ssavanessa22

[ssavanessa22]

ok this has been a question on my mind for a little bit so i thought i would make a poll about it to see the numbers

if you comment on a fic in the tags of a reblog that would count imo as both a reblog and a comment! and comments again don’t have to be long could even just be a word or two!

please reblog for a larger sample size!

#tumblr poll #poll #tumblr polls #fanfiction poll #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic poll

[ssavanessa22]

Hii it's me again 😂

I was wondering like imagine reader and james are married and she works in the nicu and a newborn baby who was found abandoned was admitted and like maybe it's premature so it spends a good amount of time in the nicu so the reader and even james ends up bonding with the baby and in the end they adopt the baby

Like I can totally imagine james going to visit the baby in his spare time and the reader and him spending nights at the hospital so its not alone

nonnie which one are you! there’s no emoji 😭 but either way i love this idea how did you know i’m in my dad!wilson feels anyways this is blurb material and i have inspo sooo

Pairings: James Wilson x fem!doctor!Reader

Warnings: surgery

Love You Three

“Hey, honey are you ready to…” James’ voice trailed off as he noticed you staring into one of the many NICU cots that was holding a small premature-looking baby. “You okay?”

He came closer to you, placing his bag off to the side, dressed like he was ready to leave the hospital and face the cold winter air.

“Honey?”

It wasn’t until James’ hand reached your back that you were pulled out of your trance with a bit of a jolt.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I just…” you sighed unable to find the words to finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can leave him.”

“Are his parents around? Maybe it’ll make you feel better if one of them comes and-,”

“He was abandoned. Someone found him wrapped up on a doorstep to a shelter. He’s a preemie too,” the back of your fingers brushed against his toes.

James finally took a moment to look down at the boy, and suddenly he felt like he understood whatever was pulling you towards him. He was so small. His little fists balled up at his sides, but when your hand was on him he was calm, quiet, stable.

“Abandoned,” James didn’t like the sound of the word, neither did you. It felt so…depressing; unfortunate that his mother probably thought she couldn’t take care of him.

James’ hand descended from the top of your back to the bottom before snaking around your waist so he could pull you closer into his side to press a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll go pick something up for dinner from home and grab you something more comfortable to wear.”

You nodded your head,

“You don’t have to stay afterwards if you want you can go back home.”

“No, I think I want to stay here with both of you,” he looked between you and the baby. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

You pulled your gaze away from the child for a quick moment to give your husband a kiss, thanking him for his kindness before focusing back again on the baby.

As promised, James returned with a change of clothes for you and some food packed in a tupperware, most likely leftovers from last night’s dinner.

“Go get changed, I can look after him for a minute,” he assured you and you carefully peeled yourself away from the child, your heart aching when you heard him begin to cry, only for it to stop when James reached his hand into the cot, tracing his finger along his arm.

You smiled a little to yourself before going to the locker rooms and getting changed, keeping your scrubs in your locker and eating a little bit of the food before heading back to the NICU.

You watched from a distance for a few moments, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the sight of your husband being so gentle with the small baby.

“There’s something about him, huh,” you said coming closer, now dressed in flannel pants and a hoodie to match James’ casual jeans and sweater.

He simply nodded his head, “When I first looked at him, there was just…a feeling like I had to protect him, and look after him.”

“That’s how I felt too,” you nodded, leaning into James’ side. “I think that feeling is love.”

“Love at first sight,” he chuckled a little. “Like a fairytale.”

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “A fairytale.”

—

“Dr. Wilson, are you here to see your wife? She just went to go speak to one of the mothers but she’ll be back soon.”

“Oh, no I’m actually here to see one of her patients,” he said. “The premature baby who was brought in with no parents.”

“Oh yes, he’s right over here. Such a sad thing to see, especially around the holidays, but he’s been getting the best care in the hospital if I do say so myself.”

“I believe it,” James smiled while walking over to the cot.

The baby was sound asleep at first, but awoke within a few minutes and looked up at James curiously before beginning to cry.

The nurse quickly tried to soothe the baby, but he would have nothing of it, until James offered some assistance.

“Be my guest Dr. Wilson, but he’s not too fond of many people.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. We know each other, right buddy?” James asked while repeating the same motions he had the first night he met him, instantly stopping the tears.

“He seems to have taken a shine to you,” she said.

James couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had felt the same thing too. Just like you both had the first night, perhaps, regardless of his young age, he knew he was safe and loved, and James was left with an overwhelming feeling in his gut that he had to do something about it.

“James? What are you doing here?”

He turned around when he heard your voice and you smiled, seeing him with the baby.

“I just came to check on him and see how he was doing,” he said. “Maybe we should stay again?” he suggested. “Tonight I mean.”

“I brought us extra clothes already,” you chuckled.

“Might as well bring the whole closet. I don’t know if I can go home knowing he’s here all alone.”

You placed a hand on his back and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Then I guess we’re just going to have to call this home until he’s discharged.”

“What happens when he gets discharged?” James asked, having a feeling he knew the answer already.

“Social services comes in, finds a foster home, unless some relatives come to claim him.”

James hummed thoughtfully, right now you both just had to hope he could make it to getting discharged. Then when the time came, you could see what that would mean.

“Any complications?” he asked.

“Some struggles breathing here and there. His lungs are a little underdeveloped, but nothing major so far.”

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of James’ pager and he sighed, looking down at the message and seeing he had to go.

“I’ll get dinner later and meet you here at six?” he confirmed and you nodded your head, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You both took another glance over at the baby and with a soft little smile you said, “Love you three,” while gently tickling his foot with your finger, making him quietly babble in response.

James chuckled and pressed one more kiss to your temple before running off to go deal with a patient who needed him.

“You’re not getting too attached, I hope.”

You sighed, “I think it’s already too late for that. No matter what happens though, he should be loved. He deserves that, even if it’s harder for me in the long run.”

“I don’t think it’ll just be hard for you,” she came and laid a hand on your shoulder. “Your husband there seems to be in the same boat.”

“What can I say,” you hummed. “There’s just something about him.”

—

James rarely received pages from anyone other than Cuddy, the nurses, or his assistant, so when he saw your number flashing on the screen with the code 911 he picked up his office phone and called you immediately.

“Honey, what’s going on?” he asked as soon as the line connected.

“We had a major complication.”

He could hear the strain in your voice, like you were desperately trying to keep it together.

“H-He’s in surgery right now, I just-,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “We were almost in the clear.”

James wanted to tell you everything was going to be fine, but operating on babies was always a delicate procedure, let alone a premature one.

“Where are you?”

“Viewing room of OR 3,” you responded.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

James hung up the phone and quickly made his way over to the operating rooms, finding you, as promised, in the observation room of OR 3.

You were sitting on the edge of one of the chairs, gripping onto its sides so hard James could see the strain on your knuckles.

He came next to you and encouraged you to loosen your grip and hold his hand instead.

“James, I know he’s not my baby, but I-,” you bit back tears. “I just want him to be okay,” your voice broke and James pulled you into his side, rubbing your back and letting you feel all of that worry and stress that had been bubbling up in your chest while these events unfolded.

“He’s going to be okay,” James chewed on the inside of his cheek and you knew he was saying it for himself just as much as he was saying it for you.

You both could only get away with sitting there for so long before people came looking for you, and you reluctantly pulled yourselves away, but not before informing the surgical team to keep you updated with any developments.

It was hard to focus on whatever you were doing until you got a message saying that the surgery went smoothly and the baby was now recovering back in the NICU.

You had faith that during his time here, nothing else would come up and he’d continue to heal until he was eventually ready to find a home with parents who would love and cherish him.

The thought came with a slight pang to your heart, but you knew it was probably for the best.

As long as someone loved him, and he was safe. That’s all you could ask for.

—

“I can’t believe you guys are ready to take him,” you chuckled nervously, looking up at the people from social services. “I’ve just been here since they brought him in, it’s gonna be a hard transition.”

“Don’t worry ma’am, we completely understand,” the man assured you. “I’m gonna do my best to make sure he ends up in good hands.”

You were about to get ready to say your goodbyes when you saw James walk into the NICU.

“Hi, are you from social services?” James asked and the man nodded while James put his hand out to shake. “I’m her husband,” he pointed over to you.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I just had a question before you take him,” he started. “Um…how difficult would it be for us to adopt him?”

Your eyes went wide, looking up at James as if to ask if this was something he really wanted to go ahead with. You knew, deep in your heart, there was nothing you wanted more than to watch this child grow up and be there for every single moment, good or bad.

James just nodded his head and you quietly slipped your hand into his and gave it a squeeze.

“You may need to talk to your lawyer, but first we’d get a background check then start the process of registering as foster parents and then you can adopt him after some time,” he explained. “That’s the watered down version, but I’m sure it’ll be fine for two doctors, especially one who looked after him.”

“We’ll do that,” James nodded and the man said he’d go call his superiors to see if there was anything they could do to expedite the process, giving you some time alone with the baby.

“I can’t believe it,” you whispered. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Since the day we saw him,” James kissed you and you looked down at the baby with happy tears in your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled up at him, and just like you could read each other’s minds, you looked down at your son and both said,

“Love you three.”

#james wilson #james wilson x you #james wilson x reader #james wilson blurb #dr wilson #dr wilson x reader

[ssavanessa22]

Can I claim 💋

(Hopefully, this emoji isn't already claimed)

Anyways do you have any thoughts on how Wilson might react to/comfort you when it comes to really bad stretch marks.

(I may or may not be self projecting)

Totally understand if you feel uncomfortable answering! Love your work!

okay nonnie i feel like this would be best in a blurb soooo (and yes of course you can claim that emoji!)

Pairings: James Wilson x GN!Reader

Warnings: insecurity, stretch marks, body image issues

Lightning

“Hey, honey.”

“You’re back home late,” you yawned, “Something come up at work?”

“No, sorry I meant to call, it was something with House,” he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

“I always sleep better when you’re around,” you shrugged. “Come to bed, Jamie.”

James smiled, and quickly changed so he could come join you, slipping in next to you, his head resting against your chest while his hand rested on your stomach.

With all the movement, you looked down and noticed your shirt had rode up a bit, exposing a part of your stomach and if you hadn’t noticed James staring you wouldn’t have realized that he could see the marks that danced along your skin, coming up from your hips, near your waist. There were more, ones he couldn’t see on the inside of your arms, on your back, behind your legs, on your thighs. Seeing him stare made you want to shrink into a little ball and so you hoped he didn’t notice the correlation when you gently pulled your shirt back down.

Clearly that was a lot to ask of him, seeing as he could feel you tense underneath him, and without asking or saying so much of a word he lifted your shirt again and began tracing the lines that marked the side of your torso.

“Jamie, I-,”

“It looks like lightning,” he interrupted you and you paused. “It’s like art.”

“Art?” you chuckled a little, you’d never once thought of it that way. To you it always felt like your body was too much, that even your skin couldn’t handle it.

“Yeah,” James pushed himself up on his side, pressing delicate kisses along the lines of your stretch marks, and maybe it was like lightning because you felt electricity with his every touch. And that spark was comfort because it felt better than feeling nothing, feeling numb or worried. “But it’s better than art because it’s you. Art is beautiful, but you’re so much more than just that.”

“Jamie,” you whispered, holding his face in your hands, encouraging him to look at you. “You don’t have to say all that.”

“Why shouldn’t I say it if I mean it?”

“It’s just…they’re so big. I-I just don’t think it looks nice. You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” he said gently, “I’ve always loved how you look, it doesn’t make a difference if you’ve got a few extra marks. It just means there’s more of you for me to become familiar with.”

“So it doesn’t matter that it’s not perfect?”

“Perfect is overrated,” he leaned back into your side, pulling you closer into him. “Plus, I like lightning and there’s a 1 in 10 000 chance you’ll get struck over your lifetime. So I guess I’m pretty lucky.”

“Are you saying I’m your lightning strike?”

“Falling in love with you was,” James kissed you. “And I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

You pulled James in close to share another kiss, still holding his face near after your lips parted, feeling yourself relax at the feeling of his forehead pressed against your own.

His hand easily found its way back across your stomach, again, tracing the jagged and squiggly lines that littered your sides. And as much as your head was telling you this brought discomfort, in your heart you knew it was a sign of love and maybe if you could let him love you like this, you’d learn, over time, to love yourself a little more too.

[ssavanessa22]

[ssavanessa22]

being the flop mutual is hard work but someone's gotta do it

[ssavanessa22]

AYO EDEBIRI AND JEREMY ALLEN WHITE — 81st Annual Golden Globe Awards (January 07, 2024)

#ayo edebiri #jeremy allen white #golden globes

[ssavanessa22]

Happy new year from me I hope you all have a blessed year ! This year has been a rollercoaster of emotions for me but I’m so great full for where I am right now

Time for me to drink my tea and rest 💕

#ssavanessa22recs #spencer reid #ssavanessatalks #Love to you all so much #happy new year #have a blessed year

[ssavanessa22]

Ahhhhhh amazing as per usual

Neighbourhood Beauty

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Penelope is hosting Christmas at her apartment this year, she invites everyone... Including her new neighbour, who is exactly Spencer's type.

Warnings: flirting, love at first sight, kissing, making out, teasing, drunk bau friends, food mentions, Baker!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

She was sad the whole journey home from work knowing that Christmas was tomorrow and she was going to be alone. As she gets into her apartment complex, she runs into her neighbour at the mailbox. She’s got 3 packages in her hands while trying to figure out how to carry the last two, “do you want help?” 

“Oh, please?” She sounds so relieved. “What a blessing it is to see you today.” 

She smiles for the first time in a few hours, “Oh, anytime Penelope. Are these all gifts?” She asks as she takes the two packages in her hands. She’ll come down for her own mail later. Nothing interesting should be in there. 

Penelope nods, leading them towards the elevators. “I’m having a big holiday gathering tomorrow— wait, do you have plans, are you going home to see family?” 

“No,” she admits, sadly. “I couldn’t get a plane ticket, I tried but they’re so insanely expensive lately.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Penny sighs. “I haven’t gone out to see my brothers in years, they’re in California.” 

“It sucks… but you have lots of friends here, right? I’m sure they’re coming over tomorrow?” She asks, mostly so she can feel some sort of comfort if she isn’t doing anything tomorrow either. 

“I’m having Christmas here for the first time,” she shares. “Dinner starts at 6:30 but we’re having a little bit of everything for lunch around 2, if you want to stop by at any time?” 

“Oh no, I couldn’t—

“You can, and you will!” Penelope insists. “You don’t need to worry about gifts or bringing any food, just show up. I hate the thought of you being alone next door.” 

“Okay, I’ll come,” she gives in with a smile. “But I’m bringing a baked good… have you ever been to my bakery?” 

“You own the bakery?” She’s so flabbergasted. “I thought you just worked there?” 

She smiles, “I do… we do okay but I’m by no means rich enough to buy a plane ticket home.” 

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing cause now I can eat whatever you bring tomorrow!” 

—

She spends the whole night baking. She makes molasses cookies with powdered sugar on them in shakes of little Christmas trees and she makes chocolate croissants. One of which she brings to Penelope around 10 am so that she can have a nice breakfast before the party starts. 

She showers, picks a cute outfit and by 3pm she’s anxiously waiting by the door trying to hype herself up to go over. She only knows Penelope. They’ve lived beside each other for 3 years now. She’s seen her friends coming and going and heard them talking in the halls but she’s never talked to them. But if they like Penelope, they’ve gotta like her too. 

So she bucks up and heads over. 

She knocks and within seconds, a handsome man is throwing the door open. “You don’t have to— oh, hi?” 

“Hi… Penelope invited me? I’m her neighbour… Y/N,” she awkwardly introduces herself. 

He’s at a loss for words— and breath, for a moment and then shakes himself out of it. “Spencer… Reid. Doctor… Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

It makes her laugh, easing the anxiety out of her system. “Can I come in, Doctor Spencer Reid?” 

“Yeah, yes, come in,” he steps out of the way and extends his arm into the room for her to follow. He closes the door after she’s inside and smiles. “How do you know Penelope?” 

“I live next door.” 

“Really?” He can’t believe it. “How long?” 

“3 years now…” 

“And you’ve never come over?” He looks offended. 

She smiles, “Why, sad you haven’t known me longer?” She manages to tease him. She’s not always good at reading people but something about how he’s acting makes her think he likes her. 

He blushes but nods, “Well, welcome. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“You too,” she looks him up and down. He’s very handsome. And a doctor… “how do you know Penelope?” 

“We’ve worked together since I was 22…” 

“And you’re now…?”

“42,” he presses his lips together, awkwardly. “Old…” 

“No, no you’re not, I would’ve guessed 35 at the most,” she teases, stepping into his space, she places her hand on his arm. “You’re a very handsome 42.” 

“Are you doing anything for New Years?” He asks, removing all his fear and looking at her with hopeful eyes. 

She shakes her head, “no… I might be working but I can leave early, or you can come see me there?” 

“Where do you work?” 

“I own the bakery on 16th Avenue,” she smiles. “Penelope buys in donuts and things from me all the time, actually, I brought over baked goods this morning, they’re in the kitchen somewhere.” 

“Did you make those croissants?” He lights right up. 

She nods, “maybe I can teach you how to make some?” 

“I’d really like th—

“Y/N!” Penelope comes running from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her, “When did you get here?” 

“Just now,” she laughs. “Spencer’s been keeping me company.” 

“Ahh,” she pulls away with a smile. “Well, come eat, there’s lots of snacks in here.” 

She leads them into the kitchen where her other friends are around the table. “The ones with kids will be around later, they’re still putting batteries and things in their kid's gifts. But this is Rossi and Emily and Tara.” 

She reaches out to shake everyone's hand, realizing only now that she never shook Spencer's, but he doesn’t mind, he stays close to her. They sit side by side, he passes her things from the table that she wants to put on her plate and he gets up to get her a drink and everyone makes conversation while also watching him dote on her. It’s been 20 minutes but there’s something there… no man has shown her this level of interest or flattery before and not to quote Lana Del Rey but, when you know you know. 

They’re friendly as ever when there are people around them and they flirt like mad when they’re alone. She already has a date with him, but he’s just too cute and that shade of red he turns is starting to become her favourite colour. 

“You seriously used all the ice?” Penelope chastises Emily, who pretends she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Go get some more, we have guests coming who don’t drink alcohol they need ice for their sodas!” 

“I am far too drunk to walk down the street,” she counters and points to Dave. 

“Not me,” Dave touches his nose, he doesn’t volunteer to do anything and Tara does the same thing, she’s just as drunk as Emily. 

Spencer goes to get his coat with a sigh, “I’ve got it.” 

“I’ll come too,” she rushes to the door with him, putting on whatever coat fits her so that she can follow him down to the street for some extra alone time with him. 

She reaches for his hand on the street, “So, what’s it like at the FBI?” 

He holds her hand gladly, “it's… okay. I just teach now. Fieldwork put me in the hospital too many times and I like being alive.” 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she bumps shoulders with him.

His smile is beautiful. “So, about that date?” 

“We could do anything you want,” she assures. “But my offer still stands.” 

“I think I’d like a baking lesson,” he nudges her back. “It's the one thing I’m not good at.” 

“So what are you good at?” 

“Rambling, falling over, getting shot,” he teases but she swats his arm, leaning into him with a laugh. “Okay, but seriously, I have a Ph.D. in Chemistry, Engineering and Math.” 

“Well luckily for you, baking is just science and a bit of math,” she teases. “You’ll catch on quickly, smarty pants.” 

He pulls her in, chest to chest, standing beside an empty store with all their lights off. He cups her face, “what’s sweeter? Your chocolate croissants or your kiss?” 

She can’t help but laugh, “you’ll have to tell me…” 

He pulls her in for a kiss and sparks fly behind her eyes. As if every atom in her being is on fire, she melts into him. Kissing him deeply, she holds his sides and the hand he has on her cheek goes into her hair as they begin to make out on the snow-covered street. 

She pulls back first, smiling softly, “so?” 

“You, it’s definitely you,” he teases. “But the croissants are a very close second.” 

She laughs, “Well, keep up the compliments and there will be lots more kisses and sweet treats coming your way.” 

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the neighbourhood,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss but she stops him. 

“Just the neighbourhood?” 

“The whole world,” he corrects, which is the right answer. She lets him lean in closer, stealing another kiss. 

She kisses him again and again, trying to pull back but he kisses her a third time, making her laugh. “We need to get that ice, we’re going to be late for dinner.” 

“do you want to hang out after dinner?” He asks, “I can walk you home?” 

“And stay for more kisses?” 

“Or croissants,” he shrugs. Happy with either. 

—

They’re pretty normal for the rest of the party, she meets the rest of his friends and all their kids. And they’re some cute kids. The youngest is his friend Matt's 2-year-old, she sits at the grown-up table with them and eats one of the chocolate croissants with the biggest smile on her face. Y/N can’t help but think about how much her own kids might like her baking one day… and Spencer sees the way she looks at the baby too. 

His friends are so lively, the the party goes on until well after midnight. The friends with kids head out early, Emily and Tara get a cab home, Dave is passed out on her couch and Spencer isn’t going to leave until she does. And she’s helping Penelope clean up. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Penelope assures her, drying off dishes while Spencer washes them. She’s been putting things in Tupperware containers and organizing the fridge. 

“I want to help, as a thank you,” she smiles at her. “This has been a lovely night.” 

“And not just because I introduced you to your new boyfriend?” She teases and Spencer drops a plate. 

She laughs, walking over to place her hand on Spencers arm, “I mean, meeting Spencer is the best present you could’ve given me.” 

Penelope swoons, “Okay that’s it, love birds. Get out of my kitchen, go home, go canoodle and get to know each other. I knew this was going to happen.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me in advance?” Spencer whines as he dries off his hands. “I would’ve worn something nicer?” 

“You look cute,” she teases. 

“See, that’s why,” Penelope points at her. “I knew she’d like you for you, she’s a baker and you love everything I buy from her bakery and she’s so kind and you need someone to love you the way I know you love people back. This is perfect.” 

She wraps her arm around his waist and leans into his space, “thank you penny, we’re going to go now.” 

“Thank you,” Spencer agrees, following her out of the kitchen and towards the door. 

Once they’re in the hallway, he asks, “Did you really mean that?” 

She nods, “of course?” 

He lunges for her, kissing her with her back pressed up against her apartment door. She reaches for the doorknob, twisting it open so that she can bring them inside and push him up against the closed door instead this time. He moans into her mouth at the feeling of his back colliding with the door and her hands are immediately roaming his shirt.

He’s such a good kisser, he is gentle and soft, and he isn’t overly eager and controlling. He lets her explore and slow it down as she presses in closer to him and his hands wander to her hips. 

“Couch?” She pants against his lips, wanting to lay down with him. 

“Show me?” He agrees, following her into her apartment and to the living space. 

She pushes him down against the couch and climbs on top of him. He wraps his arms around her, cradling her body like she’s the most delicate thing in the world. He kisses her just as soft and she moves her kiss to his cheek and his jaw up towards his ear, “you’re so handsome,” she whispers. 

“Thank you,” he gasps. “You’re absolutely stunning, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” 

She smirks against him, kissing down his neck, “You deserve good things, Spence.” 

“You’re too good to me,” he teases, hand slipping down to her ass. “How far are we taking this?” 

She hums, “I’m good just talking and kissing all night?” 

“All night?” 

She nods as she pulls back to look at him. “I kinda don’t want to let you go. I’m afraid you’re too good to be real.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures. “I’m yours as long as you want me.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid request #ssavanessa22recs

[ssavanessa22]

Christmas Cookies

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer's neighbour gives him a plate of whatever she makes her family for dinner most nights. When he comes home to see smoke bellowing out of her kitchen window, the last thing on his mind is some burnt parchment paper under her Christmas cookies.

Warnings: mutual pining, divorced reader, mom reader, food mentions, cooking, flirting

word count: 2.2k

When he got back from prison, his apartment didn’t feel like home anymore.

It felt tainted… it felt wrong to be there where so many terrible memories took place. He’s been through so much in these 4 green walls and now he can’t stomach being there anymore. 

He spends some time at JJ’s, in her spare room. He sleeps on Penelope’s couch and in the guest house at Daves but he hates feeling like a burden. So, during his mandatory month off, he packs everything up, terminates his lease and rents a new apartment in a tiny complex closer to work. And on the first night, he was there, unboxing everything, he smelled something… something delicious. 

He didn’t pack any food cause he didn’t really have any in the cupboards when he was packing and he hasn’t had time to go to the grocery store yet. So the smell makes his stomach growl, so he follows the smell. Thinking that his neighbour must’ve just got a delivery because it smelled so powerful. 

He knocks on the door, a little nervous but too hungry to care. And a little kid answers the door, probably no older than Jack. “Hi?” 

“Andrew!” A woman yells from inside the house and comes rushing to the door with a dishtowel in her hands. “How many times have I told you not to answer the door?” 

“She’s right,” Spencer agrees with her. “Sorry, I just moved in next door and I wanted to know what that smell is? It smells amazing?” 

“Oh,” the woman softens. “I’m making Carne Asada tacos for dinner…” 

“Oh, oh, I thought maybe you ordered something in 'cause the smell is so strong out here it’s just amazing… and you make it yourself?” 

She nods, a beautiful smile on her face, “I do… actually, we have a lot here, would you like some?” 

“Oh, no, I can’t impose,” he instantly feels bad. 

“I insist! Just wait here, and I’ll put some in a Tupperware and you can bring the dish back when you’re done?” She agrees 

“Okay,” he agrees. 

And that’s how it starts. 

Every few days she brings him over some dinner, he tries a plethora of new dishes and baked goods and it goes on for months. Everyone has noticed the change in him, the tummy he’s gotten from eating home-cooked meals and the smile on his face when he heads out right at 5 to catch the 5:15 train home. 

It’s snowing as he walks from the train station to their apartment building. He can see her kitchen window is open and steam is barrelling out… she’s cooking up a storm today and their building's fire alarm is so sensitive. 

But there’s too much steam, it almost looks like smoke. So he rushes inside, double-timing the steps and almost colliding with her door as he knocks on it. Her son, Andrew, opens it with a smile. “hey— are you okay?” 

“Are you? Is your mom?” He worries. “It looked like there was a fire in the kitchen from the street?” 

He shrugs and lets Spencer in and he rushes right to the kitchen. He knows where it is because the layouts of their apartments are exactly the same. And when he gets there, she’s covered in flower and fanning a tray of cookies where the parchment had caught fire in the oven. “Spencer?” She asks as she sees him. “What are you—

“There was smoke coming from the window as I walked up to the building,” he explains, hand on his chest as he finally catches his breath. “I was scared you had a fire.” 

“Well, I kinda did,” she grits her teeth and panic smiles. “This is the last time I get the cheap parchment paper from the dollar store.” 

“Yeah that doesn’t sound smart…” he agrees, searching the countertops for the packaging. He picks up the box of parchment paper and reads the back. “It’s only good up to 250 degrees, your cookies are at 375 so yes, they’re going to burn… I have some real expensive parchment that came with a gift basket when I moved in, do you want it?” 

“You’d be okay with giving it to me?” She swoons a bit. 

He nods, “Yeah, it’s not like I can bake.” 

“Do you want some cookies? I can make you any that you want?” She offers in return. 

“Whatever you’re making now, I’d love to taste test?” 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

He rushes back to his place, puts his things away and checks his hair in the mirror before grabbing the parchment paper and heads back over. He was told before he left that he didn’t need to knock, so he doesn’t. It feels weird, but he walks right in and hands her the parchment and she hands him a naked gingerbread cookie. 

“Sorry, he’s not decorated yet… You don’t have any allergies, right?” She asks. “I can’t believe I’ve been feeding you for months and never asked that.” 

He laughs, “I’m just slightly lactose intolerant, it’s nothing serious.” 

“Oh, good,” she’s so relieved. 

He takes a bite of the cookie and almost melts, “oh my god?” 

“You like it?” 

“Like it?” He exaggerates. “It’s one of the best cookies I’ve ever had in my life! Holy cow…” 

“thank you,” she swoons again. “You can have some to take home?” 

“Thank you… but why are you making so many?” 

“Drew has a holiday party at school and needs enough for 36 kids,” she explains. “I’m also going to make some specifically for his teacher as her gift for the year.” 

“I loved giving my teachers gifts when I could.” 

“Do you want to help?” She offers, pointing at their kitchen table where there are some deconstructed boxes waiting to be assembled. “You could put those together for me?” 

“I’d love to!” He finishes his cookie and takes a seat, still facing her so he can watch her work around the kitchen. He thinks she’s magnificent, he’d never want to miss a smile or a yawn or a nose scrunch or anything… she’s so pretty. He loves to look at her. 

He has a ph.d in engineering so putting together gift boxes isn’t the hardest thing in the world, it’s making sure they still look pretty when he’s done what he’s worried about. He tapes them into place and concentrates so hard he doesn’t even notice that she’s made another batch of cookies while he’s been nose-deep in cardboard, even with the wonderful smell wafting around. 

“What are you making now?” 

“Chai sugar cookies,” she smiles. “This artist I like posted a recipe and I’ve wanted to try them… so, why not? If I don’t like them I can give them away.” 

“Smart,” he agrees. “They smell amazing though, I’m sure they’ll be delicious too.” 

“They have to cool for a bit,” she shares, taking out a thing of cling film and wrapping it up to go in the fridge. “They’ll be in there for 30 minutes.” 

“Have you guys had dinner yet?” Spencer asks because it’s almost 6 and she’s made nothing but cookies. 

“It was going to be left overnight… but I don’t have that much here,” she teases. “We might just get a pizza.” 

“I’ll get it,” Spencer offers. “You’ve fed me so much, let me repay the favour?” 

“Are you sure?” She worries, “Are you okay for it?” 

He laughs, “Yeah… yeah I’m good.” 

“I just thought you’re in the same little shitty apartments as us…” 

“I work for one of the most important units in the FBI,” he smirks, not wanting to brag but… “Believe me, I’ve got this.” 

“Did I hear pizza?” Drew asks from the doorway. 

“You did,” Spencer teases. “You wanna come with me to pick it up?” 

“Can I?” He begs his mom. 

She nods, “Yeah, just, don’t let him convince you he needs more than just pizza.” 

Spencer can’t make any promises. 

He has to grab his coat and his wallet from his apartment before they go. Drew gets all dressed up for the snow and then the two of them head out down the street. “So, how’s things?” Spencer asks, trying to make conversation. 

“Good… I’m excited for Christmas.” 

“Me too,” he agrees. “What did you ask Santa for?” 

“I don’t believe in Santa anymore,” Drew laughs, “I’m 13.” 

“Oh… okay, then what did you ask your mom for?” 

“Not much, just the renewal for my Playstation game pass and some new headphones,” he explains. “I’ve got everything else I need, really.” 

“That’s really mature of you,” Spencer compliments. “I know kids your age would ask for everything under the sun if they knew their mom would do anything for them.” 

“She does so much for me, and now that we’re alone I don’t want to put too much pressure on her,” he shares. “I miss my dad but, I think she’s happier now that she left him.” 

“Do you see him often?” 

He shakes his head, “he’s in California with his other family… he was cheating on my mom.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he had no idea. They don’t really talk so how would he know? 

“It’s okay,” he shrugs it off. “You ever been married?” 

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve only had like 3 girlfriends in my whole life.” 

“Seriously? I had 3 last year,” Drew teases. 

“Of course you did,” Spencer just shakes his head. “Well, I was so weird growing up, I’m still weird now.” 

“Well, my mom likes you,” he bumps his shoulder against Spencer’s. “So you’re doing something right.” 

“She does?” He can’t believe it. 

“Duh?” He teases. “She makes sure she looks pretty before bringing you dinner every night that you’re home.” 

He blushes, “oh… I thought she just always looked pretty.”

“So you like her too?” Drew lights right up. “You should ask her out!” 

“And you’d be okay with that?” 

He nods enthusiastically, “I can even go eat in my room tonight so the two of you can just talk and hang out? Please, it would be the best Christmas gift I could give her to get her a boyfriend who’s actually nice and likes her.” 

“Yeah… yeah I can be that for her.” 

—

When they come back with two pizza boxes, dips and garlic knots, she just crosses her arms and sighs, “Drew…” 

“What? He offered!” He whines. 

“I did,” Spencer smiles. “It’s no big deal, now you’ll have more leftovers.” 

She just smiles, “Okay, well, come in and get a plate let’s get to eating.” 

Drew does just what he said he would, he finds a way to ditch them and head to his room and then Spencer is alone with the most beautiful woman ever. They talk about random things like living in the city and Christmas plans and how Drew is doing in school… but he just wants to ask her out. He stares at her lips and he wants to kiss her and learn all about her and then she notices. 

“What?” She asks, hiding her mouth. “Is there something—

“No… you’re just beautiful,” he swoons. Giving in completely. 

She smiles and her hand drops, “really?” 

He nods, “Really, really… would you want to go on a date sometime? I’m sure Drew can handle a few hours alone while we hang out and if not, my friend has a kid around his age he can meet?” 

“You have friends with a 13-year-old?” She’s so shocked. 

“Well, he’s 12 but yeah,” he nods. “He’s my godson.” 

“I would love to spend some more alone time with you… wherever you want to take me,” she adds, realizing that sounded a lot dirtier than she planned. “I mean—

“i get you,” Spencer teases, trying not to laugh. “My work has a Christmas party coming up if you want to come with me and share some of your burnt cookies?” 

She laughs this time, “Yeah, when I meet your friends they are getting fresh cookies.” 

“Okay, good,” he smiles. “Maybe we can go out before then too? I’d love to take you out to dinner… though nothing will be as good as what you can make.” 

“Then why don’t I make you my favourite meal and we can eat at your apartment?” She suggests. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure it’s nice and romantic.” 

“The way you look at me is romantic enough,” she teases. 

“From the first time I saw you I knew I wanted more than just your cooking,” he assures. “I think you’re so kind and so pretty, I can’t believe I get to talk to you let alone the privilege of taking you out— even if it’s just across the hall.” 

“I don’t typically share food… but you were too cute to starve,” she teases again. 

“And now look at me!” He points down at his stomach. “I barely fit in my suit pants." 

“You look healthy… and scrumptious, might I add.” 

His brow goes up, “really? Well, thank you for helping me get here.” 

“I knew you’d be more handsome with some meat on your bones… you’re so good-looking it's honestly crazy that you’re into me,” she whispers, not wanting Drew to hear their flirting. “I like you so much, Spencer.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” 

“I’m free tomorrow if you are?” 

“and every day after that,” he assures that this thing between them is real and not just some random infatuation that will die off in a week. 

He wants her for as long as she’ll have him. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #ssavanessa22recs #sooo cute #absolutely loved 🥰

[ssavanessa22]

They have done it again folkes one of Em’s fics has woken me from my tumblr coma amazing as per !! Ps can I be added to your taglist ? Xx

Waiting Rooms

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: JJ goes into labour with her second baby, on Christmas Eve. Aaron and Emily are the only two still in town, they rush to the hospital to support her where Aaron meets a lovely woman who's friend is also giving birth that same night.

Warnings: Pregnant JJ, mentions of throwing up, Meet Cutes, Love at First Sight | Canon rewrite: Haley doesn't die, JJ doesn't lose her baby in season 6, Emily is Alive and living with Aaron for the time being

Word Count: 2.7k

After losing Emily, JJ was able to rejoin the team. And thank god because Hotch was struggling to keep things afloat without both of them. Spencer was a mess, Penelope was needier than ever and Derek... Derek had this look of vengeance in his eyes that made Aaron worried what he did to Foyet look like a walk in the park.

It was scary. 

The only one who was semi okay was Dave and that’s only because he’s better at hiding his feelings than anyone else on the team. 

JJ was doing really good pretending to be distraught while knowing the truth that their good friend was safely tucked away in Paris for the time being. But something was off about her in the first few weeks that she was back… something he couldn’t quite place until she threw up on the jet. 

He went back to pour himself a drink on their way home when he heard her in the jet washroom. He was instantly worried, he knocked on the door and asked if she was okay. She groaned, but let him in. He helped her up to her feet again, got her some tissues to wipe her mouth and stared at her with the most concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing's wrong,” she can’t help but smile. “I’m pregnant…” 

He’s been so, so happy for her ever since. He keeps close to her side on cases, he keeps snacks in his bag for her and they double up in hotel rooms later on in her pregnancy just in case she needs anything in the middle of the night. She’s not one to go on early maternity leave, so starting at 27 weeks, he steps up his protectiveness and steps in when he knows she needs to go easy on herself. Wills grateful, he knows she’s in good hands with all the boys on the team and even Sever was really good at taking care of her before she transferred over to Andy Swan’s unit. 

And much to everyone's surprise, Emily is back in their life when JJ hits 7 months pregnant and she’s so pissed that she can’t be involved in the takedown due to her baby bump. She wanted revenge, she wanted to make Ian Doyle pay… but getting to sit back at the BAU with Emily made up for it. Everything goes smoothly, they get Ian in custody, and they find his son-- sure the criminals all died at the trade-off, but at least Emily was safe from here on out. 

The team is overjoyed that they get another Halloween with Emily. Another Thanksgiving, another Christmas and right as New Year's rolls around, JJ is due to bring in another member to their little family… they get two weeks off baring any emergency cases and so everyone goes their separate ways with the plan to come back right before new years to be there when JJ has her baby.  

Spencer’s gone back to Vegas with his mom, Derek goes to Chicago with his mom and sisters, and Dave ends up in Long Island with his cousins and the few aunts he has left… Haley has Jack for Christmas this year, Penelope was volunteering at the local homeless shelter to give out Turkey dinner and so that left Emily and Aaron at his house— where she’s been living since coming back, with nothing to do.

And then the phone rings right before midnight. Moments before Christmas Day click's over.  

“Hotchner?” He answers, expecting it to be a work call. 

“Hey, JJ’s water broke and we’re at the hospital. Her mom has Henry, she’s like 5 centimetres now and she really wants you and Emily here,” Will rushes out. 

“I need them!” She calls from the background. 

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he assures before hanging up. He quickly gets up from bed to put his pants back on and rushes out the door, down the hall, he knocks on Emily’s door. 

“What?” She answers and so he pushes the door open. She has a book in one hand and wine in the other. “Sure, come in.” 

“JJ’s water broke, she wants us there,” he says. “Come on, I’ll see you downstairs.” 

He grabs the rest of his things while she hurries to get back into something appropriate for waiting in a hospital for god knows how long. But they were going to be there the whole time. They were last time, they would be this time and then again if she ever has a 3rd. Or 4th… but he doesn’t see that happening. 

The drive over is nice, the roads are clear and it doesn’t look like it’ll snow again anytime soon. Emily’s quiet, bouncing her knee and picking at her fingers. She’s not good with other people being in pain, especially not the people she loves… she’s the first one in the room when they get there. She kisses JJ on the head and asks if she needs anything and JJ just smiles up at her. 

“They gave me the good shit,” she holds up her hand with an IV in it. “I’m great.” 

“You look good,” Aaron gives her a smile. He loves her like a daughter, he’s so proud of her and she does look amazing for a woman going through the worst pain imaginable. 

Just before she can reply, a nurse shows up in the doorway, “I’m so sorry, but it’s after visiting hours which means we can only allow 2 family members in the room at a time…” 

“I’ll go,” Aaron offers, knowing how much time with Emily would mean to JJ. “I’ll be in the waiting room.” 

“Okay,” JJ gives him a smile. “Thank you for coming, Aaron.” 

“Anytime,” he smiles right back before heading out with a wave. 

The waiting room is pretty empty, seeing as it is just after midnight on Christmas Day. Most people plan to have a baby around Christmas, avoiding it like the plague. JJ wasn’t due till New Year's, but, she has a habit of going into labour early. He sits alone in one of the pink pleather seats, there’s magazines on a rack in the corner and the news quietly on the TV screwed into the wall in the top right corner of the room. The chair he picked is perfect for watching the TV, however depressing the reports are, it keeps him company for the time being. 

Another woman walks out into the waiting room 10 minutes later with a similar disappointed look on her face. “You get kicked out for not being family, too?” She asks him. 

He nods, “I did. But it’s okay.” 

“Can I sit beside you?” She asks and actually starts to sit well before he can nod. “Do you know what your friends are having?” 

“Uh, no,” he lies. Keeping their privacy. “We just hope it’s healthy.” 

“Same… but Cassy— my co-worker, she’s having a girl,” she explains. “Sorry, uh, I’m Y/N,” she sticks her hand out to shake his and make his acquaintance. 

“Aaron,” he smiles back. “Was your friend due today?” 

She nods, “Yeah, actually she was. We didn’t expect her to go in today because this is her first, sometimes they take a little longer but then her contractions started getting really bad a few hours ago.” 

“This is my friend's second,” he shares. Finding it easy to open up to her. She’s nice, she doesn’t have a threatening bone in her body. And her smile is beautiful. “She actually went early both times.” 

“Wow, lucky,” she laughs. “I really hope if I have a baby one day that it’s easy and quick…” 

“You don’t have any kids?” 

She shakes her head. “No, I don't even have a boyfriend… sorry, you didn’t need to know that.” 

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I uh, I have a son. He just turned 6, and he’s with his mom this Christmas.” 

“Do you guys go back and forth?” 

He nods, “It’s easier on him this way.” 

“I bet,” she nods along, staring off at the floor, awkwardly losing the conversation there. 

They’re silent for a few minutes and then he looks around to see where the vending machines are. “Are you hungry?” 

“A little… but I used my cash on the parking pass,” she shares, lips pressed together, she’s not going to ask for food and she looks like she doesn’t want him to offer either. 

“I’ll be right back, save my seat for me?” 

“Okay,” she gives him another smile and he feels like blushing. She’s so pretty… 

He gets a coffee from one machine and a bunch of snacks from the other, including a bottle of water and if she wants his coffee, he’ll just go back and get a second. He brings back his haul and places them on the little coffee table in front of their chairs, “Merry Christmas.” 

She laughs again, “You didn’t have to do this?” 

“We’re going to be here for a while, might as well eat up,” he shrugs, he really doesn’t mind. “Did you want coffee?” 

She shakes her head, “No, I’m okay but thank you.” 

“Take whatever you want,” he points to his collection of things. “There’s chips, candy, chocolate… they also had some egg salad sandwiches in there, if you prefer one of them?” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assures him. “Thank you, I’ll take some chips… but first, I’m going to see if a nurse has a remote for the TV, the news is so sad and boring lately.” 

“Oh, thank you. I get enough of this stuff at work,” he sighs with a shake of his head. 

She disappears then, over to the nurses station and comes back with a remote inside a plastic bag. “What do you want to watch?” 

“Anything is fine with me,” he assures. 

“Okay,” she starts to flip through the channels. “What do you do at work?” 

“I’m… I’m an FBI agent,” he tells her the truth. Feeling safe enough with her to be honest. 

“Oh wow,” she’s impressed. “So is that why you didn’t tell me about what your friend is having?” 

“What?” 

“I teach kids, I can tell when someone is lying to me,” she explains with a smile. “Your voice went up a bit, you looked away from me… you know what she’s having.” 

“I do. We’ve seen a few cases of people trying to hurt us specifically, I’m always weary to talk about my kid, her kids, any kids really because it shows people we have weak spots.” 

“I feel you… I have to watch 23 kids for 8 hours a day and keep them all safe while school shootings are on the rise,” she explains. 

“We don’t deal with a lot of those… but I see kidnappings often. At least 1 a month. It’s terrifying not being able to be with my son all day every day, but knowing there are teachers like you out there means a lot,” he gives her a smile. 

“I would do anything for my kids,” she nods, the most genuine smile on her face as she stares into his eyes. “And I’m glad there are people like you out there who would be able to get the guy who puts me in a position to do anything for them.” 

“And I get them all,” he assures her. 

“I’m sure you do,” she smirks. Liking how cocky he is. “Do you wear a uniform like cops do or?” 

“I typically wear a suit… and when I’m in the field a bulletproof vest— no suit jacket though.” 

“Ah,” she likes the sound of that, looking him up and down. “And does your son have a mother?” 

“He does… she’s with someone else, they’re all together at their new house right now,” he explains. “Scott is actually asking her to marry him tomorrow— well, today technically.” 

“How weird is that for you?” 

“Not really weird, I like him. He’s nice,” Aaron shrugs. “And he’s good with my son so I’m glad he has another father figure who’s home more than I am.” 

“Your son sounds very lucky,” she smiles. “You clearly love him so much.” 

“I really do,” he smiles right back. Something about her makes him so happy, the way she compliments him how she looks at him and how easy it is to just talk to her. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?” 

She shakes her head, “Nope… don’t know when I’ll be leaving here though and I do need some sleep.” 

“Yeah, same,” he forgot how long labour takes. “What about on New Year's?” 

“I’m free,” she assures, leaning more into his space. “Are you asking me out, agent?” 

“I am,” he nods, staring down at her lips and then back to her eyes. “You’re so nice and pretty… I’d like to get to know you more.” 

“I’d like to—

“Aaron,” a voice calls out. Emily’s voice. “We have another niece.” 

He’s quick to pull away and stand up, “already?” 

She nods, “JJ is good at what she does… who’s this?” 

“Oh, hi,” she stands up and puts her hand out to his friend. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Emily,” she smiles. “Nice to meet you…” 

“my friend is also having a baby tonight,” she awkwardly smiles. “But go, go meet this little girl. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “I’ll come back out and see you before I leave?” 

“sounds good.” 

Emily walks him down the hall and stops at the door, “only 2 people are allowed in there at a time… I can go keep your friend company?” 

“Don’t… don’t be weird. I like her, she’s sweet,” he whispers. “I don’t get to meet nice, normal women often, let me have this.” 

“You can have her, I’ll go to Penelope’s,” she teases and he swats her arm. “Hey, okay, go in. I’ll wait out here.” 

—

Penelope is the next one to show up, Will and Aaron go out for some bad coffee, giving the girls some time to talk and Y/N’s nowhere to be seen out in the waiting room. Her friend must’ve had her baby… and he never had the chance to get her number. 

Visiting hours start again in a little while, meaning that they’ll all be allowed in her room soon and maybe, just maybe, he can have a peak into the other rooms to see her? 

Before he knows it, JJ goes for a nap, Penelope and Emily head out to get some food and Will sits beside his wife with his hand over hers. A nurse is coming in to take the baby for tests and monitoring and Will lets Aaron accompany her wherever she goes. She doesn’t have a name yet, she’s just baby girl LaMontagne and she’s the cutest. 

He waits outside the glass windows, watching all the nurses attend to all the babies wrapped up in their blue and pink blankets. He’s staring at them with so much awe and happiness, he doesn’t notice someone coming up beside him until she’s bumping shoulders with him. 

“hey there…” 

“Hi,” he beams a smile at her. “Did she have the baby?” 

She nods, “Yeah, she’s right there,” she points at the cot beside JJ’s daughter. 

“My friend's is to the right of her,” he coos. “Isn’t she beautiful?” 

“She is,” Y/N swoons. “God, now I want one even more.” 

“You’d be a good mom,” he whispers. “I can tell.” 

“Cause you’re a good dad or a good agent?” She teases. 

“A bit of both… Do you still want to go out sometime?” 

“I would,” she can’t believe it. She looks up at him in awe, “do you want my number?” 

“I would love your number,” he says as he pulls out his phone and hands it to her. “I don’t go back to work until the 3rd, intense cases permitting… so I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner? Maybe take a walk around and see the lights and fireworks at midnight?” 

“I’d really like that,” she swoons as she hands his phone back to him. “Even if we just ordered in and watched TV, I’d have fun with you.” 

“You know, out of all my times in waiting rooms, this has to be my favourite,” he teases. “I’m so glad I met you.” 

“Me too… and if it all works out, we have two little girls to thank for this,” she points at the two babies side by side, peaceful as ever. 

“That we do.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds imagine #ssavanessa22recs

[ssavanessa22]

peter and sad!reader ? anything you want to write about them

at least there’s that

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: sad reader, annoyingly happy peter

*

peter’s lingering in the kitchen. you know this because you can feel him, the same way you feel it when you’re forgetting something, or when you wake up late and immediately know it.

and because you can always feel him—not that you’ll admit it—even if he’s not here.

but tonight he’s actually lingering. literally sitting with his back against the wall, trying to pretend like there’s something important you’re supposed to be telling him.

“are you sure you trust me enough to pick?” he asks, for probably the seventh time.

“yes, peter.”

“i might pick a youtube video of cool spider-man clips.”

“i’ll watch it.”

“really?” he’s closer now, sneaking towards you like you can’t tell. his aura is impending.

you turn towards him with a fake smile. “with my eyes closed, obviously.”

“obviously.”

this might be the end of this discussion—because peter was supposed to be picking a movie while you compiled the snacks, five minutes ago—but it never is with him.

“are you sure that you’re sure?”

“go, peter. you’re scaring the popcorn.” you mutter, no effort in the joke. but you mean it when you tell him to leave.

you just want to be alone for a minute.

he must sense this in your tone, because he finally says “okay, okay” with his hands up and leaves the room.

you feel guilty for the way you slouch as soon as his absence is apparent.

you wanted this, you think, this time with him. but now that you have it, it’s nothing like you expected.

you’d wanted to be in a good mood. to quip with him and laugh into his mouth at some funny movie. to throw popcorn at each other. to tackle him and stay there for the rest of the night.

instead, you’re kind of hoping that you fall asleep ten minutes into the movie. kind of hoping that he gives up and goes home for the night.

which is ridiculous, because really you just want to tether yourself to him. skin to skin, eye to eye.

but you don’t want to drag him down, so it’s probably best if he just leaves.

you lean against the counter, rubbing your eyes. you’re not going to tell peter any of this, obviously, because he’ll try to fix it like the sweet guy he is.

but there’s nothing to fix. just you in this kitchen, all alone.

the microwave beeps, the popcorn ready. the assortment of weird sodas the peter brought over have been equally divided into your best glasses. the candy peter also brought in fancy little bowls. it’s all ready.

just waiting on you now.

peter must think the same, because he calls from the other room. “babe! what about up?”

“nothing that’s going to make me cry please.” you walk into the room then, trying not to seem suspicious.

“‘oh yes, peter, i trust you to pick the movie.’” he grumbles, doing a terrible impression of you.

“there’s ground rules.”

he smiles over at you, jumping up. “do you need help?”

“no, peter,” you shoo him away, even as he takes the popcorn bowl from him. “did you pick a movie?”

“yes.”

you nod, sitting down next to him so that your thighs are touching. but you sit back before he can put an arm around you. “what?”

“i thought you trusted me,” you glance at him, his eyes wide, and a ridiculous pout. “close your eyes.”

you sigh. “really?”

“yes. lest you doubt me.”

you do close your eyes, and feel that tearing in your chest. some type of exhaustion that’s excluded from medical books. that kind that makes you want to crawl into your room and cling to your bed like an antidepressant.

the movie begins playing, dramatic opening music filling your living room. but you don’t open your eyes.

just one more minute.

peter nudges you. “did you fall asleep?” he asks you, amused.

it takes a moment but you open your eyes, coming face to face with him and his squinted eyes. “no, sorry.”

“are you tired?”

“i’m excited for this movie,” you correct, unenthusiastically. “un-pause it.”

peter looks dubious but he does as you ask, still looking at you as you watch the rolling credits.

after a minute of this you sigh. “why are you staring at me.”

“somethings wrong.”

“you chose the movie.”

“with you.”

you look at him, with his brow furrowed in concern. “no, peter.”

“what’s going on, bug?” he asks, ignoring you. he moves closer, even though you hadn’t thought that was physically possible.

“nothing.”

“you’re a terrible liar, c’mon. you’re all drowsy.”

“i’m fine.”

he rolls his eyes like you’ve already been over something and he’s repeating himself. “you sure you want to watch a movie? we could talk. or just cuddle. i’ll take a nap with you.”

“give me that,” you grab the remote from him, frustrated. you press play and stretch away from peter.

he doesn’t protest as you move away from him and hide between the cushions of the couch.

but you know that he doesn’t look away.

“okay,” he says to you, very softly. “we don’t have to talk. just let me know if you need anything.”

you nod, stiffly, and peter finally begins to watch the movie.

and your apartment is comfortable at its 72 degrees, but you suddenly feel very cold inside. missing something that you didn’t know was there.

there’s something scratching your throat, like a physical aptitude of desperation. the movie begins to blur, and your eyes hurt. your chest hurts, like someone’s punched you, but you know that there’s only one person to blame.

just you, and your shivering heart.

you swallow, looking to peter. he’s watching the movie peacefully, throwing popcorn into his mouth.

you feel bad for him. and for yourself.

but it doesn’t stop you from sliding over to him, your arm brushing his.

“peter,” you whisper.

“hmm, bug?”

“will you cuddle with me?”

peter looks over to you, his face soft and his eyes watching yours carefully. “of course.”

his arms goes around your shoulder before you can blink, and he’s crushing you into him. he smells like butter, but his shirt is warm.

you don’t mind being smushed to death, so you just move into him.

he puts his other arm around you too, moving into some type of makeshift hug. “good?”

you nod into his chest.

the two of you sit for a moment. just blissfully holding onto each other, peter squeezing like he’s worried you might disappear.

at least you’re not cold. that feeling is still there, but dimmed, because the feeling of peter is much more welcome.

the movie is irrelevant, and your eyes fall elsewhere, thinking about nothing. and everything. as usual.

peter starts to run his hand up and down your arm and you shiver, making him laugh.

you hope that it’ll bleed into you. that somehow, skin to skin exposure will spread whatever sort of easygoing disease he has. but probably not.

still, peter leans down, resting on your head “hey,” he whispers to you.

“hey,” you say back, as response.

“i love you, you know?”

“i know,” you repeat, smaller now. “i know.”

“okay,” peter smiles down at you, kissing your hair. “as long as you know.”

you sit with that for a moment, still not wanting to say anything to peter about any of this.

but you relent. “will you stay the night?”

peter nuzzles into you, his nose writing words into your scalp. you can feel his heart beating in time with yours. “whatever you want,” he says.

at least there’s that.

*

#tasm peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader

[ssavanessa22]

fuck spotify forreal for taking away the little heart icon... i dont want to add songs to my creepy ass collection i want to like them i want to love them

[ssavanessa22]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

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

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

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

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #ahhhhh I loved this so so much

[ssavanessa22]

ticking all the boxers | rhett abbott x plus size!reader

summary: when rhett notices something about your nighttime attire, it leads to a unexpected and tender conversation about the things you love about one another.

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: some brief discussions about negative body image (this is for my bigger girlies who love rhett abbott and his slutty little waist), cursing, me being on my usual saccharine bullshit, rhett referring to the reader as ‘my girl’

PS: obvs my straight sized lovelies are more than welcome to read this but reader is specified as being bigger than rhett, so! just a heads up.

a/n: i absolutely love the trope of stealing your partners clothes, but as a plus size gal myself, that option becomes limited, if available at all. i was feeling mushy about rhett and thus my first full length story since fucking february was born lol! hope you enjoy <3 PPS: i was gonna have this turn into smut but i figured i’d save that for a part two if anyone wants it!

You’re lounging in your bed, covers flipped back in wait while Rhett washes up in the bathroom. The quiet hiss of the shower has you blinking back sleep, but when you hear the water turn off, you smile, ready to curl up beside him for a good night’s rest. You don’t know what you’re expecting when your boyfriend saunters back in, but it certainly isn’t him towel drying his hair, buck-ass naked. Something in the back of your heart warms at the domesticity of it, that he’s comfortable enough in your space to walk around completely bare–– but you’re more than a little distracted at the sight of him. After all, you’re only human; you can’t help but stare. It’s ridiculous, really, the way he inspires fondness and lust in equal measure. He catches you looking and grins like he wasn’t expecting it.

Keep reading

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #Vanessa’srecs

[ssavanessa22]

current sexuality: spencer reid’s hands

#i literally want him to **** my ***** so ******* hard that I *** all over his **** #LMAO #GOT ME ACTING LIKE A BITCH IN HEAT #can you guys tell #I’m ovulating right now 😭😭😭

[ssavanessa22]

This got me kicking and swinging my feet omfg 😝🤭🤭

okay but bodyguard!hotch falling for the biggest bookworm ever, like he can watch her for hours reading by her favourite spot at the window, overlooking the gardens and rain and he loves reading to her before she falls asleep on his lap 🥹🥹🥹

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

You're too immersed in the novel you're reading to hear Aaron's footsteps approach from behind, but you feel his large hands smooth over your shoulders, fingertips digging into the tense muscles there.

"You make my job too easy," He murmurs, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disrupt your serenity, "Have you moved all morning?"

"No," You grin sheepishly up at him, "I lost track of time."

"You always do that," His beaming smile is equally as sweet as the romance woven into the story you're reading is, and you feel the same butterflies as the main character does when Aaron's hands slide up your neck to cup your chin.

He holds your head up to face him as he stares down at you, your scalp pinned to his shirt. He squishes gently at your cheeks, "Lunch is ready. I thought you'd come and be my taste-tester again."

"Sorry," You hum, sure that he can feel the vibrations of your voice where he's still holding your throat, "I didn't hear you in the kitchen. You don't have to cook for me, y'know? You're not getting paid for that."

"I'm getting paid to do nothing," He teases, kneading more at the flesh of your cheeks with his large thumbs, "You sit in the window all day, I feel like I'm catsitting. I'm happy to make you lunch, otherwise I think you'd get too lost in your reading to eat."

You feel your cheeks heat up at his gentle teasing, and you're sure he does too. You slide your bookmark between the pages that you're on, standing when he finally releases your face from his warm grip.

"What are we eating?" You let him take your hand, trailing after him from the sitting room into the kitchen.

"You're eating soup," He leads you to your place at the table, another placemat across from you, though there's no bowl on top of the fabric. "I already ate."

"Aaron, I'm sorry," You look up at him with a mournful fret in your eyes, "I didn't mean to starve you. I- I'm glad you ate, but next time if you're hungry you don't have to eat alone, you can just come and get me."

"Relax." He tells you, his large hands covering your own as he pulls your chair out for you, easing you into the seat, "I ate first so that I could read to you while you have your meal, honey."

"You want to read to me?" You tilt your head to the side, "I'm reading one of those cheesy romance novels. Mass-market paperback."

"I like cheesy romance," He inspects the back cover of the book you hadn't noticed him smuggle from the sitting room, "Ooh, 'Marilyn's bodyguard has dark eyes and a penchant for holding her hand.' Sounds like a good setup," Aaron grins at you where your face must be burning hotter than the steaming soup in front of you, "What made you choose this one?"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #ssavanessa22recs

[ssavanessa22]

i feel like everyone's really glossing over the fact that allan canonically killed someone. there is a doll IN CANON with a kill count. i love him