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reidmotif · 8 months

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Popsicle Love

Summary: Reader and Spencer are at a ridiculously hot precinct station, getting on each other's nerves arguing. Reader realizes she can get back at him, using a certain sweet treat.

Prompt: Spencer can't deal with how much Reader loves popsicles/ice cream cones

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, rough sex, hair-pulling, dom!Spencer, coworker relationship, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving) , dirty talk, heavy making-out, unprotected penetrative sex, bathroom sex, hate-fucking, pure smut

Word Count: 3.2k

“It is too fucking hot for this” was my first thought as he began talking to me. Fuck Spencer Reid, because he was the who decided that today, in the sweltering Georgia heat, was the day he would annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

“You’re going about this all wrong!” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. His sleeves were pulled up, and there was anger in his eyes. I crossed my legs, feeling my skirt ride up but I honestly couldn’t care less. It was scorching, and I was determined to not lose this argument to Reid. I let out a breath of air, meeting him with my own annoyed, exasperated expression.

“Reid, you’re being absolutely childish right now.” I retorted. “Sort through the paperwork first, then analyze it! Not everyone wants to do things the way you insist on doing them!” I say, furrowing my brows.

“Not everyone can.” He says, cockily, a smirk gracing his lips. That motherfucker.

I was about to get up and honestly hit him square in the jaw, half from my delusion in the heat, and half from how fucking smug he sounded. I wanted to knock that smirk off his face, and maybe ruin that pretty smile of his in the process, just as an added bonus.

Thankfully, before I could do anything rash that would definitely result in me losing my job, one of the officers of the station quickly came to interrupt us.

“Hey, one of the officers brought in popsicles. If any of y’all would like any, they’re in the breakroom.” She said, turning away. Thank God for Southern hospitality, I suppose.

I sighed, getting up from my spot. Spencer and I clearly weren’t getting anywhere when it came to our disagreements, and that’s how it was, and how it would remain to be. The man was a pain-in-the-fucking ass, and it was an honest shame, considering the fact he was actually pretty hot, especially when his mouth wasn’t moving.

Spencer walked ahead of me, the idea of something to cool him down enticing him just as much as it did me. We reached the breakroom and he opened the freezer, taking out the box of popsicles, and looking into it. He pulled out two, presumably one for me, and one for him.

“Blue or red?” He says, holding out the brightly colored packages, offering me a choice of one.

“Red.” I say, reaching over with no hesitation and grabbing the red-colored packaging in his hand. “Duh.” I added, starting to unwrap the treat. “It’s the best flavor.”

He scoffed a little, opening up his own, blue package, and I rolled my eyes at the sound.

“What, are you going to argue with me about my choices in popsicle flavor too now?” I say, with a disbelieving tone.

“No, it’s nothing,” He says, shrugging, with that same, shit-eating, self-satisfied grin.

God, I hated him.

I gave a deep exhale through my nose, forcing myself to calm down. I decided it’d be for the best if I walked out, left him here alone to avoid another fight. He called out before I could even walk two steps.

“You have to eat here.” He said, taking licks at his popsicle. “The officers- they’re old fashioned. I don’t know.” He adds, “If you wanna be yelled at though, be my guest.”

I grumbled internally at that, but I knew he was right. I didn’t want to be yelled at.

I took my place, leaning against a table that had been placed in the breakroom and taking my own popsicle out of the packaging, beginning to eat it. I sighed happily as I felt the taste settle on my tongue, the coolness blooming throughout my mouth. I began by licking the sides before taking it in my mouth. I suckled for a minute, and I could feel it already melting down my fingers a bit, due to the heat in the station. I released the popsicle in my mouth with a pop, before going to lick the sticky residue off my fingers. It was a little childish, sure, but it was hot and it wasn’t like anyone was watching me. I continued this cycle, softly sucking at the popsicle and wrapping my tongue around it until I heard what sounded like ... a whimper from across the room? I let my eyes drift up, noticing a seemingly flustered Spencer in the corner of my eye. He leaned away from me, crossing his legs. I knitted my brows, before putting the pieces together, realizing what had happened.

He was a guy, after all. And I suppose the way I was eating my popsicle could come off as suggestive, but come on! How else was I meant to eat it? And armed with the knowledge that my innocent action was enough to provoke him, I decided a little more intent in my movement couldn’t hurt.

I began to take the popsicle a little more vigorously, bobbing my head a bit. My lips wrapped around the treat, and I could feel Spencer’s eyes shamelessly on me and internally grinned. Good. He had annoyed me all day, and the idea of him dealing with a hard-on with no way to relieve himself was definitely karmic justice in my eyes. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste, but also in the way I could feel Spencer shifting around, trying to hide what seemed like a fast-growing erection. When I hollowed out my cheeks, and swirled my tongue around the sweetness in my mouth, I could hear a sound from the back of his throat escaping his lips. I let the popsicle out of my mouth, and in that moment, a melted chunk seemed to fall off, landing itself on my chest. I hissed, feeling the coldness of the tacky liquid running down my bare skin.

“Shit.” I said, trying to flick off the liquid off my hands and realizing I’d need to clean myself up. I dropped the remainder of the popsicle in the trash, not bothering to look back, before I walked over to the bathroom. I let out a breath of air as I opened the door to the precinct bathroom, looking at my chest and sighing, grabbing a handful of paper towels to run under the sink to wash myself with.

Before I could do that though, I heard the door swing open, and saw through the mirror it was none other than Spencer Reid. I crossed my arms, putting my back to the counter of the sink as I turned around to look him up and down.

“What are you doing here?” I remarked, with a displeased tone.

He looked absolutely furious, and there was a slight part of me that was excited, knowing I could rile him up like this. He was breathing heavily, and moving closer to me, trapping me in between the counter and his body, and what felt like a very noticeable hardness pressing against my thigh.

“The better question is, what the fuck are you doing?” He asked, his tone low and menacing.

I rolled my eyes, before feigning a look of innocence, making my eyes wide. “What do you mean, Spencer?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He responds, gripping a piece of hair at the back of my skull and pulling slightly, forcing me to bare my neck to him. “Where do you get off doing something like that to me, huh?” He murmurs, leaning closer and letting his lips brush over the shell of my ear.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I retorted hastily, but I could hear the shakiness in my voice. The way he was speaking, the pull he had on my hair- it thrilled me, and contributed to a growing heat between my legs.

He pushed himself further and further against me, and I could feel his erection against my thigh even more so than before, and felt my stomach flutter at the feeling. My jaw dropped a bit, letting out a soft sigh, sensitive to the sensation.

“Oh is that right?” Spencer replies, nodding as he spoke a little cruelly. “You like acting like this? Like a goddamn slut?” He grunts out. He twists and pulls my hair a little more, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

“You like it when I pull on your pretty hair like that?” He said, snarking the words at me. “Like how wet I make you?” He whispered, venom in his voice.

Without warning, he placed his fingers at the growing wet patch at my underwear, roughly pushing it aside before starting to rub harsh, tight circles around my clit. I nearly lost my mind at the sensation, nearly doubling over with pleasure.

I whimpered softly, and I could feel his smirk as he started to kiss up and down my neck. “So wet for me, mm?” He says, starting to move his fingers faster over my swollen clit. “I’ve barely touched you. You’re fucking needy for me, yeah?”

I groaned, not processing enough of what he was saying to warrant a response. My brain was foggy from how good he was making me feel. I tried to not think about the fact that this was Spencer, the Spencer who’d annoyed me from the moment I’d joined the BAU. The Spencer I despised, the one I was supposed to hate- but here was, making me orgasm in a precinct bathroom with his fingers alone.

He rubbed a bit faster, before thrusting two fingers into my needy cunt. I moaned again, louder, and he responded by burying his fingers even deeper into my core, pumping harshly. I could feel the room spinning, gripping onto the counter behind me to stabilize me as my orgasm began to approach me rapidly. He watched me intently, his gaze hot and intense before smirking. “Come for me. Come all over my fingers, (Y/N).” He whispered.

I did, nearly on command, convulsing against him as I felt myself clench around his long, slender digits, my moans reverberating around the small space.

He withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving me painfully empty before he began to grab my face roughly, forcing me to look at him.

“Say that you want this, bitch.” He whispers harshly, pulling my hair and eliciting yet another moan from me as he pushed me up against the counter.

“Spencer..” I murmured, feeling my knees go a bit weak at how roughly he was manhandling me. He spun our positions around, and I felt him using the grip on my hair to push me down to my knees.

“Say it!” He said, a little more firmly now. “I need to hear you say it.”

I felt the desperation in his tone, weakly looking up at him from this angle before I nodded quickly.

“I want you. I want this.” I wailed, arousal coursing through my veins. I no longer cared about the humiliation of letting him use me like this. I wanted to chase this feeling forever, wanted to be at his mercy for as long as he wanted, as long as he could continue to make me feel this good.

I felt him groan above me, before he pulled me closer to his bulge, raising an eyebrow. He looked absolutely wild from here, sweat dripping down from his brow, and sleeves pushed up. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down.

“Go on then. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He mocked, but I could tell his voice was strained with the exact same need I was feeling in the moment.

I gave no protest, using my deft fingers to quickly undo his slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers, watching his heavy cock bob in the air for a moment, before looking up at him, my jaw slightly agape.

Was this really happening?

He nodded, as if to give me an okay, and I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. I swirled my tongue around his tip, watching in fascination as I heard a groan from him, his head falling back as he moaned. “Fuck, (Y/N). Just like that.”

I grew bolder with his praise. I began to take more of him in my mouth, using my hands where my tongue wouldn’t reach. I gripped and worked his base, while suckling on what my mouth could reach. As I got used to the intrusion in my mouth, I moved down slowly, eventually taking the whole of him. He moaned loudly at this, and gripped my hair tighter, starting to move me up and down his cock. I relaxed the muscles in my mouth, letting him use me as he pleased. I watched from the lower angle the best I could, the sight of him coming undone at my mouth absolutely gorgeous. I could feel the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes, the saliva dripping down from my mouth and covering my chest. I wanted to watch him fall apart, to be at my mercy just as much as I was at his.

He moaned at the feeling, and I could feel myself get wetter at the sound. “Oh fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He groaned out, before grabbing my hair yet again, and holding my head in place. He started to fuck my throat roughly, and the tears began to flow a little more rapidly, feeling the pooling of saliva down my chin as I felt him hit the back of my throat.

“You like this, huh?” He teased from above, between pants and sighs. “Wanted me all riled up, so we could do this, right?”

I nodded desperately, incoherent begs and whines coming from my mouth before he pulled me off with a tug. I felt delightfully dirty, as he forced me up again and kissed me roughly. I barely registered him turning us around in my lustful stupor, bending me mercilessly against the sink and lifting up my skirt, pulling my underwear down in a clean swoop. I could feel him squeezing the fat of my hips and moaned at the way he controlled me so easily, to which he let out a smug chuckle.

He gripped my hair again, pulling my head up and forcing me to look at myself. We looked sinful, his cock pressing against my wet folds, teasing me.

“See that? You look like a fucking whore.” He snarled, breathing heavily.

I wasn’t going to let him win so easily. Even though I wanted the same things as him, I knew the more I teased him, the better I’d get from him. I raised an eyebrow and breathlessly murmured, “Are you going to stand there and look at me, or are you going to fuck me, Reid?”

He bared his teeth at me, thrusting into me roughly with no warning. “Oh, you wanna be fucked? Then take it.” He groaned, starting to buck his hips against me like a man possessed.

I moaned at the sudden feeling, letting my jaw drop fully to let out all my noises. I could feel the slaps of his skin against mine, and the smell of sex filling up the small space. His fingers gripped so tightly into my stomach I swear I could feel the bruises already blooming over my stomach. I let him fill me up, his thick cock passing through me roughly, over and over again.

“So fucking warm and wet. You feel..” He paused, moaning and jutting against me faster. “So fucking good.”

I could see the sweat dripping down his brow, and the way it collected down his neck. In this moment though, the only heat I could focus on was no longer the one around us, but the one that came from every brutal pass of his cock, creating a delicious burn I reveled in with every moment he stayed inside me. I moaned loudly, feeling myself get hotter and hotter with every second.

I watched through the mirror as he fucked me into the counter with no restraint, his head thrown back, eyes shut as he continued to use me, plowing into me from behind. I could feel my knees getting weaker, feeling his cock twitch inside of me as I arched my back to take more of him. He groaned at the sensation of him bottoming out, the rhythm of his hips becoming irregular as he continued to rut into me. I rolled my hips against him, hoping to spur on our impending releases. He thrust into me once or twice , until I felt him come with a loud moan, a familiar warmth pooling into my deepest point, but even then his hips didn't still. He fucked his own arousal into me, and I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, his lazy thrusts doing me in, and soon enough I was spasming over his cock, moaning loudly.

He pulled out of me, and my eyes fluttered shut at the sudden emptiness. I could feel his cum dripping down my leg, and his eyes watching in fascination as the mixture of both of our releases leaked out of me. He pulled up my underwear, immediately soaking up the liquids, and I groaned at the feeling. He pulled me up, leaning me against the sink.

I watched as he panted against the sink, and I swear, I would’ve fallen over without his steady grip on my hips. He and I were both flushed, my hair absolutely ruined from how hard he’d been pulling it, my tear-stained face still contorted in an expression of pleasure as we both recovered from the highs of our orgasms.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, in between his breaths, looking genuinely concerned. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

I laughed a little bit at that, shaking my head. “You were the perfect amount of rough. Don’t worry.” I say, waving him off a little, assuring him that I got just as much out of this as he did.

As he tucked himself back into his pants, he grinned at me for seemingly no reason. I met his eyes with a confused expression, raising an eyebrow, pressing my lips together. “What are you grinning about?” I ask, trying to fix my hair as I look at him.

He walked over to me, turning me to face the mirror. I felt his chest against my back, and one of his large hands came to wrap themselves around me, before he ghosted a finger over my chest and whispered against my ear. “You still have some of that goddamn popsicle on you.” He says, trying not to laugh.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling a bit as I remembered the entire reason he’d been provoked to do this, and went to go finally wipe off the sticky residue once and for all. “Oh yeah. Popsicle.” I said, teasingly.

“Never do that again.” He says, starting to move away from me as he worked on making himself presentable enough to leave the bathroom with me.

I paused, turning around to look at him, still appearing completely fucked out and dazed as I smirked a bit. “If it gets you to fuck me like that? No promises.”

wow! a short fic from me?! crazy!! i wanted to try my hand at writing something smutty, but short. this was specifically written for @imagining-in-the-margins summer sunshine challenge, so go check that out :3 thank you for any likes, reblogs or comments. <3 i'm eternally thankful

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #smut #writing prompt #writing challenge #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mentioningmargins

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reiderwriter · 4 months

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Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #cm writing challenge

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violetrainbow412-blog · 6 months

Text

Day 26: drunken confession

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Another one a little long that I love. I hope you like it :)

"Hey, look who's coming over there!"

Morgan's cheerful voice forced Spencer to look up from the bar and it was then that you could see that Derek hadn't lied when he called you: he seriously was hopelessly drunk.

"Y/N!" he shouted, slurring his words and grinning from ear to ear as he opened his arms to fling himself in your direction. Luckily you closed the distance to grab him to keep him from falling off the wooden bench he was on "How did you know I wanted to see you?"

You heard Morgan let out a chuckle at this, as if he hadn't had to listen to his incessant pleas for him to call you, since Spencer was pretty clear that only under those conditions would he return home.

"Oh, I can read your mind, didn't you know that?" you joked and he, whose reality was completely altered, widened his eyes in astonishment as if he genuinely believed your words.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, it's just that he can be very stubborn at times" Morgan apologized.

You two knew each other because of your common friendship with Spencer and on more than one occasion members of the unit had included you in their activities, so there was a degree of trust.

"Why did he get drunk, anyway?" you muttered, with the man still in your arms and his head buried firmly in your neck "I mean, he... you know, he doesn't do it because of his streak of sobriety”

"I honestly don't know. He just asked me to join him here and he ordered one cocktail and then another and well, he ended up like this."

That didn't sound like Spencer, for you knew that if there was one thing the man had, it was strong willpower to stay free of anything that would alter his body chemistry. You were suddenly worried that something had happened and he hadn't told you, although judging by the state he was in it wasn't the most appropriate time to find out. Still, you could try later.

"I'm tired, I want to go home" he complained, rubbing his nose against the skin of your bare shoulder. You didn't think Spencer would get so clingy under the effects of alcohol, because of that whole germ thing, so you were slightly surprised to feel how he was holding you so tightly.

"Do you want me to help you carry him?" asked Morgan and after your friend got off the bench you looked at him for a second, checking that with a little of your help he could still stand to walk to your car.

"Don't worry. Everything under control”

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent”

"Well, in that case I'll see you later. Bye kiddo, be sure to call me when you're home."

"Bye, Morgan!" he hiccupped cheerfully, waving goodbye to his friend and getting a pat on the shoulder.

You two stumbled to the parking lot, but with enough luck you made it to your car in one piece and once there you were able to throw him into the passenger seat, making sure to buckle him in before starting.

Once you started the engine, you asked your friend if he was ready for you to leave, and since Spencer's entire body was turned in your direction, it wasn't hard to notice his nod to your question.

You waited until you were a couple of blocks ahead before finally speaking, though you knew full well that he would answer truthfully to whatever you were going to ask him.

"Hey, Spencer”

"Yeah?"

"I'm not mad at you, but... Can I know why you drank?"

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him take a moment to ponder what had really been the reason for all that, and you waited patiently, until he finally got up the nerve to say something.

"I was sad”

"Sad?"

"And I felt lonely" he completed. The red light allowed you to turn and look at him, and then you met his big, beautiful, melancholic honey-colored eyes.

"You could have just called me"

“But you knew I needed to see you, right? Why didn’t you ever tell me you could read minds?”

You laughed at his innocence and just shook your head, incredulous to see how a genius had fallen to that level just for a couple of drinks. But you were still worried about what kind of emotional problem your friend was now afflicting and why he hadn't had the confidence to tell you, because after all you were supposed to tell each other everything and support each other. It had always been like this.

You wanted to ask him something else, but you noticed that Spencer's eyes had already closed suddenly, so you thought it would be best to wake him up until you were finally home.

“Reid,” you called softly, once you parked outside the building and unbuckled his seatbelt. He seemed oblivious to everything and for a second you feared you would have to leave him sleeping there until the next morning “Come on. Up"

As best you could, you managed to put his arm around your shoulders and half carry him to the entrance, making sure there were no gossiping eyes when you struggled to open the front door. You thought the staircase would be the most difficult, but fortunately he acquired a certain lucidity that lightened your load after the first step.

“Hi,” he greeted you, speaking too close to your face and smiling from ear to ear, as if he had just noticed your presence.

“Hello, hot stuff” you replied amused and your friend's cheeks blushed violently at your compliment, staying that way until you managed to reach the door with the number 23.

Once inside you managed to lead him to the small bed where he slept and then you let out a sigh of relief; he watched you from where you stood, still with that dizzy expression.

“It was difficult, but we're finally here, huh?”

“I have already been thinking about it very seriously. And I don't think you can read my mind," he said, sounding quite convinced “I mean, although there has been evidence that it's still not scientifically possible, you would need... you would need a lot of things that right now I don't know what they are, but that I know you don't have”

You giggled and then knelt next to the mattress to be closer to him, stretching one of your hands enough to brush his hair away from his forehead. Spencer smiled at your touch.

“You got me, I can't read your mind. Because if that were the case, I would walk in there right now…” with the tip of your finger you gently touched his forehead, bringing a smile to him “to find out what is making you so sad”

“Even if you wanted to, you couldn't. I'm not thinking about that.”

"No? And then what do you think about?” you asked gently.

Your smile was calm and you were very close to him, admiring with amusement the signs of drunkenness that were still in him. Spencer, as much as the situation allowed, was also watching you, although this time there was something different about him. While your friend looked at you fondly every time, now he seemed completely enthralled with you.

“It's not about that”

“Does it have anything to do with your mom?”

“No, she's fine.”

"And then?" you insisted. He just kept watching you “Come on, what is that wonderful mind thinking?”

It took Spencer a second to respond.

"You"

"Me?" You murmured in a light voice. “And why do you think about me?”

You wanted to know what it was about, however, nothing could have prepared you for the response you were going to receive.

“I'm thinking about how pretty you are. And how much I want to kiss you right now”

You unconsciously leaned back, and to say you were surprised was an understatement, because you were completely taken aback. Although you had clearly heard every word drawn from his tongue, your mind was wondering if he had seriously confessed that he wanted to kiss you.

“Huh… what…?”

“I think about how much I want to kiss you all the time, actually. Every time I see you, and smell your perfume, and I see your smile, and you touch me... it's like you drive me completely crazy”

“Y-You don't know what you're saying,” you stammered, feeling those words unreal. “You're very drunk.”

"It's true, but even if I am, I know well what I feel. And I know that I am so in love with you. As you can't imagine."

Even though he was drunk he sounded totally sure of what he was saying and he couldn't do anything but terrify you. Spencer wasn't supposed to be in love with you, you didn't even believe he was capable of harboring feelings of that nature for you. If you were honest, you didn't feel scared by what he was saying, but what worried you most was that you didn't know how to feel about it.

You were barely deciding what would be the right answer when he beat you to it:

“Why did you have to go out with that boy?”

"Sorry?"

“The one from your social network”

Your mind had to recalibrate so you could now focus on what he was referring to and understand that he was probably talking about your last date. You had met this guy online that you had liked and with whom you had made a date last week, just to be able to distract yourself a little from the routine of your work and, with a bit of luck, maybe think of a candidate for the future.

It was obvious that you had told your friend and although you thought he was happy for you, you now knew that, surely, that wasn’t the case.

“Are you angry about that?”

"I'm sad!" he corrected you. The thought of him breaking his streak for you made you feel nauseous and if you could you would have told him it was a totally stupid reason "You're my friend and you're so pretty and you're going to date an idiot that I'm not”

“You're not an idiot.”

“But you don't want to date me either”

You were quiet for a moment, your brain practically burning to find the right words. You were afraid that one bad answer would hurt your friend or that another would give him false hope, because you didn't even know if you felt the same way about him to begin with. The confession had caught you so off guard that you needed time. Just a few hours, or maybe a day, to put in order the whirlwind of emotions that danced inside you so that you can offer a verdict.

Besides, Spencer was madly drunk, how could you trust the words of someone who was intoxicated?

“We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” you said at last, reaching out to caress his cheek as if you could offer some sort of comfort. “You're not up to it right now”

“Maybe you're not even real,” he mused, lost in whatever was on his mind “I'm just dreaming about you again.”

“Oh, I assure you, I'm very real,” you huffed, feeling the suffocating weight of the entire situation settle on your chest. “I just don't want to rush things. I need time and you need sleep”

"You love me?"

That wasn't a question, it was a plea. And it was breaking your heart not to be able to answer something to those crystallized eyes that were looking for some positive sign in your own cloudy gaze.

“Spencer, I… Why don’t we discuss it tomorrow?”

“I just want to know if you love me,” he insisted. One of his hands shakily rose to your chest and planted himself there firmly, the tips of his fingers reaching your shoulder.

"Of course I love you. I love you a lot"

"But you love me?"

You just wanted to hug him and maybe give him that kiss he wanted so much, but your mind kept screaming at you that you would be taking advantage of your drunk friend and that you couldn't know if that would be something you would regret.

You took a deep breath to maintain your composure and with the hand that had previously been on his cheek you took charge of holding his hand, still at the level of your heart.

“I will answer you tomorrow, when you can understand the answer, okay? I promise you"

Spencer smiled, defeated, and finally nodded his head. From his perspective there was no longer any hope, your response to what he felt was negative.

“Can you at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll stay as long as you want, honey”

“I like it when you call me that,” he murmured tenderly and quietly, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. But when you smiled at him that worry dissipated.

“I'll make sure to remember it.”

You stayed in silence for a while, which was only broken when you asked him if he wanted you to turn off the light. He said no and then you stayed where you were, still holding his hand.

It took you a bit to convince him that to sleep he had to close his eyes, because he refused to stop looking at you. After a few minutes of him doing it, you began to see the first signs that he was falling into the realm of dreams.

“Y/N” he called to you, just when he was between the limbo of consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Yeah?"

“I hope you love me tomorrow”

You stayed with him until you checked that he was sound asleep, as you had promised, and then you returned home. You didn't even sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed for hours while your brain racked to understand what your heart was feeling.

And at least one thing was certain, that, the next morning, when you returned to Spencer's apartment with breakfast in one hand and his favorite coffee in the other, you already had an answer.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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rynwritesreid · 4 months

Text

Love like the sea |Spencer Reid

A/N: This is one of @imagining-in-the-margins New Beginnings CM challenge prompts~ “character lost a partner and swore they would never love like that again… but that hasn’t stopped them from falling in love in a different way.” :)

Summary: After Spencer lost Maeve, he swore of love, until you came around and showed him that you can love differently( loving how the moon loves the sun vs loving how the sea loves the sand).

Content: Fluff. Mentions of Maeve and the effects it had on Spencer when. Mentions of addicting love and how harmful it can be. Grief/mentions of grief the reader has been through. Crying (Spencer). Reader talks about how grief is a life long process. I do imply in this that Reids love for Maeve is unhealthy, I do not necessarily believe that, but I also don’t believe that they had the healthiest form of love.

Masterlist|requests are open|Navigation

Spencer didn’t deserve what he had been through, and everyone knew that. He had lost one of the only people that truly understood him, he had lost someone he truly loved. He often found himself consumed with thoughts of Maeve, and what could have been, what should have been, and he promised himself he would never love like that again, never let anyone hurt him like that again.

However, what Spencer hadn’t considered is loving someone differently or having you start working at the BAU. You were an absolutely ray of sunshine, always smiling or laughing, being everyone’s support system. You just seemed to have this infectious warmth, that touched everyone, including Spencer.

You,though, didn’t know why Spencer was so shut off and cold towards you, he wasn’t mean or hateful towards you, he just seemed to keep all his emotions hidden behind a wall of intellect. See, no one had told you about Maeve, and what had happened to Spencer.

But after some time, you came to understand that Spencer was grieving. You knew the signs of grief and what it could do to a person. You had lost people too, loved ones that left empty spaces in your heart. And so, you recognised the pain in Spencer's eyes, the way he carried himself with a heaviness that seemed impossible to shake off. It drew you closer to him, not out of pity or obligation, but out of empathy and a genuine desire to offer solace.

In the beginning, you were cautious, unsure of how to approach someone so seemingly closed-off. You chose your words carefully, mindful not to push too hard or invade his personal space. Your infectious warmth became a gentle breeze, softly brushing against his fortress of intellect and curiosity.

You started small, sharing snippets of your own experiences with grief and loss during conversations. You didn't force him to reciprocate or share his own pain if he wasn't ready. Instead, you offered a listening ear and compassion without judgment.

Spencer started opening up to you, revealing fragments of the person he used to be before the tragedy. He shared his love for literature and science, his fascination with the complexities of the human mind. As he spoke, you could see glimpses of the vibrant, passionate soul hidden beneath his reserved exterior.

It wasn’t until one particularly poignant conversation with Spencer, that he finally revealed the depth of his pain. Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke of Maeve's tragic loss and how it had shattered his heart into countless fragments. He admitted that he was terrified of opening himself up to love again, fearing the unbearable ache that accompanied such vulnerability.

“You know, for the longest time, I shut people out, hoping they would stop loving me so no one would ever hurt me like that again.” You confessed. “But then something change. I realised I had to forgive the person who hurt me. They didn’t mean to die; it just happened. And it will happen to everyone. So, I decided to love with all my heart.”

Spencer's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and curiosity as he absorbed your words. It was as if a spark had been ignited within him, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to heal from the pain he had carried for so long.

“I never thought of it that way,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "To love with all your heart, even in the face of inevitable loss."

“It’s not just that Spencer, you can love differently. Some love is intoxicating, addicting and harmful, but some love is gentle, caring and needed.”

Your words hung in the air, filling the room with a newfound sense of possibility. Spencer looked at you, his vulnerability seeping through the cracks in his walls. There was a mixture of apprehension and longing in his eyes, as if the concept of loving differently was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I want to learn," Spencer admitted, his voice wavering slightly. "I want to open myself up to the possibility of love again, but I'm scared."

You gave him a reassuring smile, your gaze filled with compassion. "It's okay to be scared," you said softly. "But remember that healing requires vulnerability. And sometimes, taking that leap of faith is the first step towards finding something beautiful."

Spencer knew it was you who he loved, and he knew this was different to the way he loved Maeve. He loved Maeve, like the moon loves the sun, because he needed Maeve. But you, he loved you like the way the sea loves the sand.

Your presence in his life was like a soothing balm, calming the storm that raged within him. The more time he spent with you, the more he realised that loving you was different. It wasn't born out of necessity or dependency, but rather out of a profound connection and shared understanding.

As Spencer allowed himself to explore this new kind of love, he discovered a sense of peace he hadn't felt in years. Your gentle touch and understanding nature had the power to mend the broken pieces of his heart, one fragment at a time.

Together, you embarked on a journey of healing and growth. You encouraged Spencer to confront his fears, to face the pain head-on rather than burying it beneath layers of intellect. With your unwavering support, he began attending grief counselling, slowly unravelling the tangled emotions that had consumed him for so long.

As Spencer continued to open up, he found solace in your presence. The two of you shared endless conversations about life, exploring the depths of philosophy and science. He marvelled at your unwavering positivity and unyielding strength, both of which inspired him to embrace his own vulnerability.

With each passing day, Spencer's walls crumbled a little more, revealing the intricate mosaic of his true self. And you were there, patiently witnessing his transformation and offering guidance whenever needed.

Together, you navigated the intricacies of love, unearthing the beauty in vulnerability and acceptance. You showed him that it was possible to love without fear of loss, to cherish every moment without dwelling on what could be taken away. For the first time in a long while, Spencer began to see a future filled with promise and hope.

As time went on, your relationship grew stronger and deeper. Love bloomed within both of you, intertwining your lives in ways neither of you could have predicted. Spencer marvelled at how different this love felt compared to what he had experienced before.

Where Maeve's love had been passionate yet fleeting, your love was gentler, steadier. It flowed through him like a calm river, nourishing his spirit and giving him the strength to face each new day with renewed optimism. With you by his side, Spencer felt a sense of completeness he had never known before.

~join the taglist-

~taglist~

@nomajdetective @drspencieee@ms-ks-world@evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @krokietino @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @purplepistachi0 @julllliiia @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee @pleasantwitchgarden@theillestvillian3@bitchassbecky691 @piperb400@iluvreid @queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @topguncultleader @cham9ions @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @catsareawesomek @anna-belle-xd @drreidsfavehxre@oureternalbond@beth-gallagher22 @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @waywardhunter95 @r-3dlips @k3nzxx@keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @miss.daianaa

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hardlyinteresting · 2 months

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Sympathy For The Devil

Day Four of the #MarchHotchness event. Find the other days HERE Thank you to @hotchfiles for creating this event 💕

As always Request here! | Masterlist

Warnings: mention of damnation, mention canon typical violence, misplaced guilt, allusions to childhood abuse, mention of childhood injury

"But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most" Mark Twain

He's ill-deserving of the affection you show him. Every day you wake up and go to sleep loving him. He struggles to fathom the odds; occasionally entertaining the possibility that this is just some kind of dream state. Surely it is nothing more than a vivid vagary.

Tonight despite his best efforts to be silent as he puts his bags down his go bag, his puttering around the room wakes you up. You call to him from where you lay, asking him to come to bed. Lately, you've grown wise to his tendency to force insomnia after a bad case. You won't tolerate it, not when he should be sleeping next to you.

Your touch alone could heal him. Showered and changed, he settles into bed beside you. Your thumb traces a cut on his jawline, the action is a silent question.

“The unsub got a good punch in,” he explains.

He doesn't tell you that his brawl with the man was all for nothing. He'd been unable to subdue him, and moments later Morgan took the man out with a shot to the chest.

In the shower he had spent more than a reasonable amount of time scrubbing his hands and face to rid himself of blood splatter he had wiped away hours earlier. He has the life of another on his hands. He was a bad man, sure, but a fellow human being nonetheless.

Ending a life no matter how evil doesn't sit right with him. One of the most difficult and least considered parts of his job.

He was once told he was wicked. He was hot-headed, stubborn, and insubordinate. His school teacher had rapped his knuckles as punishment for his behaviour. His fingers stayed bruised for more than a week; hands stained and marked by his damned soul.

If he clenches his fists now, he can still feel the sting of split skin the same way he feels that familiar simmering rage is boiling just beneath the surface. He keeps his anger in check and the devil on his shoulder.

He wonders how much really separates him from the killer he hunts. He steps into their shoes to find them-- feigns empathy to talk them down. He's taken more than one life in his career. And yet, he comes home at the end of it all to lay beside you; to hold his son.

“You are not the devil you think you are, Aaron,” your voice is only a whisper, but it cuts through the layers of his thoughts.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic #marchhotchness #writing prompt #writing challenge #prompt challenge #Spotify

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hornyhornyhimbos · 6 months

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𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨: 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐬'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

What is up, my fellow sluts and whores? Well, other than the obvious 😉

Sorry, anyway, it has been a hot minute since I have posted on here (apologies on my end, my brain is fried lol) but today I'm here to change that! I have put together some good ol' slutty fanfics for you guys to indulge in. Candy's not the only treat you're getting this year 😌

As always, this celebration is not limited to just this account. There will of course be SFW fics on both @reidsaurora and @honeysuckleharringtons if those tickle your fancy as well!

▪︎ October 25th:

Steve Harrington 🕯 Pitchin' A Tent?

In which Reader and Muse try on their old scouts uniforms in hopes of using them for Halloween costumes.

▪︎ October 26th:

Aaron Hotchner 🕯 Michael Myers and Chill

In which Reader and Muse completely abandon their horror movie in favor of more desired activities.

▪︎ October 27th:

Jonathan Byers 🕯 Love Potion No. 9

In which Reader and Muse accidentally consume a serum of desire and have to find some way to rid themselves of their pent up feelings.

▪︎ October 28th:

Luke Alvez 🕯 Seven Minutes In Hell

In which Reader and Muse are paired for a game of 'Seven Minutes In Heaven' at the office's annual Halloween Party.

▪︎ October 30th:

Eddie Munson 🕯 Oh, Bite Me!

In which Reader proceeds to tease Muse in a haunted house.

▪︎ October 31st:

Spencer Reid 🕯 It's A Scream!

In which Reader and Muse simply cannot wait long enough to take off their costumes after a long night of keeping their hands off each other.

mutuals! feel free to share the sluttiness!

@dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @reidsbookclub @writer-in-theory @serenity-lattes @foxy-eva @reidselle @battymunson @reputationmunson

celebration post art: me!

halloween dividers: @firefly-graphics

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masterwords · 5 months

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all is bright

Summary: After a long series of failed dates, Hotch and Morgan finally come to their senses thanks to some well-placed mistletoe.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: stomach illness mentioned, migraine, foyet mention...99% mutual pining turned first kiss

Read on AO3: all is bright

Notes: Hey there! It's been a hot minute since I posted anything. A long holiday vacation and some major flooding in our town and our house has meant not much writing time. But, I have this for you today. <3 The first of many wintry Christmas themed fics this month, and one of two that are not Secret Santa gifts! This one was written for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party Challenge using the prompt: Characters end up beneath very suspiciously placed mistletoe at the holiday party. (I have a 2nd story in the works for this challenge as well, different prompt but same pairing of course.)

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“I saw you last night,” Derek said casually, stepping into Hotch’s office with his bag still slung over one shoulder. To Hotch he looked a little tired but he was dressed up in a black button down and slacks, put together in a way he wasn’t usually and it was a little distracting. “At the bar.”

“And you didn’t say hello?” Hotch barely looked up, just a flick of his eyes, then back at his paperwork. Derek entered like that was an invitation, just a little further. He’d wait another minute before coming in completely, let Hotch warm up or push him on his way. He didn’t have a lot of time anyway.

“You looked...occupied. A date?”

“You could call it that. It was an attempt anyway.”

“Good for you!” He meant that, too. Haley had been dead a year, and it seemed to rock him right back to the moment of his divorce, maybe worse. He’d been paralyzed completely, but the loneliness had started to feel crushing. Hopeless. And the longer it went on, the harder it felt to claw his way back out. Derek took his opportunity to drag a chair over and perch himself right in front of Hotch’s desk, to sit and talk with him for a moment. A spot of real connection after a long period of silence. He thought things would be different, but they’d settled back into uncomfortable silence as Hotch retreated into himself.

Hotch couldn’t help looking up at the sudden intrusion.

“It didn’t go well.” He didn’t look too upset by it. He kept his features carefully guarded, but it did sting to admit. He’d met Noel at the gym, not exactly the best place to meet someone but not the worst by a long shot. They’d started going around the same time, Hotch because he needed to supplement his physical therapy as he attempted to regain his fitness after Foyet’s attack and Noel because he was trying to lose ten pounds for a part. Of course he was an actor. He thought Haley would have laughed at that. In any case, they’d managed to talk about theatre while running on the treadmill, avoiding any topics of real import. After a couple of weeks and a successful audition, Noel casually asked Hotch out for a drink. “To celebrate,” he said and Hotch found that he had no real good reason to say no.

He was so damn lonely.

He gave himself a fifty fifty chance at success, having been out of the dating game long enough to be rusty but he still had a pretty firm grasp of the basics. By the end of the night he knew it wasn’t a match. Even when Noel said “I’ll call you,” and tried to kiss him on the cheek, he knew that was it. And that was okay. Like Rossi told him earlier that morning, at least he went out and tried. He got out of the house, he met someone new, he tried an appletini for the first time because his date insisted it was the best drink the bartender made (and hated every second of it, the cloying sweetness making him gag on every sip). He got out of his comfort zone and the loneliness was abated some, overall a success even if the attempt at a match was an abysmal failure.

“How is that even possible? Aaron Hotchner doesn’t fail at anything.”

Hotch sighed and put his pen down, knowing that he was unlikely to get out of this conversation without giving up some details. He put on his bravest face and sucked in a breath, not thrilled about admitting this failure to Derek Morgan of all people. There were layers to that reasoning. “For starters, he was attached to his phone the whole time. His notification sound was Minnie Mouse. He wanted to get all of my social media handles and seemed incredibly concerned when I told him that I had none. He asked me how I could possibly live without having at least one.”

“Yeah, I run into that a lot too.” Derek wouldn’t comment on the Minnie Mouse bit, but the guy sounded like a disaster. He was a little glad it didn’t work out because from his vantage point, that guy was hot as hell and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been a little jealous. From where he sat, it looked like Hotch was smiling and having a good time. He had to fight every instinct in his body not to go break in and ask Hotch to dance when the jukebox kicked up with some old Dwight Yoakam.

“He wanted to take photos of me and I asked him not to. At one point he insisted that SnapChat was safe for me to use because the photos disappeared. I tried to be polite but it’s hard to tell someone you can’t be in their photos without explaining why. They tend to think you’re just a jerk.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that my job requires me to operate cautiously.” That was an understatement, of course, and there was a lot more to it than that. He’d been stalked and stabbed in his own home, it wasn’t just his job that made him operate with an abundance of caution. He’d always been reserved even with people he knew well, more since Haley died. He’d practically sealed himself off. This date...he was stepping so far outside of his comfort zone and realizing quickly how very not ready he still was. He might never actually be ready.

Derek just nodded and smiled, leaning back in the chair. He crossed his legs and couldn’t hide the jaw cracking yawn that followed the movement.

“Late night?” Hotch asked, changing the subject abruptly. He’d had enough of talking about Noel, in fact if he never talked about him or saw him again he thought that would be just fine. It might have been a worthwhile experience but it still hurt. There was an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite shake and it didn’t have as much to do with Noel as it did simply being aware that he didn’t know how to do any of this. He wasn’t used to that feeling. And if he didn’t know how to do this, then he couldn’t shake the loneliness of an empty bed. “I saw you too, you know.”

“Yeah? So you saw me get my ass kicked to the curb huh?”

“It looked a little heated, but I figured you had it handled.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but I’ll bounce back. Plenty of fish in the sea.” He was so tired that he’d started using his mom’s words now. Every time he told her about a heart break, which was more often than he’d like to admit (and more often than anyone would believe) she told him the same thing. “You’ll be okay, my darling boy. You’re a catch.” He was starting to seriously doubt that statement.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

“Classic BAU problem. I don’t make time for him. He’s been asking me to go on this cruise with him. And okay, yeah, some time off would be nice...but you know how that is. And I love beaches and sand and cocktails...but a cruise? Man, I don’t wanna be on a boat for a week with a bunch of screaming kids and drunk retirees.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Hotch had been on a cruise once with Haley and her family, before Jack. It was worse than Derek could imagine, of that he was certain. It had been a sensory nightmare for a man who enjoys peace and quiet. Even the room was overstimulating, and when he got back on land all he wanted was to hide in his backyard for a week recovering, tinkering, gardening. For a man who loves boats, the novelty wore off fast. He didn’t think Derek could do it.

“Right? That’s what I said. But he got these tickets, all inclusive, and he’s been after me for weeks.”

“I’d approve the time off, if you wanted to give it a shot.”

“Nah. I realized last night that we’ve been trying to force something that wasn’t right anyway. The physical stuff was fun but that’s about it. We’re incompatible. He likes soccer.”

“I like soccer,” Hotch said a little indignantly, his lips ticking up at the corners in a little smirk. Derek laughed.

“Well there’s no accounting for taste, but I can forgive you for it.”

Hotch let out a small laugh and lifted his pen again, just for something to do with his hands. He ran his fingers along the smooth line of it and flipped it over his knuckles. There have been times over the years that he’s wondered about he and Derek, if things were different, if they’d met under different circumstances. Playing in the land of make believe, that’s what his dad would have called it. No what ifs, those didn’t exist and would never exist because the time had passed. They were compatible in nearly every way, sometimes to the point of it being a little ridiculous, but he simply could not indulge himself in that way. He couldn’t ask Derek out, not ever, because it would be so wildly inappropriate of him to cross that line. And Derek would probably not be interested in him anyway, that was a pipe dream. Having things in common didn’t exactly mean romantically compatible, he was smart enough to know that.

Except when he glanced up again and met Derek’s eyes, there was something there that looked dangerous and inviting. Like he was indulging the same thoughts. It was so hard to turn the inner profiler off, especially when you can’t do anything about what’s on your mind. He’d be silly to think Derek hadn’t ever considered it too, really, even if it had only been a passing thought. Another what if. It took them almost no time at all to discover that each of them was bisexual, even if Hotch was married at the time. Haley made it well known to Derek over plenty of late night dinners and too many glasses of wine that Hotch was a theater kid, “if you know what I mean”. And Derek, well he was simply confident. It had taken him a long time to gain that confidence, a lot of years of hiding and shame built up before he decided it didn’t serve him and he was losing precious time to be happy. Plenty of fish. He was a catch. He deserved to be happy, or so his mother said. Fran Morgan said a lot of things, he had come to find out.

Except as he sat in that chair across from Hotch, he knew that kind of real happiness was just out of reach. Because he’d come to realize that Hotch was that happiness. And so he became Captain Ahab and there weren’t plenty of fish, there was one white whale. Hotch’s principals were too strong, his code when it came to work was ingrained in him so deeply that he would never ask Derek out, and he couldn’t just ask his boss out. None of it was fair.

“I suppose things could be worse,” Hotch said finally, offering a small ray of hope. “Single isn’t the worst thing in the world. It does get a bit lonely, though.”

“At least you got the kid. He’s great.” Now. He had the kid now. Because Haley died and now he was forced into being a single parent. Derek felt awful for saying it but Hotch didn’t seem to think too hard about it, he just nodded in response.

“You have Clooney.”

“Well then we’re both doing just fine, huh? Anyway, I’ve got a meeting with Strauss in fifteen. I should drop my things off in my office before I have to see her.”

Hotch hummed in response and watched Derek lift his bag, heading for the door. He paused there in the door frame and looked back, only for a moment, offering a small smile.

“Plenty of fish in the sea,” he said, a little sadly and his white whale nodded. “Don’t lose hope.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

(x)

The holidays always seemed to creep up on him. One minute it was summer, he was spending every minute with Jack he could outside of work, soaking up the sunshine and the little adventures that felt huge in the eyes of his young son. They spent a lot of time by the small courtyard pool, Hotch lying in the shade of a huge sun-bleached umbrella with a nostalgic 90s pattern still barely visible while Jack and his multitude of bright floating toys find endless amusement in the pool. Occasionally some of the neighbors would pop down, offer him a beer, let the other kids play a while, but it was always them first, them every day. It was their little sanctuary surrounded by cast iron gates and a bright blue sky. All day, camped out. He couldn’t go far, couldn’t take big long trips, he was tied to his job but they could go to the pool. Every day, sometimes. He’d pack up some hot dogs or take a frozen pizza from the oven and they would eat and enjoy the water well into the evening. It seemed to last forever and be over in the blink of an eye. Suddenly they were back to school, carving pumpkins, trick-or-treating, cooking a little Thanksgiving dinner for two (or three if Jessica didn’t have plans). And then he blinked again and it was Christmas Eve and he hadn’t done anything but work his tail end off and try to squeeze in some shopping when he could. It was Christmas Eve and he hadn’t taken Jack to see Santa, he hadn’t done much of anything.

Part of that this year he could chalk up to illnesses that had stacked up, one after another in their home. School had away of sucker punching them, and just when he thought they were coming out of one they’d be hit with another. The last illness was a brutal stomach virus that terrorized his home for a whole weekend. First Jack, then Jessica, then him, all taken down. None of them felt well enough to do anything more Christmasy than turn on a holiday movie and lay on the couch hoping not to need the bathroom. Hoping to sleep. Dreaming of eating something again, anything at that point. Hotch could have killed for a bite of dry wheat toast, but even that was too much during that awful weekend.

Jack bounced back first, followed by Jessica, and finally his body got the memo and allowed him to start eating and drinking again. “You’ve been through a lot in the last year,” Jessica said when he moaned about taking longer to feel better. He didn’t bounce back, he was crawling. “You have to give yourself time.”

He was still not feeling great, but he was back at work after almost a week. That awful weekend left him drained, and though he’d intended to go to work the following Monday, his body had other plans. He was knocked on his ass by a migraine from hell, no matter what tricks he employed it was completely debilitating. Three full days on his couch unable to do anything but the most basic functions of living. Jessica called it his illness hangover, everyone was feeling better and his body finally ran out of fumes to run on. He’d been taking care of everyone in spite of his own needs and when Jess went back to work and Jack went back to school, he all but collapsed. It wasn’t pretty. He cried more than once out of sheer frustration, a particularly low point he wasn’t proud of. But Jack made him a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins and Jessica picked up his dry cleaning and did his grocery shopping and somehow he saw his way through it to the other side.

Three days was his limit. By the fourth day he was at least able to be upright, he could function. He’d be able to work at his desk and push through a pile of consults and administrative work. His jaw ached down into his neck and shoulders and he was wearing his glasses instead of his contacts out of pure necessity, but otherwise he was doing alright. Just exhausted. So exhausted, he didn’t even care that Christmas was almost over. And neither did Jack, really. They were all sort of ready to be done with it. He thought the hardest part would be dealing with the grief of a full year without Haley, their first real Christmas without her (because he could barely remember the first one, it was all such a blur of pain and work that he wasn’t even sure they did anything at all).

His routine upon entering his office was simple. Flip on the overhead light, do a quick walk through, set his briefcase in a corner within arm’s reach, turn on the space heater beneath his desk. After that first round, he would walk back and turn on the lamp, turning off the overhead light. Headache lighting. Finally, he started a pot of coffee. He could get a cup from the common area, but he had the stuff he liked right here and it would hide the dusty smell of his space heater.

With that done, he sat himself down and reclined in his chair, breathing a few times just to settle himself. Bring him here into the moment, ease the throbbing in his temples. He would make it a few hours at least if he moved slowly, if he was deliberate about how he spent his time.

His eyes caught on a small envelope, bright red and addressed in glitter pen to Sir Hotch. Penelope’s looping scrawl with a heart in place of the o in Hotch. He wondered how long it had been sitting there and he felt a small pang of guilt over it. Ridiculous and misplaced guilt for not being here, for leaving his team in the lurch. With a little hesitation, he grabbed his letter opener and sliced through the top of the envelope, sliding out a small white invitation emblazoned with brightly wrapped gifts and other various Christmas drawings. Hand drawn, he could tell. She made it herself.

A party invitation, at first glance. His eyes scanned the little pictures first, then lit on the actual information and he felt his stomach twist.

That night. 7pm. Bring a white elephant gift.

“Sir!” Penelope exclaimed as he read through the note a second time. “I didn’t realize you’d be back today. I sort of thought you’d be out until after the holiday...how are you feeling?” She didn’t bother to try and mask the way she looked him over with concern in her features. He didn't hold it against her, he knew he looked like death warmed over.

“Better, thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m only seeing your invitation now.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come. I’m sure you still need to rest. I actually just wanted to come up and say not to worry about it...I didn’t know you were sick when I brought it in here.”

He scanned the invitation again and offered her a smile. “You know, we haven’t done a single fun thing this season. I’m hoping to take Jack to the mall to see Santa tonight as a last ditch effort to save the holiday, it’s near your place. We could stop by afterward.”

The way Penelope’s face lit up set his heart on fire. She never expected him to come, that much was clear. Even if he hadn’t been sick, she had already prepared herself for him to politely decline. And he almost did, too. He knew he wasn’t likely to feel up for a party that night, he didn’t feel up for one right then either, but something told him he had to go for it. Even if it was just a quick pop in.

“That sounds...so great. Thank you sir. You don’t have to bring a white elephant gift...just...you guys just come. That’s the gift. Having you and Jack in my home.”

“I’ll bring something. I don’t want to throw off the count.” He smiled at that, hiding the fact that while he’d always been good at gift giving, white elephant exchanges had always eluded him. He was better at sincere than silly or broad. He’d have to ask Jessica, she would know what to buy. “Is there anything else you need? Food or drinks, utensils?”

She was beaming now, hardly able to contain herself. He could scarcely believe that him coming to her party was such a good thing. “Nope. Nothing. Just come.”

(x)

From the street, they could already see Penelope’s apartment. Jack had been there a few times for gatherings and once or twice when Hotch was in a pickle and needed someone to watch him for a few hours. She had really come through for him more than once. Her apartment window was lit up with bright twinkling lights from the inside, a gaudy Christmas tree drenched in decadent decorations right in the middle of the display. Shadows moved at the periphery, everyone was already inside. He knew he’d be late but he hadn’t realized just how late. The line to see Santa was shockingly long this late in the season, he really thought he’d be one of very few failures standing in line waiting for the last glimpse of the man in red. He had to leave early to begin delivering gifts, of course, so they were on a pretty strict clock. He made it just in time.

“Are we late, dad?” Jack asked as they entered the building, the air inside warming their cold noses and fingers. He was parked a few blocks away, somewhere with easy access to the mall and her place.

“A little,” he replied, nudging Jack past the elevator. They took the stairs up, Hotch insisting they’d warm up faster if they get their blood pumping. Jack didn’t think that was true, he just guessed his dad was afraid of elevators. He never took them if he didn’t have to.

They could hear Christmas music coming from Penelope’s apartment when they entered the hallway, and as they got closer they could begin to make out the song. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, the good version Hotch thought. The classic. He enjoyed all Christmas music, but he had a special affection for the oldies, the stuff his mom used to play on crackling vinyl when he was a kid.

“The Home Alone song!” Jack squealed, rushing toward the door and knocking excitedly. They had just watched that movie over the weekend and he’d been cleaning up all sorts of Jack’s little traps ever since. No wet bandits would be getting into their apartment on Jack’s watch. Penelope answered the door in a dress that almost hurt Hotch’s eyes, twinkling lights all over that reflected off of his glasses matched the biggest smile he’d ever seen.

“You made it! Did you see Santa?” She crouched to talk directly to Jack right away, leaving him standing there watching. He scanned the party and noticed that the entire team was packed inside of that little apartment.

“Yeah! I did!”

“What was he like? Did he smell like cookies? I always remember him smelling like sugar cookies.”

“He smelled like...candy canes!” Jack wrapped his arms around her neck when she extended her arms to him without hesitation. His hug was full and tight.

“What did you ask him for?”

“It’s a secret!”

“Oh, oh yeah...I guess I forgot that part. Come inside you two! It’s cold out here!” As Hotch entered, he extended his hand with a small wrapped gift inside. It was a little box, the smallest thing on the table and he was a little concerned he chose the wrong thing. He’d had plenty of ideas, all of which Jessica said were wrong or boring – she made the choice in the end, insisting that he would bring the one thing everyone in this crowd would need and no one would ever think of. No one would ever see it coming, especially from him. He wasn’t sure that was such a great thing, but it was done now. He’d committed.

They dove into the gift exchange almost immediately. He barely had time to get a mug of coffee in his hand before they were choosing numbers and stealing gifts from one another. His little box stayed put for a long time, almost insultingly long really. The big gifts were pulled first, followed by the more obvious secondary gifts. By the time his number was called there weren’t many left, and his options were slim so he decided just to take the box he’d brought and slink back into his little corner. Worried the gift was wrong, or might be interpreted incorrectly, he hoped he could just go back home with it and maybe return it after Christmas.

Once everyone was holding a gift from the pile, the real fun began – Penelope announced that one at a time, in their original order first, everyone could begin stealing gifts. One exceptionally large box made the rounds the longest, not because anyone thought the gift would be particularly good so much as they were curious what was hiding inside. Reid had brought the gift, Hotch knew it just by the look on his face as people passed it around and around curiously and he imagined it probably had a sock or something of equally little value but high amusement inside. For someone from Las Vegas, Reid's poker face left a lot to be desired.

Out of nowhere, Derek appeared in front of him with a grin. “I want that,” he said, indicating Hotch’s little gift. Reluctantly Hotch handed it to him and accepted what he had in his hand in return. They couldn’t trade back. That was it. Derek was the final trade and everyone was stuck with what they had.

His heart sank at the thought of Derek opening what he brought, of all people.

“Okay, on the count of three...everyone open your gift! Good luck!”

Hotch let Jack open his gift, even though Jack had a pile of gifts beneath the tree of his own to open when it was time. The little boy scrunched his nose once he got a peek and handed the gift to his dad to finish opening – it was a pair of mittens, nothing interesting to him. Nothing fun at all. He rushed back to where Henry sat beside the tree, eager to get into the really good stuff. Hotch examined the mittens, pulling them gingerly from the rest of the wrapping and holding them up to his hands – they would fit. Penelope made them, he could tell her handiwork (and he’d seen her in her office toiling over them during her lunch hour more than once in the last month). Mittens weren’t exactly his style but his hands did get cold easily and they were a deep, rich gray flecked with blue. He could wear them when the arctic chill in his office got unbearable. His circulation wasn’t what it used to be, if it ever was good in the first place. He tried not to watch Derek too closely when he opened his gift – pulling the little velvet bag out of the box and examining the contents with an amused smile on his face. There were three oversized wooden dice inside with words and little pictures burned into the sides. Date night dice, Jessica insisted they all needed this gift. She’d been hoping JJ would get it, probably, but each of them could use the help in that department. Date nights were spontaneous at best in their line of work, and you didn’t have time to sit and talk it out or make long term plans...it had to be quick and it had to be fun. Make the most of whatever time you get. She’d picked out the appropriate dice, simple food & activities, though she did try to push the sexy ones at him more than once. He drew the line at sexual gifts for his subordinates. Well, he drew the line quite a ways before that even, but that was definitely not going to happen.

The look on Derek’s face as he read the sides of the die made him smile in spite of himself. He seemed pleased with them, or amused maybe, and carefully slipped them into his pocket before heading back to the kitchen for a new drink. Hotch thought about following for a topper on his coffee but Jack’s voice called him to the tree where Penelope wanted the kids to start tearing into their pile of gifts before they went rabid and did tore apart her whole apartment. He made his way through the crowd and stood beside JJ and Will, the feeling of joy at seeing their kids happy and the dread of having to take all of this mess home and find places for it almost palpable between them. JJ was holding a small disposable camera in her hand that looked like it had been pulled right out of someone’s attic. “That from Reid?” he asked and she nodded, smiling. A little yellow Kodak disposable camera inside that enormous box. Reid outdid himself.

“I haven’t seen one of these since college. You think it still works?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replied, hoping she might test it out. The film was probably long since ruined, but the thought of having some of these memories preserved in that way was enticing. He’d always loved the look of real film. Or maybe he was just a nostalgic, sentimental old man now.

“They really went all out,” JJ said, shaking her head as her son ripped wrapping paper to shreds like a wolverine. “I don’t think Henry’s room is big enough.”

Hotch smiled and nodded in agreement, watching as Jack made it into the first of his many gifts. The whole team brought something for the kids, it was too much. Superheroes, books, legos, everything he loved. “Dad, look!” It was squealed over and over as Jack held up gift after gift and Hotch rubbed at the bridge of his nose where his glasses suddenly felt heavy and tried not to let on just how anxious all of that stuff made him feel. Knowing it would have to be in his home, exploding out of Jack's room. The boys finished and rushed around the room, hugging everyone before returning to their spoils and ripping into the boxes, comparing, relishing, delighting in the bright shiny new. Hotch’s head was starting to throb again, the heat and sound of the room was too much. The coffee wasn't helping as much as he'd hoped, but alcohol would have only made things worse. He began thinking about leaving, before it got bad enough that he didn’t think he should be driving Jack around on icy roads. This was the most time he’d spent off of his couch just about all month and he was feeling it now.

“Hotch?” Derek asked, touching his elbow from behind. He turned and took a few steps away from the crowd, getting close to where Derek was so he could hear him over the conversation and Bing Crosby crooning. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he replied a little too quietly. The room was spinning in a way that made him feel intoxicated, a side effect he often felt being a little too close to Derek. Smelling his cologne, sandalwood and spice, something deep and woodsy and warm. It momentarily distracted him from the pain in his head. “I hope my being out hasn’t been too much strain on you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Everyone pitched in.”

“Good,” he said, unable to pull the words he really wanted. He’d like to say thank you, say how much it meant to him knowing that Derek could step into his role and let him have time off when he needed it, he’d like to say a lot of things right then but his mind was a blank pulsing throb. He could feel every nerve ending in his body when Derek closed the distance between them and, with one lithe finger, pointed casually to the ceiling above them. Hotch let his eyes follow the line Derek’s finger drew, up up up to a plant hook with a big mangled bunch of leaves hanging from it. A fist sized ball of green and white, and suddenly his mouth was going dry.

Mistletoe.

Right above them. He was no expert on the rules, didn’t have a lot of experience in this arena, but he knew what you were supposed to do. Did that apply now? At an office party? Who did Penelope hang it for, anyway?

“Right.” He said it and regretted it immediately. He wasn’t even sure what he meant by it. Derek laughed and nodded in agreement for some reason. Maybe he understood. Maybe he just thought it was funny.

“Right.”

On bated breath, Derek hooked his hand on the back of Hotch’s neck like right was an invitation, and maybe it was. His warm palm rested against Hotch’s skin, rough finger pads pulling him close until their lips met. Gently at first, a little timid, just a brush and a pause, searching eyes and held breath before pressing harder. Hotch wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, whether he should fall into the kiss or wait it out. What he wanted and what he should do were battling it out in his mind until he found himself nipping helplessly at Derek’s lower lip, smiling into the kiss, into his rich wine breath, and then his hands were settling on Derek’s hips and squeezing. His thumbs were hooked in Derek’s belt loops, and he had become acutely aware that the noise and chatter in the room had died out, left with nothing but the skin tingling intoxication of Otis Redding singing White Christmas.

It was Hotch's favorite Christmas song, and he knew he was helpless to do anything more than enjoy this moment. Derek began to sway along with the music, one hand still hooking the back of Hotch’s neck, the other cradling his jaw. He traced Hotch’s jawline, to his lips and back with one thumb, fingers splayed over his face a little possessively. He broke the kiss, coming up for air only briefly, smiling against Hotch’s lips. “Been thinking about doing that for a really long time…”

Their foreheads touched and rested against one another, each of them coming to terms with this moment. The first time, the first kiss. A long-awaited, fat chance, when pigs fly kind of kiss that hardly seemed real. Hotch closed his eyes and breathed out. “Me too.”

“Think maybe we could give those date night dice a spin sometime?” Derek asked and Hotch felt a flush rise in his neck, his cheeks burning. He’d forgotten all about them, honestly. He’d sort of forgotten everything in the moment. He nodded, just a slight movement.

“Sure,” he said before he couldn’t think about words anymore and found himself going in for another kiss. Derek’s lips, cherry chapstick and wine, were intoxicating. “Merry Christmas Derek,” he whispered between breaths, between kisses that made him forget where he was and how many people were watching. Who was watching. How many rules they were violating.

And if that realization weren't damning enough, Hotch heard a small clicking sound followed by a quick blinding flash and a shout of joy. JJ had used her little Kodak disposable camera on them. She wound the film excitedly and began wandering around the room clicking photos as quickly as she could, distracting everyone momentarily.

“Merry Christmas Hotch,” Derek replied, anchoring him in place, blinking the flash from his eyes. Holding him there in the moment a while longer. He could feel it starting to slip away.

Everyone in the room was trying not to watch and failing miserably in their pursuit. JJ and Will were helping Henry clean up the mess of boxes and toys he’d created while Emily and Rossi argued over the names of Santa’s reindeer. Reid was frowning as he looked through a rather pornographic tarot card deck he found in one of Penelope’s kitchen drawers, simultaneously repulsed and intrigued.

Jack tapped on Penelope’s arm, pulling her attention from her kissing friends. She wasn’t even pretending not to watch. Quickly she crouched beside the little boy, never taking her eyes off of Derek and Hotch. “Yes hun?” she asked and Jack began whispering in her ear.

“I can tell you now,” he started with a huge grin, his lips tickling her ear as he cupped it with his little hands. Kid whispers were always a little wet and hot and she could feel a shiver at the base of her spine when he talked again. When he divulged his secret. “I asked Santa to give my dad something that would make him happy.”

“Oh,” she gasped, tears in her eyes. Of course he did. He would know that his dad would take care of any presents he wanted, and it was silly to think he hadn’t noticed how sad and lonely his dad was now that he lived with him full time. Surrounded by photographs of the life he’d lost. “Oh Jack. You did good. You did so good.”

“No...Santa did good. I only asked.”

Hotch hoped that little camera still had some life in it.

He'd like to see that photo.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #mentioningmargins #writing challenge

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reidsaurora · 9 months

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You are invited to:

reidsaurora's twentieth birthday bash! ☆

The Orders:

🧁 Leo Baby Birthday Cake - send me a character + a prompt from this list and i'll write you a blurb!

🧁 Confetti Cupcakes - send me a character + concept/trope/au and i'll write you a blurb!

🧁 Birthday Batch Cookies - send me a character + concept/trope/au and i'll write you some headcanons!

🧁 Birthday Breakfast - send me a character + concept/trope/au and i'll make you a moodboard!

🧁 Ice Cream Sundae - send me a 💞 and i'll write you a handwritten note! (mutuals only)

🧁 Rainbow Sherbet - send me a 🎶 and a genre and i'll make you a playlist! (mutuals only)

🧁 Sparkling Strawberry Lemonade - send me a thing and i'll cast my mutuals as it!

🧁 Party Punch - send me ask games! fmk, would you rather, etc!

🧁 Cake Batter Martini - send me a character + kink and i'll write a you nsfw blurb!

The Rules:

🧁 This event will run through leo season! - as a leo my baby myself, i love taking the opportunity to celebrate my fellow leos because i don't think we get the love we deserve! that being said, this event will run through leo season, meaning it will start July 23rd and end August 22nd! (give or take, depending on how many requests i get and how long it takes me to write them)

🧁 Send asks to designated blogs! - please check my pinned post for request rules! this account is exclusive to criminal minds and daisy jones & the six requests, but this doesn't mean i'm not taking requests for this event over on my stranger things blog, @honeysuckleharringtons!

🧁 NSFW asks are designated to my NSFW blog! - while there is an option in this event for nsfw blurbs, that does not mean to send them to this blog!!! any and all nsfw asks should be sent to my nsfw blog, @hornyhornyhimbos!

🧁 Please be respectful to the blogger and to others! - use your noggin when requesting things. if it sounds offensive, it probably is, so just keep it to yourself. treat people with kindness!!!

🧁 Please be understanding when putting in requests! - writing blurbs and headcanons and such can be time-consuming so please be gracious when leaving requests! i will try to answer everyone's asks in as timely of a manner as possible!

🧁 tagging some mutuals to spread the word if they'd like! -> @dungeons-are-too-cold @reidsbookclub @reidselle @broken-stardust @nomajdetective @writer-in-theory @lcvingprentjss @serenity-lattes @writingquillsandpainpills @sadgirlml @rupsmorge @lukeclvez @foxy-eva @bejeweledmunson @gay-prentiss @orchidmunson @letarasstuff @milla984 @coldbrewreid @stevesmunsons

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imagining-in-the-margins · 11 months

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CM Damsel/Dude in Distress Fics

Hey everyone! I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who participated - it was so much fun to write alongside you all, and I can’t wait to share everyone’s hard work. You are so appreciated, and the diversity only makes these events better.

Without further ado, here are all of the entries + recs for the Damsel/Dude in Distress Challenge!

S.R. SFW Fics (Fem!Reader)

Kryptonite by @foxy-eva: Spencer asks you to rescue him from a very scary spider in the bathroom

Safekeeping by @/foxy-eva: Spencer is there to protect you when a situation gets out of hand.

Funny Thing Fate by me: Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Rib Cage by me: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.

I Choose You by @ofwilliamandwalter: What happens when the lowly stable boy, Spencer, and the royalist of princesses, Reader, fall in love?

So, a Wedding? by @ssahopelessly: Reader had the invitation for nearly three months, but she didn't take the time to find a proper date.

The Found Part of Lost by @ssahopelessly: When on the way back to the station, you and Spencer find a friend on the side of the road.

Explosion by @c-m-stuff: Reader and Spencer are married. When Reader risks her life, Spencer is relieved she's still breathing.

Rose Coloured Lens by @alleyholls: Reader cuts her finger while cooking and Spencer bandages her up.

But it's Better if You Do by @fortheloveofwonderland: The absolute last thing Spencer needs is to fall for you, the magnetic exotic dancer who Morgan and Luke pay to give him a birthday dance.

More fics below!

Assorted SFW Fics

Never Let Me Go by @/foxy-eva: [Tara/Reader] Who knew how easy it would be for Reader to find comfort in Tara’s arms.

The Friendship We Have is a Rare Find by @/cherubcurls (Ao3): [Spencer & Penelope] Penelope and Spencer agree to meet up to have a study session before finals, but they end up not studying at all.

Peas and Love by @/masterwords (Ao3): [Hotchgan] Hotch hurts his back and Hank takes very good care of him.

I'll Do It by @tobias-hankel (Ao3): [Hotchreid] Hotch saves Spencer from an interrogation gone wrong.

He'll Say He's Just Not the Same by @spencer-reids-adventures (Ao3): [Hotch & Spencer] Spencer suffers a depressive episode, and Hotch comes to check on him.

Who's Afraid of the Bogeyman? by PandorasDreaming (Ao3): [Spencer & BAU] When Spencer is kidnapped by Mr. Scratch, they must race against time to save him before his mind breaks.

Saved from the Rain by @leahseclipse: [Spencer & 10th Doctor] Spencer has an encounter with a strange man who saves him from the rain.

I Get By by @/GarlicBreadforJuliusCaesar (Ao3): [Gen Fic] The one where Spencer has a fight with a vending machine, and the BAU chip in to help.

Co-Creator Bonus List!

SFW Gender Neutral Reader

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Diamonds: Spencer comforts Reader when they have a bad pain day.

Rotten: Reader struggles to feel at home in their body following a trauma.

Melancholia: Reader has been acting weird lately, so Spencer makes a much needed wellness check.

Storm: Reader has a panic attack.

Bruises: The team is concerned when Reader shows up with bruises on their neck.

SFW Female Reader

Astraphobia: SSA Reader and Spencer share their most embarrassing fears.

Different Dialects: Autistic!Reader. Spencer is trying to tell Reader he likes her, but it feels like they speak entirely different languages.

Porcelain: Autistic!Reader has a meltdown in the cafe. Luckily, there is a Dr. Reid nearby.

Baggage Claim: Autistic!Reader is having a hard time at the airport.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.

NSFW Female Reader

It’s Too Cliché ❤️: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

Cupid & Psyche ❤️: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

Thank you for writing and reading with me.

Let me know if you'd like me to add your story to this list!

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds writing challenge #sorry this is like two months late oops #ive been having a rough time #hope yall understand #i should have the family challenge list done soon enough

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doumekiss · 4 months

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Fanfic Writing Bingo 2024

Ok, here it is one of my personal writing challenges for 2024, I'll try to make a line or a column to win this one, if you guys have any prompts for one of the ships feel free to send to me ^_^

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Edit :

Doodling (Kabru/Laios, Dungeon Meshi)

Centimeters (Doumeki/Watanuki, xxxHolic)

Anything She Wants (Sansa/Daenerys, A Song of Ice and Fire)

The Confidential Letters of Blair Waldorf and Dan Humphrey (Dan/Blair, Gossip Girl)

that dares not to speak its names (Crowley/Aziraphale, Good Omens)

these are just ghosts that broke my heart before I met you (Sansa/Mya, A Song of Ice and Fire)

An Important Anniversary (TheFarmer/Shane, Stardew Valley)

A life in your shape (Kabru/Laios, Dungeon Meshi)

Inside Your Head (Joonghyuk/Dokja, Orv)

I remember it all too well (Janis/Regina, Mean Girls)

While the others sleep (Emily/JJ, Criminal Minds)

A Kiss in Public (or Almost That) (Arlene/Deb, Red Dwarf)

If I'm Lucky (Taissa/Van, Yellowjackets)

#2024 #writing challenges #my writing #dungeon meshi #xxxholic #a song of ice and fire #gossip girl #good omens #stardew valley #orv #criminal minds #mean girls #red dwarf #yellowjackets

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reidmotif · 2 months

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For the Love of Lace

Summary: Reader decides she doesn't want to pine for her best friend, Spencer, anymore, but still needs his help deciding what lingerie to wear for her upcoming date.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: breast and nipple play, fingering (r!receiving), lingerie talk, unprotected penetrative sex, no implied breast size, couch sex, best friends to lovers, possessive Spencer

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

Pining for your best friend definitely has its lows. There’s a certain sense of pathetic-ness that comes about when your friend is simply speaking, and your mind is occupied with the yearning to bridge the gap of distance between you two, and kiss them senseless. I think perhaps the biggest low that I’d hit, however, in the two years I’d been pining for Spencer Reid was the sexual frustration that came with being unable to see myself with anyone else.

I’d never meant for it to play out like this. I thought it was an innocent crush, a byproduct of all the time we’d managed to spend with each other divulging into our personal lives and sharing the ordinary comings of the day together. However, there came a point where I looked at him and could see my future laid out so perfectly with him. A future of love, and laughter, and God, so much sex. And no matter what I’d tried, the thought was too good to let go.

It didn’t help that not only was he oblivious, he clearly didn’t return my affections. There were no signs of longing that I could deduce from his actions, and I’d decided to be reasonable about this. His actions were always remnant of a good friend, but a lover? No. There were no longing stares. No stolen brushes of fingers, or hushed whispers. It seemed that anything romantic about our relationship only emanated from my fantasies of what I wish we could be.

And so here I was, unable to get past the mental block of wanting anyone as much, and it’d resulting in a long, exasperating two-year stint of celibacy. And Jesus, did it show. The tiniest thing Spencer did would set me off in a frenzy, and it left me feeling nearly perverted at a certain point. There’d been a day that he ran his finger down a page, attempting to locate a passage to display to me and all I could think about was how badly I wanted that finger in me. My mouth. Me. Anything. And then I realized I was lusting over my best friend’s hand, and considered the possibility of this being a serious problem on my end.

My only block to getting laid was my own self. And I certainly didn’t relish in the debauchery I’d clearly stooped low enough to indulge in, and so it was decided. This Valentine’s Day? I wasn’t going to watch rom-coms and wonder if Spencer and I could ever have a happy ending like them.

I was going to man up, and go on a date. Easier said than done.

I’d found the date, that bit was easy enough. Trying to find someone to hook-up with on Valentine’s Day is like trying to find sand on a beach. Plentiful and simple.

What wasn’t easy? Feeling ready for it. I hadn’t been like that with anyone for nearly two years, and found myself worrying that my sexual skills had deteriorated with lack of practice, even though the thought was rooted in some ridiculous notions about myself. I knew that logically the sex would be fine, and hopefully, exactly what I needed to get over Spencer, but still. I wanted to ensure the best possible experience.

I found myself going through the motions of date preparation. A manicure and pedicure. A facial. I even bought a fancier perfume to wear the night of. And of course, a trip to procure some new lingerie for the night.

I’d always been indecisive, and with the choices presented in the shop, I found myself overwhelmed. I’d decided and picked up 3 possible pieces, and instead of determining between them whilst buying, I bought all of them, with the intention that I’d be able to make a choice in the comfort of my own home.

Except now, it’d been a week, my date was tomorrow, and I still couldn’t figure out what would work for me. All three were equally as appealing, but which one was the best? The question haunted me, and continued to haunt me as Spencer and I hung out. Despite my date tomorrow, I’d promised to keep up our tradition of binging episodes of Star Trek on Friday night together, except my head was clearly elsewhere, which he quickly noticed.

Damn profiler best friend.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” Spencer asks, reaching for the remote and pausing on some random frame of Spock’s face, the show taking less precedence than my lack of attention.

I sigh apologetically, quirking my mouth to the side. “I’m sorry, Spence.” I say, taking a deep breath. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Spencer tilts his head, his expression a little more worried. “Something important?”

I shake my head quickly, not wanting to disclose the reasoning for my distraction tonight. Especially to him, considering my date tonight had the sole purpose of me getting over the man currently sat to my right.

“No, no.” I say, softly. “Just.. stuff.” I voiced, quickly.

“Stuff?” Spencer inquires.

“Stuff.” I affirm.

Now it’s his turn to sigh, making a slight groaning noise whilst he did so. “Come on. I’ve known you for years. I know there’s something on your mind, and it’s clearly distracting you, so.. Please? Tell me?” He asks, giving me those eyes. A look that would make anyone weak in the knees.

I find myself hesitating, and bite my lip, and in the end, it’s the way he’s looking at me that does me in. I opt to stay vague, but give him a bit more insight into my wandering thoughts.

“My date tomorrow? I don’t know what to wear.” I say, shrugging. “It’s not very important, but I want to make it work, you know?” I continue.

“Why don’t you just show me your dress then?” Spencer inquires. “I’m not a fashion expert, but it’s not like I’m unable to have taste.”

I laugh a little self consciously, shaking my head quickly. “Oh no, no. It’s not a dress. It’s okay, Spencer. I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Shoes? C’mon! I’m your best friend. I’d do anything for you.” He protests, coming closer to me now.

“Not shoes.” I say, still shaking my head. “And no! I mean, seriously. There are some things you can’t do for me, and it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Jewelry? Hair? Makeup?” He implores continuously. “I’m all ears.”

I realize there’s no way in hell he’s ever going to let this go, so I blurt out with little thought, “It’s lingerie!”

He goes a bit quiet in thought, and then raises an eyebrow. “And that poses a problem?” He asks, softly.

I blink a little. Yes. Of course that’s a problem. I love you so much that it makes me feel weak, and I can’t be even more vulnerable in front of you. Not like that.

But instead I shrug, running my hands through my hair.

“I just.. Wouldn’t that be weird?” I say, hesitantly.

“Not really.” Spencer replies, nonchalantly. “You’re my best friend. And I want to help you in any way I can. Nakedness doesn’t really bother me, and if it doesn’t bother you, I’d love to help you decide.”

“Spencer..” I mumbled, still incredibly hesitant.

“I’m your best friend!” Spencer articulates. “And logically, I can provide you with insight that only another guy could give.” He points out. “In a purely platonic, and logical sense.”

I had to give him credit for that. It’s true. Spencer did have insight that none of my friends could provide, and I’d always entrusted him in helping me make decisions for myself and my life. And honestly, it was starting to get suspicious with how much I’d been objecting to this. The man had helped me decide bikinis, clubbing dresses- this couldn’t be any more different, could it?

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” I give him a resigned nod, getting off the couch. “Alright. Wait here.”

He plants himself more firmly on the couch, his eyes trained on where I’d disappeared into my room, rummaging through the shopping bag until I’d found the first lingerie piece.

It was a simple black lace bra and matching panties. The bottoms were a bit cheekier than a normal pair of underwear, and my legs were on display in full. My hair framed my pushed-up breasts, and I looked at myself in the mirror, slightly self-conscious at the fact that I was about to present myself this way to Spencer.

How did I get into this mess?

I slowly twist the doorknob, calling out to him. “Spencer! I’m coming out with the first one.”

“I’m here.” is his reply, and I know he’s waiting, and so I slowly push open the door and come out in the light, a little more in his view. I give a half-hearted 360 degree turn, and look at him.

“So?” I ask, my eyes finally meeting his, but the sight I’m met with is a lot different than the one I’m expecting. He’s slightly red in the face, his hands fidgeting in his lap- quite different from the more composed version I’d seen of him.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask, quickly, feeling even more vulnerable as I stood there, half naked in front of a blushing man.

“No, no!” He sputters. “I’m sorry. This is normal.” He gulps a bit and gives me a quick once over. “Sorry, I’ll be normal.” He clears his throat again and nods more definitively. “This one is nice. It’s simple.” He replies, as diplomatically as I’ve heard him. “Black works well with your skin and hair, and I feel like it brings out your eyes.”

I nod, biting my lip. “Anything I could do to make it.. more than nice?” I queried.

He narrows his eyes in thought. “It’s already really, really nice, but I feel like stockings, or even a garter would even the attention from your breasts, more to your legs- which already look really nice, by the way.”

It's my turn to blush and I nod quickly. “Stockings, got it.” I say. I blow out a breath of air. “One down, two to go.” I say, absentmindedly.

“Better go back and try the other two, then.” Spencer says, with a smile.

I attempt to return his smile and disappear back into my room, putting on the next piece. It was red, and a bit more showy than my previous piece. It was a criss-cross, cut-out lingerie. Lines of maroon fabric danced around my skin in a way that exposed the curve of my breasts, and connected to a simple, red thong. I walked out quicker than last time, a little less nervous now that the initial nervousness of appearing naked in front of him had faded.

Despite my nervousness fading, it seemed like his had only increased. I’d only caught a glimpse of it in my hurried departure from my room to his line of sight, but had he.. been adjusting his crotch area?

No. No. I mean, maybe he was turned on, but that was a completely normal reaction to a half-naked girl in front of a man. To my knowledge, Spencer hadn’t dated anyone in 2 years either, so it was completely possible he also had pent-up desires. This was normal. Spencer Reid did not feel the same way for me, not in the same way as I did for him.

He quickly looks up and his hands are by his side in record speed. “This one is.. Wow.” He marvels, his eyes boring into my body. “Your breasts. They look great.”

I can’t help the giggle that escapes me, a part of me secretly delighted that even if this was friendly, Spencer was enamored with my body in the way I’d always wished he would be.

“Was that too much?” Spencer questions, upon hearing my laugh. “I’m only being honest. Your breasts look nice in this one. My eyes immediately went there with this piece.”

I smile. “No, no. That’s what I need from you, anyway. That’s what I want my date to do too, anyway.” I say, dismissing his worries.

“Right. Your date.” He says, curtly.

I raise an eyebrow at the snippy reply, but don’t think much of it. “So.. the last one then?”

“Yep. The last one.”

“Right..” I mumble, going back to my room, slightly confused by the sudden change in demeanor, but ready to get this over with nonetheless.

The last piece was a lot more revealing, in the sense that my nipples were exposed from the get-go with this one. A lavender slip, with transparent lace covering the breasts, and the silky fabric stopping right below my crotch. It was a bit more daring, but I still enjoyed the way it framed my curves, my hips, and my breasts. I wondered what Spencer would think, and out of modesty, I placed both my hands over my nipples, wanting to show the lingerie without fully exposing myself to him.

I walk out, and this time, his gaze is intense. More so than I’d ever seen him in our years of friendship.

“Spence..?” I ask, when he’s silent for a beat too long.

“Turn around.” He says, firmly, and I find myself listening instantly, baring my back to him, and no doubt he’s focusing on the way the fabric wrapped around my ass, leaving me slightly flustered and more on display than I’d ever felt tonight.

“Spencer? Come on. Say something. Feeling a bit like cattle right now.” I voice, laughing a little nervously.

When I hear his voice again, I nearly jump out of my skin because he’s right behind me, his hands ghosting across my bare shoulders.

“Don’t go.” He whispers, his hot breath fanning around my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

I’m too nervous to turn around, so I keep my hands planted firmly on my breasts and murmur out my confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t go.” He repeats, more firmly this time, and I can feel his hand moving to grip my hip, orienting me to face him. “Please.”

“Why not?” I ask, softly, my eyes wide as I try to read his expression. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, and I could feel his hands moving to cup my face, bringing us even closer.

“I’d be an idiot to have not at least tried.” He whispers. “I’m sorry for doing this now. I’m sorry if this ruins everything. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

I feel my confusion bubbling up, my eyebrows furrowing a little bit. “Why.. what is this? Is this because of the lingerie?” I ask, my lips parting slightly.

“No. God no.” I can see him emphatically shaking his head at my rumination. “This has been coming for a long time.” He murmurs. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t. I can’t physically stand the thought of someone worshiping you the way I’d like to.” He rasps out, and I feel my heart jump, my breath coming out faster.

When I’m silent, unable to respond, his fingers run across my lips. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

I nod, and it’s like he’s been waiting all night, and then some. His grip on my face tightens and he brings me in for a searing, earth-shattering kiss. His lips move over mine desperately, and I feel his grip shifting to bring my hands off my breasts, and to replace them with his own, his hands now pawing and squeezing at the flesh, which draws a soft moan from me.

He throws his head back at the noise, leaning to kiss my neck. “Fuck yes.” He mumbles, seemingly goaded on by the noises slipping through my lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans out, to no one in particular, just wanting to get the words out there somehow.

I nod rapidly, and his hands are on my hips again, guiding me to the couch and laying me down. I move easily in his grasp, a slight gasp escaping me as he climbs on top. His thumb goes to graze my jaw, leaning in for another kiss. It’s less rushed this time, slow and passionate. His tongue darts out to swipe over my bottom lip, and I open my mouth easily for him, reveling in the sweetness of how he tasted.

He breaks off the kiss and moves down, kissing my breast between the lace. His tongue goes out to wet the fabric, and I’m arching my back at the sensation of the rough lace and the warm wetness now rubbing against the sensitive skin.

“You taste so good.” He mumbles. “God. Why did I wait so long?”

“No clue.” I whimper out, desperately. “But don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping.” He says, gruffly, moving to bunch up the fabric of the slip until it pooled around my waist, exposing my dripping cunt to him.

“I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you like this.” He whispers, his finger running up and down my wet folds, causing me to moan out needily.

“Shh, shh, baby.” He murmurs. “You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Without warning, he easily slides two fingers inside me, and I can’t help but wonder if he was made for me. Given the way he effortlessly reached that spongy spot so deep inside me, I was compelled to say yes. The action prompted me to release a string of desperate moans and whimpers, increasing in octave with every second he pumped the digits in and out of me.

“Yeah, you like that?” He mumbles, almost entranced with the way my cunt was sucking him in, tightening around his finger with each second he continued.

“Yes. Yes, oh God.” I moan out, my eyes squeezing shut.

“Open your eyes.” he demands, his thumb now darting out to rub harsh, tight circles on my clit. “I want to see your face when you come on my fingers.”

My eyes snap open, and I can’t help it when I release another moan and feel my orgasm absolutely shred through me. My hips raise in an attempt to move off Spencer’s fingers, but he manages to follow my movement, nursing me through my orgasm, and watching every second of it.

When it's over, he removes his finger and brings it up to his lips, sensually tasting my release right in front of me, never breaking eye contact- and the sight itself makes me need him all over again.

I pull him in by the collar of his shirt, and my hands move to remove his buttons, wanting to feel his skin on mine. He laughs a bit and admonishes me, removing my shaky fingers.

“Let me.” He mumbles, leaning back between my spread legs, and removing the clothing, before moving to his belt.

I bite my lip as he hovers over me, and kiss him again. I can’t get enough of him. He’s all I wanted for so long, and here he is- mirroring my desire in the way I’d always hoped he would.

“No man-” He breathes out, in between kisses, “could do this for you.”

I nod in affirmation, continuing to kiss him. No argument there.

“No man deserves to.” He adds, possessively, and it’s enough to make me clench around nothing, and I know at that point I’m more desperate for him than I had been the whole night.

“Spence, please.” I groan out. “Need you.”

He understands immediately and wastes no time, pulling himself out from his boxers, giving himself a few tugs before pushing inside of me, groaning as he feels my warm, wet walls grasp onto his cock.

He remains there for a second, allowing me to adjust to his size. When he looks at my face again, and I nod, he starts to move, pulling out until only his tip remains inside of me, before slamming in. My jaw drops in a silent scream, and my hands go to grip his shoulders, and with the confirmation I was enjoying myself, he set on a ruthless pace, snapping his hips over, and over again, until I was reduced to a babbling mess in front of the man.

He’s all I can feel at this point. His hands on my breasts, my hips, before he eventually rests both hands on either side of me and envelops me in his being. I can smell him, and the familiar scent only serves to tighten the coil in my stomach, reminding me that this was someone I’d loved so deeply for so long. Someone who was interwoven into the fiber of my being, and I know this is all I want, and all I’ll ever want.

As we both feel our releases coming on at an alarming pace, he leans up to kiss me one more time, moaning against my mouth. I feel myself whimper before I feel my walls contract around his cock, my orgasm causing my back to arch even closer to him. The clamping of my cunt seems to drive him to finish too, and a warmth fills my deepest point as he groans into my ear, pulling out and lying against me. The two of us are panting, sweat sticking to both of our bodies and hair, lost in the post-sex haze and enjoying the proximity.

He kisses my jaw and I giggle out and give a soft moan. “God.” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He murmurs against my skin, and I can feel his smile. “Are you canceling your date then?” He says, a slight bit of glee in his voice.

I giggle a little, finding his delight adorable and endearing. “Yes, Spencer. Obviously.” I murmur.

“Good.” He whispers, laying his head on my chest. There’s a lull of quiet as my hands stroke through his hair, smoothing it out from our illicit activities just a moment ago. I can hear his grin as he breaks the silence.

“Guess you could say I liked this piece the best.”

hiii!! omg. this took a while. yes this is more of a valentines day fic and its a bit late but hey!! got it out in february. this was actually written for @imagining-in-the-margins new beginnings challenge, so go ahead and check that out when you can. i hope you guys like this one. as usual, please reblog, like, comment, and show your support any way you can. thank you for reading, and i hope it was enjoyable <333 ty ty ty!!

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reiderwriter · 13 days

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I'm getting close to 5k followers, so I'm thinking about celebrations again! I'm going to add a poll below, but if I do a 5k Celebration Fic Writing Challenge, would you participate? 👉👈🫣

I'll keep the poll up for the week, just... trying to find out if there'd be interest in something like that!

#reiderslibrary #reiderreplies #reiderthoughts #cm writing challenge #criminal minds challenge #criminal minds #spencer reid

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violetrainbow412-blog · 6 months

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Day 18: protecting

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“Are you okay with this?” Spencer asked, as he was about to walk through the door into the interrogation room.

You had captured the main suspect in a series of murders and Hotch gave Reid the task of interrogating him, but part of the plan was that after he asked some questions you would accompany him since you fit perfectly into victimology. If the man behind the glass was actually guilty, you were in the presence of a narcissistic and misogynistic criminal of the worst kind, violent enough to murder a woman in a matter of seconds if she didn't show interest, and that's why he wanted to make sure you were comfortable with that part of the plan.

“Yes, Reid. Everything is fine” to be honest, that answer wasn’t what you wanted to give him, but the case had given you so much headache in the last few days that all you wanted was for it to end, and if the only way to do it was to use yourself as bait, you were ready for it.

The man nodded and then opened the door to enter the room. He asked some questions to the detainee, who had asked not to be handcuffed as a condition for answering, and at one point your partner looked into the mirror to give you the signal.

Ted, that was the unsub's name, tensed up when he saw you enter and was quiet for a second, taking in your entire appearance before speaking again. The look completely sickened you, but you had to stop yourself and Spencer pulled out a chair so you could sit.

“This is my partner, Agent Y/L/N.”

"Agent? I thought a cupcake like this would be your secretary,” he whispered, reaching out to take your hand on the table. You were about to remove it when Spencer stepped forward to gently take it and lower it into your lap, removing it from the criminal's reach as he watched him seriously.

“She's here to watch you, nothing more. Let's continue with the questions."

The agent continued talking to get as much information as possible and you remained as composed as possible, avoiding doing anything that would contribute to his fantasy. But every time Ted deigned to answer he did so without taking his eyes off you and Spencer noticed your stiffness as the minutes passed, so he lowered one of his hands to your knee to squeeze it, as if he were trying to tell you silently that he was there for you.

His big, loving hand calmed you just a little, but that was better than nothing. But what little calm you could have was replaced by a bad feeling when you heard that disgusting man's voice.

“Have you seen the photos of those women?”

That was the second time he spoke specifically towards you and it made you look at him, noticing that he had a satisfied face that made you shiver.

“I am asking the questions”

“They were just like you…” he continued, ignoring your partner's words “Poor girls, they look so helpless and bruised. The man who did that to her definitely made them suffer. If I were you, I wouldn't walk around alone.”

“Mr. Sanders, you are here to answer questions, not to chat.”

“It's okay, Reid,” you murmured. The unsub wanted to talk and thanks to the profile you knew that the more involved you got, the more he would say, so you accepted the responsibility of pushing him away so that he would give you a confession: “If I'm honest, I'm not afraid, not of you or anyone. And I don't even believe that you killed those women”

Although Ted appeared calm, the slight movement of his eyebrows made you realize that being questioned by a woman was irritating him, but he wouldn't give in.

“Then why are you questioning me if you're so sure it wasn't me?”

“A simple suspect elimination procedure,” you responded, shrugging your shoulders. “If you're not handcuffed, it's not because you asked for it, but because you're not a danger. You’ve never done anything meaningful with your life, why would this time be any different?”

It was obvious that your words resonated with him and so you looked at Spencer to get his approval of your actions or a sign for you to stop. Luckily, you got the first one.

“And who are you to talk? You're just a little bitch that was sent here as a bad attempt to trick me”

“And even then, you won’t achieve in your life even half of the things that I have done”

“I highly doubt it,” he laughed.

You suddenly remembered an important characteristic that you had included in the profile and you thought that perhaps a woman hurting his ego would be the straw that broke the camel's back and finally spilled his guilt. It could also result in him attacking you, but it would be worth a try.

"Poor thing, who are you trying to fool?” you scoffed, leaning across the table in his direction until you only needed to whisper, “You can't even get a decent erection.”

Although you imagined it, you definitely didn't expect that man to lunge at you and grab your neck tightly in response to your provocation. He was extremely strong and that's why he managed to push you to the wall, where he lifted you a couple of centimeters off the floor while you kicked.

Fortunately he held you for only a few seconds, because right after Spencer had already lunged at him to free you. You never believed that your friend had the strength to push a grown, muscular man against the space next to you on the wall and not only that, but to bring him back to the table to subdue him with his chest against it and his arms in the back. You didn't even know when he had time to draw his revolver, which was already placed firmly against the detainee's temple.

You were struggling to catch your breath, but even with your blurred vision you managed to register your partner's expression. He was brimming with anger, like you had never seen before.

“If you touch her again, I'm going to put a hole in your head, do you understand?”

Amid the commotion you saw the security guards and Agent Morgan quickly enter the room to help restrain Ted, now placing a necessary pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“You're going to die, whore,” he growled at you, wanting to break free to attack you again. Your friend just roughly pushed him outside, ready to guide him to a cell inside the police station where he would stay until you guys figured something out.

With just two jumps Spencer was already in front of you and you felt that he was shaking when his hands went up to your face to lift it a little so he could check your neck, although you didn't know if he was shaking from anger or fear.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” his tone of voice had softened compared to the tone he had used with Ted and that made you feel a little safer.

“I… I think so.”

“That damn son of a bitch,” you heard him whisper between his teeth, taking the time to check every inch of your skin. Once he was satisfied, he looked you straight in the eyes and realized that you were crying “No, no, pretty…”

You didn't even know why you were shedding tears, it was probably just from the shock of what had just happened, but your friend's hug felt like a wonderful comfort.

“I didn't mean to get in the way of this, I swear.”

“Don’t say that,” he asked in a serious voice, pulling you closer. “Thanks to you we now have a reason to keep him here, and when we have enough evidence, we will give that monster what he deserves and we will lock him up for life. I will take care of it myself if necessary.”

There was a different kind of hatred in his words, something you had rarely seen towards an unsub: it was a personal and strong feeling.

“Thank you for defending me”

"Are you kidding?" he murmured almost offended, while he separated from you to observe you “We are a team and I will never let anyone lay a finger on you, do you understand me? Nobody. Never"

After that he held you against him again and then you could cry freely, sheltered by his warm and wide body. When had he become so strong? You didn't know it, but you were grateful that a man like him was taking care of you.

And as he comforted you, he realized that the promise he had just made to you wasn't empty, like many people make, because Spencer knew that he would be able to face his worst fears if you were in danger. He had done it this time and he would do it as many times as necessary to keep you completely safe.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

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