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sundrop-writes · 1 month

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Careful - Chapter Three

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Three: Turn It Off

Before it gets any better - we're headed for a cliff.

Summary:

Spencer finally gets to see his son for the first time, and there is absolutely no denying - that is his son.

Caught up in a whirlwind of love for the boy and navigating the first small steps in co-parenting with you, he accidentally trips into a minefield from the past when discussing Sebastian's conception, and you both realize with baited breath that you might not be over each other.

(Especially not when that lust still burns so close to the surface.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst, Fluff, and Smut.

Word Count: 13,400

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: basic warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing; mentions of the reader being the target of a serial killer; angst/emotional tension between Spencer and the reader; (technically) Spencer being unprofessional by staying on the reader’s case; Sebastian is described to be a combination of the reader and Spencer’s looks, so this does not describe or exclude the reader’s looks/race; the bulk of this chapter is fluff because Spencer is bonding with Sebastian for the first time; most of the warnings for this chapter are because of the smut scene (which is a flashback to Sebastian’s (unintentional) conception) - so warning for smut; (kind of) phone sex; mentions of the reader masturbating; (Spencer calls the reader and she’s touching herself and he realizes it, but there’s not any real dirty talk in this section); the reader calls Spencer ‘baby’; Spencer calls the reader ‘darling’; mention of Spencer feeling emotionally worn down from looking at casefiles; unprotected penis in vagina sex (though Spencer is unsure if the reader is taking oral birth control consistently or not); there is a lack of communication about alternative birth control methods aside from condoms (like plan B and oral birth control) - but both partners enthusiastically consent to having unprotected sex in that moment, knowing the potential risks; creampie kink (not quite breeding kink?); mentions of Spencer eating out the reader after cumming inside of her; there is a scene with a lot of sexual tension between Spencer and the reader in the main timeline. Other than that - Morgan teasing Spencer? (and then having a serious moment with him). And I think that’s it.

A/N: This is by far the longest chapter - I don't know the official length of the final chapter yet, but this might be the longest chapter in the series. It was a bitch to edit, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Especially because I know a lot of people have been anticipating Spencer meeting Sebastian for the first time, and this is the big moment. I'm not gonna lie, when I was writing the first bits of this fic, I rushed to write the moment where Spencer meets Sebastian - and it gave me chills to write it. So I really hope that you guys enjoy it, and you enjoy the sweet moments in this fic, as well as the more saucy ones lmao.

...

Spencer churned with nerves as he walked back up to the house, two gift bags clutched in his shaking hand.

He had walked around the mall for a long time - partial aimless wandering, partial sweaty anxiety causing his feet to move along rapidly. He felt like everything he looked at was not the right gift to apologize to you with after so long. He felt like it needed to be perfect.

After about an hour of wandering, Hotch called him and tore him a new one. Apparently JJ had pulled him aside and explained the delicate nature of his situation privately. Hotch knew how dangerous it was to get so personal and emotional when it came to things like this, and he wanted Spencer back at the police station and far away from you. He said that if you needed protective custody, then he would put Morgan or Prentiss in charge of it.

Spencer didn’t care if it was unprofessional. He begged to stay on the case, to stay with you and watch over you. Apparently you were the only viable lead - with the flowers that had been sent to you, you were the only potential next victim.

After a while of back and forth, Hotch folded.

He sent an unmarked car to watch over your house, and told Spencer to hurry up and get back there. He needed to try and convince you to agree to around the clock protection. At the very least, if Spencer was in the house when the UnSub tried to break in, he could catch him in the act.

The rest of the team tried to farm other leads. They went through the other victims’ lives to see if anybody connected to them had any connection to the firm that handled the preschool applications, if any of their neighbors remembered anybody suspicious lurking around their homes in the days before the murders.

Spencer spent another hour rushing around the shopping center before he found the perfect gifts for you and your son - his son. (He really, really hoped that he was right about that.)

He picked up a couple of gift bags - one with a brightly colored pattern of teddy bears eating birthday cake and the other with a more mature pattern of soft roses. He put the gifts inside and rushed to get back to the house before Hotch called him again.

And now that he was standing on the porch, facing down your door again, he almost couldn’t work up the ability to knock.

But he knew that he had to face the inevitable.

He reached out and gave three firm knocks once again.

This time, what he heard surprised him.

A loud, squealing giggle, and a round of thunderous footsteps across the floor, slightly muffled by the door. Clearly - the sound of a young child.

Spencer’s blood rushed through his body like a tidal wave and he found himself dizzy as he stared at the white panels of your front door, anticipation thumping through him. After a tedious moment that felt like four long years, the doorknob slowly turned, and the door creaked open.

Peeking out of the crack - a big, curious eye, and half a chubby cheek poked out at him.

Your son had answered the door by himself.

Spencer swallowed down nerves as he prepared himself to meet Sebastian for the first time.

Upon instinct, Spencer crouched down lowly on the balls of his feet, getting down onto the child’s level.

“Hey, buddy.” He said, using a light voice, trying to be as non-intimidating as possible. “Where’s your Mommy?”

Mommy.

It felt so strange - using that word to refer to you. But yes, you were his mother.

You were a mother.

That fact truly hit Spencer like a truck in that moment.

Unexpectedly, Sebastian then flung the door open fully. It seemed that he had fully assessed Spencer, and deemed him as someone friendly, rather than some kind of threat.

A large knot formed in Spencer’s stomach then, as he saw his son for the first time. Because in that moment, there was no denying - this was his son.

He saw his own big eyes staring back at him, reflecting the same epic curiosity that he had at that age. He had your complexion, most definitely your same skin tone. The boy had your sweet smile, your cute nose. Spencer ached as he realized that Sebastian was quite literally the perfect combination of the two of you. His own wild, untamable tendrils (hair that clearly hadn’t been cut for a while) with tones of your natural color in it - your sweetness, your laughter.

Spencer used all of his self control in that moment to keep himself from fainting on the spot.

“Who are you?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head slightly, inspecting Spencer with a distinct up-and-down glance. “Are you the police? Mommy’s talking on the phone. She said the police are coming to our house. But she didn’t like that. Her face made a big frown - like when that man at the grocery store asked if she’s ‘free’ on Friday. And I said: you can’t buy Mommy, she doesn’t have a price. You can’t buy people. You buy bananas. That’s why we came to the grocery store, pal!”

Spencer frowned.

This was a lot of information to receive in such a short span, and Spencer quickly tried to sort it all out in his mind.

Technically, he was ‘the police’, but he didn’t want to introduce himself to Sebastian that way if it would bring a negative connotation. Clearly, this was a very observant child - he had picked up on the fact that you didn’t want police protective custody around. (Spencer just hoped that you hadn’t mentioned why you might need that kind of protection around the very clever ears of your son - someone who had interpreted a man asking you on a date as a barter for ownership of your person, apparently.)

Not wanting to upset Sebastian, he chose to introduce himself in another way, rather than saying he was with law enforcement - which is what he would have done with any other small child.

“I’m a friend of your Mommy’s.” He said. “My name is Spencer. Can you-”

Before he could finish talking, your voice entered the conversation.

“Sebastian! Seb!” You called out urgently, looking for him now that you had realized he was gone from your field of view.

You came around the corner in a panic and found your son standing there with the front door wide open. Your eyes naturally flickered toward Spencer, and surprisingly, a look of relief flooded your face at seeing him.

As much as you disliked Spencer for your own reasons - at least someone who wasn’t a predator was with your son. You hadn’t meant to leave the door unlocked. It was just easy to forget things when you were chasing after such an energetic kid.

“Sebastian, Mommy told you not to open the door unless I’m here with you.”

You scolded him, rushing to scoop him up in your arms - unconsciously protecting him from the outside world as you propped him up onto your hip, hugging an arm around his back to hold him there.

Spencer’s insides fluttered at how natural you looked with him in your arms. It was a picture perfect sight: you with his son in your arms. It was something he had been dreaming of for years. And now, for so many reasons, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Spencer is my friend!” Sebastian proudly proclaimed, motioning toward his very new ‘friend’. “You said it’s okay to answer the door for friends.”

You clenched your jaw, clearly resisting the urge to make a foul comment about this in front of your son. You wanted to correct him and say that Spencer was not a ‘friend’ - that he was far from it. But you held that back, knowing that Sebastian was too young and innocent to be stung by your anger. (Especially anger from a fight that was older than he was.)

Before you could speak further or insist that Spencer had to leave, Sebastian spoke up again.

“What’s in that bag?” He asked, extending his little arm and pointing a pudgy little finger toward the gift bags that Spencer had in his hand - items that Spencer himself had nearly forgotten about, swept up in pure awe at meeting his son for the first time.

“Oh, it’s a gift for you.” Spencer smiled at him, holding one of the bags up toward the boy. “Because I missed your birthday.”

Sebastian took the bag excitedly, but didn’t get a chance to examine the items yet, still awkwardly trapped in his mother’s arms.

You glared at Spencer over Sebastian’s head. You thought it was a cheap attempt at buying his affection. Spencer avoided your eye. (If you were a lesser woman, you would have banned Sebastian from having the gift. But you weren’t going to take away his joy based on your own rotting emotions.)

“What do you say, bud?” You prompted, wanting him to thank Spencer for the gift - even if you thought it was ill-intended.

“I’m four now!” He excitedly announced, believing this was what you meant. “I just turned four. I had a big boy birthday. So I go to the toilet all by myself - as long as I don’t wee on the floor. And I had a princess at my birthday party, but apparently she doesn’t bring the letters to Santa Claus, the mail does that. Did you know that the U.S. Postal Service was founded in 1775, and Benjamin Franklin was the first postmaster-”

“Seb, that’s not what I meant.” You said quietly, gently cutting off his unrelated string of ranting.

Spencer was grinning widely from ear to ear - he found himself so utterly charmed by Sebastian’s bright, enthusiastic personality.

“Sebastian, you have to say ‘thank you’ to Spencer for the present.” You reminded him, getting his mind back on track.

“Thank you!” He parroted back.

“You’re very welcome.” Spencer replied, his cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling.

You then put him down, and he ran back into the house, excited to open his gift and see what was inside it.

A tense silence fell over you and Spencer. You continued to glare at him with fury tightening in your jaw. Any joy he previously felt over seeing Sebastian for the first time was completely zapped from him.

He now felt like a groveling idiot, desperate to get back into your good graces. He felt like the picture perfect life with a perfect family was right there, and he was missing out on it because he had messed up all those years ago.

“That was a nice try. With the gift.” You huffed out. “I don’t even wanna know what’s in that one.” You said, motioning to the other bag.

“Y/N-” He said your name, ripe with desperation, and you cut him off again.

“When did you know?” You asked.

The question utterly confused Spencer, and when you saw this flash through his features, you took pity on him for once, and decided to clarify.

“When did you know that he was yours?” You said this lowly, edging on a whisper, not wanting your son to hear it - even though he likely wouldn’t understand what the words meant if he did. (But he was an observant, smart kid. You couldn’t risk him hearing either way.)

“I did the math.” Spencer told you, matching your whisper. “I knew for certain when I saw him.”

You let out a rugged sigh. With your tense body language, your tight jaw - Spencer feared that even now, you might ask him to leave.

For him, that simply wasn’t an option.

“Look, you can’t keep me from my son-” Spencer said, speaking normally now - he knew that eventually, the two of you would have to tell Sebastian that he was his father.

He wanted a relationship with his child no matter what.

“Keep your voice down!” You hissed, looking over your shoulder as if the small child was some boogeyman who would sneak up on you specifically to eavesdrop on the conversation.

From the distant sounds of giggling and some playful voices - it sounded like he was far too busy playing with his toys to care about what was going on between you and Spencer.

“This changes nothing.” You added on bitterly. “You still have no right to be around me after what happened, and-”

“You’re seriously telling me that this changes nothing?” Spencer barked back, intensely offended by that assessment.

You refused to look Spencer in the eye, and he barreled forward, believing that he could convince his way in the door with his stubbornness alone.

“He is my son.” He spit back sharply, so much passion in the words that it gave you chills. “He is a part of me as much as he is a part of you. Even if - even if you hate me,” Spencer said, unsure if that was the right term, and feeling a rock in his stomach when you didn’t protest. “Even if you hate me now and always will, I still have a right to be in his life.”

Guilt flashed across your features. You had always regretted not contacting Spencer in order to let him meet Sebastian. And now all of those late night ‘what ifs’ were coming back to haunt you. With a vengeance.

“And I know you might not view it that way, but it’s been a long time. And I have changed.” He continued on, trying his best to convince you, knowing that these words were hollow.

Spencer didn’t even think about the potential consequences of his next words before he spoke them, but he went on anyway.

“And I would really, really like a second chance with you. I understand if you and I are over. If everything we had is completely… gone.”

Your eyes flickered toward him at this, a dreadful ghost lingering in the back of your pupils. This was the last thing you had expected to hear from him, and you had a difficult time processing it.

His tone was incredibly mournful when speaking these words. He still had so much love for you in his heart, and he could not imagine being around you and interacting with you to co-parent a child and not being with you. Not sharing your bed. Not having more children with you.

“But you and I at least need to be civil, for his sake. Tell me that he really would be better off without both parents in his life.”

Spencer resisted the urge to cite statistics about single parent households and the likelihood of forming antisocial personality disorders - mostly because he didn’t want to think of his son like that, and because you being a single parent household was the entire reason he was here.

He didn’t want to bring up the UnSub again, and the potential danger you might be in - because he didn’t want you to brush him off or get even more angry.

You looked intensely thoughtful, then, clearly mulling over his words in your mind.

He thought that something else might sway your opinion in his favor.

“Plus, if you don’t let me inside, that means I got you this gift for nothing.” He said, giving you his absolute best puppy eyes as he held up the bag in your direction.

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but you took it from him anyway.

“Don’t think you can bribe your way back into my good graces, Spencer.” You said, accepting the bag, and then:

You stepped aside and let him in.

Spencer didn’t waste a moment, gratefully accepting this. He took off his messenger bag and set it beside the door as you closed it behind him. You made a point of locking it this time, putting the deadbolt on so that Sebastian wouldn’t be able to get the door open by himself.

“You used to be very easy to bribe back in the day, if I can remember.” Spencer told you, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you.

That grin, the light in his eyes. Him bringing up memories of ‘the old days’ - for a moment, it was all too much. It was too easy. It reminded you of simpler times - a time when you would have just leaned over and kissed him in order to shut him up.

“Enjoying and accepting gifts is a lot different than being bribed.” You muttered under your breath, leaving the gift bag on the table beside the door as you walked back into the living room where Sebastian was playing.

Spencer left it there for now - but he would have you open the gift before the day was over. That much he was determined of.

“Mommy, look!”

Sebastian ran toward you excitedly when he saw you walk back into the living room - he was waving something in his hand to show you. You quickly recognized it as a character from his favorite show - it was a rather large plush toy of Rubble from Paw Patrol. It still had a tag hanging off its ear, so it must have been what Spencer had brought him in that gift bag.

Your stomach tightened. You knew that it was likely something to do with profiling - the fact that when he had been here before, he had only been in your home for fifteen minutes, but he had likely been able to observe so much about your life (and about your son) just from the simple things you had sitting around. You hated it. You hated that he had so many skills and tools at his disposal that meant you could hardly keep any secrets from him.

“Oh wow, that’s so nice, baby.” You grinned widely, putting on your happiest voice for your son even though you didn’t like that Spencer had so easily bought his affection.

“And look, look at this!”

He nearly tripped over his own small feet, racing back over to the gift bag to fish out something else. He ran back over to you and handed it to you. It was a children’s picture book called ‘Dino ABC’ - it appeared to have a different dinosaur for each letter of the alphabet on each page. Educational and cute. Just what you would have expected from Spencer.

You felt a deep pain emanate out from the center of your chest - your heart literally aching as you fought your hardest to keep a big smile for your son.

“Seb, you still have to finish your snack.”

You told him, tossing the book aside to put it on the couch and walking back over to the coffee table in order to draw his attention to the abandoned plate with his food on it.

“Come on. You can play with your toys later.”

You had been part way through his snacktime when JJ had called you, trying to convince you to come into the police station for a briefing about ‘protection’. Ultimately, that conversation had distracted you when Spencer had knocked on the door.

He tucked Rubble under his arm and rushed to sit in your lap, shoveling cheese and crackers into his mouth off the frog shaped plate while you turned your attention toward Spencer - who had been watching the whole exchange while leaning against a wall, a tentative smile forming on his face.

“I have to hand it to you, you’re good.” You said, trying to keep your tone neutral, straying away from anger. “You hit on two of his biggest interests - Paw Patrol and dinosaurs. That profiling stuff is a lot more accurate than I thought,”

Spencer didn’t want to admit that he had just picked a book about dinosaurs because that was what he liked at that age, and the Paw Patrol thing had been all JJ’s doing. He had been far too busy caught up in anger at your initial stubbornness to try and ‘profile’ you.

“Well-” Spencer attempted to reply, but he was cut off by Sebastian’s loud, enthusiastic voice.

“What’s profiling?” He asked, nearly shouting, unintentionally spraying crumbs out of his mouth as he struggled to chew and speak at the same time.

“Buddy, what did we say about talking with your mouth full?” You huffed quietly, grabbing a napkin to wipe up some of the crumbs he had sprayed out.

You didn’t expect Spencer to indulge him with an honest answer.

“Well, you see…” Spencer thought for a moment, wanting to explain the concept to him in an honest, but child-friendly manner. “Profiling is when I look at the things around you, and how you act, and I can tell what you’re thinking.” He replied. “Like… if you have a secret.”

He moved toward the coffee table and once again crouched down to Sebastian’s level - and his cheeks curled into a smile at his son’s eager, curious eyes staring him down.

You watched the interaction quietly. You never would have admitted it, but it gave you butterflies to see how natural, how perfect Spencer already was with Sebastian.

Sebastian chewed a bit more before he spoke again.

“I have a secret.” Sebastian whispered - a dramatic stage whisper that kids his age always did.

“Hmm…”

Spencer put his thumb and forefinger against his chin, and cocked an eyebrow, looking around the room like a cartoonish detective, acting like he was trying to piece together exactly what this big secret was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sebastian’s entire body go stiff, as if he could better hide while not moving - and one small, cracker-crumbed fist clenching tight under the coffee table as the boy tried his hardest to contain his laughter told him everything that he needed to know.

“You’re trying to hide part of your snack from Mommy!” Spencer declared, laughter in his voice as he pointed an ‘accusing’ finger toward Sebastian.

The boy burst into laughter and surrendered his hand, dumping a single crumbled up cracker onto his plate as he curled over with epic laughter - apparently finding the whole thing to be a very amusing game.

“You got me!” He chuckled.

You had difficulty hiding your own smile at all of this, and you tried to encourage Sebastian back into an upright position as he wiggled around from laughing so furiously.

“Well maybe we need Spencer around when you try to hide your carrots at dinnertime.” You said, your tone flat, not at all reaching that same joy. “Now come on, you joker, finish up please.”

You caught Spencer’s eye then - and he had the dangerous realization that you weren’t entirely kidding.

“I’ll be around whenever you need me.” Spencer replied, seriousness seeping back into his tone.

You wanted to argue this - but of course, you held back with Sebastian sitting in your lap. Instead, it dissolved into a sharp huff out of your nose.

When it seemed that you had nothing more to say on the matter, Spencer turned back to Sebastian, who was licking the mushy, bright red remnants of some strawberries off his fingers.

“What’s your favorite dinosaur, bud?” Spencer asked.

He was eager to get to know his son better - and he was expecting a rather generic answer from a four year old, like T-Rex.

He certainly did not expect what came next.

“Plesiosaurus!” Sebastian cried out excitedly, accidentally spitting out some food (again), which you rushed to wipe off his shirt and face with a nearby napkin. “They lived in the Jurassic period, and could grow to eleven feet long!”

Spencer beamed with pride.

Even though Spencer hadn’t spent that much time around children, he knew that this seemed to be fairly advanced knowledge for a four year old.

You gave Spencer a very distinct look over Sebastian’s head. You could see that glint in his eye, and you knew that you were both thinking the same thing.

He had interented his father’s big, big brain.

It was something you had known for a long time now. And you knew that it wouldn’t take Spencer long to see it.

“Wow, buddy.” Spencer smiled widely, eager to praise the boy. “That’s so awesome. My favorite is the Brontosaurus.”

Sebastian smiled, and nodded.

“They’re herbivores. Which means they only eat plants.” He replied. “Not like Mommy. She eats steak. And it’s gross.”

You couldn’t help but to let out a laugh at this, and Spencer easily joined you.

Leave it to the random stream of thoughts of a four year old to actually make you forget about your anger towards Spencer - at least for a little while.

“Mommy, can I have more strawberries?” Sebastian asked, holding up his now empty plate.

Something a lot of people don’t realize about little kids - they eat a lot of fruit.

“I’ll see if we have more.” You told him, moving to scoot him off your lap.

“I’ll go-” Spencer moved to get up, and you gave him a sharp glare that cut off his words.

Luckily, Sebastian didn’t see this as he jumped off your lap and rushed toward Spencer, picking up his dinosaur book with still sticky fingers along the way.

“I got it.” You grumbled quietly, picking up the plate and moving toward the kitchen.

You wanted to make a comment about how you had been taking care of him by yourself for the past four years, so a single plate of strawberries was not that big of a deal. But you didn’t want to be so passive aggressive in front of Sebastian, especially because he wouldn’t understand why.

You cleaned and cut up the few strawberries that were left, and when you came back, Sebastian was sitting on Spencer’s lap. They had the book propped open in Spencer’s hands while Sebastian gawked at it and explained in detail about whatever they were looking at - likely far greater detail than the book already had written in its pages.

“Ferrisaurus.” He said, nearly out of breath with excitement. “He has a very sharp beak. He was discovered in 1971 by Kenny F. Larson. He belongs to the Leptoceratopsidae family, and-”

You put the plate down in front of them, and Sebastian frowned when he saw it, cutting off his own words.

“Is there any more?” He complained loudly. “I wanna share some with my friend Spencer.”

Spencer’s mouth flattened into a thin line, clearly trying his hardest to hide a beaming smile at being claimed as Sebastian’s ‘friend’ once again.

“No, sweetie, that’s all the strawberries we have in the house.” You informed him. “I’ll go to the store and get some more tomorrow. But you can’t keep eating all the fruit and then complain when it’s all gone.”

It was a common theme in your life - Sebastian could eat an entire carton of raspberries in one sitting, and then became upset when there was no more in the fridge.

Sebastian shrugged and reached up over the book to grab one off his plate. He shoved it into his mouth before reaching for another, looking up over his shoulder to then clumsily aim for Spencer’s mouth. You were expecting Spencer to dodge it and tell him ‘no thank you’ - a man who was a germaphobe, someone who you had seen use disinfecting wipes on forks at restaurants because he didn’t trust other people to clean the utensils well enough. But instead, he leaned down and captured the half-mushed fruit from your son, giving a small grin as some of the juices smeared across his lips.

Your stomach twisted into knots as you moved to sit on the couch.

You didn’t want to call it affection. You would deeply deny that it was fondness rising in you at seeing Spencer clearly soft and loving toward your son.

Toward his son.

Especially because it was a sight that you thought you would never witness in your lifetime.

“Thank you.” Spencer mumbled out as he chewed, and Sebastian chirped out a ‘you’re welcome!’ - even reaching to grab a napkin to help Spencer wipe his mouth before he then turned back to his book.

“You know, if he wants more fruit, I can run to the store. It’s really no trouble.” Spencer offered, clearly eager to give your son whatever he wanted - whatever he needed.

“He’s fine.” You sighed in return. “It’ll be fine until tomorrow. Do you have any idea how much fruit this kid eats in a day? How much fruit he’s eaten just today alone?” You remarked.

Spencer saw it as the rhetorical question it was, and waited for you to continue on.

“He ate an entire carton of raspberries before he left this morning. I had to change his shirt because he looked like a character from Texas Chainsaw.” You explained, feeling safe that Sebastian would not understand that reference.

“It makes sense.” Spencer replied. “The natural fructose found in most fruits make it an incredibly appealing taste to the underdeveloped palette of a child. It’s actually believed that before puberty, people have a higher concentration of taste buds on the apex of the tongue, which is the area associated with sweet and salty sensations, so children are more likely to crave sweet flavors. And most fruit has a mild but naturally satisfying fructose level, essentially making it less assertive than artificial candy that pubescent children would enjoy with a more developed tongue. Basically - children like it so much because fruit is nature’s candy.”

Spencer let out a breathy laugh as he finished this statement, and you knew that your eyes were glowing with delight as you stared at him.

Sebastian was staring up at him - clearly absorbing every single word that he spoke with eagerness. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sebastian was able to repeat back those facts word for word later on. He was startlingly like his father.

You almost hated it, but this reminded you so much of the Spencer you had fallen in love with. The man who excited you with his passion; the person who made your knees tremble because he was so chalked full of knowledge, but never pretentious about sharing it.

“Is that so?” You grinned in return.

Before Spencer could get too caught up at that affectionate sparkle in your eye, something barreled to the forefront of his mind.

“Wait - what did you mean by ‘before he left this morning’?” Spencer asked. “Where does Sebastian go during the day?”

He needed to know more about your life. There could be something small lurking in some corner that could lead him to the UnSub before the man had a chance to even consider attacking you.

“I go to see Abby!” Sebastian piped up, answering the question as he turned a page in his book. “And my friends: Paige, and Jimmy, and Emma.”

“Abby is his babysitter.” You explained. Spencer nodded at this. “He goes there four days a week. From nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. They have three other kids, Paige, Jimmy, and Emma. So he has friends there. He likes the social interaction. And I get my work done while he’s gone.”

“But you’re on a waitlist for a daycare in the area?” Spencer prodded. You grew confused at this, so he added on: “That’s how my team found you. Through the daycare applications.”

It felt like a violation of your privacy, but you didn’t point that out.

You felt like the conversation was straying into ‘grown-up’ territory. Things that you didn’t want to speak of in front of your son, because children are sponges and you don’t really know how much they absorb. So you decided that it was time for him to have some independent playtime while you and Spencer talked. He had finished his snack in the meantime, anyway.

You picked up a napkin and wiped his hands, and then you gently took the book from Spencer, who had been holding it open for Sebastian to look at it.

“Seb.” You spoke to him gently, leaning into his view. You brushed away one of his wild curls and he looked at you attentively - Spencer’s heart rate sped up uncontrollably, and he knew that he was looking at you much the same way. “Can you go play in your room for a while, buddy? I need to have some grown-up time with Spencer.”

“I want Spencer to come with me!” Sebastian argued gently. “I wanna show him my toys!”

“Yes, you can show him later.” You told him. “After we’re done talking, he’ll be right up, and you can show him all your dinosaurs, and-”

“And the stars!” Sebastian added on excitedly.

“Yes.” You nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Sebastian then let out a bright ‘okay!’ and Spencer helped him up, and there were more thunderous racing footsteps as Sebtastian went upstairs to go and play in his room.

“Grown-up time?” Spencer asked, quirking a brow at you.

You hated that the tiny bit of innuendo in his voice drudged up heat between your thighs.

You labeled it as desperation because you hadn’t been touched by another person in so long, not your genuine attraction toward him coming back again.

“Yes.” You said firmly. “You and I need to talk. About a lot of stuff. And he doesn’t need to hear all the gory little details.” You sighed. “Coffee?”

“That sounds great.” He nodded.

He followed you to the kitchen loyally and leaned against the counter while you went about the mechanical, ingrained movements to make a pot of coffee.

“So, why isn’t he in preschool?” Spencer asked.

He neglected to bring up the fact that the UnSub had likely targeted you through the preschool applications. He knew that you would become annoyed again if he brought up the fact that you were in danger - so he left that alone for now. The longer he stayed in the house, the better chance he had of convincing you to leave, to come into police custody for your own protection.

If the worst case scenario were to take place, his gun was in his bag. He would protect you if anyone tried to break in. He would protect you at all costs.

“They wouldn’t accept Sebastian into daycare because… they thought he was too advanced for their program.” You explained, answering his question. “They wanted me to have him IQ tested. And I refused, so they put him on the waitlist.”

You weren’t facing Spencer as you filled up the coffee machine with water, but he could hear it in your voice. Grit. Disdain.

Did you dislike the fact that your son was so advanced? Did you harbor annoyance because he had likely inherited that incredible intelligence from Spencer?

“Why didn’t you get him the IQ test?” Spencer probed, brimming with frustration. “Get him an assessment with a professional, at least?”

Sure, you disliked Spencer for your own reasons, but it was no good reason to have your son held back in life.

You shrugged. Obviously, you were holding back the truth.

“My mom thought it was a good idea.” You remarked. “But…”

You clicked the coffee pot into the coffee maker and turned it on, and then turned to face Spencer.

“I remembered all the stuff you said.” You said gently.

This confused Spencer, and he eagerly listened as you continued.

“About feeling ‘socially isolated’, and how you were upset that you didn’t have a ‘real childhood’ because you didn’t get to go to school with people in your own age group.” You explained.

Then it truly hit Spencer.

You weren’t avoiding having him tested to hold him back in life - you thought it was for his betterment.

Because you had truly retained something from your relationship with Spencer. From all those late night hours the two of you had spent talking, tangled up in the sheets together after-

Spencer forced himself not to think about it.

“I want him to have friends.” You continued on. “To have socialization. Even if he’s special - he can have education individually. Hell, having a tutor will probably be better for him if he’s so advanced, right? He probably needs individual attention.”

Spencer nodded at this.

“I wanted him to go to daycare - not because he needs to learn the ABCs and shit. He could recite the alphabet when he was eight months old.”

Spencer felt a wave of shock at this, and then intense pride.

“I wanted him to go there and make friends. So I guess him going to the babysitter and making friends turned out to be a better fit for him anyway.”

Spencer couldn’t describe the depth of the pride he was feeling. Not just at knowing how truly intelligent his son was, but at knowing that your instincts as a mother were so well tuned.

Not just because you knew what your son needed, but because you had listened to Spencer talking about regrets from his own childhood and you had tried to keep from making those same mistakes with his son. It was likely that you even saw how socially underdeveloped he was when you met him as a twenty one year old and that was a huge part of your reasoning.

In the few minutes he had spent with Sebastian, he already saw that brilliant intellect colliding with the nurturing you had shown him. His ability to make friends easily, his eagerness to share, his natural curiosity. He was leagues ahead of where Spencer had been at that age - shy, apprehensive, constantly clammed up around new people.

You had raised such a brilliant, beautiful boy.

“It seems like the right choice.” Spencer assured you. “I can already tell that the socialization is doing him well. He - he’s such a great kid.”

He couldn’t hold back his beaming smile this time, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, highly resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. He wanted so badly to pull you into a hug - to kiss you.

But he had to remind himself that he had lost those privileges so long ago.

He had to be thankful for the simple privilege of basking in your smile when you returned the action.

“I - I am actually kind of glad that you’re here.” You admitted meekly, a moment of shy honesty shining through.

Spencer resisted the urge to cheer loudly.

“I’ve been trying to teach him, but I barely know where to start.” You added on, exasperated laughter escaping your lips at the thought. “I can barely keep up with stuff that’s on his level. I read to him a lot, but I have trouble picking books that are appropriate for him? Anything that’s on his level academically has too much violence or racism or complicated themes for his age. At least, when it comes to fiction books. And I can’t really comprehend the scientific stuff. He picks out dinosaur books when we go to the library and reads them on his own, and half the stuff… he just tells me all the stuff he’s learned when he reads on his own and it amazes me.”

You chuckled, and Spencer easily returned it.

His son was truly an egghead after his own heart.

“I’ve been trying to teach him the periodic table, but I don’t even remember half of it myself. I haven’t needed it since high school chemistry.” You remarked with another dry laugh.

Spencer smiled brightly at you.

“You - you were right.” You hated to admit it. “He does need his dad. He needs you. He needs someone who can nurture that big brain of his.”

The detail oriented part of Spencer’s brain was eager to jump into planning - he wanted to ask you about creating a schedule, the logistics of how and when he would see his son, especially considering that the two of you lived in different cities, in different states. (Truthfully, he wanted to ask if you were willing to move closer so that he would be able to see Sebastian as often as possible.)

But he forced himself to set that aside for now, because something else was bothering him.

You reached up to the cupboard and grabbed two mugs, and poured up the coffee, and Spencer watched carefully as you went to the fridge and grabbed some creamer for yourself before you handed him his mug.

“The sugar is behind you.” You told him. “Spoons are in the drawer to your left.”

Naturally, you remembered how he liked his coffee. Black with regular sugar. It was something fond, that left an ache deep in his soul. He set to the gentle task of getting some sugar while he conjured up the courage to ask the question.

“Have you ever told him about me?” He asked. “I mean - have you told him about his father? Does he know who his dad is?”

He knew that obviously you hadn’t told Sebastian outright that Spencer was his father - not with a photo and a name. But he wondered if you had ever told him stories about who his father was - a doctor, a man who fought against bad guys. Did you only have room for malice against Spencer in your heart, or would have told Sebastian some of the good things about his dad? Had you told him how you and Spencer had met? Had you told him that the two of you were once in love?

He hated to think that you resented Spencer so much that you had lied. That you had made up some falsehood. Perhaps you had told Sebastian that his father was dead, or someone who never existed at all (because someone his age would believe that). Spencer’s insides flooded with anxiety at the thought that perhaps you had a boyfriend. Someone who was a fixture in Sebastian’s life already who the young boy called Dad.

Before Spencer could flare with too much jealousy at a completely made-up figure, you answered his question.

“I - ugh.” You stuttered out. “No.” You admitted hesitantly, capping the creamer and moving to put it back into the fridge.

You moved to sit down at the kitchen table and Spencer followed you with his own mug in hand. He found it quietly adorable that there was a rubber dinosaur placemat and a booster seat on one of the chairs - clearly the place where Sebastian sat to eat his meals. He pulled out the chair opposite of yours and carefully waited for you to continue talking.

“It was one of those things…” You stared down into your mug, a wave of embarrassment spiking in you.

Seeing how put together Spencer was now - how mature. It filled you with regret, and made you feel quite embarrassed about not contacting him before.

But the Spencer you had last seen was nothing like this. So previously, you had no intentions of seeking him out in order to introduce him to his son. But every time a major life event came up - toward the end of your pregnancy, the birth, filling out the birth certificate and leaving the section of his father’s name blank… The first time Sebastian sat upright on his own, his first words, seeing how truly intelligent he was, his first steps, potty training him.

Through all of it - you ached with regret. There were more than a dozen times (sometimes more than a dozen times a day) when you considered reaching out to Spencer and telling him the news. But you thought that he might lash out at you in anger for not telling him when you found out that you were pregnant. (And then you thought he would be even angrier for not telling him sooner).

You had considered that with his job, and with the other circumstances - he might be dead. That there might not even be someone on the other end if you did reach out.

You didn’t want to go looking for a father for your son, only to have to mourn over someone you once loved.

You didn’t want to open the door for more hurt to come your way.

“It was one of those things, that… the older he got… I never considered that he might ask.” You explained. “I just thought I could get away without telling him who his father was. Without talking about you at all. Because I was so hurt over what happened between us.”

Oddly enough, Spencer understood this. That night - things had been so messy. Spencer had always wanted a chance to apologize. He would have pushed harder - he would have chased after you better if he knew that there was a child hanging in the mix.

“You had no intention of ever finding me again to introduce me to my son?” Spencer asked.

He needed to hear you say it.

You shook your head, entirely solemn, even more guilty.

“It was selfish.” You admitted. “I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the pain of seeing you again. I didn’t consider how it might affect him.”

“So… he has been asking about me?” Spencer probed. “He’s been asking about his father?”

You shrugged.

“He’s old enough to understand the concept now.” You said, sipping your coffee. “He sees stuff on TV. Cartoons where characters have a Mom and a Dad. And he reads science books about animals - so he knows that other ‘species’ need two parents to ‘reproduce’.” You were almost annoyed by the fact that your son was so smart and still so young. You couldn’t trick him with gentle lies anymore. “I don’t think I can convince him that I am the only asexual reproducing woman on the planet.”

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle at this. He knew how it was at that age - too smart for his own good.

“What have you told him?” He wondered aloud.

“I have been trying my hardest not to tell him anything.” You replied. “Whenever he asks about his own father, I just… dodge around it.” You told him honestly. “What do you think all the strawberries are for? I mean, I can’t lie to him, but I can distract him. He’s still at the age where his attention span is not that great if he gets excited about something.”

“Would you be willing to have that conversation with him?” Spencer asked meekly. “The three of us? Would you - would you be okay with him knowing me as his dad?”

He was terrified that you might reject him. That you still hated him enough after that horrible night that you wouldn’t want your son to see Spencer as his father, even if it was the truth. (A truth that you and Spencer knew intimately well.)

“Spencer.” You choked out his name, looking at him with tears dancing in your eyes.

You knew that you had been harsh upon first seeing him again, perhaps unrightfully lashing out due to your own vendetta. But you didn’t think that you had made such a nasty impression.

“Of course. Spence, I-” You choked on your own words for a second, taking in a sharp breath in an attempt to regain your composure.

Spencer tried not to get excited at you calling him ‘Spence’ again for the first time in so long. He couldn’t take the familiarity, the sweet nickname as meaning the same thing it used to. He couldn’t take it as a signal of affection.

“Even if you and I can’t get back to where we were…” You continued on.

(Which would be something you would gratefully regret now, those feelings for him locked up inside of you, banging on the door, just begging to get out.)

“My son is so lucky to have you as his father. And I am sorry that it was due to my own selfishness that he missed out on you in his life for so many years.”

“It’s not all your fault.” Spencer replied. “You don’t have to apologize.”

You nodded at this, and the two of you fell silent once again.

Of course, both of you wished that you could go back to that night and do things differently.

You wished that you would have told him about the pregnancy as soon as you took the test - so if he was going to scorn you, he could make an informed choice about doing so.

Spencer wished that he could have chased you - that he could have been in his son’s life from day one.

Which made him curious about something.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

You chuckled, motioning toward the stairs - where Sebastian would surely be running down soon, waiting for Spencer to come and play with him, so Spencer could be shown all of his toys, introduced to each dinosaur by name and species.

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

He didn’t even have to fully spell it out in order for you to know exactly what he meant.

Had you known that you were pregnant when the two of you had broken up?

You could have easily lied to him. But just like every other moment on this day, stupidly - you felt like you owed him the truth.

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“You - you just unilaterally decided that you were going to raise my son alone?” Spencer snapped, some of that spite from early coming back like the coals from a fire being stoked.

“Yes. I did.” You said firmly.

You didn’t have to remind him of why.

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes, and then plowed forward with another question.

“So - so do you know when-?” He began, and you cut him off.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You quickly replied.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t easily tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer. It was one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why he had changed.

…

Spencer had come over to your place late one night.

He had a key, but usually he was afraid to wake you up by using it. But that night he had been swamped with paperwork, writing up consultations on cases less urgent for police precincts that the BAU couldn’t get out to attend to in person. Images of mangled bodies stuck in his mind and by the time he finished up, it was well past dinner - well past a decent hour to be seeing you. But his insides felt hollow with a unique kind of grief as he imagined all the people who wouldn’t be getting home to their families - the people in the photos.

He fingered over the key to your apartment on his keyring as he walked out the front doors of the office. He had taken the metro that day, and the last trains ran late into the night - until two or three am, to ensure that people drinking could get home safely. But he needed some fresh air, so he decided to walk. He took out his cellphone and decided to call you.

If he let himself into your apartment unexpectedly so late - he didn’t want to scare you.

“Spencer.”

Your voice had a breathy, airy quality to it. He wouldn’t quite call it tiredness, not like he had woken you from sleep.

“Y/N.” He called your name back softly. “Did I wake you?” He still wanted to ask, even though he wasn’t sure that was the case.

“No.” You replied. “I - I missed you, baby.”

The slightest quiver in your tone gave you away. That gentle, needy curl around the word baby - it practically brought him to his knees on the sidewalk.

All at once, his mood changed.

It was something beautiful that you often did for him.

Every single bit of brick-like grief was pushed out of him in favor of that flowery, dreamy lust.

“You missed me?” He parroted the words back, mischief seeping into his voice as he continued the walk toward your apartment on slightly weaker legs, the cool night air brushing up against his now heated cheeks. “You’ve been thinking about me a lot tonight, haven’t you, darling?”

You let out a fluttering moan. You knew that you had been caught, so you felt no sense in holding back now.

Spencer pulled his messenger bag to sit in front of his crotch, praying that he wouldn’t look indecent in public. It took so little effort from you to make his cock swell to attention - with his intense attraction toward you, and with you being so perfect, such a beacon of beauty and sex.

“You caught me.” You huffed out. “Been thinkin’ about you all night, baby. The bed feels so empty without you.”

You both knew that it was a subtle admission. The downright filthy way you said the word ‘empty’ - Spencer bit his lip to hold back a moan just hearing it. You knew that those clouded innuendos turned him on so much. The veil. The intention.

You were touching yourself, and Spencer had called with perfect timing to ‘catch you’ in the middle of the act.

If Spencer strained his ears enough, he could hear the wet slide of your fingers against your pussy on the other end of the line, and he knew that you could hear the increase in his breathing - the hard huff coming out of his nostrils because of it.

“Where are you?” You whined, clearly needy. “Need you, Spence.”

You hoped that he wasn’t too busy, caught up at work.

“On my way to you now.” He told you, his voice leaking desperate breaths.

He was already grinning widely at the thought of what would be waiting for him - how you would be leaking wetness, so warm and ready for him; how he would be able to simply slide his hard cock into you with no resistance and your gorgeous pussy would so eagerly swallow him up. He forced himself to focus.

“Wait for me, okay?” He added on, trying to have some firmness in his tone - but he knew that it sounded too much like pleading and you would be kind to comply.

Wait.

You let out a strained, harsh sound at this.

You knew that it was another subtle code.

He didn’t want you to make yourself orgasm until he got there. (You had already had one before he called, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as one by Spencer’s hand, or his tongue.)

He likely wanted you to stop touching yourself all together. He wanted to leave you on edge, to make you even more needy for him. Even if he would only take a few minutes to arrive, he wanted you hungry.

You had the urge to argue with this, but you held back.

You knew that it would be worth it.

Spencer always made it worth it.

“Okay.” You huffed back, an undertone of frustration in your voice that got Spencer even more excited. You needed him. And he planned on providing every single inch of what he knew you needed so badly. “I’ll wait.” You agreed. “But hurry? Please?”

Please.

The way you said it, asking so nicely - it nearly knocked the wind out of him. You would never truly have to ask him to touch you. Truthfully, he should have to ask for the privilege of providing you with pleasure. He would never say no to you.

But there was something beautiful about hearing that from your lustful voice.

“I’ll be there before you know it.” He promised you gently before hanging up the call.

Spencer would have broken out into a full run if - one, it wouldn’t have made him look entirely idiotic, and two, it wouldn’t have stolen all his energy. Energy that he needed in order properly fuck you. He didn’t need to arrive at your apartment sweaty and panting and then collapse onto the floor in a heap and miss out on his chance to make sweet love to you.

He got there as fast as his legs could carry him (at a reasonable pace), and he estimated that it took him less than four minutes - because your apartment really wasn’t that far from the office. Conveniently enough for him. He skipped the elevator ride and took the stairs two at a time in his eagerness (and long legs). And soon enough, he was putting the key into the lock, welcomed by gentle shadows, the smell he recognized as the air freshener you loved to use, and a single guiding light that must have been the tableside lamp in your bedroom.

“Spence?”

You called out from down the hall as he closed and locked the door behind him.

“It’s me.” He assured you.

He tossed his keys into a bowl that you kept on the counter, toeing off his shoes, ditching his bag off to the side, and shrugged off his jacket as he walked down the hall.

“That was fast.” You remarked with a giggle, making him smile.

“A lady should never have to wait.” He replied, coming to stand at your open bedroom door, already working open his tie.

“Then you better hurry up.” You told him, your voice melting into a purr as you stared at him with honey warm lust in your eyes.

You were completely naked, laying in the middle of the bed, propped up on a few comfortable pillows. The comforter was down by your ankles; perhaps you had crawled into bed with the intention to sleep (some of your sleep clothes strewn across the floor, as though you had stripped them off and tossed them aside) - but then found yourself feeling that deadly ache between your thighs and kicked away the covers to relief yourself.

Spencer had called you with perfect timing.

Perhaps your soul had sung out to him like a siren - luring him here to perform his duty to you, to act as the servant meant to bring you pleasure. He could think of no better duty meant for his existence than to serve you. Ideally, it was something he wanted to spend the rest of his days doing. He would buy you a house, give you kids if you wanted them, support you in whatever ways you needed. He felt like he lived to make your life better - to make you smile, to make you laugh, to make you moan with pleasure.

If he didn’t have that, then he was lost.

In the low lighting, the star shaped necklace that he had given you for your birthday sparkled between your breasts, and Spencer found that you were most gorgeous wearing only that - a kiss of his claim on you, a perfect symbol of the beauty of your relationship among your goddess-like curves.

He felt entirely overdressed and he rushed to play catch up; fingers fumbling over buttons, his movements becoming downright frantic as he stripped out of his clothes. He almost knocked his glasses off his face while ripping his shirt off his head, and he had to place them on your bedside table for safekeeping. And then he nearly tripped out of his pantlegs on his way to the bed, which had you giggling, and he flashed you a smile.

But finally, he was freed, as naked as you were, and he crawled between your open, welcoming thighs. It felt like coming home. Your hands reached up to settle onto his ass - gently smoothing from the skin there, up his back, spreading warmth across his body as you groped him smoothly with soft, open hands.

He planted one hand on the pillow beside your head and used the other to gently lift your chin toward his. He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day. Even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

He really should ask you to move in with him soon.

Even if he had to be away for days on cases, he should get to come home to you.

The two of you should start building a proper life together.

But of course, any thoughts about the clippings of property listings that Spencer had hidden away in a desk drawer fled from his mind when you rubbed your knee across his thigh, sending shivers through him - reminding him exactly what he was here for.

Typically, he would be the kind of man to go down on you, thoroughly, before he fucked you. He loved the feeling of your legs tightening around his head - he loved the taste of you on his tongue.

But when he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him - his self control broke down. He had missed you so much. He realized that he needed you just as badly as you needed him. He moaned even harder against your mouth, and he pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip.

Then, he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

He knew that you typically kept a box of condoms in your bedside table. But the last time he had reached for one, the box had been empty. And he had resorted to using ‘the emergency condom’ that he kept in his bag. He didn’t have one in his bag now and he wasn’t sure if you had gotten a new box of condoms for the nightstand.

While he contemplated all of this, he kissed along the side of your breast, and then gently tongued at your necklace, still loving how it looked against your bare skin.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply.

You combed your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward. It was something that made it far more difficult for him to concentrate. Especially when he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat.

He didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. Or that you meant to pick up a Plan B pill in the morning. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up - and then he gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect.

But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way. Spencer always thought that it was a myth, men talking about how condoms actually reduced the feeling. It was such a thin piece of latex, how could it truly affect the overall sexual experience that much? Sex with you was so amazing, he couldn’t possibly imagine it getting any better.

But this - this was so much better.

He could feel your wetness sliding against every inch of his cock, he could feel your heat drowning him, he could feel every little clench you made - every little movement. He felt like he was truly drowning inside of you. Like he was being smothered inside of your perfect body.

His head collapsed against your breast, and he sucked in a sharp breath, struggling through it all, as though he was trying to swim through thick, warm honey. His head was hazier than it had ever been - if someone asked him to recite a most basic fact at this moment, he wouldn’t be able to.

“Spence,”

You whined, arching your hips into him, forcing your pelvis into him just slightly more - he felt your pubic hairs grazing against the base of his cock, the sensitive head of his cock angling at a new place inside of you. He let out a pathetic moan, struggling not to cum too early.

“Move, please.” Your voice was breathy, and desperate, and he had to remind himself of his purpose - bringing you pleasure.

“Yes.” He sighed, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just-”

Whatever else you were going to say was promptly cut off when Spencer put both hands on your hips and bent his knees slightly, gaining the traction needed to properly fuck you.

He didn’t initiate a brutal or rough pace, but he pistoned his hips well enough to take the air out of you. His movements rang a moan out of your lungs as pleasure hummed through your body, finally getting what you had been craving all night. You loved the feeling of his long cock finally plunging in and out of you, especially without the barrier of a condom. It was enough to create the delightfully filthy sound of skin smacking through the air, well timed with the chorus of moans that began to echo out from your lips. Something that was complemented by Spencer’s own grunting and whining - something he tried to partially hide by biting his lip.

It was perfect. It was so easy, came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other. It was a perfect dance that made your entire body relax - the beautiful tingle of knowing that he was touching you.

“Thank you.” You moaned, reaching around to plant your hands on Spencer’s ass again. “Fuck, thank you.”

You bent your knees and spread your thighs more, angling your body perfectly for him to fuck into you even deeper. At the same time, you used your hold on him to pull him closer - to shove his cock even deeper into you. Something that both of you grunted harshly at. It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With your wetness gathering around the base of his cock and dripping down over his balls - with your hot, thrumming cunt squeezing over him, he was getting dangerously close.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and you forcibly held him close by digging your nails into the flesh of his ass. Any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond. Especially when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

Spencer collapsed on top of you - even as tired as he was, he was careful not to hurt you by putting too much of his body weight onto you. (Even though you professed that you liked feeling his weight on top of you because he didn’t weigh all that much).

“Wow.” Spencer breathed into your neck - finding himself speechless after such a fantastic moment.

“That - that was amazing.” You remarked, breathless.

After a few moments, his cock began to go flaccid and slipped out of you, and he still felt your pussy practically beating with heat. He was reminded of something.

“You haven’t had an orgasm.” He mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, I-”

‘I made myself cum earlier.’

Your words were cut off as Spencer descended down between your thighs. He felt his cock twitch with interest at the sight of his thick, white cum leaking out of your used cunt, mixing with your clear wetness.

So perfect.

He didn’t hesitate before putting his hands on your thighs, holding your legs apart while he shoved his tongue deep inside of you - partially with the purpose of cleaning up his own mess and partially with the newfound curiosity to taste what the two of you were like together.

You gripped onto his hair and moaned out, not a single complaint to be found on your lips.

It was the most perfect night that either of you could have imagined. All topped off by falling asleep in each other’s arms after a hot shower together.

Three days later, Spencer was called away on a case in Atlanta, Georgia that changed his life forever.

…

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.”

Spencer could see the lie reflected in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about - if his memory served him well enough. Which it usually did.

He couldn’t hold himself back from calling you on it.

He locked his eyes on yours across the table, the memory of that night possessing him - the ghost of your warm skin pressing against his own only further driving the words from his lips.

“Don’t lie to me.” He said, his voice a deadly, low rumble. “Look at me now, and tell me in all honesty that you don’t remember that night. Tell me that you don’t remember the way I felt inside of you. Tell me you don’t remember how good it was.”

Maybe it was pure spite on Spencer’s end. Desperately wanting to know that after all the resentment, the arguing, the years he had lost with his son, with you, that you still felt something for him underneath the anger and the annoyance.

Even if that underlying thing was lust. It was a strange victory, but he mentally cheered when he saw you clench your thighs together past the table - when your jaw tightened up. Your fingers twitched, and he knew you well enough to see the subtle signs of your lust from a mile away.

Old habits die hard.

Spurred on by this, and your steely silence, he kept going.

“Tell me that you don’t remember how perfect we were together - how good it felt when it was just us, nothing but skin on skin for the first time.”

You exhaled sharply.

“Spencer, we are not doing this right now.” You declared, your voice quivering slightly in your throat.

This didn’t deter him.

It was your use of the words ‘right now’ - even if unconsciously, you thought that there might be a ‘later’.

(In your mind, having sex with your ex, the father of your child, just to get off, sounded like the worst idea ever. But he looked so good and you knew that he was good in bed and if you had to be cooped up in the house with him for much longer, you would be making that stupid decision against your own will.)

“Tell me you don’t remember how good it felt when I came inside you that night.”

Spencer’s words were becoming more graphic now, looking to get more of a reaction out of you.

It worked in an instant - you swallowed thickly, your whole body tingling with the imagery his voice carried. The underlying lustful rumble in his tone making your insides quake. Your leg twitched with that unconscious desire to have some friction between your thighs. It was working so well, and he hated how much he loved it.

“I mean - what was your intention that night? Did you want me to fuck a baby into you? Is that why you were so desperate for me to fuck you raw? Is that why you kept pushing my cock deeper inside of you? Were you just that desperate to get knocked up?”

His words were making you utterly dizzy with heat. If it wasn’t for the common sense blinking loudly at the front of your brain, you would have jumped across the table and tackled him just to hump him for some sort of friction on your aching cunt.

Of course, he could read this plainly all over your face.

“Spencer-” You breathed out.

Just then, Spencer’s phone rang, cutting through the dangerously palpable tension in the air.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and when he saw Morgan’s contact name on the screen, he thought for certain that the man was calling to discuss some development in the case.

“I have to take this.” Spencer sighed.

“That’s fine.” You nodded. You were glad to have some relief from the dangerous tension - you needed a few minutes to collect yourself.

Spencer got up from the table and naturally moved toward the back door - a sliding glass door that he was disappointed to find unlocked. He would have to remind himself to have a talk with you about having better security protocols in your home, even during daylight hours.

Spencer closed the door behind himself, creating a small barrier of privacy as he answered the call.

“Hello.”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Morgan chuckled.

Spencer rolled his eyes, immediately knowing that this wasn’t a work call - this wasn’t anything serious in nature for Morgan to be greeting him that way.

“What do you want?” Spencer replied, his patience already in short supply.

“Oh, come on, man.” Morgan kept up that airy, light tone. “You think you can sneak around with your secret little family and not have it be the hottest gossip we’ve had in years? I wanna hear more about this kid of yours. Me and Prentiss got a bet, goin’ - so, was it an accident or not? Did you really know what you were doin’ when you stuck your little genius thang in her back then? Or no?”

Reid was going to kill JJ. (Well, not really. He was likely just going to glare at her firmly and ignore her for a day - or, just until she apologized.)

He knew that it had likely been an accident - the information about his private life getting leaked to the entire team. But, if JJ could keep important information about killings away from the media, why couldn’t she keep this out of the team’s hands? Why couldn’t she have made up some excuse about where Reid was?

“No, no.” Spencer ground out harshly, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I am not telling you if my son’s conception was an accident or not just to satisfy some stupid bet.”

“Ooh, a son.” Morgan seemed stuck on this piece of information. “Rossi, you owe me a drink. It is a boy.”

Reid heard Rossi and Prentiss arguing in the background, and he let out another frustrated sigh.

“Don’t you have work you should be doing?” Spencer asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Hotch has us spinning our wheels here.” Morgan replied. “Goin’ through more of these daycare forms while Garcia runs more background checks - but, so far, we’ve come up with squat. Your Baby Mama is the only real lead we’ve got so far.”

Reid sighed.

“So, was it a one night stand? An epic night of passion?” He chuckled, still using a teasing tone.

Spencer didn’t answer.

“At least tell me this - is she cute? What was it about this woman that got Doctor Reid to chase after his Darwin instincts for once?” Morgan pressed on.

“She’s beautiful.” Spencer replied without even thinking, his eyes looking at you through the glass door. “She… she’s perfect in every conceivable way.”

Sebastian had come back down stairs, clearly looking for Spencer. And now you had him in your lap, still sitting on your kitchen chair, playing with a couple of plastic dinosaurs that he had brought down from his bedroom on the tabletop.

There was a distinct, humble beauty in the fact that you didn’t know you were currently under Spencer’s attention. You looked at Sebastian with such intense love in your eyes - a way you had once looked at Spencer, before that love had been replaced by scorn and disdain. Before he had messed it all up.

“Woah.” Morgan wisped in reply. “That sounds like a whole lot more than just one night of baby makin’.”

Maybe he was still fishing for information to ‘win’ the bet, maybe not. Spencer couldn’t quite tell from his tone alone. But he did sound a bit more serious, and that wedged Spencer open a bit more in order to feel comfortable continuing.

“It was.” Spencer sighed. “She - she was the love of my life.” He added on, feeling safe to tell Morgan this. “But I messed it all up.”

Morgan instantly dropped his joking and teasing when he heard the choked off tears in Spencer’s voice.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Long story.” Spencer sighed. “But - it ends with me being excluded from my son’s life. For a good reason.”

“I don’t see any good reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to see your kid.” Morgan replied. “Reid, I’ve seen you with kids, man. If anybody deserves to be a father, it’s you.”

“I was different back then. Around the time she got pregnant.” He explained. “It was just after Hankel.”

There was a tense silence as Morgan sat with the truth - as he absorbed it. Clearly, he was unsure of what to say, and Spencer found himself naturally continuing on.

“He’s so smart.” He added on, looking at the way Sebastian ran his fingers along the neck of the brontosaurus - maybe he had brought that one down for Spencer, remembering that he had said it was his favorite. “He’s such a good kid.”

He almost choked on these words, more tears welling up that he forcefully pushed down.

He turned away from the glass door then, just in case you looked up to see his tearful face. He wiped his eyes with a stiff hand, and he was surprised by what Morgan said next.

“So be good to him.” He said. “Be there for him now. Step up and be the dad that we all know you can be.”

Before he could reply, Morgan continued.

“I don’t know if I believe in fate, but Penelope always says that everything happens for a reason.” He said. “And she would tell you to use this as an opportunity to be reunited with your girl, and become a real family. Even if it is because of some scumbag killing people that brought us here.”

Spencer smiled at this.

“That is very Garcia.”

“And you know she’s always right.”

...

Continue reading here: Chapter Four - Last Hope

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In the simplest terms, Dustin Henderson has essentially become Eddie Munson's biggest cock block.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief alcohol consumption, jealousy, mentions of a rough childhood, and explicit sexual content: humping, clit rubbing, pussy slapping, spitting, handjob, oral (male receiving), and ball play.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Couple uses of "Y/N," sorry. And for maximum enjoyment, please picture Eddie's whiny tantrums from the boat scene for this piece, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

It started off minor, as most issue occur.

Eddie rather quickly took notice of the particular interest Dustin Henderson took in you.

It was lunch. Though they were essentially just a myriad of—let's be honest here—losers, the judgmental stares of high school boys as you approached and sat at their table was quite worry inducing. Getting through Eddie's hardening exterior was a journey in of itself, and now as his proclaimed girlfriend, you had to experience the journey yet again with his friends, who profoundly expressed their distaste for “your people.” Who knew such popularity within yourself would have caused them to initially despise you this much.

Not Dustin Henderson, though.

At an attempt to ease some of the awkward tension—made only worse when Eddie snapped at everyone to be nice—at the lunch table, you caught sight of Dustin's Weird Al t-shirt, one which he wore proudly, that in all honesty made you giggle. Ever since then, Dustin Henderson hasn’t been able to let go of the fact that he made a pretty girl laugh.

He clung onto you like a lifeline.

Eddie had a temper. He was always revved up. And seeing how often Dustin was conjuring a conversation with you, seeking your attention, truly made him ballistic. He didn't like sharing. Even if it was harmless. Ever since the officially introduction at lunch, it has been nothing but:

"Hey, check out my new comic book! It's limited edition!"

"Wanna help me with my science project? You're just so smart, it would really help. Maybe we can meet at the library?"

"Do you wanna see Alien with me? Lucas is going with Max, and you can join me." The fuck?! That was practically a double-date to Eddie.

The one that truly hurt him the most was two weeks ago, when you congratulated the stupid, little shit—Eddie's words, not yours—with one of your loving, sweet hugs for getting an A+ on said science project.

You used to always hug Eddie when he made good grades.

But, hey, maybe Eddie was just overreacting, right? But what the hell constitutes overreacting and not rightful-reacting, when some noisy freshman, who can't seem to grasp the simple concept of boundaries, once again oversteps, making him have blue balls, because all he wanted was to cum in his girlfriend's mouth, but apparently that's too much to ask!

Eddie huffed.

You stared incredulous.

"'Rightful-reacting.'" You tried to suppress the giggle, you really did, but you couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic wording, when he had dragged you away into his bedroom to vitalize this reoccurring issue.

Eddie moved close, right to your face, gripping tightly on your shoulders, looking like a crazed man. Hell, it was Dustin's fault. "Sweetheart, you're focusing on the wrong thing here." He heaved. "That little dingus has been ruining my life for the past week; only speaking to you, interrupting date nights, calling twenty-four seven, and now impeding our sexy time!"

"'Impeding our sexy time.'" Biting your lip did nothing to stop the emerging smile and laugh on your face. God, you loved the hell out of him.

"Would you quit that!" He whined with a theatric shake to your shoulders to get back to the point.

"Sorry, sorry," you placed on your best serious expression, "go ahead, explain."

"Explain?! Do you not remember what happened Saturday?"

Ah, Saturday. It was 11:42 p.m. Eddie—more so his insatiable appetite—had the bright idea of heading to Benny's Diner for the greasiest food to fill his stomach. It was late, and the diner had been empty with the exception of the older waitress smoking near the coffee pot, and he pulled you closely against his side, arm wrapped around waist, and toying with the soft cotton of your pajama shorts that rested against your thigh.

You moaned at the sweetness of the cold milkshake savoring your mouth. "Mm, you want some?" You offered to Eddie.

He was captivated, totally entranced by the pucker of your lips that held the creamy residue, "Mhm, yeah, I do." He whispered.

When you attempted to hand him the cold glass, he gently pushed your hand away, and consumed your mouth in a matter of seconds. The grease from his burger softened his lips, letting the pillowy feeling encapsulate you. Your hands naturally found solace on his jaw, prompting him to continue his movements, hands gripping your smooth thighs to keep you in place. As you parted your lips, Eddie's tongue snaked its way inside, officially getting a taste of that sweet vanilla that you had just swallowed.

"God, baby, you taste so good." He mewled against your lips.

His hand traveled up to your neck, securing your face in his palm, and you let your will fall in his control. His tongue prodded against yours, and the wet sounds of your spit exchanging grew entirely too inappropriate for Benny's establishment, though he didn't care. It was late, he wanted you, and no one was around.

Or so he thought.

"Gross, your gonna suffocate her!" Mike's grimacing voice broke your make out session.

While your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Eddie scoffed, unbothered. He rolled his eyes, glaring back at Mike, who justly looked appalled, and then there was Dustin, who had that bright, big smile on his face that Eddie was starting to grow annoyed with.

"Well, hey guys!" Dustin greeted with joy. "Funny seeing you here!"

"Isn't it past your bedtimes?" Eddie jumped straight into it.

"Nice to see you, too, Eddie." Dustin smiled. Eddie watched as the kid turned to you, eyes lighting up and everything. "Hi, Y/N!"

"Hey, Dustin." You politely greeted. Unlike Eddie, you didn't have it in you to be so blunt with disdain. "Um, what are you guys doing here so late?"

Dustin jumped with delight, quickly taking your question as an invitation to sit on the dingy booth across from you and Eddie. "Well, since you asked, Mike and I just spent the last five hours completing all twenty-seven games of Combat on my Atari!"

"Wow, that's incredible," Eddie feigned amazement, his sarcasm oozing out obviously, "now that you've told us, go." He gritted.

"Yeah, man, we have to get our food before my mom finds out we left and kills me." Mike extended, still waiting at the end of the table.

But not for long, as Dustin held a tight grip on his agile wrist, pulling him to the seating. "Nonsense, we just got here."

Eddie laughed. Not a good laugh. One of those scary laughs he pulls when he's on the precipice of enragement. "Oh, absolutely not!" His fist slammed on the table. Everyone flinched.

Dustin sneeringly dismissed Eddie, turning to you. "You don't mind if we stay, right? You always said you would welcome us."

Eddie couldn't believe his eyes. Your kindness was actively being exploited, and he watched in disbelief as you opened and closed your mouth to speak, but only an awkward laugh escaped. You peered at Dustin, back at Eddie, then to Dustin again. "Um, s-sure, I guess..."

Dustin whooped with excitement.

"Great." Eddie mumbled to himself.

You shot him an apologetic look that just exuded the words "I'm really sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Eddie's anger wasn’t directed at you, and he made sure you understood with a shake to his head to acknowledge, "I'm not mad at you."

He may not have been mad at you, but he was fucking furious with Dustin Henderson.

"You remember?" Eddie's words snapped you from the memory of Saturday night’s diner incident, suddenly brining you back to the setting of Eddie’s room.

You quickly nodded your head.

"Yeah, see." He proved. "And what about Sunday morning?"

Following the events of Saturday, Eddie had slept over yours, letting the resided angry dissolve as he held you in his embrace. He'd been awoken by the succulent smell of your scent, urging his morning hard-on to spring to life against your plushy ass. He tiredly nosed the hair away from the junction of your neck and shoulders to place languid kisses against your skin. His hand snaked over your hip, toying with the cute bow that was situated on the front of your lacy underwear. With a hand on your pelvis, he pushed you back against his boner, letting his wet kisses and pressuring cock stir you awake.

A sleepy whine left your pouting lips, and Eddie nearly busted at the sound of it. "Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use you?" He kissed your neck. "So fucking hard for you, princess, got me dreaming about that pussy in my sleep."

You turned your head, letting both of your lips meet in the middle, as Eddie increased the speed of his hips to hump the globes of your ass. His fingertips soon gathered a firmhold of the front of your panties, pulling upward harshly. You choked on your breath as the fabric of your underwear wedge between your puffy pussy lips, igniting the friction against your pulsating clit. You quickly began to feel the icky sensation of his precum dampening your ass, while your slick soaked your underwear, making you a wet mess all around.

"Let me have your pussy, please, baby." He groaned.

You nodded your head with permission, "Fuck, yes, please."

Eddie was quick to pull your panties from your legs, discarding the piece haphazardly across your room. Your foot hooked behind his leg to keep you nice and open, and just as his fingers were about to pleasure you seeping pussy, the phone rang.

The phone fucking rang.

You flinched at the abrupt noise that was blaring on your bedside table, and Eddie's head dropped against your shoulder in disappointment, a groan muffled by your shirt. "Just fucking ignore it, sweetheart."

"Real quick, I promise, just to make sure everything's good." You swore, as you reached for the phone.

That wasn't going to stop Eddie Munson, though. Right as you picked up, the tips of his finger pressed against your clit, eliciting a shaky "Hello" to escape your mouth. He grinned with satisfaction as he watched your eyes screw shut and your teeth sunk into your plump bottom lip.

But then the next words you uttered truly set him off.

"Oh, h-hi, Dustin."

"What?!" Eddie screamed into your ear. "Hang up the phone right now."

He was stern with his words, and stern with his movements. The pace of fingers quickened, along with your breaths and his patience.

You held up a finger to signal Eddie to hold on, as you tried your absolute best to comprehend the conversation that Dustin was attempting to have with you. "So, yeah, would you like to go to the arcade this afternoon?"

"I- Dustin, now's, uh, now is not r-really a good time- fuck." You gasped softly.

"Yeah, so fucking hang up." Eddie whispered against your cheek, as his hand slide between your wet folds, gathering all of your arousal and coming back to rubbing your pretty clit.

"Why not? Everything alright?" If it wasn’t for the current situation, you would have appreciated the kid’s concern.

"Yeah, yeah- yes!" That response was definitely not to Dustin. "Um, yes, j-just busy with Eds." You breathed out in order to filter out your moans.

"That's right, so fucking hang up!" Eddie yelled loud enough for Dustin to hear, as it was intended towards him, and his hand pulled back, slapping your cunt, the stinging vibrations traveling through your sensitive clit.

"Fuck! Gotta go." The second you slammed the phone back to the receive, Eddie rushed to climb on top of you, swallowing your wails with his hungry lips.

Meanwhile, Dustin was just left dumbfounded, staring at the deadline of his phone.

"Do you see what I'm talking about, baby?" Eddie emphasized, hands cupping your face, pleading that you'd understand.

Snapping back to reality from the memory, you were quick to nod your head again. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that."

"No, it's not you." He stressed. "That little shit just knows how to work his way around you. That's why he fucking came here today."

Now, today was Eddie's last straw. At least Sunday morning, he was able to get rid of Dustin and have you all to himself, but today? Today, Dustin ruined one of Eddie's favorite moment with you. A blowjob.

It was late into the evening, as Eddie splayed himself on the worn couch of his living room. His legs lazily rested over the armrest, as he nursed down a beer that was keeping him sane from having to listen the Happy Days theme song that he grew profoundly annoyed with, but he was too lazy to move and grab the remote. It'd been quite a long day for him. During third period, Mrs. Lineker shoved a pop quiz in his face, which he knew he flunked. To top it off, you had missed lunch under the guise that Chrissy Cunningham stole you away to “work on cheer routines.” As if that's not what practice is for, Eddie rolled his eyes at your kidnapping, which he proclaimed it was.

And now you actually were at practice, gone and away from Eddie when he really needed you. That was until he heard the gentle knocking coming from his front door, which he had learned was you. You entered with a bright smile that washed all of Eddie's irritations away. He truly did have a soft spot for you, and only you.

"Hi!" You happily greeted, as you situated yourself on his lap, arms snaking around his neck.

"Hi, baby." He tiredly smiled, as he caressed your sides. "You're back early."

"Yeah, coach cut practice, so I was able to get home and shower to come see you." A shy grin flushed his face as you pecked his nose with a cute kiss.

Who knew this mean guy could crack under nose kisses?

"Good," he huffed, bringing you impossibly close, "been a shit day barely being able to see you. People always stealing you away." He grumbled.

In truth, behind his domineering demeanor that seemed untouchable to anyone, Eddie was quite sensitive when it came to his feelings for you. His biggest fears lied dormant under his tough exterior, only exposing itself in the presence of a safe environment, and it became evident as he hugged you tight, because he truly feared someone would steal you away. Whether it was as superficial as Dustin Henderson seeking your attention, or potentially serious as Chrissy Cunningham who still remained unsure of your relationship after the bullshit Jason Carver fed her. He was terrified that one day you'd listen to your friends and leave. How the hell was Eddie Munson, "Freak" of Hawkins High, suppose to provide you with all the things you deserved?

He did, though. Eddie Munson gave you everything.

"I know, I'm sorry." You whispered, as you kissed his pouty lips.

But he simply shook his head, rejecting your apology. "Don't apologize." He insisted. "It's not your fault you're so lovable."

A smile emerged on his face as he made you giggle. You cupped his cheeks, and gently brushed a couple strands of his bangs to fully capture his eyes that just captivated you.

"You're so lovable, too, Eddie." He deserved to know. "I love loving you."

You gave him a firm, long kiss to solidify your words as fact, because it was. No matter how much he denied it in his overthinking head.

"I love loving you, too, princess."

Your hand traveled down his chest, exposing the bareness, as he only laid in an unbuttoned plaid shirt. "Can I show you how much I love loving you?" He immediately recognized that look in your eyes that always paired so beautifully with your salacious smile.

He blushed under your insinuation, dick twitching and goosebumps rising as your fingertips brushed his happy trail. "I don't want you to think that you have to make it up to me."

"Oh, I know." You kissed his cheek. "But I just really want to. So can I, Eddie? Can I suck your cock?"

"Fuck." His groaned, as you grabbed his semi through his sweatpants. "If I ever answer "no" to that, sweetheart, I want you to take one of Wayne's hunting guns and shoot me with it."

You laughed as you settled between his legs, and he relaxed himself on the armrest of the couch. You opened his shirt further, and ran your hands against his chest and belly before grabbing his sweatpants and shimmying them down his hips. You rubbed his hardening length, planting a quick kiss, before pulling it out of his boxers.

"Fuck, yeah, baby." He cooed, watching your small, delicate hand wrap around his cock to languidly jerk it.

You peered up at him, and quickly crawled up close to his face. "Spit in my mouth, Eddie."

He cursed under his breath, as you felt his dick jump at the request. Unable to formulate words, he quickly nodded. Grabbing your chin, he pulled you into a messy, open-mouthed make out, where his tongue lavished against yours. Soon, his grip stiffened, preventing you from closing your tingling lips. You mewled at the sensation of Eddie's spit invading your mouth, a warm globe situated on your tongue.

You pulled back from his hold, aiming down to his cock, where you parted your lips to let his spit coat himself. “Oh, my fuck- just looking at you is gonna make me cum.”

His abs contracted as you held a firm grip to his cock, jerking the spit to his base and up and around his blistering red head. You suctioned on his frenulum, eliciting the sweet moans he desperately tried to hold back. "Shit, baby, oh my god." He muttered.

You kissed down his shaft, eventually nosing the fuzzy skin of his balls, that tensed at your arrival. Peering up with your large doe eyes, Eddie swore under his breath, meeting your contact, and raking his hand through your hair.

"Yes, princess, suck on my balls." He moaned, as your tongue ravished his taste. "Fuck, get 'em all messy for me, baby, please."

As your left hand jerked him, your right held a tight grip between his thigh and balls to secure all access from his opened legs. Soon enough, you popped one of his large balls into your mouth, his musky scent invading your senses.

"Shit, shit- fuck, make me feel good, sweetheart. God, I'm gonna give you everything I got, baby, just keep sucking." He whimpered.

His hand was yanking the roots of your hair, shoving your nose against the curls of his pubic hair, as your hand circled around his oozing tip. Dating Eddie had led you onto the beautiful journey of learning all his sweet spots, so you knew to massage the area beneath his balls, which quickly proved right, as his body twitched at the mere sensation.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With a wet pop, you switched to his other throbbing ball, enjoying the sight of his sticky bangs framing his face and eyes fluttering shut. It was pure fucking heaven for Eddie Munson.

Until it turned into straight hell.

*Knock, knock, knock,* "Hey, guys!"

Dustin. Fucking. Henderson.

Now, Eddie knew he was an asshole; every insult, shove, push, punch, and crime he's ever committed flooded his mind as to what might be the cause of his bad karma. He knew he made bad decisions in his life that very much came to an inconvenience to everyone else in Hawkins, but he never claimed to be virtuous man. But did he really deserve this? This punishment? This torment? This torture?

"Hello? You guys in there?" God, the kid's voice came out like nails on a chalk board to Eddie.

He watched the front door, praying to a god that he sure as hell didn't believe in, that Dustin would leave. But his attention quickly snapped to you, when you dropped one of his balls from his mouth.

You heaved, "We should sto-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Eddie whined, quickly shoving your head down his cock, quietly moaning at the gag you urged from the forceful intrusion to your throat. "S-sorry, I really need this. Ignore him."

So, you did.

Your tongue swiveled around his shaft, lips dragging the wetness of spit, slobber, drool, and precum up and down his length, as you hollowed in your cheeks to speed along his impending orgasm.

But the knocking was insistent.

"Hey! I know you're in there! I see both your cars out here!" Dustin yelled.

God, this wasn't happening, Eddie thought. It can't be! By far, one of the messiest and best blowjobs he's ever received was being interrupted at this very moment. Not to mention, every time Dustin knocked or spoke, all he got was a mental image of the curly-haired kid that hurdled his orgasm back from release.

Just focus on your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your cock, your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your cock, your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your co-

"Come on, guys! Eddie?! Y/N?!"

You pulled off. Eddie wanted to cry. "Maybe we should stop?" You suggested sympathetically.

Letting go of your head, Eddie dropped his face into his hands in defeat. You felt bad, you honestly did. But there was no way you could continue sucking his dick as Dustin's presence loomed right outside. You sat back on your heels as you watched Eddie huff. There was no longer sadness. Just pure fucking rage.

He stood from the couch, pulling his sweats up, and grabbing a throw pillow to cover his throbbing cock that bulged through the material. He footsteps echoed loudly, each stomp shaking the weak foundation of the trailer. You feared for Dustin's fate.

Throwing the door open, Eddie didn't let Dustin mutter single word of salutations. "What?! What, in the absolute fuck do you want?! What the fuck?!"

Dustin flinched back at Eddie's screams, agitation consuming the kid's face, as every ounce of spit had doused his head from the yelling. Though clearly frightened from Eddie's killing looks, Dustin knew he wouldn't hurt him, especially not in front of you. He was smart. Brushing away the spurts of spit, Dustin merely sauntered past Eddie and into the trailer.

Completely disregarding Eddie, Dustin spoke, "God, who pissed in his cornflakes, am I right?" With a loud giggle, as he sat next to you.

You, who could only awkwardly laugh and rub an remaining drool from your chin that didn't reveal what you were just doing.

Eddie's mouth dropped at Dustin's actions, watching the young boy get comfortable right on the spot that he was just receiving head. If this was a cartoon, steam would be blowing from Eddie's ears. Honestly, if you squinted hard enough, you could probably see it.

"Are you fucking insane?!" Eddie shouted. "Did I say you could fucking come in?! Get out!”

Eddie truly was getting scary at this point, you'd never seen him so angry, it was jarring. Dustin curled into your side, knowing any potential harm wouldn't be done with you by his side. So, he crossed his arms, "No, I just got here."

"Why?!" Eddie threw the couch pillow he was holding—boner long gone—at Dustin's head.

"Because I wanna hang out!" Dustin yelled back. "We're friends, remember." Eddie didn't appreciate the rhetorical question that Dustin implied with stupidity.

"You have other fucking friends!"

God, it was times like these you wished you had the guts to be confrontation.

"No." Dustin pointed out matter of factly. "Mike is on the phone with El, and Lucas went to the comic book store with Max. They're all with their girlfriends."

Eddie pulled his hair as if he was going insane. You'd never seen his eyes so wide. "I'm with my girlfriend, you little shit!" He pointed to you.

Dustin turned to look at you. Oh, no. You knew what was coming.

"Well, Y/N, do you want me to stay?"

"U-um-"

"No!" Eddie quickly interjected. "You don't get to fucking talk to her! She's my girlfriend!"

"Well, she's my friend!"

Eddie breathed out a couple times to catch his breath. His adrenaline was pulsating like crazy, and he was doing everything in his will power to not choke the kid out. "Alright." He panted. "You wanna stay. Stay." Eddie reached for your hand and pulled you from the couch. "But we're not staying with you."

He began guiding you to his room, as Dustin scoffed. "Eddie." You attempted to plead.

"Nope." He was stern with his stance. "Not fucking staying with him."

Eddie had dragged you into his room with a loud slam to his door. And that's where you were right now, in the low light of his bedroom as he reiterated all the interrupted moments caused by Dustin.

"That little shit just knows how to work his way around you. That's why he fucking came here today." Eddie groaned, as he finished his stressing tirade.

"Well, I don't know what to do." You gently spoke to calm his aggravated nerves.

“You gotta give it to him straight, sweetheart." Eddie urged. "He won't fucking leave until you tell him to."

"But I can't do that to him." You pouted. "That's mean."

God, you were so fucking cute. But cute isn't what he needs right now. "Baby, you've been dating me long enough that some of me has had to rub off on you."

You groaned, entirely out of your comfort zone. "Fine, but you have to calm down." You pointed, the best austere look you could muster, discipling him like a kid.

Eddie giggled at you. "Sure, anything for you." He kissed your tense forehead. "Sorry for the yelling."

After a couple more kisses and breaths, you both made your way back to the living room, Dustin still sitting at the same spot, smug look to his face. "Well, that was pretty fast. Miss me already?" Was it wrong that Eddie wanted to punch him right then and there?

"Actually, she needs to tell you something." Eddie sneered back, placing you right on the spot. He sat you right on the coffee table in front of Dustin, standing behind and massaging your shoulders, keeping his hands busy from connecting with Dustin's face. "Go on, babe. Tell him."

"Um, well, Dustin, w-we were thinking that maybe it's best if we have a-a little... alone time." You were walking on eggshells trying to keep both heavily opinionated boys at bay. God, they were more alike than they realized.

"What?" Dustin looked shocked at your revelation.

"What she means is, get out." Eddie smiled with glee.

Dustin scoffed, "What did you do to her?! I know you just made her say that!"

"What?!" So much for being calm. "I didn't make her do anything! She's tired of you always butting in, just too nice to say it! But I'll say it, you're driving us crazy, get out!"

"Shut up! Both of you!" Dustin and Eddie instantaneously quieted down at your newfound voice that they never once heard above its usual soft-spoken octave. "You're both driving me crazy!"

"Well, he started it. Always trying to take your attention." Eddie grumbled.

"Attention?! Are you jealous? Of me? I’m fourteen, you’re like old as shit!"

That snapped Eddie.

He tried to lunge at Dustin, "Okay! Okay!" But you were quick to hug his waist and pull him back. Dustin, of course, dramatically shrieked and fell back onto the couch as if he got hit.

Too much yelling, and too much hair was flying around for your liking. You were going to explode with stress.

"Look, Dustin, we love spending time with you, really, but there are times when Eddie and I just want to be alone together!"

"Yeah!" Eddie laughed at the young boy's sullen face.

But you were quick to turn back to Eddie. "And you! You have got to stop being so mean!" You got close and whispered to him directly. "I know this is rooted deeper for you, but I'm not leaving you, Eddie. Ever. For anyone. Get that through your head. You have every right to be annoyed, but don't so callous towards him or anyone, in general."

Eddie sighed, nodding his head, and understanding your words. Finally, a moment of clarity. He rubbed the wrinkles of your furrowed brows, clearly stressed from having to be placed in the middle of their quarrel. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, baby, you're right."

He leaned down, placing a loving kiss to your lips that denoted all his admiration for you. You both understood his underlying insecurities, and how they transcribed from his shitty childhood. Eddie Munson so undeservingly got dealt a bad hand at life that his pure heart shouldn't have had to endure. But the beauty of Eddie Munson was that his pure heart still remained, even if it was picky with the people it opened up to. You were beyond please you were one of them. Because you loved loving Eddie Munson. And Eddie knew you were worth fixing said issues; anger, insecurity, jealousy. Even if it took a lot of time and a lot of risk. But your heart and face eased his worries. He'd do anything for you.

"Hey, uh," Shit, you almost forgot Dustin was still there, "I'm really sorry, too." Dustin appeared guilty as can be. "I didn't mean to be so annoying."

"No, you're not annoying-"

"Well..."

"Eddie." You swatted his chest.

"Kidding, kidding." He threw his hands up, a chuckle leaving his mouth. "I'm kidding, Dustin."

"Look, it's just nice to know someone like you actually wants to be my friend." Dustin smiled.

"Like me?" You questioned.

"Yeah, you know, funny, popular, and sweet." He nervously played with his hands.

"Aw, Dustin." You hugged him, Eddie playfully scoffed at the melting look blushing over Dustin's face, clearly loving your affection. "You're so cute, but you don't have to prioritize my friendship over the others."

"Yeah, what the hell does she got that I don't?" Eddie smiled, as you rolled your eyes and Dustin at least laughed. He marched over and ruffled Dustin's curls. "Seriously, you getting tired of us in Hellfire?" Eddie teased.

"No, never." Dustin smiled.

"Good, we need you at Hellfire. Who else are we gonna sacrifice during our DnD campaign next week?"

"What?!" Eddie barked out a laugh, as Dustin eventually caught on and eased his heart from the potential worry. "Don't scare me like that."

"But it's so fun." Eddie chuckled.

"Okay, so are we good here? No more yelling?" You assured, pointing at both with your chastising demeanor.

"Yeah, yeah, we're good." Eddie soothed your arm. "Sorry for the stress, baby."

"Yeah, sorry." Dustin added. "But do you really want me to leave?" he peered between both of you.

"Look, kid, how about this," Eddie began, "I'll take you to the comic store, where I'm sure Lucas and Max are still there. Can spend the day with them, while we have our time," he proffered, "and in return, you can stop by tomorrow when Y/N is staying over and work on one segment of our upcoming campaign."

You'd never seen Dustin's face light up so brightly before. "Really? I can help you with DnD?"

"Only one segment." Eddie clarified. "Don't need your mouth blabbin' to the others."

"Deal!"

You could physically feel the weight on your shoulders release as all tension was gone. While Eddie briefly left to change, you made sure to place in an order for pizza, as you both felt deserving of a nice meal after the ensemble that had just occurred. Eddie returned with his jacket in hand and his shoes untied, too unbothered to care.

"I'll be back soon, sweetheart, I'll be sure to be quick," He leaned in planting a wet smooch on your cheek and whispered in your ear, "because my dick still kinda hurts from not cumming."

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #dustin henderson

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munsonluhvr · 1 month

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where might an enemies to lovers but reader only really pretends to hate him because she thinks he hates her and she can’t stand that because he’s so kind and nice with everyone else but her and then one day after him just being so mean to her whether it was joking or not she just breaks request get me

A SERIES OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS

thank u for this request, I hope u like it! it's such a cute concept bc I can actually see a scenario like this happening w Steve in real life. also, once again, I used a movie to influence the one-shot.. this week it's a scene from twilight where Bella and Edward are in biology class hahaha. shout out to everyone who gets it.

synopsis: king!steve harrington x fem!reader - sfw. after seeing steve be kind and nice to everyone except you, you crack and confront him. word count - warnings: bullying (?), kinda rude, stereotypical king steve. light cursing.

There he is. So sweet, so kind to everyone but you. You watch from across the hall as Steve greets his friends with a slap on the back, offering a friendly smile. The girls of Hawkins High provide flirty smiles, small handwaves in Steve’s direction as they pass by; giggles falling out of their perfectly glossed lips when he returns the pleasantries. It makes you sick to watch; you roll your eyes in response to the scene playing out in front of you.

You turn, swiftly unlocking your locker to switch your textbooks out for your next class. Laughter behind you causes you to turn and looking over your shoulder, watching as Steve leans against a row of lockers, telling a story animatedly. Just then, Steve glances over in your direction, his eyes connecting with yours. A passive looks brushes across Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing as he makes eye contact with you, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. The group standing all around Steve towards you, their eyes following Steve’s. They look equally displeased, wondering why Steve is looking at you and not them.

You turn quickly towards your locker, slipping your biology textbook out and shutting the door of your locker shut. As you walk away, towards your classroom, you hear snickers following you, Steve’s voice low and critical. You clutch your textbook to your chest, wondering what you did to Steve to hate you.

It was only recently that you began taking note of Steve’s behavior towards you. It was very simple and clear – he was nice to everyone else but you. You racked your brain, attempting to figure out why Steve would be holding a grudge towards you, you two didn’t typically interact on a regular basis, so the reason why remains unknown.

You trudge forward, heading towards your next class. You sigh to yourself, thinking how Steve is also in this class and you will be forced to face him once again today. You make your way down the busy hallway, dodging past people who are in a hurry to get to their next period. In only a few minutes, you make it to your classroom, greeted by a low murmur from the students that already are seated. You take a seat in the backrow at the lab tables that serve as your desk.

You bend forward in your seat, keeping your head down. This is your last period of school, the relief of being able to go home on the horizon. All you have to do is make it through Biology. Unfortunately, life has other plans for you today.

Chatter begins to pick up suddenly and you assume it’s either your teacher or Steve. You peek through your lashes in the direction of the classroom entrance – it’s Steve. After lingering for a few seconds with other classmates, he sits himself on the other side of them room, but not without one last glance in your direction. Your eyes flick down as his eyes take you in briefly, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“All right class,” Mr. Lewis, your biology teacher, says. He shrugs his jacket off, folding it neatly over the back of his chair. “We’ll be doing pair work today. I’ve already made the pairs, if you all want to come up and see who you’re working with.”

Stools squeak against the floor as your classmates scramble to Mr. Lewis desk to see who their partners with. You don’t move, you know who ever you’re paired up with will find you. In the front of the classroom, you hear people giggle with excitement that they’ve being paired up with their friend. You sit patiently, head bent over your biology textbook, waiting for your partner to come join you.

You hear a cough, someone clearing their throat, right beside you and you look up, the feeling of dread filling your stomach as you make eye contact with Steve. “We’re partners, I guess.”

You say nothing, turning back to your textbook, breaking eye contact with Steve. Steve sits beside you awkwardly, silence setting in between you uncomfortably. Tension makes you feel like Steve is a million miles away even though he’s right beside you. Your head begins to ache, wishing the hour-long class would end quickly.

Once everyone is settled in their seats, with their new partners, Mr. Lewis begins to describe the task at hand – looking at different cells through the microscope and organizing them into categories. Already you’re bored to death.

Steve sighs, reaching out to pull the microspore that sits at the end of the table between both of you. “Let’s just get this over with,” Steve mumbles under his breath.

You look at Steve, pushing down the emotion to yell out and ask him what you ever did that made him hate you so much. You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles tense together. Not having a shy bone in your body, you pull the microscope in front of you, taking the slides that Mr. Lewis passed out to each table, and placing one under the lens. “I’ll just do it since you’re always late to this class and probably don’t even know what a cell is supposed to look like under a microscope.”

Steve gapes at you, your abruptness sudden. “I-I know what a cell looks like, y/n.” Your heart flutters to your dismay; you hate to admit it, but the sound of Steve saying your name is heavenly.

You scoff, pinching your eye to look into the microscope. “Uh huh.”

“Whatever, this assignment is bullshit anyway.” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans onto the desk, his eyes wandering around the classroom, looking at how everyone else is progressing through the assignment happily. Steve attempts to stay preoccupied, distracting himself from the way his heart beats rapidly as he sits next to you.

Silently, you work by yourself to organize the cells correctly, ensuring that you get it right. Steve, on the other hand, sits beside you silently, his eyes trained away from you.

You look up, distracted, as Heather, one of your classmates and Steve’s biggest fan, turns in her seat. “Steve?” she says, her eyelashes fluttering. “Did you finish already? Wow, you’re so smart.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, Heather’s attempt at flirting with Steve failing miserably – at least to you. Steve leans forward, a large grin on his face as he drinks up Heather’s compliments; disregarding the fact that you sit beside him, doing all the work by yourself.

You listen as Steve flirts obnoxiously with Heather, and you start to really see how different Steve treats you compared to everyone else. He’s so friendly with everyone, yet so dismissive of you. You sigh, louder then you expected to, and Steve glances at you but says nothing.

In the front of the class, Mr. Lewis claps, signaling that the pair work is over. One by one, he goes through the correct order of the slides, and you’re pleased to find out that you did it all correct. Class continues, uneventful at most, and you notice how tense Steve is sitting beside you, his long legs confined to the narrow stool he sits on, his body leaning away from you. You frown, attempting to pay attention to class.

Once class ends thirty minutes later, Steve is quick to slide off the stool, sauntering over to the other side of the classroom where he originally chose to sat – far away from you. By the time you pack your backpack up again, waiting so that Steve is the first to leave. Steve lingers around after class, conversing with some of the boys in the class. Though, Steve eventually stands off, beginning to walk out of the classroom and down the hallway.

You’re close behind, not wanting to be in Steve’s line of eyesight. You walk out after Steve and watch as he turns left out of the door, you turning right to go back to your locker. However, you pause, contemplating your next move.

It’s become unbearable to try and dodge Steve every day of school, being tense within every class you share with him. Truthfully, you’ve racked your brain on numerous occasions to understand why Steve doesn’t like you, why he treats you poorly compared to everyone else in Hawkins High. He even treats Jonathan Byers better who now dates Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy. So, what issues does Steve have with you?

Quickly, you turn on your heel, beginning to trail Steve in the hallway. Your fists clench as you quicken your pace to reach Steve. “Steve!” you call, gathering strange looks from others passing by in the hallway. Steve looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees that you are who called his name.

“What?” Steve says as he watches you approach him, wedging himself against the row of lockers that line the wall to allow other people to pass by.

“What do you mean, what, you have to explain to me what I’ve done to you to make you hate me,” you say with a huff.

Steve frowns, his mouth pouting a little. “What are you talking about?” He says, bending towards you, his voice low. “I definitely don’t hate you.”

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Oh, please, Steve. You constantly give me dirty looks, dismiss me while you flirt and be nice with other girls. I don’t understand, I’ve thought back to all the times we’ve talked, which aren’t that many by the way, and I don’t remember where I could have made you mad.” Your voice raises with each word you say, your cheeks beginning to fluster with heat. “Just tell me, Steve.”

Steve looks away from you, noticing that people pause to look at you and he standing, essentially bickering. Steve sighs, grabbing your forearm, his long fingers warm against your skin. “Come with me.”

You reluctantly follow Steve, watching as he pushes a darkened classroom door open, dragging you inside. “I don’t hate you.” He mumbles, his eyes connecting with yours. They’re big and brown, twinkling against the dim lights.

“So, then what’s the problem?”

Steve leans against the desk at the front of the classroom, his head shaking as he looks towards the floor. “I like you, okay?”

You frown, suddenly at a loss for words. He likes you? Who likes someone and treats them terribly? “You like me?”

Steve nods, not looking at you still. “don’t you remember I tried to hand you a flyer to my party, and you ignored me? I just assumed you thought I was an asshole and I guess I started acting like one.”

You think back, remembering the instance Steve references. You had been walking out of biology class a few weeks before, and Steve had been handing out bright orange flyers to one of his famous parties. Sure, he had tried handing you a flyer as you passed by, but you weren’t into parties, and you didn’t think he was specifically trying to invite you to one of his parties. You two didn’t really know each other so that assumption made sense.

“Funny way to show that you like me, Steve. I didn’t think-“ you begin to say, beginning to get discouraged. “I didn’t think you were inviting me to the party, I thought you were just handing them out. You didn’t have to act like an asshole, we could have just talked.”

Steve sighs again, running a hand through his now messy hair. “I know, I’m an idiot. I guess it was a misunderstanding and I read it wrong – it’s my fault.”

Silence falls between you and Steve, his apology lingering in the air. You think about this, how boys are just so stupid sometimes. Though you can’t help but smile, Steve’s affection making you blush. Now that you understand Steve’s mindset and why he’s treated you in such a way, you have to acknowledge that you find Steve attractive, his boyish looks making your heart flutter.

“So, you like me, huh?”

Steve nods, his cheeks beginning to flush with a tint of pink. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” You smile, biting at your own lips. What a revelation this is. You’re glad you followed Steve.

Though you’re sure Steve is about to ask you out, you decide to beat him to it, knocking his ego down a few pegs. “Then you should definitely take me out. Preferably this weekend.”

Steve nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does picking you up at 7 sound?”

You nod, folding your hands in front of you. “That’s perfect.”

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fan fiction

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