury, and fluff (duh)
“Aaron?”
Hotch knew something was wrong as soon as you’d called in the middle of the day while he was away. You’d always wait for him to call first, to make sure he had the time.
So, the buzz of his phone in his pocket worried him. Even more so when he heard the way your voice shook through the speaker.
He walked away from the rest of the team, leaving their temporary conference room at the local police station and finding somewhere quiet before speaking, “what’s wrong, honey?”
“I’m okay, I promise, but…” you paused to clear your throat, forcing your startled tears back, because you really were okay. “I got in an accident. Nobody’s hurt, but they want to take me to the hospital to make sure I don’t have a concussion or anything.”
Aaron’s heart was pounding, and he had to remind himself that you weren’t badly hurt, that you were right there on the other side of the phone, talking and breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he was closer to you.
“Okay,” he says, though it comes out in a breath. “Okay, I’m gonna try to get home.”
“No, Aaron, you really don’t have to. I’m not injured, and they need you there.”
Truthfully, you’d love to have him beside you, his hand tight in yours, his voice cutting through the ringing in your ears, his presence calming enough. But you knew what you were getting into as soon as you started dating Hotch, and you’d never expect him to have to choose between you and his job.
“The team is more than capable of doing this without me, I promise. I’m coming to you, alright?”
You know there’s no changing his mind, and selfishly, you don’t want to. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
He doesn’t want to hang up the phone, doesn’t want to leave room for the worry and fear that’s already creeping up on him, but he does.
The team, of course, is very understanding, reassuring him that they can handle this case and that he should get home, telling him to let you know they all hope you’re okay. He’s driving to the airport within minutes.
It’s only a few hours later that Aaron lands, rushing back to your place straight from his flight after confirming with you that’s where you’d be. His hand shakes the slightest bit as he slips his spare key into your door.
Aaron breathes your name when he sees you on your couch, a small bandage on your cheek. “You said you weren’t hurt.”
Your heart squeezes in your chest as he crosses the room and crouches in front of you, cradling your face in his hand so gently your eyes well up. The shock seems to catch up to you, the relief you didn’t know you needed just by having him near is almost overwhelming.
“I’m not,” you sniffle once and his eyebrows furrow. “I’m not hurt, I promise. It barely even bled. I guess it’s just sinking in now.”
You blink and a tear slips down your cheek, but Hotch is quick to wipe it away with his thumb. He moves to sit next to you on the couch, tugging you as close as possible, your cheek buried against his collar, his hand running up and down your back.
You can hear his heart beating in his chest, quicker than usual, but you don’t call him out on it.
“You’re okay,” he says, and Aaron’s not sure who he’s reassuring more.
“My car’s probably totaled,” you mutter against him.
“Cars are replaceable, you aren’t.” He drops his mouth to the top of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“I was scared,” you admit quietly.
“I know, honey,” he says, shifting so that his cheek is resting atop your head. “I was, too.”
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pathologicalreid · 19 hours
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this is the job | S.R.
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You and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.
who? spencer reid x retired!reader content warnings: takes place before the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place (so like circa 9x20), retired!reader is not actually retired yet, slight bickering, spoilers for season 6 finale (supply and demand), reader is female word count: 1.13k a/n: just a little shorty piece about my beloved spencer and retired!reader, im having a lot of fun writing this little vignette style series. i know it's short but the next piece will be long and very hurt/comfort heavy.
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When the phone started ringing, you thought it was Spencer’s phone, but after letting it go for a few rings, you begrudgingly realized it was your ringtone. Groaning, you turned in Spencer’s arms and grabbed your phone off of your bedside table before answering the call. “Hello?” You greeted groggily.
There was only one person who would be calling you at two in the morning. Andi Swann’s voice rang through the receiver, “We need you to come in.”
“Now?” You asked, blinking sleep out of your eyes. Next to you, Spencer started to wake up. Using his thumb, he rubbed small, soothing circles over your hip while you talked on the phone.
It was a pointless question, you already knew the answer, and that was why you were already getting out of bed. “Yes, we need to get you out as soon as possible. We might have a lead on The Program.”
You sighed, looking over at Spencer, who was now sitting up, as you nodded, “Okay, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.” You hung up the phone, setting it back down on the bedside table before you made your way to the closet to retrieve your go bag.
“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked, burning both of your retinas when he leaned over to turn on a lamp.
Hesitantly, you started grabbing clothes out of your side of the dresser. Most of your clothes would be in the apartment that the bureau would set you up in, but you could bring some of your things. Basics, mostly. “Uh, yeah,” you answered.
Peering over at you while you tugged on a pair of jeans, Spencer furrowed his brow. “You just got back,” he responded, getting out of bed himself.
“I know, but that was Andi. She says they might have a lead on The Program, so I have to go in,” You informed him, trying not to topple over while you put your socks on.
Sat on the edge of the bed, your boyfriend leaned back and watched you pack. “I believe the operative word there is ‘might’. Tell them to send someone else,” he urged, not wanting you to leave.
Shaking your head, you zipped your bag shut, “You know they don’t have anyone else.” It was true – you were the only female undercover agent that Swann had.
Spencer clenched his jaw, “I know they don’t have anyone else, that’s part of the problem. They need to hire someone else to split the burden with you, it shouldn’t be all on you.”
“This is my job, Spence. I can’t just tell them I’m not coming in. You drop everything as soon as Hotch calls,” you reminded him.
Reaching out for your hands, Spencer pulled you in, so you were standing between his legs. “Hotch would let me spend a night in my own bed before calling me back in. You got home at ten, baby. It’s been four hours and eight minutes,” he said, keeping his voice low in the dead of the night.
Giving in a little, you leaned into him, “Our jobs are different. We have different demands.” You brushed off his concern. There was at least a part of you that knew he was right. As usual, you called Spencer as soon as you had debriefed with Andi. He picked you up and brought you home.
He placed his hands gently on your waist, “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat or sleep enough when you’re undercover, and that won’t do anyone any good.”
Stepping back, you wiped a hand down your face, “I know, but there are so many people out there who need my help. I could save those people.” You bargained with him.
Spencer shook his head, “We’ve spent a total of four nights together this calendar year. It’s April.”
You knew that. You kept track just as much as he did, but that didn’t change the fact that you had a job to do, “You knew the score when you asked me out, Spence.” Your tone was a warning. When he asked you out after you worked with the BAU to rescue Renee Matlin, you warned him that you weren’t around much.
Admittedly, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.
Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you inclined your head toward him, “This is the job.” This job was who you were, Spencer knew that just as well as you did.
“This isn’t the job, love. You’re acting like you don’t have an option. It’s almost as if…” his voice trailed off as if he was stopping himself from saying something he’d later regret.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You might as well say it.” Maybe he’d give you a reason to walk out the door.
He shrugged helplessly, “Fine, I think Andi’s taking advantage of your selflessness and your need to please everyone.” He narrowed his gaze, “You were just gone for five weeks, and now you’re leaving again.”
What crushed you the most was that he was right. “I don’t want to let anyone down,” you murmured. Padding over to him, you wrapped your arms around him, holding your breath until he reciprocated. “That includes you,” you admitted, chest tight, “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
Taking a deep breath, Spencer smoothed your hair at the back of your head, “You’re gonna go save some lives, because that’s what you do.” His voice was low and steady, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You jumped when a phone started ringing, this time it actually was Spencer’s.
He picked it up and answered the phone, “Hey,” he greeted, face falling as the other person spoke. “I’ll be right there.”
Eyeing him hesitantly, you saw his entire demeanor change. The BAU had a case. Checking the time, you pulled back, “I should go.”
“Y/N,” he said. “I don’t want to part on bad terms,” he revealed to you as he started to get dressed himself.
Peering up at him, you offered your boyfriend a small smile, “We’re never on bad terms, angel boy.” You were just navigating a complicated relationship.
He raised his eyebrows like that statement surprised him, “but if I’m not going to see you for another month, then we can at least drive in together.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had already made your decision, “If we drive in together, then I have to call you for a ride when I get back.” You settled your hands in your lap, crossing one leg over the other.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Spencer responded, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
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whiskeyghoul · 3 days
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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader] Pt2.
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Read part 1 here
A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.
WC: 1,9K ~
Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.
Warnings: None. 
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Your pov.
It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.
“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.
When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 
“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted. You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.
Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line. “Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 
“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 
“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.
“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.
“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 
“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.
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ginkgo-phyta · 2 days
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sneak peak alert!! here's one for my dom!spencer x reader smut fic. its still a wip, so hopefully this tides y'all over some. enjoy! 18+ mdni
(pay no mind to how ooc this is teehee)
“Watch.” Spencer hisses, shoving your head back to its original position. Uncontrollably, a faint whimper rips from your throat. You wordlessly do as you’re told, training your eyes on the man on the screen in front of you fucking his partner’s throat, her eyes watering and rolling back until all you can see are the whites. “C’mon, baby. Tell me what you like.” As your perched in his lap, Spencer’s voice is sickly sweet now mumbling against your arm, nipping it lightly. His left hand is under your shirt, fingertips barely playing with your hardened and sensitive nipples. His right hand is still on your back, moving between scratching your skin and teasing the waistbands of your shorts and panties. He’s driving you crazy.
The urge to close your eyes is hard to fight off, but you try your hardest. “I…” You’re breathless, despite not having even done anything yet, “I like how he’s controlling her,” you gulp as Spencer begins to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “a-and using her.”
“That’s what you want, hmm.” It’s not a question, so much as an observation. “You want me to use you like a toy?” Spencer leans in to mouth against your ear, “Want me to fuck your throat ‘til you can’t even speak?” Where did he learn to talk like this? Who is this man?
You know it’s not rhetorical. He’s waiting for an answer as his deep breaths whip strands of your hair around. He dips his head to press kisses onto the back of your neck. Your hands dig into his plush thigh as much as is allowed by the cloth of his pants stretched tight. “Yes,” you breathe out. Even to yourself it sound desperate.
“Oh, my dirty girl.” He drawls, roughly cupping your tit and kneading it as he wishes. “You want my cock, don’t you? Just wanna shove it down your throat?”
His words have your stomach turning cartwheels, and you moan at just the thought of his dick in your mouth. You’ve never yearned for anything so intensely, craved something so intrinsically. Nodding emphatically, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth. 
This was going to be a long night, but you wouldn't want anything less.
comment, reblog, like! :D follow to stay updated on the release of the finished piece :P
link to my sub!spencer sneak peak
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oneawkwardwriter · 1 day
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spencer reid - meddle about
thats all <3
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Meddle About
pairing: Spencer Reid x Hotchner!fem!reader warnings/tags: canon divergent ages (just pretend spencer is old enough to be about a decade younger than hotch, alright? We aren't doing any age gaps here), explicit? like smut-ish, alluding to smth steamy (idfk I'm not good at shit like this, alright?), cursing, pov change after the special divider summary: Hotch's younger cousin comes to visit, only not just for him a/n: first of all, absolutely love that song. Second of all, I have to admit that my motivation was very lacking while writing this and it feels like a total flop, but here you go, hope you like it wc: 0.6k
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You were seated in the lobby of the BAU, reading a book as you waited on Aaron to pick you up.
Despite the age gap of nearly a decade between the two of you, you had managed to maintain one of those rare bonds ever since you were young. Now that you had moved to DC for work, having this connection had come in useful.
The door opens, but when you look up from your book, Derek and Spencer walk out instead.
"Oh hi, guys," You say as you stand up and walk over to them, your gaze staying on Spencer for a little longer than needed.
"Hey Y/n, it's been a while since you were here," Derek remarks as he pulls you into a hug.
"Yeah, I know," You respond, stepping out of his embrace after a few moments. "How have you guys been, aside from all the catching bad guys?"
"Oh, you know, been doing just fine," Spencer answers, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. "So, what brings you back in town?"
"Got a job not that far from here," You say, "And until I can find a place of my own, Aaron kindly offered to let me stay with him."
At that moment, Aaron walked through the door. "Ah, you're already here. Ready to go?"
As you nod, Derek quips, "You know, if you ever need to get away from your cousin, you know who can call."
"Yeah, Penelope," You quip back, flashing him a smirk before walking off with Aaron. You look back once more, shooting Spencer a glance just for him to understand, then turn back again.
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As you look back once more, Spencer can read the message in your gaze.
Meet me at midnight.
You were rarely in DC, and when you were, you were his. Spencer rarely got possessive, but ever since one faithful night a few years ago, it was safe to say he had become besotted with you.
Every time you were in town, the two of you had met up late at night, spending your time with solely each other for as long as you could. There were times where either one of you had wanted to come forward and just tell the others, but you came to the same conclusion every time:
It would only make things more difficult.
Yet when midnight rolls around, Spencer sits in his car with the headlights off, softly smiling when he sees you sneak out of the house.
"Hey-" is all you manage to get out before your words get muffled by the feeling of his lips against yours. As if by instinct, your hands move up into his hair as they softly thread through the strands.
Breaking away for air, Spencer looks at you as if you're the only thing on his mind. "Don't you ever stay away that long again," He whispers breathlessly against your lips.
"I take it you missed me then?" You respond teasingly, unable to repress a light smirk from forming on your lips.
Spencer lightly groans, pulling you in for another kiss, this time a little deeper. "You've already got me down on my knees," He says, his breath still heavy, "No need to be such a fucking tease."
As if to give you a taste of your own medicine, he pulls away and starts driving. Although he keeps his eyes on the road and doesn't exchange a word, his fingers draw slow circles on your thigh.
When he can feel you looking at him, he simply smirks. "Save it for when we get back to my house."
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© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!
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sundrop-writes · 5 hours
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Careful - Chapter Four
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(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter Four: Last Hope
It’s just a spark but it’s enough to keep me going.
Summary:
The entire axis of your world is shifting.
Spencer is not the man you left alone all those years ago, and you don't know how to react to him being such a perfect, caring father. You also don't know how to react to the potential that you could be killed by someone who has already gutted five other women.
Luckily, Spencer is there to protect you. Another thing you don't fully know how to react to - but somehow, you just go with it.
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. (Slight) Fluff and Angst.
Word Count: 8,800
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Detailed warnings and author's notes below.
Warnings: Again, basic warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, the reader character is the next target of a serial killer; mentions of the reader wearing a sexy Halloween costume (during a flashback); mentions of gender roles - the reader doesn’t raise Sebastian with strict gender roles (and Spencer appreciates this); mentions of the reader giving birth (not graphic descriptions); some emotional tension between Spencer and the reader; angst because Spencer is upset about missing out on so much of Sebastian’s life; passing mention of abortion; the reader is threatened (in a graphic way) and called whore in a derogatory manner by the UnSub; Spencer is also threatened in a very graphic way by the UnSub; specific threats of stabbing and rape (toward the reader); passing mention of poop (because come on, this is a little kid, and kids talk about their poop a lot); I believe that’s it for this chapter.
A/N: So, this chapter starts off with a flashback rather than ending with one, because flashbacks are important to how information is revealed to the audience, and I think it works here. Idk what else to say about this chapter - I think it's a nice transition into the climax. I hope you guys enjoy it!!
...
Halloween. It was always a time when Spencer thrived the most - and he thrived even more when spending it with you. 
It was your second Halloween together as a couple, and Spencer loved that you enjoyed celebrating the holiday just as much as he did. You loved dressing up, you loved all of the spooky lore behind Halloween. And of course, you loved listening to all of the real life facts he had to tell you about Halloween’s history, and things like vampires, werewolves, zombies, and all of the Halloween traditions and how they evolved over time. 
You didn’t think before that learning about the origins of Halloween could make it even more fun, but Spencer somehow made it into the most exciting educational documentary of your life. 
This year, you had invited him to a house party that one of your work friends was hosting. It would be some light drinking, finger food, dancing to cheesy Halloween songs, and most likely sitting around and talking while roasting marshmallows around your friend’s backyard fire pit. It wouldn’t be anything big, but you expected it to be a really fun night. 
You showed up to Spencer’s place wearing a straight off the rack, generic ‘sexy witch’ costume. It consisted of a very wide brimmed pointy hat, dark make-up, and a tight corset drawing attention to your curves, as well as a short tulle skirt, flared sleeves, and black fishnets and black boots to top off the look. He found you irresistible and almost wanted to stay at home. But he was looking forward to the party; he was excited to meet your friends and he knew that the occasion meant a lot to you. 
He told you that he was planning on going as a young Ernest Hemmingway, and as much as you adored it, because it was a very Spencer thing to do - you knew that it was very unlikely that anybody else at the party would be able to identify his costume on sight, and that would probably disappoint him. He would be standing proudly, asking people to guess who he was, and they would come up blank because they weren’t in the same mindset as him. 
So you advised him of this, and encouraged him to steer his costume in a different direction. (And Spencer - trusting any advice you gave, simply let you lead him.) 
You took the late 1800s style clothing he had picked out for the occasion, and some of the makeup you had brought in your bag for potential touch-ups - and you convinced him to let you dress him up as a sexy vampire who had been turned in the late 1800s. 
You did his makeup - with some dark eyeliner, that he winced at the entire time, some dark eyeshadow, and some red lipstick smudged around his mouth to appear as though it were blood he had just siphoned from his latest victim. And the entire time you worked, he came up with an elaborate name and backstory for his vampire character. You delighted in listening to him tell you all about Frederic Henry - named after a Hemmingway character. A man who was shot in the military and assumed dead, but who was saved in the trenches of World War I by a vampire’s bite, and then lived on. 
You encouraged him to wear his shirt unbuttoned quite a bit, creating a deep V down to his chest that he wouldn’t have worn any other time. Thinking about his story, you even used the eyeliner to create the scar of a bullet wound on his chest, slightly hidden by his shirt - something to hint at Frederic’s tragic past. 
(Both you and Spencer got way too into it, but you were having fun.) 
You were running a bit late by the time you left Spencer’s apartment, but it was a casual house party, and you knew that nobody was going to call you out for being ‘late’. 
You parked a few blocks away, not wanting to drive through the neighborhood with so many kids out and about on foot. It was still early in the evening, and many kids were still out, knocking on doors, getting their candy. 
“They’re so cute, aren’t they?” You remarked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand with Spencer as you made your way toward the party among a sea of Trick or Treaters. 
“Kids in costumes? Or just kids in general?” Spencer replied with a chuckle, trying to clarify what you had said. 
(There was a hopeful edge in his voice, a daring longing in his eyes as he looked at the parents helping their children from house to house. Something deep inside of him that hoped the two of you could have your place here a few years from now.) 
“Kids in general are cute.” You shrugged. “But kids in their little costumes are so much cuter.” 
Spencer’s insides fluttered - seeing you light up with joy just talking about children, knowing that it might be in your future. Knowing that it might be a part of his future with you. 
“If we had a baby, would you wanna dress him up for Halloween?” Spencer asked. 
You wanted to fixate on the ‘if’ - to tell him that you thought it was something more certain in your future, with the way things were going. That you thought he would make an amazing father. That you wanted it to be a ‘when’. 
Instead, you chose a different part of his statement to pick at. 
“You sound awfully certain that our kid would be a boy.” You chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who would be disappointed by having a girl.” 
That would be a dealbreaker for you. As amazing as Spencer was - he had to be just as good of a father to a daughter as he would be to a son in order to stay in the picture. 
“Goodness, no.” Spencer replied, shaking his head. 
He held back. He didn’t tell you that he had spent far too much time - hours on the plane rides back home, nights when he couldn’t sleep - thinking about his future with you. He imagined three kids. An oldest boy, and two girls, about a year or two apart each. A golden retriever, a house - he had even picked out which district he wanted to live in based on schools in the area and lowest crime rates. 
He knew it was stupid, but he had already been squirreling away money for a downpayment on that house. When you were ready, he wanted to be able to give you everything you could ever ask for. He had way too much time to fantasize, and he didn’t want to admit that to you now. 
“Just - it slipped out.” He chuckled. “I would be thrilled if we had a little girl. But - I pictured us having a boy.” 
In his mind’s eye, his daughter was so much like you. And if that came to pass, then he would be the luckiest man on earth. 
“You did?” You grinned at him, a distinct light in your eye. 
Spencer found his chest untightening as he breathed in relief. 
“Well, if he’s half as cute as you,” You said, moving a hand over to pinch one of his cheeks, which made him smile and let out a huff, half forming into a laugh. “Then I definitely wanna dress him up in a Halloween costume. Especially while he’s still little and cute and can’t argue about what I wanna dress him up as. Before he starts talking and wants to be that fuzzy guy from Star Wars.” 
“You mean Chewbacca?” Spencer asked, wondering which one you were talking about. 
“Yeah!” You said. “The big ugly one. The little teddy bear guys are cute, but the big one is kind of creepy.” 
“We had an all-day Star Wars marathon, and you didn’t tell me that you thought Chewbacca was creepy?” Spencer chuckled, his mind now distancing from the subject of the two of you having kids. 
“Yeah, because you were there to protect me!” You replied, your voice still filled with lightness and laughter. “And I didn’t even really realize it until after. I had this weird nightmare-” 
“You had nightmares about Chewbacca?” 
“One nightmare! It was only one!” 
The subject of children was forgotten, then. 
Your laughter echoed off into the night, and you didn’t think much of the conversation. 
Spencer remarked on it as a precious memory - as a sign that his savings account was an insurance policy for his future, not a fool’s errand. After the break-up, he thought about it over and over - he wondered where he had gone so wrong, how he had lost you. If you had felt so secure in your future together - how had he lost you?
… 
Spencer wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was growing more and more love for Sebastian with each passing moment. 
After he got off the phone with Derek, he went back into the house to be mobbed by Sebastian. Having the boy run into his arms with so much excitement - it made him feel more heroic than anything he had done with the BAU for the past years of his life. So often, when he carted off a killer to jail or when he saw a victim returned to the arms of their family, he couldn’t feel the relief or the calm that JJ or Gideon spoke of. He just felt so empty. 
But having Sebastian hug him tight and ramble in his ear with excitement about all his plans for their afternoon - it made his chest swell with a grand importance that he had only gotten a taste of when he was with you. When he was making you happy. It felt like a moment that his whole life was leading up to. 
You asked Spencer if it was okay for you to go back to your office and get some work done while he occupied Sebastian, and he could think of nothing he wanted more - except maybe for you to join him, and to spend some true quality time with him and his son. But he hoped that would come later. And this in itself was progress - you trusting him to play with Sebastian, to spend time alone with him while you got your work done. 
Sebastian showed Spencer every single one of his toy dinosaurs, and they played with those for quite a while. They also had a tea party with some large bears and dolls present - and Spencer was delighted by the fact that you didn’t buy him gender specific toys. Knowing that this opened up different areas of play and imagination, and allowed for his development to be nurtured by gentleness and caring that young boys didn’t often get in a society so rigid about gender roles. 
Spencer really couldn’t imagine a better boy. You had raised such a beautiful, smart son. Someone who was polite, so caring, and gentle. 
Spencer was practically swollen with love, overwhelmed at getting to spend time with his son. 
His heart felt as though it might burst out of his chest and he knew that he looked fitful, actively holding back overwhelmed tears while Sebastian poured the imaginary tea for each member sitting around the small plastic table and they clinked their tiny plastic cups together in a toast. 
Then, Sebastian wanted to show Spencer a favorite movie of his. He rushed downstairs to put it on the TV, and as he was picking it out among the DVDs, he became distracted by something at the top of the shelf beside the TV. 
“My Halloween basket!” Sebastian said, pointing to an orange basket at the top of the shelf - one that did appear as though it was for Halloween, with a jack-o-lantern’s face painted on the front of it. 
“Mommy says treats are for after dinner. But… can we have one now?” The boy looked hopefully toward Spencer, knowing that he would be able to reach the basket and bring it down toward him. 
Spencer didn’t want to undermine your rules. You had done so well raising Sebastian this far, so you were clearly doing everything right. 
He crouched down to the boy’s level. 
“We should go ask your Mommy if it’s okay to have one.” He told Sebastian, who nodded, and then ran off toward your office with that thunderous urgency in his steps. 
He heard a distant ‘Mommy!’ - and a bang that could have been Sebastian’s version of a knock or him downright smacking the office door until it opened. But then he heard your voice murmuring and what must have been a frustrated sigh. 
Spencer felt slightly bad that he had sent Sebastian to interrupt your work, especially over something so small. But he didn’t want to lose progress with you and have you reaming him out for giving your son sugar without your permission. 
You soon came into the room and went straight for the candy bucket, lifting it off the shelf and bringing it down to Sebastian’s level so that he could choose one. 
“I know it seems cruel. But I didn’t want him eating it all on Halloween and puking, so he’s allowed to have one a day, usually as a treat after dinner.” You explained, clearly wanted to lay out your reasoning for Spencer. 
“No, no, it’s not cruel.” Spencer replied quickly. “It’s a good idea. Regulating his intake of sugar while not completely restricting it as something sacred or off-limits. It’s a good call.” 
Sebastian picked out a small packet of M&Ms, and then you went to lift the bucket away, and he spoke up. 
“Can I pick one for my friend Spencer, too?” He asked. 
“Yeah, go ahead.” You nodded, and then you added on: “Spencer’s favorite is Snickers.”
Of course, Spencer was floored that you remembered this. 
Sebastian picked out a mini Snickers and then excitedly thrust it in Spencer’s direction. 
“Aw, thanks buddy!” Spencer said, eagerly taking it with a grin, even reaching out to give him a high five while he smiled up at Spencer in return. 
(He was too busy looking at Sebastian with those stars in his eyes to notice the way you were watching the pair - watching all of your dreams unfold before you with an odd mixture of bitterness and affection swelling up inside of you.) 
Sebastian moved on to picking out the movie and you went to walk out of the room again, seemingly to get back to work, but Spencer stopped you. Something else was on his mind. 
“Y/N.” He called your name gently, and you turned back to him, your arms crossed stiffly. 
He was just glad that you didn’t seem so angry at him using your name this time. 
“Do - do you have any pictures of Sebastian in his Halloween costume?” He asked meekly, afraid that you would stamp out this request with more anger and defensiveness. 
“Why?” You gaped, seeming very confused that he would even ask this. 
“I - I just wanted to see.” Spencer replied. 
‘Because I missed out on so much of him.’ He hesitated to say. ‘I know it’s impossible, but I want those years back.’ 
The deep sadness lingering in Spencer’s eyes caused your stomach to clench. 
He had really changed. This wasn’t the same man who had been standing in the apartment that night. This wasn’t the same person who had been so callous and stubborn - the same person that you felt you needed to protect your unborn child from. 
Maybe this was the man you had fallen in love with, somehow rescued from the clutches of that person you didn’t know who had mocked you while wearing Spencer’s face. 
“Gimme a minute.” You told him. And then you leaned in close before you whispered something else. “And you should let him see you eat the Snickers, otherwise he’s gonna be insulted.” 
Spencer smiled at this. 
Sebastian waved him over then, and he asked which DVD Spencer would rather watch. Spencer ate the Snickers and thanked Sebastian for sharing his treats once again while the boy went through a very detailed explanation of the plot of the films so Spencer would have an informed choice. And then Spencer picked, and Sebastian moved to put the movie into the DVD player. 
This was when you came back with a thick envelope filled with pictures and handed them over to Spencer. 
“I had these printed a while ago.” You explained. “I was planning on making a scrapbook for my mom, for mother’s day. It’s… basically every important moment in Sebastian’s life.” 
“That’s my baby picture!” Sebastian said excitedly, looking over at the pictures in Spencer’s lap. “That’s when I was a baby, after I was born. I was one day old. Mommy said that everyone used to be one day old at some point, but that just sounds weird!”
Spencer’s throat clenched up with tears, and this clashed with the laughter he experienced from Sebastian’s comments. 
But as he looked through the pictures, he had a much harder time holding back his tears. 
Seeing all of the pictures, all of those moments - it slowly broke him. 
The first picture was one of Sebastian wrapped in a very clinical swaddling blanket when he was still so new and wrinkly, only hours after his birth. Spencer could imagine how small Sebastian would have been in his arms. The tiny little newborn sounds he would have made. Spencer wished that he could have held your hand through the birth, that he could have been there with both of you in the hospital during those first few days of his life. 
Then, a picture of you holding Sebastian in his nursery when you had brought him home from the hospital - a photo that was most likely taken by your mom. You had such a big, bright smile on your face. You looked so perfect with him in your arms. You were such a good mother. 
There were pictures of him when he was more alert - his big, curious eyes looking at the world for the first time; what appeared to be his first picnic out at the park when he was laying on his back on a soft blanket, taking in the world for the first time. Spencer could imagine how sweet his baby laughter would be - what it would have been like blowing raspberries on his soft belly and kissing you under the warm sun. 
He continued flipping through the photos - another one of what must have been his first Halloween. He was dressed up as a chubby round Jack-o-Lantern with his little fist in his mouth, drooling around it while your mother held him for the picture. 
And then - pictures of him walking experimentally while you held him by both of his hands; him sitting in front of a Christmas tree, opening an exciting Christmas toy that made him beam with a big smile. 
Pictures of important memories all throughout his life, all the way up until recently. This past Halloween, he had dressed up as Luke Skywalker. 
He liked Star Wars. 
“Um, can I use your bathroom?” Spencer choked out. 
He knew that he was crying very blatantly now. 
His chest was caving in as all of it truly hit him - how much of his son’s life he had missed. He didn’t wait for you to direct him because he knew that he had passed the bathroom coming down the hall. He abandoned the photos in the middle of the coffee table, haste to escape.  
Sebastian looked at him with sad eyes as he stormed out of the room. 
“Why is my friend Spencer sad?” He asked in a small voice, looking up at you. “He doesn’t like my pictures?” 
“No, honey, your pictures are beautiful.” You assured him, kneeling down by the table and gathering up the pictures. “It’s complicated…” You let out a huff, not knowing how to explain it to him. Not even knowing where to start. “It’s grown-up stuff, okay? Just - just watch your movie.” 
You stacked the photos back into the envelope, and you hoped that Sebastian wouldn’t follow you as you raced down the hall toward Spencer. You weren’t surprised to find the bathroom door closed. 
“Spence,” You called out his name as you knocked gently on the bathroom door. 
That gutted him even more. Spence. 
Another harsh reminder of the life he had lost. 
“I’m sorry.” He called back, his voice audibly drenched in tears. 
Your throat tightened up. 
This began to shift your entire axis. The man you had left standing alone that night - you thought he was a man who would have never cared about your son. Someone who would have asked you to get an abortion or distanced himself from the pregnancy as much as possible. 
But this man - this felt like the Spencer you knew, the one you fell in love with. 
He cared so much. 
This was someone who could fit into your life, someone who could help raise your son. 
And tugging right at your heart, something you wanted to deny - this was a man you wanted to be your husband, as well as the father of your child. 
“Spencer, please-” 
Spencer opened the door then, and upon instinct, you drew back, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. Unconsciously, you were protecting yourself. 
“I’m sorry.” He apologized again. “Did I scare him? I didn’t mean to.” He asked, looking behind your shoulder as if waiting for Sebastian to appear. 
There it was again - prioritizing your son above all else. Worry for him. 
Something you wouldn’t have expected. Something that forced you to shift your whole perspective. 
“He’s fine.” You told him. “He - he probably just wants you to watch the movie with him.” You said, entirely honest, motioning toward the living room - where the sound of Sebastian’s cartoon movie could be heard playing from the television. 
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Spencer noted, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe his eyes with. 
You squeezed your hands tighter around your arms, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. You wanted to wipe those tears away yourself. Spencer’s keen eye went right to this movement, and you felt so caught. 
“I should go start dinner.” You said, eager for an excuse to escape the situation. 
You whisked down the hall before Spencer could say anything else, and before his mind could linger too much on it - on you - his phone rang again. 
It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he had to guess that it was one of the phones from the local police station - someone from the team calling with an update about the case. 
“Reid here.” He answered, deeply hoping that he didn’t sound too tearful over the phone. 
“Do you like pretending, Doctor Reid?” 
That certainly wasn’t a voice he recognized. 
“Excuse me?” Spencer squeaked back, having no clue what this meant. 
“Do you like playing house, Doctor Reid?” 
The person on the other end posed a slightly different question. The voice was sharp and certain, completely devoid of genuine emotion. It caused a chill down Spencer’s spine, and he knew, somehow- 
The UnSub had gotten a hold of his phone number, and felt the need to taunt him by getting in contact with him. 
“Unlike you, I’m not playing.” Spencer growled in return, already having the profile in his pocket. “I don’t need to play house to fulfill some God complex. I fully intend to spend the rest of my life being there for my son, raising him. And as long as I am here, in this house, no harm will come to my son or the woman who raised him.” 
“Hmm…” The man seemed entirely bored with Spencer’s words. “The woman who raised him. Such a funny way to talk about that whore you supposedly once loved. But she did such a good job raising the boy, didn’t she? Seems like she didn’t even need you in the picture, did she? Such a sweet little thing… anybody could just waltz right into that house, slit her throat and take him. He’s smart enough to do well on his own now.” 
Spencer knew that it was a tactic intended to get to him, and he shouldn’t have let it emotionally affect him as much as it did - but fuck, it got to him. 
“Don’t talk about her that way.” He growled into the phone. “Don’t talk about them, that way, I swear to god, I’ll-” 
“You’ll do what, Doctor Reid?” The man cut him off, clearly mocking him. Clearly in disbelief that Spencer could ever truly be violent in response to his family being threatened. 
Spencer choked on a breath, trying to compose himself. 
“Now, now. Simmer now.” The man cooed, still mocking, entirely condescending. “And don’t you worry, Doctor. Every whore gets her time to be an angel. I’m sure that she’s going to look so beautiful when she’s moaning and writhing in pain while my knife plunges into her guts. Don’t worry, Daddy - I’ll treat her as gently as I can.” 
Spencer sucked in a breath, preparing to yell at the man, but then - the line went dead with a sharp ‘click’. Spencer pulled back his phone and looked at the display - he memorized the number so that he could give it to Garcia later, and then, he called JJ. 
“Reid, hey.” 
She sounded worried. 
Any rage pumping through him that the unknown man had triggered in him melted away, and he immediately wondered why JJ had taken on that sad, sullen tone. 
Before he could ask, she spoke up again. 
“We… were just wondering if we should call you.” 
“What’s wrong?” He asked. 
“The UnSub knows you’re in the house.” She announced, ripping the band-aid off all at once. 
Spencer wondered again how this was possible. But he figured that it was better to exchange information and let the questions naturally arise than to ask the questions himself. 
“Yeah, he just called me.” He told JJ. “Clearly with the intention to antagonize me.” 
“Wait, hold on.” JJ sighed. In the police station, she walked into the conference room where the team was working and put her phone on speaker for the room before she spoke to Spencer again. “Tell them what you just told me.” 
“Someone who I can only assume was the UnSub just called me.” Spencer explained. “It was very clear that he was trying to antagonize me. He - he seemed jealous that I’m here - that I’m trying to take his place as father in the household before he could get here.” 
“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked. 
“He claimed that I was ‘playing pretend’. He called me Daddy. He mocked my love for Y/N, and taunted me with the idea of him… potentially killing her.” Spencer found those last words particularly difficult to speak, but he knew that the team needed all the information at hand. 
“Let me guess, he called you from a blocked number?” Prentiss wondered aloud. 
“No, actually.” Spencer replied. “Do you have a pen? I can give you the number and you can have Garcia run it.” 
“Fire away.” Prentiss replied. 
“503-202-1052.” Spencer told her. 
“I’ll call Garcia now.” She said - on the other end, getting up from the table to call Garcia on her cell. 
“JJ said you guys have something too?” Spencer asked, still wondering what JJ had meant. 
“The scumbag sent us a letter.” Morgan answered. “The envelope was full of pictures. A bunch of pictures of your girl and the kid from weeks back - them at the park, at restaurants, at the grocery store. He’s way farther ahead in his timeline than we thought he was.” 
“Yeah, and there’s… something else.” Rossi sighed. “He also included pictures of you and JJ standing on the porch when you arrived at the house. And one of you coming back to the house later, by yourself. In one of them… he crossed your eyes out with a red marker. It’s clear that he sees you as competition. A clear threat to his fantasy.” 
“But - how does he know that I’m Sebastian’s real father?” Spencer wondered aloud. 
“Perhaps he only sees you as competition because you’re another male encroaching on his territory. Because you’ve spent prolonged time at the house, seemingly to protect her and the child.” Hotch theorized. 
“No…” Spencer said, putting the pieces together in his. “On the call, he said: ‘Such a funny way to talk about that whore you supposedly once loved.’” Spencer repeated it perfectly from memory, feeling a pang in his chest at calling you a ‘whore’, even if it wasn’t his own wording. “It was like he knew that me and Y/N dated before and broke up. Like he knows that Sebastian is a result of our previous relationship.” 
“That is… strange.” Rossi remarked. “Do you think that Y/N might have mentioned your relationship to a friend, or a neighbor? Maybe… she might have confided in somebody?” 
“It’s possible.” Spencer sighed. “But since she’s moved here, she’s surrounded herself with women. A female babysitter, fellow moms as her friend group.” It was something he had noticed in the more recent photos of Sebastian. “Our UnSub is a man - I don’t see her divulging those types of things to him, even if she didn’t know he was a potential threat.” 
“Well either way, he knows. And he’s pissed off.” Morgan sighed. “I mean, the wording of this letter… it makes sense why he seems so hostile toward Reid. It’s not just anger toward a random man who’s encroaching on his territory - it’s a personal rage towards someone he feels could actually ruin his chances with Y/N if he’s built up this fantasy of having her in his mind over these weeks.” 
Morgan picked up the letter and read some lines from it. “‘I will stab him in the spine, paralyzing him and forcing him to watch as I rape that whore - I will take her as my own while he pleads for mercy. I will show him what happens when weak men abandon their obligations. If Daddy wants to play, I’ll play too.’” 
“Is that really what he thinks?” Spencer huffed, unable to hold back his emotions. “That I abandoned my obligations? Does he really think that-?” 
“Reid.” Hotch said firmly, cutting off Spencer’s ranting. “Stay calm. What we really need to ask ourselves now is: how does he know so much about you? How does he know so much about your past that even we didn’t know?” 
He added this on - seemingly taking offense to the fact that most of the team didn’t know that Spencer had a serious girlfriend in the past. A relationship that had resulted in a child. 
Just then, Emily came back into the room. 
“Garcia said the phone number goes to a public library on the other side of town.” She announced. 
“Morgan, you and Prentiss go to the library - see if anyone there saw the UnSub or if they have any potential security footage of him.” Hotch ordered. 
“Reid, see if you can convince Y/N to come into protective custody.” Hotch added on, turning his attention to the man on the phone. “With the UnSub being further along in his timeline than we thought, and seemingly being provoked by your presence, we really need to protect her and her child. Stress that fact to her. We need to keep a close eye on her until we can find a viable suspect.” 
“Yes, of course.” Spencer replied, before ending the call. 
Spencer splashed some cold water on his face, truly trying to pull himself together before he exited the bathroom. 
It truly hit him, then. 
This day wasn’t about some soft, sappy reunion with you and his son. This day was about the fact that you had been targeted by a dangerous, deranged killer. And he needed to do everything in his power to protect you from that horrible man. 
A fresh, vicious wave of determination went through him - if he had to tear out the man’s throat with his teeth, then he would. He wasn’t going to let even the tiniest amount of harm come to you or his boy. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. 
He put on a smile, not wanting to potentially scare Sebastian with a frown or his trembling fear over what might happen. He tried his hardest to push all of it out of his mind for now as he walked down the hallway and back into the living room - where a musical cartoonish number was in full swing on the TV. 
“You were in the bathroom for a long time!” Sebastian commented brightly. “Did you have to go poop?” 
Spencer let out a laugh at this. This almost instantly lifted his mood - the fact that such a young kid didn’t have the sense of embarrassment or social constructs in order to know that it wasn’t really routine to ask someone what they had been doing in the bathroom. He easily found humor in Sebastian’s bluntness. 
“Seb, what did we say about asking people about their poop?” You called out from the kitchen, clearly having heard the conversation. 
(So this was a habit of his?) 
“Sorry!” Sebastian called back. Sebastian then turned back to Spencer. “Your poop is only your business. Unless you have to tell the doctor about your poops.” He assured Spencer, clearly repeating something that his mother had told him. 
Spencer nodded. “It’s all good, bud.” He said, smiling at Sebastian. “I’m gonna go talk to your mom, okay?” 
“Are you gonna watch the movie with me?” Sebastian asked. 
“I promise, I’ll watch whatever you want to later.” Spencer replied. 
He made it a promise because he wanted to hold himself to it - he wanted to spend lots of days watching films with his son. And playing games, and teaching him things. He promised himself that there would be lots of time to do these things with Sebastian in the future because nobody would interrupt that for him. 
But for now, he had to convince you to agree to protective custody so that the three of you could have the safety and security of a future together. 
Sebastian seemed content with this answer and turned back to the TV, and Spencer ventured into the kitchen, where you were preparing dinner. 
“Hey, Spence.” You greeted him gently. “I’m assuming that you’re staying for dinner? It’s nothing fancy, just some pasta with cream sauce, and chicken and broccoli.” You explained, gesturing around to the many items you had surrounding you - a pot of boiling water, and cutting boards with different vegetables, and one sequestered off in the corner with cut-up chicken pieces waiting to be put in a frying pan that was still heating up. 
“Sounds good.” He easily agreed. “After dinner, we need to pack a bag for Sebastian, and you need to get some stuff together so that we can get you guys into protective custody.” He said, posing it more like a gentle suggestion than a question that you could say no to. 
He truly hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into the graphic details as to why you needed the protection - why it was more urgent now. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to resort to telling you about the man who had threatened to go poking around in your insides with a knife while making him watch. 
Not surprisingly, you completely ignored what Spencer said. 
“Unless you prefer Turtle Mac n Cheese?” You said, instantly deflecting away from the topic, holding up a box of mac n cheese that had some cartoonish characters on it. They were green and looked vaguely like anthropomorphic turtles. Spencer guessed that this was what you were making for Sebastian’s dinner - most likely along with having him eat some broccoli, because you seemed determined for him to at least somewhat eat healthy. “I think that cartoon shapes really give it that extra gourmet flare.” 
“Stop that.” Spencer demanded gently, taking the box out of your hands and placing it somewhere else on the counter. You frowned at him. “Stop acting like what’s happening isn’t a big deal. If you’re doing this because you’re frightened-” 
“I’m not frightened.” You said, cutting him off. “I just don’t think that the FBI needs to be wasting resources on me when there’s people out there who are actually in danger. Or people who have dead loved ones who need answers.” 
“Exactly.” Spencer pressed. He lowered his voice before he spoke his next words, though he knew it was unlikely that Sebastian would hear him over the movie playing on the TV. 
“The man who sent you those flowers has already killed five other women.” He stressed, pointing behind you, toward the vase with the white carnations in it. He was surprised that you hadn’t thrown the flowers away after what he and JJ had told you. “Five women’s families are waiting for answers about who killed them. And you could be helping us-” 
“I can’t help you, though.” You shrugged. “There are no men in my life. There’s nobody Spencer. There hasn’t been since I broke up with you.” You snapped, giving him a harsh glare - as though you resented him for ruining you, tainting your heart and leaving you broken. 
The realization shattered him a bit more. All this time, he had been worried that you had moved on, that you were living a better life without him. But you had been just as lonely as he was - aside from the company of a small child that reminded you more and more of Spencer every single day. 
Spencer took a breath, trying to focus. 
“Just come into protection.” He pressed. “The FBI will take you to a safehouse, and-” 
“A safehouse?” You scoffed. “How is that any safer than the house we’re currently standing in? Does it have bulletproof windows and a steel reinforced door? Or - or is it just a regular house with regular windows, and regular walls, and a regular door? Just like my house?” You chuckled sarcastically, moving to grab the cutting board with the chicken, shoving it into the now heated pan with the back of your knife. 
Spencer’s nerves were grated on by your sarcasm. 
“Dammit, Y/N!” He shouted, much louder than he intended to. “Can’t you see that I’m just trying to protect you?” 
“Yeah, and where the hell was that attitude four years ago when I begged you to-” You swiftly cut yourself off, the words dying off in your throat, not wanting to rip open old wounds. 
You tossed the items back onto the counter with a crash, only causing more tension in the air. You took in a sharp breath - suddenly, standing in front of the stove, you felt too hot. 
You reached for the edge of your hoodie without thinking, and peeled it up over your head. You were wearing a thin camisole underneath, but surprisingly, your black bra being so visible through the thin white fabric wasn’t the thing that caught Spencer’s eyes as more and more of you was revealed. 
There it was. 
The four-pointed star necklace that he had given to you on your birthday was sitting in the middle of your chest, right where it belonged, glaring at Spencer, taunting him. 
It became apparent to him in seconds that you had been wearing it all day. You had answered the door earlier that day wearing that pale blue hoodie, having no clue that Spencer would be on the other side. You had no reason to impress him, quite angered that he was even there in the first place, actually. So you had been wearing it under your hoodie since before then - since the beginning of the day, likely. 
You had been holding it close to your chest as something precious - hiding it under your clothes as a secret, just for yourself. 
If there was a single shred of doubt in Spencer’s mind that he had loved you more, that he had missed you more since the break-up, it was gone now. You hadn’t dated other men, and you had silently carried that symbol of him, as if unconsciously beaconing him back to you. 
When you finally got the fabric off your head, you instantly noticed him gaped-jawed and staring at your chest. You wouldn’t have called him a pervert, because before you even glanced down to confirm that you had the necklace on - you knew. A terrible guilt struck through your gut, like you had been caught stealing something, and you froze up on the spot. 
You and Spencer locked eyes for a moment, and his hands quivered with the terrible need to reach out and touch you - though in that moment, standing just across the kitchen from you, he felt a thousand miles away. He had a terrible need to hold you, yet he had never felt more distant from you. He had never felt more prohibited from touching you since the moment you had first grabbed his hand on that very first date. 
How long had you wanted him back and said nothing? How many days had you woken up thinking about him, knowingly raised his son alone, and made no effort to contact him? 
“I - I have to go change my clothes.” You said, your voice so utterly small. “Can you watch the stove?” 
You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned and whisked off again, clearly too eager to escape the tension. 
Spencer busied himself with watching over the food - stirring here and there, and starting the cartoon turtle mac and cheese based on its boxed instructions - trying desperately not to think about what all this meant. 
When you came back, you were wearing a simple, light tee shirt. And it was easy to see that you had taken off the necklace and put it away somewhere. 
… 
Having Spencer there for dinner felt like role-playing as a family. 
With Sebastian in his usual seat behind the dinosaur placemat, sitting between the two of you - it felt like something out of a strange, distant dream. He kept looking to Spencer for encouragement when he ate his broccoli and didn’t spill his juice, and Spencer stared at you across the table, having that constant fond look in his eye whenever he turned back to Sebastian or talked to him in that sweet, soothing voice. 
Spencer also watched you, and tried to make it seem subtle. You noticed his eyes drifting over to your plate, ensuring that you were eating, as he had done many times before. You wanted to make another snarky comment about him pretending to care, but you kept your mouth shut. 
It felt so shallow, and plastic, with the supposed threat hanging over your head; knowing that the only reason Spencer was there in the first place was because he believed that you were in danger. 
Yet, it felt like something you had been doing all your life. It felt like just another night. Like Spencer had come home from work to this a thousand times; like you would get up and do the dishes and kiss him and then bring him to your bed for the night. It felt like that’s how things should be. 
You really weren’t sure if you loved it or hated it. 
You were nearly finished with your food and Spencer’s dinner was half-done, food getting cold on his plate while he encouraged Sebastian to finish up - when there was a knock on the door. 
You expected it to be JJ again, pressing you about the protective custody thing. You let out a harsh sigh when Sebastian quickly wormed out of his chair and raced toward the door - eager to answer it himself. 
“Seb!” You called after him. “What have I told you about answering the door when Mommy isn’t there?” 
You raced after him and uncomfortably grabbed him up with a gut full of food, Spencer trailing behind you awkwardly. 
“You’re here now!” Sebastian argued, laughter in his voice. 
“Here, go with your-” 
You abruptly cut yourself off, stopping yourself from saying ‘go with your dad’. 
“Go back to the table with Spencer.” You told him, turning him around and directing him toward the man. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, knowing that he could predict exactly what that verbal near-slip was. “I will answer the door.” 
“Come on, bud.” Spencer encouraged him. “If you finish up all your dinner, we can have a treat later,” 
He hated to promise something you hadn’t permissed, but he knew that you needed the distraction right now. 
You unlocked the door and opened it, fully expecting JJ to be standing there patiently (likely having heard that entire exchange from behind the door). You were surprised when nobody was there, and instead, your eyes drifted downwards to a large brown envelope sitting on the step. 
It didn’t seem to have any kind of shipping label on it - just your first name written on the front in bright red ink. It made you startlingly curious, at the same time, caused a tight knot to form in your gut. You picked it up, bringing it inside before you closed the door and locked it again. 
You brought it back to the kitchen and placed it on the kitchen island, and of course, this caught Spencer’s attention where he could see you from his place at the table. 
“Y/N, what is that?” He asked, unable to mask the frantic worry popping up in his voice. 
“I don’t know.” You said, feeling slightly haunted by it yourself. 
You moved to open the envelope, and before Spencer could stop you, something echoing in the back of his mind - chirps about potential poison or even a bomb - you had ripped it open and spilled the contents onto the counter. 
Your insides quaked when you saw what it was. 
Spencer rushed over to look at the items with you, and naturally, this drew Sebastian’s attention as well. 
“What is it, Mommy?” He asked, marching over and trying to get a peek over the edge of the counter, but not yet tall enough to see - which you were thankful for. 
“Did you finish all your dinner?” You asked, leaning over to look at him. 
“I did!” He said proudly, nodding. 
“Okay, then, why don’t you go into the pantry and pick a cookie?” You said, hoping that your sudden flood of worry and fear didn’t quake through your voice as you forced a smile for him. 
“Okay!” He cheered brightly. 
He ran off to the large cupboard beside the kitchen table, eager to pick between the varieties of cookies that you had there. 
(Again, he was smart - but easily distracted. That you were thankful for.) 
“Y/N-” Spencer gasped when he saw the items that had come out of the envelope. 
“I don’t wanna hear it.” You said, your voice now quivering with tears you found yourself unable to hold back. “I don’t wanna hear about how you were right.” 
You stared down at the items in horror. 
It was several photos of you; very voyeuristic shots of you going about your daily life. Several of them including Sebastian when you had been doing perfectly innocent things - going shopping, playing at the park. Even pictures of the two of you playing in your own backyard. A view of you getting dressed through your bedroom window. 
One of the photos - a photo of nothing more than the front door to your home - had a message scribbled across it in bright red marker. 
‘Daddy misses you. Be home soon. xoxo’  
“That’s not what I was going to say.” Spencer sighed. 
He saw how horribly you were shaking - he saw the tears brimming your eyes. This time, he truly couldn’t help himself. He stepped around the counter, and upon instinct, he swept you into a tight hug. 
Unconsciously, he caged you away from any potential danger with his arms around your shoulders - holding you like he would have when you had a nightmare or when you shied away from men you considered ‘creepy’ on the subway. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingers digging into his back for comfort, clinging to him like you would have clung to a life raft at sea. 
You broke into sobs, the sound muffled by his chest, and Spencer’s own heart stung - knowing that the true depth of the danger had finally hit you. 
“It’s okay.” He told you. “It’s gonna be okay.” 
He rubbed a flat palm across your back, hoping to comfort you in some way, even though he knew that the terror of the whole situation was mounting - and it was a horrible thing to face. 
“Spencer-” You sobbed out, unsure what you even wanted to say. 
“I’m going to make sure it’s okay.” He said firmly. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt you, right?” 
It wasn’t even a question in your mind. The two of you had your problems back in the day, but you knew that Spencer would never let any harm come to you. 
You clung tighter to him, savoring the moments while Sebastian was still distracted - likely sneaking more than the singular cookie you had allotted him to have, not that you cared in the slightest right now. 
If there was anything else on your mind aside from the potentially crippling fear as the realization truly hit you, any room past the fact that you had been stalked and secretly surveilled by a murderer for weeks now; then you might have considered the fact that when you had woken up this morning, you never would have never thought that Spencer Reid, of all people, would be such a comforting touch to you. 
Oh, how things change. 
Spencer was hesitant to let you go from the hug. 
But he had to call the team, because this was an important break in the case. And he had to see what kinds of arrangements they could make for you - if they could find a safehouse for you on such short notice, or if he would be taking you to the field office or the police station. 
You cleaned the cookie crumbs off Sebastian and took him to the living room, trying to maintain some sense of calm while you turned on a random cartoon show on cable. He got out a puzzle and you helped him with it while Spencer stepped into the other room and dialed Morgan’s number. 
“Hey, Reid.” Morgan greeted him. “How’s married life treating you?” 
“Not funny.” Spencer replied, his voice short and frustrated. “The UnSub just delivered another package here. More photos. And a message. ‘Be home soon’. It’s pretty clear that he’s planning on making his move soon.” 
“Woah.” Morgan replied. “Well, if Y/N didn’t want protective custody before, then I’m assuming that scared her into complying.” 
“Yeah.” Reid agreed. “Where should I bring her?” 
“Hold on.” 
There were some voices clustered on the other end, and then, the next person to speak on the phone was Hotch. 
“Reid… you’re not going to like what I have to say.” 
“What is it?” Spencer prodded. 
“Morgan and Prentiss got nothing at the library. So far, the only thing we’ve got on this UnSub is the fact that Y/N is likely his next victim, and he doesn’t seem eager to break pattern just because you’re in the house.” 
Spencer didn’t like where this was going. 
“You’re not insisting-?” He asked, and Hotch filled in the blank for him. 
“Our only chance to catch him could be… catching him in the act. We could tie him to the other crimes if we catch him breaking into the house-” 
“The house that my son is currently in.” Spencer huffed. 
“We could bring the boy into protective custody. And leave Y/N there. We know that he never hurts the children, that’s not part of his MO.” Hotch offered meekly. 
“But he gets some kind of catharsis from playing house.” Spencer replied. “If we move Sebastian, that might cause him to break pattern, and he could just move onto another victim.” 
Then, something else occurred to Spencer. 
“Also, we don’t know how he’s surveilling us.” He added on. “If he sees where we’re moving Sebastian, he might go after him.” 
He considered that another woman - someone completely unsuspecting, someone unprepared, someone innocent with no way to defend herself - would be killed if Spencer made the wrong choice. It could be more than one woman if the UnSub got away and simply continued his patterns uninterrupted. 
This was more controlled. The UnSub seemed determined to confront Spencer. 
Spencer felt that was a confrontation he could win. 
“We can have unmarked cars posted on every block. And the minute he breaches the house, you call it in. He won’t get anywhere near them.” 
Spencer hated that it was their only choice. 
“Okay.”
...
A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the fourth part! I would really like to see 30 Comments - in the form of replies, comments on reblogs, and asks (anonymous or not), and 40 Reblogs before I post the next part.
I am really glad to know that everyone is enjoying this series, and I would love to hear more of what you think about it. In the next chapter, we answer the big question - what did Spencer do? What happened between Spencer and the reader that caused them to break up? So you guys can look forward to that!
Also, please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.
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angellsell · 3 days
Text
End and Begin
Summary: some people are meant to fall in love with each other but are not meant to be together, you and Aaron are two of them Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Genre: angst [oneshot] Warning(s): none A/N: day twenty-six of the marchhotchness event by @hotchfiles
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Some people are meant to fall in love with each other but are not meant to be together. It's a cruel twist of fate, a bitter irony that mocks the heart's desires. And I've come to understand this truth all too well, tangled in the bittersweet threads of love and loss.
Aaron. His name lingered on my lips like a whispered prayer, a ghost of affection that refuses to fade. From the moment our eyes first met, I knew there was something inexplicably special about him. His smile was a beacon of warmth in a world often shrouded in darkness, his laughter a melody that echoed in the depths of my soul and that could only be heard in the solitude of our being.
We were inseparable, two souls entwined in a dance of passion and devotion. Every moment spent in his presence was a treasure, each touch a symphony of longing and desire. His hands in mine, his gentle touch of fingers in my hair while lying in my bed were heaven on earth. We carved out our own little universe, where time stood still and the rest of the world faded into insignificance.
But beneath the surface of what I thought was the start of a perfect love, cracks began to form. Fissures of doubt and insecurity widened with each passing day, threatening to swallow us whole. His laughter, once a symphony of joy, began to sound strained as if trying to mask the growing distance between us. His smiles became fleeting, his touch hesitant.
I tried to ignore the signs, to cling to the illusion of happiness we had constructed around us. We both painted over the splits with false promises and whispered reassurances, hoping against hope that our love would weather the storm. But reality has a way of tearing down walls, exposing the fragile truth hidden beneath the facade.
Late nights turned into early mornings filled with shouted arguments and tear-stained apologies. We danced around the elephant in the room, tiptoeing around the issues until there was no space left for silence. But no amount of avoidance could change what was happening before our very eyes.
I poured my heart out to him, laying bare my fears and insecurities in the hopes of bridging the growing chasm between us. But his response was always the same, a hesitant nod, a half-hearted attempt at reassurance that only served to deepen the divide.
And so, we drifted further and further apart, like ships passing in the night, destined for different horizons. Our once vibrant being became a shadow of its former self, a hollow shell of what could have been. And as I watched him slip through my fingers like grains of sand, I knew that our time together was drawing to a close.
But even as the end came near, I couldn't bring myself to let go. I clung to him desperately, as if by holding on tight enough, I could stop the inevitable from happening. But some things are beyond our control, and our love was one of them.
Words left unspoken hung heavy in the air, suffocating us with their weight. And in the silence that followed, I realized that some bonds are too fragile to withstand the trials of life.
Aaron. His name lingered on my lips like a whispered secret, a desperate prayer for him to stay as he was walking his way out of my door, out of my life.
We were never meant to last, we were destined to unravel at the seams like a threadbare tapestry. And as I stand here now, alone in the wreckage of what once was, I can't help but wonder if it was all just a cruel trick of fate.
We were over, and the worst thing is we never began.
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rainydayathogwarts · 16 hours
Text
Open arms - Emily Prentiss
Smut - the way this fic has been sitting half written in my drafts forever. Go me for finally getting it done. Summary: Emily can't help but approach her ex in a dimly-lit bar wc: 2.1k
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Emily thought that the night would be nice and relaxing for her and the team, celebrating another closed case at their favourite bar, their laughter drowning out the sounds of other people's conversations in the dim-lit restaurant. That was until her eyes locked in on a familiar figure standing near the bar, most definitely accompanied by someone. Emily froze, her hand tightly gripping her drink, and audibly gasped when you turned around, exposing your face to her.
"Y/n?" She whispered, catching Penelope and Derek's attention, who both turned to look at her. "You okay there Prentiss?" But she really wasn't. You were her only partner who ever stayed up waiting for her to come home from a case, genuinely concerned about her. You held her in your arms, letting her just sit there and open up if she wanted to. If she didn't, it didn't bother you, and you showered her with love nonetheless, always managing to pull a smile from her. And you were definitely the best in bed. Having you withering under her, relentlessly crying out her name was an image Emily would never forget.
She regretted leaving you every day, but it would keep you safe. After seeing what Hotch had to go through, she knew it was the smartest decision. Now that you were there though, in person after over a year of being apart, she wouldn't be able to stay away from you. If you would let her that was. She remembered your reaction, how you completely broke down, calling bullshit on her 'keeping you safe' excuse.
"I'm fine." She said, bringing herself out of her trance to take a long sip of her drink. "That an ex of yours?" Derek questioned, looking at you, now talking to a friend. You looked gorgeous, he thought. Your short black dress showed off your long legs and had a low cut to display your biggest weapon, the heels you wore flexing your calf muscles in the nicest way possible. Your stunning smile exposed your white teeth while a hand flipped your hair over your shoulder. He wondered how a dumbass like Emily was able to get you.
Emily's head shot back in your direction when she heard coughing, only to find out it was you, your face now going red as you choked on your drink, your friend, who Emily now realised she knew from when you dated, rubbing your back. Oh no... When the coughing stopped, you immediately looked back at her, confirming your suspicions. She returned your eye contact, awkwardly waving at you before you were suddenly facing away from her, refusing for the interaction to continue, earning a sympathetic look from your friend.
Emily heard a chorus of "Oof" and "Oh"s from the team, who were all cringing at the interaction. "Shut up." Emily groaned, stealing a shot from in front of Derek and downing it. She coughed twice, ignoring Derek's complaints, and turned to Spencer who was now telling them a statistic about exes. "It was actually found that 44% of Americans get back with their exes at some point after breaking up. And that only includes relationships post-break up instead of one night stands, so I'd say your chances are pretty high."
As much as Emily was unimpressed that Reid was giving her dating advice, she found herself walking up to you the minute your friend left, leaving you alone at the bar. Better me than anyone else shooting their shot, she thought. It was only when she stood right next to you that she realised she had no idea what to say and that the entire team was probably watching their interaction. She cleared her throat, muttering a small "Hey." You jumped slightly, rotating on the bar stool to face your ex-girlfriend. Emily expect you to frown, thrown your drink in her face even, but to her shock, you cracked a small smile at her. "Hey Em". "Can I sit?" She asked, shifting her weight from one leg to another.
You nodded, watching her as she sat. She looked different. She had cut her hair into bangs and wore her hair pin straight instead of the loose curls she'd put them in. She wore a low cut black top with black jeans as well as her go to combat boots. You assumed she came here straight from work. When you looked back up at her face, she was still staring at you, her gaze stuck on your thighs. "Um, can I get you a drink or something?" Her head shot up and she shook it "No, I've had enough to drink. Thanks." A long awkward silence followed and you looked over at the table she had come from, watching as all of her friends' heads shot in the opposite direction apart from one of them, still cluelessly observing you.
"I'm sorry - I shouldn't have-" "No!" You cut her off, cheeks going rosy. "Why don't we go for a walk or something?"
That walk led you both to the side of the road, waiting for a taxi as you made small talk, no discussion of going to either of your apartments until you were both sat in the back of the taxi on the way to your flat. Emily's hand rested on your thigh, both of your sides pressed against each other, faces mere inches apart as her free hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to her. You felt your desire for Emily grow, squeezing your thighs together to get any amount of friction.
Emily's eyes caught the movement, smiling slightly as she felt her own core heat up for you. She leaned towards you to look out of the window, pressing her tits up against you as she tried to see how far away you were from the apartment, making small talk while you waited. The second the taxi driver pulled the car over, she was tossing her money at him and following you out of the car, both her hands resting on your hips as you led her into your fancy building and towards the elevator. The second you were in the elevator, pressing the button to the right floor, her hands were wrapping around your waist and she was pressing her lips against the soft skin of your neck.
You grabbed her hand when the elevator doors opened, leading the way to your apartment and frantically opening and shutting the door before you turned around, throwing yourself into Emily's arms. You slammed your lips onto hers, wrapping your arms around her neck as you pressed your body against hers. Her hands were immediately under the skirt of your dress, groping the fat of your ass in her hands. You pulled away from the kiss, muttering "couch" to Emily, who complied, bending down slightly so she could wrap her arms around the back of your legs and picking you up.
You squealed as she walked you over to your big couch, having forgotten about her FBI agent strength. She dropped you on the couch, crawling over you but you pushed her back so she fell flat on her back on the large couch, throwing a leg over her hips to straddle her. She tried sitting up but you pushed her back, kissing her again so she would give in, letting you take control of the kiss. Her hands trailed up your body until they reached your tits and she tugged at the front of your dress, letting them spill out the front of it. You gasped, and she took your shock to her advantage, throwing her hips up into yours and rolling over so she was on top of you.
Her hands were instantly on your tits, pulling and twisting at your nipple, the other one in her mouth. "Em, Emily!" You begged, trying to grind your hips into hers but she wouldn't listen, taking her time kissing all over your body. When she couldn't reach any more skin due to the fabric of your dress, she fully separated from you, ordering you to turn around so she could undo the zipper. So you got up onto your knees, allowing Emily to undo your dress and pull it above your head, before her hands were wandering again, down your stomach and into the skimpy panties you wore.
She moaned into your ear, feeling how wet you were before both her hands were at your hips again and she was tugging you towards her as she fell backwards, landing you in her laps. She welcomed your kisses, tightly gripping your hips as you ground your cunt on her jean-clad skin. Eventually, you got desperate, tugging her shirt up so you could feel underneath it, hungrily reaching for her tits. At your whine, she finishes the job for you, tossing her shirt somewhere in the room before your hands were back behind her, unclasping her bra.
Before you manage to throw yourself onto Emily even further, you feel her hand under your panties, immediately searching for your clit, which she finds in mere seconds. You hear yourself begging for her, struggling to hold yourself above her. Emily's hands manhandle you so your back in pressed against hers, your legs spread in front of you. Her hands begin wandering once more, and she inserts two fingers into your warm core. You cry out, arching your back as Emily continues to suck hickeys onto your neck.
Her unoccupied hand plays with your tits, alternating which one she massages. Your head rests in the crook of her next, trying not to buck your hips into her hand as she continues fingering you. Your chest heaves with each breath you take, and you're too far into pleasure land to think of how much of a mistake you were making. You feel the familiar knot building up in your stomach and whimper, your hands reaching below you to grasp Emily's thigh. Moaning loudly with an arch of your back, you cum on Emily's hand. Emily, who is whispering praises in your ear and brushing your hair out of your face with her free hand.
With the effects of your orgasm now gone and you catching your breath, you begin to internally cringe. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? You will yourself to turn around in Emily's arms, whispering "Your turn", fully aware that she wouldn't say yes. "No baby, it's okay. This is just about you." You nod, allowing yourself to fall onto the couch beside her. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Dragging yourself up from the couch, your legs still shaking, you shut the bathroom door before Emily gets the time to follow you.
You wrap a free towel around your torso, mentally cussing yourself out, thinking of a way to get Emily out of your house. The clock on the wall reads 3:28. It's late. You should go home. Repeating the words to yourself, you open the bathroom door to be met with the tall brunette. She smiles widely, a hand coming to your hip to bring you close and kiss you softly. You return her kiss but can't bring yourself to do the same with a smile. She senses the change in your behaviour and you take that as your chance to tell her: "It's late. You should go." You look down and away from her face so you can't see the way her smile drops. "Right. Um, this was fun." Your hum is enough of an answer to her and you practically chase her to the door once she's fully clothed.
Once the door is shut behind her, you peek through the peep hole to see her bring a hand up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. She calls someone on the phone, someone you can only imagine was at the table with her at the bar. Listening closely through the door, you hear "No Derek, I did not win her heart back. She's really done with me."
But it's late. You should go sleep.
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clementinegreye · 10 hours
Text
the sweetest sin of all
aaron hotchner x feb!bau!reader ||
summary: who'd have thought aaron hotchner was a man so consumed by longing (lightly inspired by hozier's new song 'too sweet'):
word count: 3.4k
warnings: heavy tension, crossing professional boundaries and general talks of CM violence and murder (nothing graphic):
a/n: hi! i wrote this entire thing for a friend, but maybe you might enjoy it too! this is my first piece of writing on this new blog so if you like feel free to like, reblog or even just let me know! and hopefully if it goes well there'll be more soon!
From the dim lighting of the office it was almost impossible to tell the exact lateness of the night. His watch consistently ticking, remained a steady rhythm. He ran a hand across his face, his tie undone and lying, long discarded on his desk. The first few buttons of his shirt undone, unbuttoned and an almost vulnerable step away from his usual armour. Papers containing violence were spread haphazardly and with chaos across his desk. A nearly forgotten glass of strong neat whiskey sat in place of his usual bitter coffee.
His team had been on the case for nearly a week, and Hotch felt they were no closer to catching the Unsub. The whole team was feeling the pressure. The profile told him they were dealing with a moral enforcer, a highly organised, violent offender with a clear mission. It should have been easy for them but bodies seemed to be continuously appearing and everyone was feeling uneasy and frustrated.
He was drowning in the details of this case, the Unsub's pattern ever-present in his mind. He thought of the remaining sins - envy, wrath, and lust - and something burned deep within his chest. It was a dangerous game they played, one where the stakes were higher than any case he'd ever worked on.
Being head of the team he felt the responsibility more vehemently than the rest, and he was doing something he’d promised the team he wouldn’t. He was letting it get to him.
There’d been four victims so far, each killed to match one of the seven deadly sins. So far his victims had been; gluttony - an overzealous upscale restaurant critic who binged food that he slated publicly, greed - a high-profile stock broker with the inability to control his obsession with obtaining more of his client's money, sloth - a wealthy trust fund baby who squandered their university scholarship out of laziness and pride - a wealthy woman with a shopping addiction who frequented beauty salons and had an intense social media presence flaunting herself.
Each victim came from a different geographical area of the city and Garcia hadn’t been able to uncover any crossover between their lives where it might have been somewhere they could have met the Unsub. There were no leads and the team felt at a loss. 
Knowing the Unsub was three victims away from the end of his mission, Hotch knew they were close to losing him if they didn’t catch a break soon. He’d sent the team home to get some sleep and told them to be ready bright and early the next day. Yet Hotch couldn't bring himself to leave the office, hoping the crime scene photos might uncover something he'd missed. He thought everyone had listened to his orders until he was drawn away from the graphic images in front of him by a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in." He croaked harshly, the hours of not speaking catching up to his vocal chords.
It was her. Of course, it was her.
She always had a way of pulling him from the edge, of grounding him when the world became too much. In the chaos and uncertainty of their work, she was his constant, his unwavering beacon of light. She was his solace, his calm in the storm, and in that moment, he allowed himself to get lost in her.
She was like honey, dripping out and pooling where flies could get stuck on the intoxication and drown. He could feel it, the danger she could be. If he’d been a man less controlled he could see how she could be his every downfall and triumph. In her, he saw a reflection of all his desires and fears. She was every strength and weakness. In the moment, he couldn't help but want to drown in the intoxicating allure of her, his deadly and dangerous, yet irresistibly sweet sin.
‘I’m heading home for the night…’ Her voice trailed off in a quiet hush to match the silence of the office. 
The creases in his forehead from pouring over crime scenes and endless theories seemed to smooth out. He breathed out hours' worth of tension in a single breath, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn upwards so quickly that unless she’d been a profiler paying attention she might not have noticed. The way his body language shifted was subtle enough to the untrained eye, but not to her. He couldn’t conceal himself in his controlled, cold-edged front as well as he usually could when she was around.
"I gave those orders hours ago." He mused, leaning back in his chair, the breath of a sigh dying on his lips.
She gently shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "I thought you might be used to me defying your orders by now, Hotch. You should take your own advice, didn’t you promise to stop working so late," she replied, a glint in her eyes that held an irresistible challenge. Their playful banter was a welcome change from the dark seriousness that he’d been so consumed by moments ago.
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief waiting for his retort.
"I didn’t promise anything." He huffed.
She didn’t wait for an invitation, she didn’t need to. Crossing the threshold of his office and making her way to the imposing desk of the Unit Chief.
She’d not seen her boss look so troubled by a case in a long time. Her gaze was drawn to him as his elbows leaned against the desk, his usually impeccable suit dishevelled. She noted the way the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of the man beneath the stoic FBI Unit Chief. It was a stark contrast to the man who was always put together, always in control. Yet, in that moment, he looked anything but. Not yet unravelled, but on the edge of it.
She moved further into the office, she was not someone who second-guessed her decisions. She walked with confidence, and perched herself on the edge of his desk, letting her legs dangle over the edge her black work trousers tight across her thighs. She rested her hand on the desk, dangerously close to her Hotch’s, mere centimetres.
His gaze shifted from the papers in front of him and followed the contours of her face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. He swallowed hard, his mind flickering with thoughts he'd held at bay for far too long. But he was Unit Chief, and professionalism might as well have been his middle name. He lightly shook his head, feeling the back of his eyes burn from the focus he’d had all day.
Hotch wasn’t one to open up, he was always controlled but around her, there was a tug at the stitches of his personality.
‘I have a bad feeling about this case.’ He hummed, the night breeze catching against the window. He could smell her perfume, mixing with the scent of burnt coffee and paper. He dare not think about it too long.
He reached across his desk and grabbed his near-forgotten whiskey, downing it in one drag. He bent towards where her legs were hanging over his desk, motioning for her to lift them. She drew them up towards her chest and he opened the drawer beneath her pulling an expensive-looking bottle from it and refilling the glass, this time handing it to her. Their fingers grazed slightly with the exchange. His warm, hers icy cold - meeting to form the perfect temperature.
‘We have no leads. I always trust the profile, but this case… We’ve got nothing.’ His eyes watched her as she swirled the liquid around the glass, her eyes watching it splash against the sides. He sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands before leaning his head back, a deep exhale exiting his thin lips.
‘We’ll get him.’ She said confidently, something shifted in her tone. It was like a dagger's sharp edge, certainty dripping off it like blood. He almost believed her, but she could see the already dim light dissipating from his dark eyes. She felt sympathy pooling in the tips of her fingers. If she didn’t hadn’t been holding their shared glass she might have reached out and touched him so that it could bleed from her into him, so that he would feel less alone.
She leaned back slightly, her eyes searching his. It was unclear what she was searching for in them. He couldn’t read her entirely, even with all his years of profiling. When she smiled, he felt his heart catch in his throat. It was like looking directly at the sun. Burning and bright hot.
‘You should follow your own orders… And for once so should I. Go home. Get some rest.’ She downed the liquid with a swift tip of her head. Hotch watched the curve of her neck as she moved and the way she licked her lips catching a fallen drop of liquor. She laid the glass down on the desk, allowing her hand to brush over his. His skin crackled with electricity.
She moved with grace as she climbed down from his desk. That one moment shared more intimate than she’d expected it to feel, with their proximity, the lateness of the hour and the unusually undone Aaron sitting at his desk.
His eyes followed her every movement, skin stinging as if he’d been burned. She was halfway to the door before he heard himself call out to her. It almost didn’t sound like his own voice.
‘Wait. Don’t go yet. Come here.’ His voice was firm like it always was, but there was a depth to it that she hadn’t heard before. One she’d always longed for. His eyes glinted with dark hues as he watched her turn from the door. He almost breathed out in relief.
She had an unreadable expression. One that set the blood in his veins on fire. She lowered her head, and with it, her eyes darkened. He stood from his desk, making his way over to her with steps that felt dreamlike. Their eyes met with an energy never shared before and once in front of her he reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear so that he had an unobscured view of her whole face. The same face that had the power to completely undo him.
Her eyes widened slightly as if surprised by his gentle touch, but at the same time, there was a knowing in them as if she’d been waiting for it all along. She remained still, and his heart pounded in his chest as he looked into his eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them. It felt like any words would have made the moment less intimate.
His hand lingered against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his touch was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of his office. Her skin felt like it was burning under him. The silence between them was palpable, filled with the yet unspoken words and emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Hotch, usually so controlled in his feelings suddenly felt so unsteady. His heart beat suspiciously with the feeling that perhaps he’d crossed a line.
‘How do you know?’ He whispered, eyes scanning hers as if he were a detective trying to uncover the evidence that gave her certainty. In the light of the office, she looked like she’d been hand carved, art that he’d been lucky enough to be in the presence of. He traced his thumb over her lips, eyes heavy with a mixture of desire and something else she couldn't quite place. It was a dangerous gesture, one that could endanger his whole career.
'I trust you, and that’s all I need to know that we’ll get him.' she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes glazed with a devotion that almost made him groan. The conviction of her words pierced his wavering confidence. He’d gone from feeling almost hopeless to buzzing with determination.
He let his hand fall away from her face, but the warmth lingered, an almost promise that what she’d been sure she’d felt moments ago had indeed been real. Reality swarmed his brain, aware of the situation he’d almost found himself in. He straightened up, posture contrasting his relatively dishevelled exterior.
"You’re right, you should follow my orders. Go home, get some rest. I told the team we’d start fresh in the morning," he instructed, a softness in his voice that was rarely displayed. But she didn’t move, and he didn’t either.
He watched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, the tension in the room was palpable, an electrifying current that Hotch didn’t dare to break. Silence blanketed them, only broken by the ticking of his watch. It was a solitary reminder of the passing time, yet the urgency of their case had fallen to the back of his mind.
‘Close the door.’ She instructed, using the same authority that Hotch usually spoke with. The change in dynamic almost made him falter, but with a small smirk, he moved towards the door. He’d been aware of the power imbalance he held in his position but with the tone of her voice, there was a subtle shift in the air between them. She moved back towards his desk with certainty. Moving his name tag so she could perch to face the dark space of the office.
Their eyes met across the room. She tilted her head to the side, examining his body language. As he locked the door behind him, the air seemed to constrict around them, the room becoming a world of its own where only they existed. The only sound in the room was the soft click of the lock and their breathing. It echoed throughout the office, bouncing off the walls and settling into their bones. The tension escalated, but it was different now, charged with an anticipation that neither of them could ignore.
He might have been unit chief, but right here, right now, she was in charge. The line between professional and personal blurred dangerously as their eyes locked, a promise of something more hanging in the balance. The air was charged now, they were poised, daring each other to make the first move. They both knew that they were on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could have dire consequences professionally.
Yet, the pull was too strong to ignore, and for the first time, Hotch allowed himself to teeter on the edge, his resolve tested by the powerful undercurrent of desire that crackled between them. Tonight, they were not just colleagues, they were two individuals drawn together by an irresistible force. In the room, the undeniable chemistry that had been simmering under the surface for far too long had nowhere to hide.
On the desk, she rested each hand palm down to the side of her thighs and opened her legs wider to create space for his body to fit. She moved her head in a motion for him to step forward. Hotch couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, pupils were blown wide from more than just the darkness of the room. How long had he craved something so forbidden, how long had he denied himself the idea that this could ever happen?
As he moved closer to her, he couldn't help but think about the deadly sin of lust, a strong passion or longing that was deemed sinful. Here he was, teetering on the edge of crossing professional boundaries, something he’d never done. The balance of energy in the room was no longer solely from the stress of the case, it was about them - about her. He could have tried to argue that it was, but no jury in the state would believe him. If this were a trial, he was about to be found guilty.
The Unsub's deadly pattern echoed in his mind - the three sins he’d yet to kill for; envy, jealousy over another's life or possessions, wrath, a violent anger driven by hatred, and finally, lust, a powerful desire that can become all-consuming, much like the craving he was experiencing in that very moment. Looking upon her he felt envious of anyone who had ever been allowed to touch her, he felt wrath for anyone who had ever wronged or hurt her, and most of all he felt lust. He definitely felt lust, his desire for her taking over all his senses.
Was he caught between duty and desire? No, he had no doubt in his mind. The sheer intensity of her shared gaze and the way she was beckoning him forward smashed the boundaries of their relationship. He’d never seen her in this light, never dared to allow himself to think of her like this. But now she was in front of him how could he ever deny himself something so sweet?
Hotch had always been a man of control, a man who kept his emotions in check. But in this room, with the charged atmosphere heavy between them, he felt his resolve wavering. He was caught in the powerful current of the desire for her that he’d managed to keep at bay. He didn’t want to be in control anymore. 
He closed the distance between them, fitting himself between her legs, his hands landing on her hips as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She brought one hand off the desk to hold the waistband of his suit trousers, tugging lightly.
“Are you finally going to kiss me, Agent Hotchner?” She asked, voice dripping with honey. Sweetness laced with danger that hit him right in the chest like a bullet.
She was an intoxicating mix of all seven, a deadly sin in her own right. She was his lust, his unending desire. She was his gluttony, the one he wanted to consume endlessly. She was his greed, the one he wanted all for himself. She was his sloth, his reason for inertia. She was his wrath, the one who could ignite a fire in him like no other. She was his envy, the one he admired and coveted. And she was his pride, the one who made him feel like he was on top of the world.
‘You will be the ruin of me.’ He breathed, his eyes almost black. He looked down at her taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. He was entirely wrapped around her finger. Tonight, he decided, he would willingly drown in this sweet sin, consequences be damned.
‘That is entirely my intention.’ She chuckled and he groaned, a guttural sound that felt foreign to him.
"Only if you promise not to tell the team," he murmured, a playful undertone to his voice.
As he leaned down to capture her lips with his, he knew without a doubt that this was a deadly sin he was willing to commit. It was both sweet and intense, a perfect reflection of their now complicated relationship.
Her lips tasted of the whiskey they'd shared, sweet with a hint of burn that left him wanting more. She tasted like a curse, sickeningly sweet as if to cause him decay. He deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. He was standing on the cliff of the unknown, and he was more than willing to jump and fall headfirst.
As he pulled away, he couldn't help but study her face. He’d come face to face with endless serial killers, and been in the presence of pure evil. But he’d never been so close to something so dangerous. She was a temptation he couldn't resist. Sweeter than any apple in the Garden of Eden. He traced the contours of her face with his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers.
He could still taste her on the back of his tongue, sugar and shared whiskey burning. He’d never been so certain that he’d been willing to trade his control for the intoxicating sweetness that was her. She was a forbidden fruit that was too alluring to resist, and Aaron Hotchner had no more resistance left in him. Not now he’d tasted something so delicious.
After all, wasn't life about balancing the deadly sins and virtues? Tonight, he chose to sin.
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mxmmyprentiss · 1 day
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Bad Mom
Summary: Emily has always been better at this mom thing than you are. Sometimes, you actually envy her for how good she is at it. She was a natural while you’re a disaster. And maybe your daughter knew that. Genre: Fluff Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: none Word count: 1.6K
A/N: Just some little fluff piece I wrote to get back to writing. It's not proofread so forgive me for mistakes and errors. Likes, comments and shares are welcome. Enjoy! :)
AO3
You and Emily Prentiss have been married for over five years now. You dated for two years prior to your marriage. And in those years that you’ve been together, both of you have gone through ups and downs together. Emily has never left you to deal with your problems alone.
Except today.
And that problem was your 3-year-old daughter having temper tantrums at breakfast.
“I don’ wike t’is!” Eleanor, your daughter, slammed her tiny hands on the dining table. She was clearly furious at you for trying to feed her vegetables instead of her requested chocolate cereals.
In your defense, it’s all she wanted to eat lately and you just didn’t want her to be diabetic early (or at all). 
“Ellie, please. This is yummy and healthy, baby. You can have cereal again tomorrow.”
Ellie shook her head and continued slamming the table. Her face was flushed from yelling and arguing with you for the past ten minutes or so. “No, mama! Ce-yals today!”
You sighed weakly. Ellie was such a good, easy  kid most of the time but can be a real pain in the ass when she wants to be. And in those times, only your wife can get through her stubbornness. After all, she is Emily’s daughter too.
“Mommy will be mad. Do you want mommy to be mad?”
“Mommy not he’e!” She pouted.
“I know, but she will be mad once she finds out you’re giving Mama a hard time.”
Ellie folded her arms to her chest and displayed a sulky pout. “I wan’ mommy!” She fiercely yelled at you. “I wan’ mommy he’e!”
“I want mommy here too, baby, but she is fighting bad guys and she will come back to us soon.” You tried to offer her another spoonful of mashed vegetables. To your surprise, Ellie grabbed the spoon and tossed it to the floor. “Eleanor Prentiss!”
“Mama bad! Bad!” Ellie screamed before storming off to the living room and played with her puzzles.
Your eyes fell to the mess your daughter made on the table and the floor.
God, you wish she was here. Emily has always been better at this mom thing than you are. Sometimes, you actually envy her for how good she is at it. She was a natural while you’re a disaster. And maybe your daughter knew that.
After cleaning up the mess, you gave up and fed her cereals instead. It’s still better than Ellie not eating anything at all.
Your phone buzzed and it was from your wife.
Emily: Hey, babe. Just got back from Chicago. How are you and Ellie?
You: Ellie and I are enemies at the moment. She’s not eating her veggies and she’s asking for you.
Emily: I’ll be home in 30. Just have to finish this last paperwork then I’m out.
You: See you later, babe. I love you.
Emily: I love you too and that little self-willed kid of ours.
You have no doubt about that. In all the years that you’ve known each other, not once did Emily make you feel that you didn’t matter to her. Even when she had to leave you for days or weeks to travel to different states for her job. She never made you feel that her job was a priority over you; it’s just something she had to do. Emily would call you every night to check on you. Most times she would have food delivered at your door or at your workplace so she’s sure that you’d eaten. And when your wife comes home to you, a bouquet of hydrangea - your favorite flower - would be found on your bedside table.
But when you and Emily decided to adopt Eleanor three years ago, everything changed.
Emily was just promoted as BAU unit chief six months before Ellie’s adoption while you stayed home for a while to take care of your newborn. Your wife managed to spend less hours in the office and made a strict rule to not be interrupted during her off days. During some of these days, you would caught her teaching Ellie different languages and the then two-year-old girl was just staring at her wide-eyed.
Your wife had made sure to spend her annual leaves with you and Ellie. Emily would take you and Ellie to Disneyland and other theme parks she researched about. She would never bring her family to places she deemed unsafe and family unfriendly, especially places the BAU has worked abduction cases with. 
Long story short, the change in your routine was all for the better.
Emily is a great mother, the best even. And she is just as great as your wife.
The problem lied with you though. You can’t seem to get through to your daughter like Emily did. It feels as if Ellie didn’t like you, or just liked her other mother better. Of course, you still loved that kid to death and you would do anything for her. But sometimes, at times like this one, it feels like you’re a failure of a mother to her.
Ellie was still ignoring you and your attempts to play with her. If you had a bingo card of her mama no’s, you would have won by now.
Maybe your daughter hated you.
You settled on watching your daughter have a tea party with her stuffed animals. Her dark curls tangled with the golden plastic crown she wore and her dark brown eyes focused on her white bunny. She was doing her best in re-telling them the bedtime story you told her last night.
The front door opened and Emily entered the living room, holding a big bouquet of pink and lavender hydrangeas and a tiny bouquet of white lilies.
“Queen Emily has arrived!” Emily announced, referencing the last story she told Ellie the night before she left for the case. “How’s my lovely sunshines?”
“Mommy!” Ellie exclaimed and ran to Emily. The little girl tightly hugged her mother’s leg. “Miss you, mommy!”
“Aww, I missed you too, sweet cheeks.” Emily knelt down to kiss her daughter’s cheek. She handed her the small bouquet. “This is for you, baby girl.”
Ellie jumped in joy and hugged Emily. “Thanks, mommy! They pwetty!”
“Yes, they are. Just like you, little one.” Emily playfully pinched her nose. When Ellie ran back to her tea party - boasting to everyone about the pretty flowers that her mother got her - Emily turned to you. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Please, I’m a mess.” You said, smiling faintly.
“Oh, you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still find you the most beautiful woman on the entire planet.” You couldn’t help the blush that crept on your cheeks. Damn, this woman. Emily planted a kiss on your lips then handed you your bouquet. “This is for the best wife and mom in the world.”
You gratefully accept her gift. “Best wife? Yes. Best mother? Hmm, you’ll have to ask Ellie that.” You kissed Emily’s nose. “Your daughter hates me.”
“Our daughter,” Emily corrected you, slightly offended that you would ever say otherwise. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just a stubborn little girl.”
“Wonder who she got that from.” You teased, earning an eye roll from your wife. “I made breakfast for you in the kitchen. You should eat.”
“Best.” Emily pecked your lips. “Wife.” And another peck. “Ever.” And another.
“I better be ‘cause I’d be the only one you’re getting for the rest of your life.” A smirk formed at your lips.
“One and only, babe.” Emily winked at you.
You and Emily spent the entire day playing with your daughter - having tea parties, dressing up her barbies, Emily making up silly stories about your family running an entire kingdom of stuffed animals. Eventually, your wife made sure that Ellie eats the mashed vegetables you prepared for her, proving only a stubborn could get past another stubborn.
Later that night, you and Emily tucked your daughter in. Emily was carefully brushing her hair while you set up her starry night light. Like most kids her age, Ellie didn’t like sleeping in the dark.
Ellie looked up to you. “Mama, pwease tell me ‘nother stowy?”
Your eyes met Emily’s. She smiled softly and nodded at you to go along with your daughter’s request.
You’re about to grab a book from Ellie’s cabinet when she stops you. “Don’ wan’ books. Wan’ mama and mommy stowy.”
“Our story?” Emily clarified. Little Ellie nodded. “Oh, mama, she wants to know our story.”
“I’m telling this one because we cannot trust mommy to tell the whole story, right?” You giggled as you tickled your daughter. “Okay, where do we start, hmm?”
“Start when you saw me across the room and fell in love with me.”
“I think that was the other way around, honey.”
“Touché.” Emily carried Ellie on her lap and hugged her. “Mama’s just so pretty that mommy cannot help but fall in love with her.”
Ellie giggled. “Mama pwetty!”
“That’s right, she is.” Emily smirked. “Mommy’s lucky.”
“Mommy, you pwetty too!”
You grinned. “She is. And you are our pretty little baby, Ellie.” You leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”
Ellie reached out and hugged your neck. “Wuv you, mama.” She planted a kiss on your cheek. “Sowwy I stubbo’n ‘bout veggies.”
Your heart swelled with love for your daughter. Emily squeezed your hand when she noticed the tears pooling in your eyes. “It’s alright, honey.” You said.
After telling your daughter more of how her mothers met, with a little too much protests from your wife about the inconsistencies about your story, Ellie eventually fell asleep hugging her stuffed giraffe.
“I told you she doesn’t hate you.” Emily spoke once you’re both in your bed, snuggling from behind and wrapping her arms around you. She planted a kiss on your exposed shoulder. “Don’t ever think that you’re a bad mom. Ellie is lucky to have you, and so am I.”
You didn’t say anything. Instead, you relaxed in your wife’s embrace.
And you believe her.
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thewulf · 2 days
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Hiii🌸🌸 well this is my first time requesting so it's conoletly fine if you don't like this idea, no problem here!
Also I don't know how much you like to write about family dynamics, but if it's alright with you...
Aaron Hotchner x reader,
It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom".... And of course Aaron is there the whole time taking care of his' and his family emotions.
Kinda fluff, then angst and fluff ending hahha
If you want to write it, it would be such an honor you are my favorite writter in here but if you don't feel like it, it's fine
Love you and thank you 🌸🌸🌸
Ooooof this one is brutal. But I love it. Kids are sooooo mean sometimes and know exactly how to make it hurt!
You got it!
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mickisnotclever · 2 days
Text
~ Made Just for You ~
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Prompt: "To Belong" - Day 24 of @hotchfiles 's event MarchHotchness! (It's two days late but pretend it isn't, alright?)
Relationships: General, No ship, Aaron Hotchner & His Family, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, Blood, Alcoholism, Guns
Word Count: 1,819 | This wasn't meant to be this long. I have other fics I'm trying to update but this simply took hold of me
AN: I've never posted fic to tumblr before so I hope I did this right. Also, if this isn't the greatest can you just ignore it or lie to me? Lmao I'm so nervous about posting this. Takes place in very early days + season 1 era, so no Emily yet.
Home should be the one place where every child feels like they fit seamlessly. There should be spaces carved out in the exact shape of their bodies for them to nestle into at the end of a long day.
Aaron's house had no space for him when he was growing up.
It was too crowded with empty glass bottles and tin cans. Filled to the brim with the sound of his mother's muffled cries. Packed tight with his brother's desperation to please.
He had become an expert contortionist at a very young age.
He learned how to fold up his presence, to tuck himself into the tiniest crack. He perfected the skill of fading away in plain sight when his father transformed into a raging whirlwind that threatened to rip their house apart.
As time went on, he learned how to conveniently materialize when the crosshairs started to focus on his mother or brother.
He was nonexistent one moment, and there the next. Ready and willing to fill the space between the flying leather and his baby brother's pleading form.
He began to almost like it in a way.
He didn't enjoy the searing pain but he learned to take it. He almost... wanted it. It reminded him that he was there, that his father saw him for at least a few moments. Despite the circumstance, he was allowed to share the space with him for a while. He was allowed to exist loudly. He was allowed to have a voice. It didn't matter that he was crying in agony and despair.
The Hotchner house looked like a normal one from the outside. A regular family resided there, two parents and two children. They never wanted for anything, be it food and water or possessions. The neighbors saw them as equals, as as people who they could turn to for help. After all, they were the perfect family.
But Aaron knew the truth. That only one child truly lived there. Only one child fit there, was allowed to freely move around the whole area without a second thought, belonged there.
If Aaron had to make himself a ghost in order to allow his brother to live, then so be it. He'd gladly glide between the spaces that held the evidence of his brother's childhood. He drifted past the height markers on the door frame with an "S" scratched next to each one. None of them had an "A" next to them. There was a dent marring the other side of the frame where a heavy bottle had missed Aaron's head. He was fine with that.
When he silently drifted past the refrigerator and saw a display of a carefully crafted drawing with a shakily penned name, he smiled to himself. The award Aaron had been given for his high marks at school was still just as valuable where it remained in his bag.
He was too busy making himself small to notice when he had grown up. His family hadn't noticed either, least of all his father.
The times with him that Aaron used to relish in a demented way had grown tainted with resentment. The blood that dripped from his mouth, another stain in the carpet, was no longer proof that he was alive. It was no longer the mark of some sick justification to himself that his father was helping him grow strong. It was just another reminder that he was only allowed to leave traces of himself behind when they were ripped violently from his body.
The day he decided to pack his things and leave for college, his father tried to pull him back into the residence that rejected his presence.
Aaron unfolded himself then, staring the man dead in the eyes, and his father finally saw him. All of him. His fury blazed bright behind carefully tempered glass.
And he let Aaron go.
Aaron wasn't sure how to stop hiding within himself. His whole life had been spent ensuring that he didn't have a noticeable presence. Now, he was free to have one. When he reached to feel the space where it should be, his fingertips brushed nothing but an empty cavern.
Days turned months into years and he found solace in being directed to designated areas.
This is your dormitory. Your side. Your bed.
Temporary ownership of a space was all he needed.
This is your classroom. Your desk.
He studiously made his way through classes, doing everything he needed to ensure he received top marks. Before he could form a permanent place for himself, he'd be moving on to another.
This is your building. This is your desk. These are your clients.
He presented facts, he helped people get justice. It was the closest he came to feeling like he had a purpose, a place he was supposed to be.
But feelings of uncertainty snagged inside him, on the edges of something he wasn't aware was there. Seeing how clients had suffered made him want to go back further, to help before they were hurt.
It was never about him. He couldn't let himself unfurl here. He had a job to do. And he moved on, abandoning the area he briefly allowed himself to settle.
This is your new classroom. This is your gun locker. This is your protective gear.
He didn't need to fill out any extra space with anything other than what he was trained to do. Follow the protocol, become the best he can be, help his teammates complete the task. He was just another highly skilled shooter under a helmet. This was easy.
The feeling remained.
Then came the FBI.
This is your desk. These are your supplies.
He met Jason Gideon. The man studied him in a way he never had been before. It filled him with discomfort.
He focused on his work. The unknowable thing inside him grew a little more every time they managed to successfully stop a tragedy from happening.
The first time a cup of coffee appeared on his desk in the morning, he thought someone had forgotten it there. Looking around for anyone that seemed to be searching for it, he spotted Gideon raising his own identical cup at him with a nod.
A hidden corner within unfolded as he took a drink from his cup.
He met Derek Morgan. The man was downright playful in a way he was extremely unfamiliar with. For a long while, he didn't know what to do with it. Slowly, he attempted to match the man's energy. At first, it was just once in a while when a sarcastic comment made its way past his lips before he could prevent it. Before he noticed, it was an almost daily occurrence. And he found he didn't hate it.
Gideon recruited an incredibly young man, Spencer Reid.
Almost immediately, he saw himself in the younger man. The way he would hunch over, how he would ball himself up into his seat, the way he seemed to speak as fast as he could whenever he had someone's attention before his allotted time was up. Aaron began to leave space for Reid to bloom, letting him speak about the things he wanted to whenever there were no time sensitive matters at hand.
Whenever he saw another piece of Reid emerge from its hiding spot, something within him followed suit.
Penelope Garcia was a force that he was utterly thrown by and drawn to, simultaneously. She was so loud, in more ways than the literal. Her unashamedly bright clothes rivaled her personality and Aaron almost envied her. When he was focused on the work, he sometimes didn't have room for her colorful words but sometimes, despite himself, he would smile.
Another part of him unfurled, and the thing within grew a little more.
Elle Greenaway was someone he understood. He saw her drive right from the start and felt a tug of recognition. She just wanted a chance and he related to that deep in his bones. There was no question that she did good work. She joined the team and he knew it would be a good fit. The first time she made a joke that pulled a laugh from his chest, they both stared at each other with surprise. Maybe hers was mixed with a little more delight than his.
But he felt the swell of the thing growing, getting very close to filling him up to the edges.
Jennifer Jareau was a whirlwind, she looked over cases with a speed and intensity that he admired. The way she knew just what to say to the press to keep them as informed as possible while ensuring they still had control over the message was a skill he appreciated. When she teased him about his stoic outwardly appearance, he only felt a smile pulling at his lips when before he would’ve vanished into himself.
With these people, he didn’t have to be “the other one” or “your brother” or “hey, you” or even “Aaron.” He could just be Hotch.
And here, Hotch was a part of the team. Not just any part, but an integral part. They didn’t only need him, but they wanted him.
He felt it in the way that Reid moved unconsciously to save him a spot right next to him in line as they delivered a profile.
When Morgan lifted his arm to clap him on the shoulder, and Hotch had absolutely no fear that his hand would come crashing down on him.
In the moments when Gideon pulled him aside to give him praise in the veiled manner that he had learned how to decipher over the years.
When Elle would notice he hadn’t smiled in a while and crack a joke to make him laugh.
When JJ would bring food over while they were working long cases and offer him his favorite burger.
On a slow day, when Gideon would show him a rare coin he had managed to find, smiling at Hotch’s excitement, and then pressed it into his palm wordlessly.
In the field, when he could hold a confiscated weapon behind him without looking and know that Reid would be there to take it from him.
When Morgan would bust a door open and Hotch could go in first, confident that he had his back.
When Garcia would work at the speed of light based on his suggestions and then compliment his thought process, saying they were unstoppable together.
The thing that had been steadily growing in the depths of his being was now firmly in place. He couldn’t hide away even if he tried. And he didn’t want to.
There were spaces carved out for him all around the members of his team. He didn’t just grow with them, but he grew around them.
This place was made just for him.
He had finally found where he belonged.
And he never wanted to leave.
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Baby, Let The Games Begin
Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~600
Warnings: fluff
Summary: You have a spontaneous snowball fight with your friends that ends with you hitting the wrong person. Who knew she'd get her revenge only weeks later?
Square Filled: free space for @badbitchesbingo
Author’s Note: JJ and the reader are in college
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God, you fucking hate the cold. If you could live in a sunny place for the rest of your life, you would. Maybe when you’re older, you’ll buy a house in both the Northern and Southern Hemisphere so you don’t ever have to be in the cold weather again. Some people say the cold is better because you can bundle up and snuggle in blankets. Fuck that shit. You hate the feeling of chills running down your spine and goosebumps rising on your skin. It doesn’t matter how many blankets you bundle up in, that chill never goes away.
The only good thing that can come from cold weather is the snow. Snow isn’t so bad because you get to have fun outside. The more you run around and play with your friends, the hotter you get until the cold isn’t an issue anymore.
Still, you wish summer was here.
The path from the library to your dorm isn’t far but the cold makes the journey stretch to what feels like miles. You walk past a group of trees when you get ambushed by flying snowballs. You gasp and protect your face from the biting cold only to hear the familiar laughter of your friends.
“You little shits! You’re gonna pay!” you grin.
You grab handfuls of snow and start throwing, not knowing exactly who is getting hit. You grab a bigger handful of snow to throw at the instigator of the group but when you throw it at him, he ducks out of the way. The snowball slams into the face of a complete stranger. Everyone stops playing around as you approach the unsuspecting victim.
“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” you gasp.
The snow falls from her face and the bluest of blue eyes stares at you. She narrows her eyes in anger but you can’t seem to focus on anything but her beauty.
“Have better aim next time.”
She shrugs the rest of the snow off her before walking away. You’re stuck in your place; you can’t seem to move even if you wanted to. You stare at her retreating figure, and one of your friends slaps his hands on your back.
“Someone has a crush,” he sings.
“Shut the fuck up. This is your fault. You ducked out of the way.”
“Not my fault you’re too slow.”
You push him away from you and depart from your group of friends. That kind of killed the mood so you’re ready to go back to your dorm and dream about the mysterious blonde woman. 
A few days later, you rush over to soccer practice inside the huge dome field. They put the dome up whenever there is severe weather like heaps of snow outside so you can at least practice. You’re new to the team and this is your first practice. You’ve dabbled in the sport in high school and figured you’d give it a try in college.
You’re off to the side stretching when you hear people yelling. You look up just as a soccerball smacks into the side of your face. Whoever kicked it didn’t do it hard enough to break any bones, but you know there will be a slight bruise there later on.
You gasp and look around the field to see who might have kicked it. You lock eyes with the same blue eyes you’ve fallen for. She flips her hair back and smirks, giving you wide unapologetic eyes.
“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” she asks.
You want to be mad. You want to be pissed she did this out of spite. Instead, you’re smitten all over again. If she wants to play this way, you’ll play her games.
“Have better aim next time,” you tell her the exact words she told you.
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Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
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stxr-slut · 3 days
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Back on my Too Sweet obsession, but this time with either post prison!Spencer reid or Aaron hotchner.
Like these men just scream daddies with daddy issues (ps I do NOT have a daddy kink, the phrasing was just funny)
Like both of them would find it so difficult to believe such a sweet thing like reader could be interested in them and reader finds it hard to believe that someone as smart and amazing as them could ever be interested in her.
The mutual pinning is crazy. They both want each other, but they feel like their not good enough for each other until it all bubbles over in an eruption of need and insecurity and pent up affection and lust.
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luveline · 3 months
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Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?
fem, 1k
“Gideon has a new prodigy.” 
Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?” 
“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.” 
“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.” 
Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.” 
“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?” 
Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action). 
“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along. 
“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?” 
“Here they are now.” 
You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute. 
“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.” 
He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile. 
“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking. 
He frowns at you. 
“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.” 
“I don't shake. Sorry.” 
You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?” 
Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.” 
“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.
You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?” 
“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.” 
“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–” 
“Hey.” 
“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.” 
“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says. 
You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.” 
“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.” 
There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love. 
“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life. 
“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?” 
“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask. 
His lips part as yours had when you first saw him. 
He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.” 
You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”
“I see.” He waits. 
You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team. 
“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.” 
You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation. 
“Was she messing with me?” 
Morgan laughs. “No, kid. That's how she is.” 
"Oh... She's nice."
"You have no idea."
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strawbeerossi · 6 months
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The Ballad Of Dr. Reid
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Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.
Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial
Word Count: 1.9K
Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance
Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3
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You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 
In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.
He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.
You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.
It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 
What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.
His hands on-
“Y/N? Are you alright?”
You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 
“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 
The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.
There was no clean getaway.
“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”
Fuck.
Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”
“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 
He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 
Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 
“Really?” 
“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 
There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 
The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 
“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 
You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.
The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 
“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 
The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 
“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.
This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 
“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”
“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.
His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.
“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 
With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 
“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 
“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 
As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.
There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.
Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.
Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 
As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”
“Deal.”
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