#derek got left behind

[mrspasser]

After the snap - chapter 1 - Sterek fanfic

Another fic from a while back that didn't get put on Tumblr. Well, it's here now. Please keep some tissues nearby, I'm told they're needed.

The werewolf across from her shifts in his seat. It's always a bit like pulling teeth with him, getting him to share his thoughts. At first, she was convinced he would give up on therapy. Truthfully, even after almost four years of it she still wonders every now and then if he would just stop showing up some day. Yet, he keeps coming to their weekly appointments. They're short, only thirty minutes, and sometimes no more than ten words come out of her client. However, she has learned to listen to what isn't being said, to read between the lines. It’s how she knows that getting therapy is a promise he made to someone important, before The Snap.

Find it on A03 and Wattpad

After the snap - Chapter 1

Melody Brooks looks over her schedule for the day. She has five clients today. Two in the morning, two in the afternoon and one in her evening slot. After that, she has a short session with her colleague, to evaluate their day. Or, to just unload all the worries her clients have bestowed upon her that day. It's not unusual for them to do it over a glass of Bordeaux, after all, they're just human. As are all of her clients too, even though some of them are a little more than human.

It's something the world learned after The Snap, or The Blip, the euphemisms used to describe the annihilation of half the people on the planet. Most churches stopped using the phrase "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" after that catastrophic day, as it was too painful for their congregation to hear. Melody tries to see the irony in that, believing that humor can be a healthy coping mechanism when deployed appropriately. It's one way to deal with it, as there are many ways, not all of them healthy or right. Still, each person has a right to deal with it in their own way, to act as they see fit. She is just there to help them along the way, if they want her to.

The people suffered from the loss of their loved ones, some to the point of being no longer able to deal with those losses. Suicide rates had gone up after that day, and now, almost five years later, they're still higher than before. Melody lost clients, some of them even after years of therapy. Others, she was able to help pick up their lives again, to live on with the memories. Everyone's progress is different, some are faster than others. And with some, the pace is glacial. 

"So, Derek, tell me. What's new this week?"

The werewolf across from her shifts in his seat. It's always a bit like pulling teeth with him, getting him to share his thoughts. At first, she was convinced he would give up on therapy. Truthfully, even after almost four years of it she still wonders every now and then if he would just stop showing up some day. Yet, he keeps coming to their weekly appointments. They're short, only thirty minutes, and sometimes no more than ten words come out of her client. However, she has learned to listen to what isn't being said, to read between the lines. It’s how she knows that getting therapy is a promise he made to someone important, before The Snap.

"The old fox burrow is in use again," he says, his gaze locked on the coffee table between them.

"Oh? Just one fox? Or a family?" Melody actually quite likes the information Derek Hale shares with her about the animal life in the Preserve that surrounds most of Beacon Hills. With his heightened senses the werewolf can discern more than others. It's his job too, he's been a park ranger for two years now. Getting the job was cause for celebration, to her surprise the man had even hugged her, momentarily overwhelmed by emotions.

"Two. I think there'll be a family soon." He smiles a little then, looking up from the table. The Snap had affected all living creatures, animals and man alike. To see nature finding its way again is important beyond measure.

"That's good news!" Melody acknowledges, before moving on to a new subject. "Did your shipment of timber come in yet?"

Derek nods. “Not all of it, but the large beams are there, so I can start on the framework.”

In the past two years, the werewolf had torn down the charred remains of his old family home in the Preserve bit by bit, meaning to build a new house in its place. Melody had once happened upon the old house when hiking the trails. She was not a native to Beacon Hills, but her friend was, and he had told her about the Hales and the tragedy of the fire that took the lives of most of the family. Of course there was more to that story than the average townspeople knew, as it all happened before people were privy to the existence of werewolves and other supernatural creatures. 

The alien invasion in New York proved that they were not alone in the universe. And after The Snap, people discovered mankind wasn’t alone on Earth either. Or rather, that mankind was more diverse than they’d all thought. And The Snap had affected everybody. Werewolves without pack, witches without their coven, forests that were suddenly bereft of their protecting druids, the list went on and on. One good thing that came out of The Snap was that mankind bonded together, reaching out to the people that remained. And, to some people’s surprise or even anger, that bond also extended to the people that were a little more than human. People were so happy to see their neighbour survive that they didn’t even care that their neighbour went furry each full moon. Melody’s parents, who had both miraculously survived that dreadful day, discovered that their neighbour from across the street was a druid. Her father just said it explained a lot about why Ted’s rose bushes were always the first to blossom. 

Derek is more at ease with the older man than with the younger, she knows they get together a couple of nights a week, drinking beer and playing cards, or watching a game. She has met the sheriff a couple of times and admires him strongly. He lost his son in The Snap, a boy in his early twenties, and most of his deputies. However, out of a strong sense of community, the sheriff kept on going. It is mainly thanks to him that the town pulled through the way they did. 

Besides a werewolf, Melody also has a witch as a client. William Johnson is the retired head of the local elementary school, always dressed in a sweater vest, with his dark, bald head shining like a bowling ball. He was one of the most positive people she’d ever met, but he’d lost his wife and almost his whole coven in The Snap, and that was more than enough to rattle a man.

Derek Hale also lost his people, his pack. For the second time, as it turned out. The man had experienced trauma upon trauma and he was most certainly not ready to rehash all that. So they work on the little things, on moving forward, one step at a time, to keep on living. He is not totally alone, that helps a little. There is another werewolf, an Alpha like him, and there is a human, the father of one of his lost packmates. The three of them have formed a new, makeshift pack, even though a pack usually has only one Alpha. Melody knows the new house will have rooms for them, even though they don’t live together now and maybe never will. 

After Derek has told her about his work on the house, she asks about his pack. “How’s Scott? Did you talk to him this week?”

Over the years Melody has learned that Stiles, the sheriff’s son, held an important place in Derek’s life. There were Boyd, Erica, Isaac and Jackson, all connected to him through the bond between Alpha and Beta. There was Scott, who was a rather reluctant member of Derek’s pack, which explained their rocky relationship in the present. And there was Stiles, not a werewolf, yet maybe the most loyal member of Derek’s pack nonetheless. Of the pack only Scott remained. At first there was Scott’s girlfriend too, but she had moved away with her family to Europe after The Snap and Derek had mentioned them breaking up not long after.

Derek scoffs quietly. He doesn’t always see eye to eye with the other werewolf and they often have little spats because of it. At first, Derek was bottling everything up inside, afraid to lose yet another pack member. In time, he’s learned that he wouldn’t lose his friend just because they argued. It is slow learning, heavily influenced by past experiences. He had to learn that he was not the only one that needed the other, that his friend would never truly leave him, even though they might not speak for a couple of days because emotions ran high between them. 

“It was different… with Stiles,” Derek had once said in one of his rare moments of transparency. “We argued all the time, but he always stayed, even when I didn’t want him to.” A wistful smile had crossed his face. “He was always there.” For me , was left unsaid but still heard.

“Scott has been doing that speed-date thing again,” Derek answers after a short pause. “He wanted me to come too.”

“It could be nice, meeting new people?” Melody knows to tread lightly when it comes to this subject. There are names in Derek’s past, Kate or Jennifer for instance, that have done a lot of damage. And there is one name he still holds on to, long after his disappearance.

“I don’t need to sit down at a table to do that.” It sounds bitter and Melody knows the reason behind that. Derek is a handsome man, beautiful to most standards, even with the white hairs that have appeared in his short beard. It’s a face that makes people look twice, even though most days he doesn’t carry the most friendly expression. It’s a face that makes people approach him, has women - and some men - give him their number or outright proposition him. 

“People at a speed-date event tend to be looking for a relationship instead of a one night stand. It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Don’t care.” With that, Derek closes off again. Melody makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, knowing the werewolf can hear her. She’s not judging and Derek knows that by now. It’s another thing he’s learned. 

“It’s almost time,” she says, closing her notebook. “Will I see you next week?”

Derek nods, getting up from his chair. “I’ll be here.”

***

“Thanks, son,” Noah says as he takes the beer from Derek. “God knows I could use a cold one after the day I've had.” He has been out and about all day in the California summer. He’s grateful that Derek’s loft is nice and cool, partially thanks to the dark curtains in front of the large window. 

“Dinner’s ready in twenty,” the werewolf informs him, taking a seat at the kitchen table across from him. They always sit here when they’re in the loft; they have their own seats, their own routines. Derek’s kitchen table is a comfortable place to be. The table is handcrafted from wood from the Preserve, made by Derek himself. The chairs are a fairly recent addition to the loft; comfortable seats that invite you to sit in them for long nights filled with good food and interesting conversation. 

“Smells good already.” Noah takes a long drink from his beer, washing away the dust from the day. He’d spent most of the afternoon directing traffic, when a truck with live cattle went off the road. Only one of the cows was hurt bad enough that they had to put her down, the others came away with minor scratches and a good scare. At his age he wasn’t going to run after escaped cows anymore, he’d left that to his young deputies and had taken it upon himself to direct traffic around the area of the crash. He likes doing that, most of the people waving a hello at him when they move past him.

“I used one of Claudia’s recipes,” Derek says, drinking from his own beer.

“The beef casserole,” Noah nods, “I already thought it smelled familiar.” Between the two of them Derek is the best cook; Claudia’s recipe books are in good hands with him.

In the comfortable silence that follows Noah looks idly around the room. Over the years the loft has become more homey, with Derek adding furniture, carpets and drapes to the industrial open space. He knows a lot of it was Stiles' idea, his son urging his Alpha to make a more permanent home for himself. Stiles hasn't been around to see how much of his suggestions Derek has actually followed, with most of it happening after that disastrous day that cut down the world's population by half. Still, it warms Noah's heart to see what Derek did - and still does - to keep the memory of his pack, and Stiles foremost, alive. 

One of the walls is covered in photographs, most of them taken from the phones of the kids. Stiles is in a lot of those photos, often smiling. There is one picture that he loves best, one that was taken without Stiles knowing. If he remembers correctly, it was Erica who took it. She was responsible for the lion's share of the pictures on the wall, on account of her always taking pictures with her phone. In the photograph Stiles and Derek are sagged out on the sofa, sitting shoulder to shoulder and both with their socked feet up on the coffee table. Stiles is throwing up a piece of popcorn and Derek is tracking it through the air with his eyes, his mouth already partially opened to catch it. In the corner of the photograph is Lydia, her bare feet wedged underneath Stiles' thigh. She is watching the tv outside of the frame, snuggled comfortably underneath Jackson's arm - the only part of him that is visible in this particular photo. Noah loves how relaxed they all are in the picture, the way you can see how close they all are. 

Just one of the kids in that photo survived. The sofa is still here too, yet nobody sits on it anymore. Scott has urged Derek more than once to get rid of it, to get rid of the painful memories it contains. Derek refuses, a recurring point of strife between the two werewolves. 

***

The sofa is a silent memorial to those who were lost, sitting smack dab in the middle of the Alpha's living room. Stiles was sitting there when he turned to dust, visiting Derek during his break from college. Derek had just gotten up to make them coffee when it happened, his claws raking through dusty flakes a moment later. Noah had covered the desperate claw marks with a throw spread that had been in Stiles' dorm room, something that Derek allowed only because it smelled like Stiles.

Maybe it isn't healthy for Derek to have such a monument in his living room, to hold on to the sliver of hope that they would return some day; to think that there would be a day that Stiles would sit there again, throwing up popcorn for Derek to catch. Maybe it is unfair of Noah to like that Derek keeps the sofa untouched and waiting. Maybe. But Noah will never be the one to take it away.

"That's good. She sounds nice," Allison says in her soft voice. "How's Derek? And Noah?"

Allison smiles at him from the screen, her cheeks dimpling in that familiar way he loves. It used to ache to see her, but not anymore. They are in a different place now, one where they can be friends and look back fondly upon the time they had together. 

Scott tells her about the date he had with the girl he met at the speed dating event the week before. They'd gone out for coffee, to get to know each other.  "I was the first werewolf she ever met, but she seems cool with it. I think I'm gonna see her again."

"The sheriff's been well. Still not thinking about retirement though." Scott grimaces a little. Noah isn't getting any younger, but he doesn't want to hear of stopping. "Derek is… well, Derek." He shrugs. "We've got most of the framework up for the new house. You can really start to see how it'll be when it's finished. You should visit us when the house is done, we'll have a housewarming party or something!"

“What?” Scott is a little confused. Just a moment ago Allison was talking about the representation of supernatural entities in the government of the European Union, and now he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “What are you on about, Ally?”

"You know what, I think I will!" Allison smiles jovially and continues by telling what she and her father have been up to in Europe. They have ties with what remains of The Avengers, the supernatural branch of it at least. Scott doesn't really know much about it. On the one hand Allison doesn't tell him much - or isn't allowed to tell. And on the other hand it's something that Scott doesn't want anything to do with. What happened in The Blip was horrible. He lost his mother, his best friend and many other friends and family members. But it also brought good things. He feels as if the world is closer knit together than before. He doesn't have to hide his supernatural side anymore. So he tries to look forward, to see the good things. There is nothing to be gained from getting stuck in the past.

“Things are happening, Scott. I can’t tell you about it, hell, I don’t even know much about it myself, but there is something!”

“Thanos! There might be a way to defeat Thanos!”

Scott frowns. “I thought he was gone? Like, gone off to some far away planet where nobody can find him?” It had taken him some time, but eventually he’d accepted that Thanos was in a whole other league than their usual monster of the week . There were other people to deal with him; real life superheroes, who had gadgets and weapons and who worked with the U.S. government. Sure, he wanted to kick Thanos’ ass just as much as every other human being on this planet. But he couldn’t, being a werewolf did not make him a match for the Titan, far from it. And besides, he wouldn’t even know where his ass was to begin to kick it.

“I’m telling you, Scott, there might be a way!”

***

It happened on a monday, May 21 in 2018. The date is engraved in Derek’s memory, like the day his family’s house burned down or the day Laura died. It’s the day he lost his family for the second time. 

It happens on a normal weekday in October, 2023. Derek is sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying a cup of tea after dinner. He’s reading an old novel, one from the James Bond series that his father used to love. Derek has seen most of the movies, the newer ones at least, and he rather enjoys the novels too. 

The sound from the street reaches him first. The building his loft is in used to be abandoned and run down, but it was the first project he undertook when his life settled somewhat. Now, all the apartments are lived in and the street sees some light traffic. It’s a quiet street, yet outside there’s the sound of screeching tires, followed by confused shouts. Derek rushes towards the window, looking down at the dark street. There’s a car shoved halfway up the sidewalk, the driver’s door open, with the driver shouting at a person who is standing in the middle of the street. The person, a man dressed in stained overalls, is looking around himself in a dazed way. He clearly doesn’t know what’s happening.

Derek is about to dismiss him as a drunk, when there’s a small noise behind him. Something like the wind blowing through the leaves, only there is no wind and there are no leaves. 

“D… Derek?”

His heart falls through his stomach and his knees buckle in the same moment. Derek crashes to the floor, his eyes locked on the phantom vision in the middle of his living room. There, on the sofa, dressed in the grey University of Berkeley hoodie he was wearing when he disappeared, is Stiles.

The young man makes a noise of distress when Derek hits the floor and rushes over to him. The hands that grab his shoulders feel real, solid. 

Change washes over him involuntarily, his fangs lengthening, his nails sharpening and his vision washing red. But the man at his side is not deterred. “Derek? What’s happening? Derek?”

He grabs the grey hoodie with both hands, his claws piercing the fabric. “You’re not real,” he wrings out of his closed up throat. “You, you can’t be.”

Yet everything is telling him the boy is real. His hands are firm and warm. His breath is coming rapidly, his heart beating even faster. The hands close around his wrists, holding them but not pulling them away. “Derek? What is this?”

The werewolf sags against the boy, burying his face against his chest. Stiles barely manages to stay upright, catching him in a tangle of limbs. “You’re here,” Derek says breathlessly, “you’re here, you’re here.”

“I am,” Stiles answers, voice wobbling slightly. He wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders, holding him against him. “I’m here.”

Derek can’t say how long they are sitting there like that. At some point Stiles pokes and prods them into a different position, complaining about pins and needles in his leg, but they keep holding each other. He has his face buried in Stiles’ neck, breathing his scent in over and over, to keep reminding himself that apparently this is real. Stiles is really here. 

When his phone rings in his pocket, he knows it’s Noah. It’s the only reason he picks up, the only reason he takes one hand off Stiles to take his phone out of his pocket. 

“Derek?” The sheriff sounds like the way Derek feels. “Is he…?”

“Yes,” Derek croaks. “He is.”

“At the loft?”

“Yes.” It’s all Derek can get out.

“I’m coming.”

Derek puts the phone away. From this close, Stiles was able to hear the conversation even without werewolf hearing. He doesn’t need to repeat it for him. Couldn’t, even if he tried. He doesn’t have the voice for it.

Stiles doesn’t ask for it either. Doesn’t ask whether that was his father on the phone. He just lets Derek burrow back against him, keeping him as close as Derek does him. 

“Huh,” Stiles says after a moment, his fingers scratching idly in the short hairs on Derek’s nape. “You put up curtains.”

Chapter 2

#long post #chaptered fanfic #sterek #sterek fanfic #marvel au #derek hale #stiles stilinski #Thanos snapped his fingers #Derek got left behind #happy ending #tear jerker #ilse writes fanfiction #derek x stiles #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

I need a completely rewritten teen wolf series with Derek Hale as the main character. I think it would heal me.

#we follow Derek from New York. Laura left for beacon hills. it’s been six years since he was back but he hasn’t heard from her #and hes going stir crazy waiting. he packs up and travels back. it’s almost too much immediately. he still can’t get a hold of Laura #he can’t resist going home. it’s like a natural pull that guides him back. all at once he’s 16 again. staring at the wreckage of his life #deputy stilinski is sherrif now. it’s reassuring in the slightest that the police force seems to have moved on from how corrupt it was #he catches her scent and it’s putrid. bile catches in his throat. he seeks it out. still in denial to what he knows it means. #when he finds Laura it’s like the world ends all over again. he can’t stand to see her like this. he gives her a proper burial. #the best he can do at least #he visits Peter. he’s not the man Derek remembers- so full of fire and cunning. their relationship may have been strained at times. #often Derek felt more like Eve being swayed by the snake than a normal friendship #but this isn’t the sharp tongued uncle who guided him. this is a broken shell. all that remained of his family. he was so lost. #22 but he barely knew how to function without his family- his pack paving the way #Laura handled everything. she got the apartment. she made sure they had food. Derek looks back and feels so useless #he was so lost in his grief. Laura must of felt the same way but she never let them drown in it #she made sure he got his GED. even got him to enroll in community college classes. #he took them online. he never was able to warm up to people the same way. he used to be so full of life. now he just wanted to be left alone #he studied English. never finished his degree. doesn’t look like he ever will now. he can’t go back to Laura and his shared home. #can’t bare to see another shell of a home #he vents to the vacant audience of Peter and his cold fixed eyes #Derek leaves. he wants to promise he’ll return soon #but promises feel costly these days #he decides to go back to the reserve. maybe he can find some clue as to what happened to Laura #someone lured her here. someone who knew them and their history here #his mind went to the worst. Kate. why would she go through the trouble six years later. why wait so long. #Derek couldn’t stomach the thought of facing her. he focused on the woods. the scents were all over the place. #clearly multiple people had been through here recently. two scents were much stronger. Derek follows them #but when he hears the crunch of leaves he realizes why the scents are so strong. they’re still here #he ducks behind some trees. listening in on their conversation. but an echo of their scent catches his attention #he spots an inhaler on the ground. he puts two and two together and swipes it from the leaves. #he comes out once they’re closer. tossing over the inhaler- he figures they’ll leave. dumb kids messing around in the woods #he reminds them this is private property. though that may not be true anymore. he recognizes the scent of a new beta. interesting.

[cluescorner]

Started crying over the Batman Beyond Animated Movie concept art. I am so normal.

#do they want my left or right kidney? they can have that one and my appendix as I don't need those to survive #I'm saving my uterus for Silksong if it needs more funding. I'm not gonna use it so might as well. #/j #about selling my organs not about crying over Batman Beyond Animated Movie #I think a Batman Beyond Animated Movie could fix me. Or make me even more autistic about it. probably both. #Batman Beyond is what got me into Batman. it was the only Batman related thing my library had and I thought it looked cool #so I would just watch Batman Beyond for like 5 hours minimum every day during my surgery recovery #so if you're wondering why I am like this...that's why. Batman Beyond did it. it's still my comfort media and i always go back to it #THAT ONE IMAGE OF INQUE CHASING TERRY?? OH MY GOD IT'S SO GORGEOUS #oh my god I am so ordinary and neurotypical #THE FUCKING PRODUCTION DESIGN GUY ON SPIDERVERSE POSTED THEM?? #sav eme Batman Beyond Animated Movie #it will fix me I promise #if it is made I will forgive Bruce Timm for his weird thing for Batman x Batgirl. #SPIDERVERSE OF BATMAN MOVIES?? OH MY GOD #Derek Powers on my movie screen #THE SHIT THEY COULD DO WITH SHRIEK??? HOLY FUCK #I hope to god they still have the cold open on old-man Batman (world-weary and brittle-boned) almost shooting somebody in a panic #because THAT is the only compelling reason I have ever seen for Bruce leaving behind the mantle #I love content where its like 'oh when he gets older he becomes the Alfred to a new Batman' or 'he'll retire because Gotham will be better' #but I'll be honest. I do not think Bruce is capable of retirement. I do not think he would ever hang up the mantle willingly #unless he almost became the very kind of person who got his parents killed: a gun-wielding coward. the pain in his eyes. #I could see that. Bruce realizing that he is incapable of being Batman. That he will do more harm for Gotham than good. #if they don't want it to be the opener that's fine. but I want that damn scene. #ajdfl;dksajfl;kjdsfl;kadjskl;fjds Terry my friend Terry on my movie screen #I am going to explode

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hi fawn 🏞️ what do you think bau!reaction would be to early spencer reid having a really hot girlfriend when they come to his house for some reason and a girl comes to answer the door with a robe and messy hair?

There’s an incessant knocking at Spencer’s front door but the man is sound asleep beside you.

His eyelashes look soft and pretty like the rest of him and you fight hard not to brush a finger against the crush of them.

You can also see some of the marks you’d left on him the night before- purple mottling bruises along his collarbones and chest that make you smile.

Taking pity on him, you kiss his brown one and slip into one of his old shirts and shove your feet into slippers before padding out to the front door.

On the other side of the door you can make out talking, “Wonder if he’s okay?” You hear a girl say and then, “It’s Spencer, he can hold his own.” Says a male one and then there’s another male voice that says, “If he doesn’t open this door in the next second I’m kicking it in Garcia.”

So you open it, using half of the door to block your body from view.

“Morning, can I help you?” You’re vaguely aware of the fact that there’s four FBI looking agents standing before you while you’re just wearing your boyfriend’s discarded shirt and you want to flush but what can you do- it’s hardly even eight o’clock.

“Yes you can,” says a bald man, Morgan you assume from Spencer’s recounts of his friends. “Where’s Spencer, sweetheart?”

You frown, “Asleep. Do you need him for work?”

A girl in a bright orange skirt shakes her head, “Oh you’re gorgeous! Hi I’m Penelope, that’s Derek, there’s JJ, Hotch.” The man named Hotch clears his throat, giving you a tiny smile.

“We do sorry. Can you get him?” He asks politely and you nod, eyeing them all a little. They’re all looking at you like you’ve grown three heads, a mixture of shock (from Penelope and JJ), pride (from Derek) and something akin to knowing on Hotch’s face.

You’re about to shut the door to get your boyfriend when you feel him right behind you. “Spence, your friends are here,”

Derek whistles and you catch sight of the marks visible on your boyfriend and you feel a little embarrassed. “Okay pretty boy, I see you!” JJ smacks Derek who groans and laughs a little.

He kisses the crown of your head, “Sorry, angel.” He whispers, still knuckling sleep from his eyes. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” He says to his team who all nod.

“We’re in the SUV.” Hotch says, Penelope nods, giving you a bright smile.

“It was so nice to meet you! We have to go for drinks sometime!”

JJ laughs, “It was nice to meet you.” You nod, a little smile on your face.

Derek claps Spencer on his shoulder and gives you a nod before Spencer closes the door, you can just faintly make out, “Spencer’s got game!” As it shuts.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they’d show up at my door.” Spencer says softly and you shrug.

“That’s your job Spence, it’s unpredictable. Can we squeeze coffee into those twenty minutes?” Spencer smiles, all tired and lovely.

“Yeah I can, let me shower first and I’ll be down for five minutes of morning coffee.”

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[spencereidluver]

E is for Even Guys Like Me?

summary: you tell spencer about the conversation you'd overheard with his mother. he gets embarrassed, and even a little angry.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: the slightest teensiest bit of angst. mostly just a lot of spencer crushing for reader

It had been a little over two weeks since you overheard Spencer’s phone call with his mother. You’d been making it your mission to drop little hints at him about your feelings being the same, but they all seemed to just go over his head. You decided it’d be best to find a moment and tell him directly before it’s too late. 

You were on a case right now, you and Spencer once again staying back in the PD to work on the intellectual side of things. Though a lot of time was spent together, this was not a time for deep conversations. You’d wait on the case before you said anything. You didn’t want to distract the genius. Because, despite what he had told Hotch in your meeting last month, Spencer did most of the work. You were just there on the off chance that he didn’t know something, which was pretty much never.

Three days went by, you had to try your best to not be too flirtatious with Spencer. He got flustered fast. And you weren’t sure how experienced he was, you didn’t want to move too quickly. Though your guys’ carpooling and coffee sharing was normal, it felt different for you now. More meaningful. You caught yourself blushing sometimes when the tall boy would bring in two cups of coffee, one with his name and one with yours. He’d even begun leaving sticky notes on them sometimes, ever since you did the morning of the phone call. You’ve saved them all in your desk, his handwritten script being some of the most effortlessly beautiful things you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. _____

You’re seated on the jet on the way home from the case. Directly to your left, is Spencer, who is deeply entranced in a book, “A Study in Scarlet,” by Arthur Conan Doyle, the book that he received in last year’s white elephant gift exchange, which took place before you began working at the BAU. Across from you is Emily and Derek, and Hotch and Rossi are at the booth behind her. JJ stayed home for this case as she is pregnant. She is in charge of files until she gives birth and returns from maternity leave. 

The silence in the jet is broken by a head turn from Hotch who clears his throat. “Are you three up for dinner tonight?” He says.

“My treat,” Rossi adds. 

“Well, if Papa Dave is paying, then of course I’ll be there,” Emily says.

“Sure, I’ll go,” you said, glancing over at Spencer who hadn’t even looked up from his book. “I’m sure Spence will come too.” Derek kicked you under the table and gave you a wink. His teasings were the main reason you haven't made any moves on Spencer prior to hearing him speak to his mother about you. 

Almost on beat, Spencer looks up, “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll just need a ride if that’s alright,” he said. His eyes met yours.

“I’ll give you a ride, Spence.” Another kick from Derek, this time, you kick him back. Emily catches on to the teasing game of footsies going on under the table and gives you and Derek a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at the two of them and pull your feet into your lap. Sitting criss-cross now, you pull out your book of crossword puzzles and begin scribbling answers.

______

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed. Emily and Derek had fallen asleep, and not a peep had been heard from Rossi or Hotch either. Spencer was still awake and was coming up on the final few pages of his book. He was curled into a small ball against the wall in the corner of the seat, his knees to his chest and feet pointed toward you. His mismatched socks peeked out from beneath his khakis, one pink and one yellow. The shoestring of his left converse was coming untied. Untied! That was the answer to the last line of your puzzle! You subconsciously thank Spencer for his accidental aid to your old woman games, and it’s almost as if he heard it. He looks at his watch, then up at you.

“Hmm, we should be back in Quantico in 17 minutes. Taking to account the wind speed, maybe even 16,” he says. He crinkles his nose and returns to the last pages of his book. You scribble in the final word of your crossword puzzle and begin to pack up. You slide your puzzle book into your small carry on backpack, and begin to clear off the rest of the table. You pick up yours and Emily’s empty coffee mugs and reach around Spencer’s elbows which were rested against the table to grab his. You stack the three mugs together and grab Derek’s plate. Derek was the only person you knew who would eat four pork chops at 3pm, then agree to go to dinner only two hours later. 

Spencer sees you take his mug and looks up at you. He gives you a smile and whispers a soft “thank you.” 

______

Spencer was seated on the passenger side of your car. His eyes were following the flashing lights as you drove down the city streets in the darkness. It was 7:30pm. A little late for dinner, but it’s when the jet got back. Plus, you were hungry.

The light was hitting Spencer’s face in a way that made him look ethereal. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, alluding a hum in response. Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he looked at you. Somehow, from the repositioning of his head, the lighting somehow hit his face even better. The yellow luminescence shining through the windows made the honey brown of his eyes almost 3-dimensional. It felt as if he was looking inside of you. He was truly breathtaking.

“Okay,” you sigh, “please don’t hate me, but I kind of overheard you and your mom’s conversation…”

“What?”

“Well, just your side. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t… I just… I need to-”

Spencer interrupts you. It was dark, but you could tell his cheeks were red. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I just…”

“How much did you hear?”

“It was only the end. If you would’ve been talking about something personal I would’ve left but-”

“How is me opening up about my feelings for someone not personal?” He seemed a little angry.

“No, it is, and I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have, y/n.”

“Spencer, I…” You looked at the man in the seat beside you. You didn’t want this conversation to upset him. You really wished you hadn’t spoken. You could see the betrayal in his eyes. You felt truly awful.

“You what?” He broke the silence, eyes meeting yours. He stared at you intently. 

You took a moment, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t want to break his trust even more. “Spencer, I like you too.”

His eyes were blown huge. “Huh?” “I like you too. I’ve liked you since I first started working here. I didn’t want to try anything because I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you even date because I know some people with this job don’t. And-”

You were rambling. You were trying your best to defend yourself. Spencer’s eyes were searching your face. He was profiling you. You were telling the truth.

“I, wow. I didn’t know you felt that way, y/n…”

You reached for his hand. It was cold and shaky. You ran your thumb over the back of it, letting it raise and drop with the veins it crossed. He began shaking even more, so you let go. He snaps his hand to his thigh, and with his other hand, traces the tracks you’d left. He smiles to himself and lets out a large sigh. 

____

“You guys have a good night,” Rossi says as he climbs into his luxury sedan. The team had just finished a large dinner and were beginning to head their separate ways. 

“Don’t worry, Papa Dave, I’ll get the kid home safe,” Derek says, giving Spencer a playful noogie. 

Spencer agreed to a ride home from Derek at dinner. Maybe it was because their houses were only a few streets away from each others’, or maybe, he still felt a little awkward from your previous conversation with him. You didn’t mind all that much though, after all, you’d finally openly expressed your feelings for him. That was enough for one night.

Rossi carefully backs out of the parking lot, leaving you, Spencer, and Derek still remaining. You stuff your hands in your coat pocket; it’s chilly. You want this night to last forever, yet simultaneously, you hoped it’d end right now. You tilted your head toward your car. Spencer understood.

“Derek,” he says, “are you about ready?”

“Yeah, we can head out whenever you want.”

Spencer ran his hand through his hair before turning around to look at you. He gave you a smile. “I’ll see you Monday, y/n.”

“Bye, Spence,” you say, returning the smile.

_____

“Hey, Derek,” Spencer says as he rubs his fingers over his knuckles. 

“What’s up, kid?” Derek responds. He looks over to meet eyes with him quickly.

“Can I, um… can I ask you a question?” Spencer looks at Derek like a lost puppy.

“Woah, the boy genius asking me a question? What has this world come to?”

“It’s about girls.”

“Oh. I see.” Derek knew of Spencer’s trouble with girls. Despite the darkness, he could see the light in the skinny man’s eyes. “Come at me, big guy.” He gave Spencer a pat on the back.

“How do I like… ask one on a date?”

“Oooh, who’s the special lady? Hmmm?”

“Derek, I’m being serious. Please.” 

Derek could hear Spencer’s plea in his voice. He understood that Spencer was confiding something foreign to him and truly needed the help of an experienced man.

“Well, what does she like? Don’t take her somewhere too extravagant. Maybe a nice dinner or a breakfast date. Start simple and see how it goes.”

“Okay, but like, how?”

“Step one is speaking to her.”

“I have spoken to her… a lot.”

“The main thing, kid, is just to sound confident. Even if you’re not.”

“But what if she says no? Like how do I turn away from that?”

“There’s no reason for her to say no.”

“Yeah, but like… what if she does? What if she thinks I’m weird? Maybe this is a bad idea…” 

Spencer was spiraling. Derek reaches over and puts his arm on Spencer’s shoulder. He turns to him, meeting his eyes.

“Even guys like you are capable of love, kid. Any girl would be lucky to have such a kind and caring man like you, okay? Just go with your gut.”

Derek rounded the turn to Spencer’s road. 

“Thank you, Derek, really. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Have a good night, lover boy.”

“You too, Derek.”

next chapter: F is for First Date

a/n: i've spent the most time on this out of any post i have in a while. kinda hit writer's block pretty bad the other day. i'm really hoping i can get the next part out by Sunday, but i work all day tomorrow and idk how much time i'll have time to work on it saturday, but i'm trying my best, i promise.

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff @ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie @spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: angst, fighting, kind of fluff at the end?

Summary: You and Spencer make it a rule not to bring your work home with you, but you can't help it when he blatantly ignores you on a case. You're pissed at him, and you decide to show him just how long you can stay pissed at him.

Square Filled: "I'm fine." for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The worst part of being in a relationship with someone you work with is that sometimes, you bring your work home with you. You and Spencer try not to let your work affect your personal life, but you can’t let this one go. Everyone from the office felt the tension between you two before you left, and during the car ride, you prepared what you were going to say to him as soon as you walked through the front door.

“So, you’re just ignoring me now?” Spencer asks and follows you inside.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Spencer. Why do I even tell you things if you’re not even going to fucking listen to me?”

“What you suggested was wrong, and had I listened to you, someone else would have gotten hurt.”

“No,” you whip around to face him, “I told you how to get the unsub and where he was going to be. I told you he was going to be armed so I suggested bringing in the SWAT team as backup. What did you do? You and Derek enter the house alone and disregard everything I told you.”

“Had I gone in with the SWAT team, the unsub would have seen them and started shooting. Morgan and I were able to trap him by sneaking up on him. I can’t very well do that with a whole team behind me.” He sets his bag down on the counter and rubs his face tiredly. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re bugging about this. Everything worked out.”

“You don’t get it,” you scoff. “It’s not about how we got the unsub. It’s about the fact that you didn't even consider what I had to say. You went ahead and did it on your own. If that’s how you want to do things, then fine. I won’t help you ever again.”

You grab a water bottle from the fridge and make your way to the stairs.

“You’re overreacting about this.”

“I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

With that, you leave your husband at the bottom of the stairs alone. He rolls his eyes and decides to let you have this night. Tomorrow, he’s going to make you see that your plan wouldn’t have worked.

In the morning, you’re already at work by the time he gets up. Normally, sleep is a cleanser for you. If you go to bed angry, you’re usually calmed down by the morning. However, he can see you’re going to milk this as long as you can. That’s fine. If you want to play games, he’ll play it your way.

Spencer walks into the office and sees you at your desk. You know he’s here because the chatter gets quiet. Your coworkers are curious to see how this is going to play out. Derek and Emily think Spencer is going to stay strong and stand his ground while JJ and Rossi think he’s going to fold because you have this man wrapped around your finger even if you don’t see it.

Spencer walks past him but you don’t look at him or even acknowledge his presence. He waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he gets a little annoyed with you.

“Really? You’re giving me the silent treatment?” You don’t give him a response. “Okay, fine. I’ll play your games.”

You grab some files and make your way to Penelope’s office without a look back at him. She swirls her chair around to greet you, a big smile on her face.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You’ve come to the right person.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I heard you and Spencer are fighting.”

“I’m fine. There’s no fighting because there’s nothing to talk about. He doesn’t see me as an equal and doesn't want to consider what I have to say. What is there to talk about?” you shrug and hand her some files to work with.

“So, you’re not going to be an adult and have an adult conversation?”

“No,” you wink and leave her office.

The only way you’re going to talk to Spencer is if it’s about work. He thought you were going to give in and apologize after the first day, but you’ve been this way all week. You’re at work before he gets up, you don’t greet him anymore, and you still sleep in the guest room. By the end of the week, you realize you were wrong about how to handle the unsub. Spencer’s plan was the right one. He knew how the unsub was going to behave and made a plan based on that while you based your plan on how to subdue him easily.

The last thing you’re going to do is tell him he’s right.

Now, it’s a game of how long you can do this to him before he breaks. Everyone, including Spencer, knows he’ll be the first one to break even if he doesn’t want to admit it. You’re very good at getting your way, and this is no different. Spencer can tell the shift in energy from you being genuinely pissed at him to doing it on purpose. He knows you too well to know that you’re only doing this to be petty.

He told himself to not go without speaking to or kissing you, but it’s proving to be a lot harder. His love language is touch and he’s craving yours. He hasn’t kissed you in over a week and he’s getting desperate. Like admitting-he-was-wrong desperate.

You have Friday off since you requested it off a month ago, but Spencer was called into work for a few hours to help with something. You’re sitting on the couch reading a book when he walks in. He debates on speaking to you knowing full well you won’t speak to him back. How long can you go like this? You’ll have to speak to him at some point.

He sighs and walks out of the front door to get to work, and you watch him go to the car. He gets in the front seat and starts the car, but he doesn’t drive off. He grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white. You wonder what he’s thinking. He looks behind him as if he is going to reverse but gets out of the car instead. He storms back into the house, and you immediately pretend like you were reading this whole time. 

Spencer walks over to you, grips your hair tightly but not tight enough to hurt, tips your head back, and kisses you. The book falls from your hand as you kiss him back. This kiss holds a week’s worth of sexual tension. When he gets back from work, you know he’s going to take you to the bedroom for the rest of the day. He slides his tongue into your mouth and massages yours, leaving you wanting more.

When he feels you leaning into him, he pulls away with a smirk. Without saying a word, he leaves the house and this time, he actually leaves the driveway. People say he’s wrapped around your finger when really, you’re wrapped around his.

x

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #cm #cm fic #cm fiction #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff #cm angst

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips. 

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over. 

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.”  He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions. 

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile. 

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #Goth reader #self indulgent fic #fanfic writer #tumblr writer

[ddejavvu]

Hi lovely 🫶

Do you think Aaron and BAU!wife!reader would play matchmakers for the rest of the team. No one suspects Hotch of course but he’s just as invested as reader.

"She's at it again."

Lewis's voice breaks across the silence of the BAU, and Derek glances curiously at her. He follows the woman's gaze, landing on you peering around a corner, watching Reid walk down the hallway with one of the employees that works a level below the BAU, in counter-terrorism. She's been coming around suspiciously often, and you'd been caught conspiring over the state of their relationship more than once over the past month.

"The baby has left the cradle," You hiss excitedly into your phone, "I repeat: the baby has left the cradle!"

"Nosy," Derek laughs, but his eyes linger on Spencer's retreating form for a moment too long, "Man, she and Penelope are really having their fun with this."

"I'm having my fun with what?" Comes a sweet voice from behind them, and both agents turn in their chairs to find none other than Penelope Garcia, obviously not on the phone.

Lewis glances back to you, and you're still chattering into the receiver. She hears Derek begin to question Penelope and swivels back around, now further intrigued.

"You mean to tell me she's not gossiping with you over that phone?" Derek jerks a thumb towards you, and Penelope follows the direction until she sees you.

Her lips, perfectly pink and painted, pop into a prim pout as her shoulders sag, "No! I thought I had all the best gossip in the BAU."

"I guess not," Lewis muses, staring curiously back at you as you watch Spencer hold the elevator doors open for his mystery agent, "I wonder who she's talking to."

--

"-The baby has left the cradle!"

"Where are his hands?" Aaron asks, raising a handful of cashews to his mouth, "Are they in his pockets, or is he touching her with one of them?"

"His left hand is on her back," You squeal, "And the other is just at his side! He's- oh, he used it to open the door for her, and he guided her through with the one on her back."

"Good boy," Hotch muses thoughtfully, munching happily on his snack, "He's learning. Remember when he used to make her open the door for him?"

"He is wiping his hand with a wet wipe," You observe carefully, "But not the one he's got on her. Hopefully she doesn't think he thinks she's germy."

"Are they taking the elevator?" He asks, and at your confirmation, he stands, carrying his ziploc bag of cashews to the window.

"Okay, they wouldn't spend their entire lunch break at the little vending machine lobby on the fourth floor," He decides, peering out from between his blinds onto the street below, "So that means they're probably headed to the café across the street. I've got eyes on the door."

"I'll pull up the CCTV footage," You declare gleefully, grin so wide that it's making your cheeks ache, "If you'll excuse me, handsome, I have to make a visit to Miss Penelope Garcia."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

[graveyard-stray]

Morning Workout | Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Blurb

A/N: This is loosely based on that scene with David and Aaron in the elevator where he’s like “you workout this morning?” And hotch is awkwardly like “I didn’t…”

WC: 955

Includes: Mentions of sex, no actual smut, established relationship, secret relationship (not for long), the team makes fun of you and Hotch

It was an average morning in Virginia, It was warm out and the sun was shining brightly over Quantico. Aaron had just arrived at work, having dropped Jack off to school just before heading here.

He was dawning his usual suit and tie, and his briefcase was clutched tightly in his left hand. As he approached the elevator it opened, perfect timing he thought to himself before entering.

The elevator rode up two floors before stopping, the doors slid open to let someone else on. “Morning.” rang the familiar voice of his friend and coworker, David Rossi. “Goodmorning Dave.” He greeted him with a small smile.

David though looked him up and down as he stood next to him, the elevator now resuming its motion up. It didn’t take a profiler to notice Dave’s staring, and Hotch was confused. He turned and hummed inquisitively.

“You workout this morning?” David asks with a smirk, motioning with his eyes to Hotch’s hair which was messier than his usual perfectly kept look, and his tie which was coming undone. Hotch looks down before clearing his throat nervously and reaching up to fix his tie.

“I didn’t.” He mumbles as he makes an attempt to fix his appearance. Dave laughs to himself, “hmm I wonder who the lucky lady is.” He teases. Aaron stands up straighter than he already was, to try and be serious and not obvious, “its not what your thinking. Just issues taking Jack to school is all.” He said, which he had to admit was a horrible excuse.

Before Dave could reply the elevator stopped and the doors opened, allowing Aaron the perfect escape to a very awkward conversation. Dave on the other hand, knew he needed to figure out who Hotch was seeing and he knew it wouldn’t take long to get it out of him.

Hotch pushed open the glass doors to the BAU office and wasted no time heading up to his personal office, David entering the bullpen right behind him.

The first thing Rossi noticed upon entering the office was you, you were smiling and had this certain glow to you that was strange. Usually in the morning you were grumpy and tired, but not today. Today you were very awake and in a very good mood. The dots immediately connected in his head, you got laid this morning, by the one and only Aaron Hotchner.

Rossi quickly approached you, “someone’s in a good mood.” He teased as he placed his bag down on his desk. You turned to face him, “yeah, aren’t I always?” you responded with a smile. He chuckled, “not this early in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes at him before Derek also approached, “that’s exactly what I said.” He comments. “Your glowing kid.” he added. This warrants another eye roll from you, “Ya know I’m not that much younger than you Morgan.” You respond but Derek knows what your doing.

“Oh no no no, don’t you try to change the subject, You got some this morning, all I’m wondering is who!” He questioned, he was right of course. You nervously gazed up at Aaron’s office hoping to see him there but, he has already shut himself inside. This was the huge tell and you knew it.

Derek’s jaw practically dropped, “oh my god. You and- oh my god!” He laughed. you turned back to him quickly, “I don’t know what your talking about I am fine! I’m good!” you frantically defend.

In the mess of things Emily comes over, “now what is happening over here, it’s too early for all this chaos.” She questioned. Derek was still laughing, “Ya know why she’s in a good mood this morning?” He asked rhetorically. Emily cocked a brow at him. “She had a sweet wake up this morning, her and hotch!” upon hearing this Emily gasped.

“Are you SERIOUS!” She exclaimed, a big smile making its way onto her face. “WOW, you and hotch. I must be bad at my job because I did not see that coming!” She said as she sat down, truly in disbelief.

Rossi chimed in, “You should’ve seen Hotch this morning. Hair a mess, tie coming undone. It was truly a sight to behold.” He chuckled, half at the situation and half the teams reactions.

You were practically sweating at this point, very embarrassed infront of your team. Luckily for you, Aaron noticed the commotion and emerged from his office. “Do you all not have work to do? Because I would be happy to assign somethings.” He scolds from the balcony by his office. Everyone jumps at the sudden sound of his voice and the quickly nod and apologize.

“Oh and (Y/N), my office please.” He adds before going back to no his office, followed by the oooing and whistling of the team members.

You closed the door behind you as you stepped into his office, he was leaning against the edge of his desk and looking at you softly. “I take it they figured us out?” He asks, a little smile ghosting his lips.

All you could do was nod softly, “yeah..I’m so sorry Aaron! I didn’t mean to make it obvious, I didn’t even think it was.” you defended, a frown on your face. Aaron came over to you, placing a large calloused hand on your cheek. “Sweetheart. It’s alright. They were bound to find out eventually” he assured you.

“Your really not mad?” You asked meekly. He pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled down at you. “I promise.” He said.

You knew the team would continue to tease you about it, but you were sorta glad you could share your love for Aaron with your closest friends.

#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #x reader #fanfic #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #derek morgan

[its-rach-writes]

Cotton Candy Kisses - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a revelation at dinner, you realise that Spencer isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff!

A/N: This is part two to my artist!reader mini series, you can read part one here but its not neccessary to understand this one. Thank you for your love on the first part, I love you all! xxx

You were saying goodbye to everyone who had stopped by your art class as you cleared away the paint and wiped off the splatters. As they filed out of the café, a couple of people stopped to ask you if you needed a hand in clearing things away but you waved away all their sweet offers. As you wiped the counter, the door opened and you spoke without looking up.

“I’m sorry, we’re closing up.”

“I know; thought you might need some help.”

You could hear the smile in his voice without looking up, when you did look up, your heart jumped in your chest as you saw the handsome Doctor grin at you, “Spence! Hey!” you gave him a hug, giggling as he lifted you from the floor.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man from a couple of months ago who hated physical contact. He still had his limits of course, “when did you get back?”

“Last night,” he smiled as he set you on your feet.

“How was the case?” you asked and his smile dropped just a fraction but it was enough for you to notice, “it doesn’t matter,” you said quickly.

“Need a hand?”

“I’m nearly done but I’d like the company,” you smiled.

Spencer helped you clean the paint and scrape the paper-mache from the tables. He laughed as he looked at some of the paintings that were left behind. He carefully picked up a landscape painting, “these are way better than my stickmen.”

You laughed as you glanced up at him, “I don’t know, the one you did of Hotch funnily enough, was a striking resemblance.”

It didn’t take long for you to close up shop and Spencer offered to walk you home. It was a beautiful day and Spencer’s shoulder brushed up against yours every so often which did nothing to quell your developing crush on him.

“Oh,” he said as if he’d suddenly remembered something, “the team are going to Rossi’s tonight for dinner, he wanted to know if you would like to come.”

“That’s really nice of him.”

As soon as you started hanging out with both Spence and Emily, the team found ways to include you every time they got together outside of a case.

“I’d love to come.”

“Great,” he grinned.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing as you pulled your new lip balm out of your pocket, and applied it. The sickly sweet smell must have washed over Spencer because he glanced down at you.

“Is that cotton candy?”

“Uh huh, it’s new.”

“Can I get some?”

His request shocked you, you knew he had a thing with germs, he hardly shook hands with people and now he wanted to share a lip balm with you?

“You have a thing against germs and this has glitter in it. Are you sure that you want some?”

“No, that’s not what,” he sighed, “never mind.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but you didn’t say anything in reply, and he didn’t bring it up again.

“I’ll see you tonight then?”

Spencer nodded as he smiled down at you but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and his eyes looked almost sad, “yeah, see you.”

You had gone shopping a few weeks ago and you’d bought a new dress that you hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. The excitement of having dinner at Rossi’s pushed whatever was up with Spencer to the back of your mind. The hot day turned into a warm night so Rossi set dinner up outside. The wine was flowing and chilled – only the white wine, Rossi would execute you himself if you tried to chill red wine, when Derek spoke up.

“So, what’s up with Reid?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and into the kitchen where Spencer was talking to Hotch.

When no one answered, you looked around the table to find everyone staring at you, “why are you asking me? How should I know?”

Garcia made an impatient noise, “every minute he’s not working or with his mom, he’s with you. And, even when we’re on a case he finds a way to tie you into the conversation.”

“He does?” you flushed as you turned to look at him, when Derek cleared his throat, you turned back to the group, “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

After dinner, Spencer was forgotten, that was until Savannah, Derek’s girlfriend pulled out her lip gloss and started applying it.

“Can I get some of that mama?” he smirked, she rolled her eyes but leaned over to kiss him.

JJ groaned, “god, we get enough of that at the office, we don’t need it here too.”

Your mouth fell open as you put two and two together, your heart dropped like a rock and you suddenly got up and walked into the kitchen were Spencer was getting a drink. He glanced over his shoulder as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. He didn’t kiss you back and you second guessed yourself, maybe he’d meant what he said. You pulled away, his thumb brushed against your jaw, your red lipstick smudged against his lips.

“I still want to try the cotton candy flavour,” he grinned as he pulled you into another kiss.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #reid #spencer #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #reader insert #artist!reader #david rossi #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

[mrspasser]

After the snap - Chapter 2

Sterek fanfiction

Chapter 1

A03 and Wattpad

How the pack deals with being back.

After the snap - Chapter 2

"My son is back. Stiles is back." The words parade through Noah's brain as he tries to weave his way through traffic. There's chaos everywhere, though until now it seems to be a good kind of chaos. A hell of a lot of confusion, yes, but Noah has seen a lot of happy reunions already. Like how deputy Parrish suddenly materialised next to him at the coffee machine, wondering where in the world his mug had disappeared to. 

"I was just holding it!" were his first words, while Noah tried to push back the heart attack he was about to get. Said mug had fallen to pieces when Jordan Parrish turned into dust five years ago.

"You can use mine," he'd said and pulled his dearly missed deputy in a bone crushing hug. 

As soon as he was able Noah had pulled himself away from the station. Stiles is back. His son is back! When he reaches the loft he takes the stairs two at a time, racing towards the heavy sliding door that seals off Derek’s apartment. It’s not locked, it hardly ever is. Werewolf hearing makes for a good alarm system. As do claws and fangs, for that matter.

He finds them on the floor by the large window, holding on to each other for dear life. Noah would like to do the same, so he just falls to his knees and reaches out. 

"Hey dad," Stiles says like it’s just been yesterday that they saw each other and Noah cries heavy tears. His son is back. He is really back. 

It's Stiles who directs them all over to the sofa, who arranges them to sit with him in the middle, holding both their hands firmly as they lean against him. "How long was I...?" he asks carefully. 

"Five years," Noah answers in a thick voice. His face is still wet with tears, but they're happy tears. 

Stiles sucks in a breath with a hiss. "Holy shit." He squeezes their hands hard, his brain probably barely wrapping around the idea of having been gone for so long. It’s a testament to all the weird shit he has been through since he was 16 years old that this new fact, him being gone for five years, doesn’t warrant a bigger reaction.

"The others?" he asks a few minutes later. "Scott?" 

"Scott was fine," Noah reassures him. Their friendship was a bit rocky in the few years before The Snap, but Scott would always be his son's oldest friend. "The others, well," he swallows heavily, "they were all gone." 

Stiles whips his head around to look at the man next to him. "Oh, Derek," is all he says, but it sounds broken and Noah knows that Stiles understands what it means. What it meant.

Derek never liked to talk about it, yet Noah is good at putting bits and pieces together to form a whole story. That is his job, after all. So he knows how Derek felt the packbonds disappearing one after the other, like someone cut the invisible lines with blunt scissors. He lost all of his betas, along with his human packmates, until he was left with a True Alpha who had always been unwilling to form a real pack with him and a Hunter’s daughter. And there was Noah, who was pack by proxy, courtesy of his teenage son who never knew how to leave well enough alone. 

And break down he does, in a truly heartbreaking manner. 

It was a good thing Noah knew about werewolves before that dreadful day, because nothing could have prepared him for the desperate Alpha werewolf he found in his living room a short week after the Snap. Derek hadn’t been able to change back to human for at least six days. Six days in which Noah was fairly certain he hadn’t slept. Or ate. What he did do in those days was unknown; he doubted Derek would be able to tell him, as he was pretty out of it. When he turned up in Noah’s house he was at his wit’s end and after Noah talked him down somewhat he’d crashed in Stiles’ bedroom to sleep for 28 hours.

Derek looks equally lost now, his facial features bordering on werewolf constantly. It’s a strange sight, with the eyes flickering between red and his normal colour, and the workings of his jaw when he pushes back his fangs. Still, as lost as he is, he’s not dangerous. In danger of breaking down, yes, but not dangerous to his surroundings. 

Stiles figures it out first. “You can feel them?” he questions urgently, grappling for the werewolf as Derek suddenly howls desperately and tears new holes in the sofa with his claws. “Derek, it’s okay, do you feel them, are they back?”

The boys end up on the floor, Stiles mostly lying on top of Derek. He makes shushing noises and is petting Derek’s hair, his face, his shoulders. The werewolf has his arms wrapped around Stiles’ back, holding him close, with his face buried in the crook of Stiles’ neck. Noah guesses the weight on top of him is comforting. He’s just grateful there’s no claws threatening to pierce his son’s vital organs.

Not long after that, there are four werewolves added to the pile. Just like Stiles, they had no idea they were away, but they can feel their Alpha’s desperation. Isaac is the first to arrive, looking bewildered but otherwise okay. Derek whines in the back of his throat and his Beta shoots towards him like an arrow from a bow. Derek releases Stiles to pat down Isaac, make sure he’s real and in one piece. When Stiles scoots over to give them some room, Derek’s hand clamps down on his wrist, making it clear he can’t go anywhere. It goes the same with the other kids. Boyd and Erica arrive together, closely followed by Jackson. Derek doesn’t have enough hands and arms to hug and touch his pack; judging by their faces the kids have never seen him like this before. They take it in stride though, because the need to be close is evident even to Noah, who doesn’t feel it like the werewolves can. Even the Whittemore kid joins in on the group hug, which is a little surprising to see.

Noah takes it upon himself to get everything in order for the pack. It soothes his need to do his duty as a sheriff now it’s at war with the need to stay close to his only son. He convinces Derek to let Jackson go so he can pick up Lydia, which the Alpha allows begrudgingly. 

“Here, kid,” Noah says, handing Jackson some cash, “pick up some pizzas on your way back. I doubt anyone will be up to delivering right now.” They might even have to get frozen pizzas from the supermarket, because Maria Torelli lost her husband and two sons in The Snap, so he guesses making pizzas isn’t the first thing on her mind right now.

“I don’t need your money,” Jackson answers, every bit the cocky kid he was five years ago.

“You’ve been away for a long time, kid,” Noah says gently, pressing the money in his hand. “I don’t think your credit cards are still working.”

The young werewolf frowns, but he takes the bills and disappears out of the door without another word. A moment later there’s the sound of a car speeding away. 

They work together in near silence, with Stiles happily muttering under his breath when he finds the cups in the same cabinet they were in five years ago. His son came back into a world that changed a lot in the time he was away, he can be happy about something small such as finding the coffee cups in the right place.

With food taken care of, Noah busies himself with making drinks for the pack. He figures a pot of tea and a pot of coffee will do the trick. Derek doesn’t drink much soda anyway, so there’s not a lot of that around. That will soon be different now the pack is complete again; Noah has a feeling the pantry will be stocked with soda and junk food again in no time.

While coffee runs through, Stiles joins him in the kitchen and quietly moves underneath Noah’s welcoming arm. “Good to have you back, son.”

“Yeah, I guess they aren’t the only ones who will have such problems.” Noah rubs a hand over his jaw. He really ought to get back to the station, to help sort things out. All those people who are returning to find their lives have changed… “This is gonna be a mess.”

Lydia and Jackson arrive with frozen pizzas, which is fine, because Noah already preset the oven to heat up. 

When he informs if Lydia’s parents were willing to let her go so soon again, she shrugs. “They were both gone too. I guess it feels like we just saw each other yesterday. I left them arguing with the help. Apparently she and her kids moved into the house when we were gone.”

“A mess that will still be there tomorrow,” Stiles remarks, coming to stand next to him. “The town will be fine without you for tonight, dad.”

He wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and presses a kiss to the boy’s temple. “I guess you’re right.”

When all the pizza is eaten and Noah has to defend the fridge to keep any food left for breakfast tomorrow morning, he strongly suggests the idea of going to bed. It’s well after midnight by now and everybody is starting to look a little worse for wear. 

The pack settles in for the pizza, swapping stories about what or who they found when they returned. Boyd and Erica returned inside Boyd’s bedroom, to find that his grandmother had turned it into a laundry room in his absence. She was very happy to see her grandson again, and even more pleased to have her husband back. Erica had a similar situation as Lydia, with both her parents also having been gone. So after making sure everybody was okay, they’d come to the loft. 

Isaac had been staying with Scott five years ago, but the pull to come see Derek had led him here first. He’d found himself outside the old coffee shop on Main Street: “Which is now an ice cream parlor. Is it any good?”

Jackson returned behind the wheel of his car, the Porsche sitting in the garage underneath a tarp. He’d just parked it there when he vanished and his parents had left his beloved sports car in the garage, underneath a protective cover. “I had to cut my way out,” Jackson smirks, showing off the sharp claws on his right hand.

“Puppy pile?” Erica suggests coyly, although Noah suspects she’s a lot more serious about it than she sounds.

“Puppy pile,” Stiles confirms with a nod and then they all scramble off to search for pillows and blankets. For a single man living alone, Derek sure has a lot of those.

A look of doubt crosses his face, but his son nods. Then he gets up from the nest and plods over for a big hug. “You can’t leave without a patented Stilinski hug,” he says with a smile and hugs his father extra hard. “Love you, dad.”

Noah eyes the large nest they build around the sofa. Most of the kids discard their shoes and jeans and dive in, finding a place close to their Alpha. It should look ridiculous, seven young adults cuddling together in what looks like a sloppy version of Big Bird’s nest, yet he can definitely see the appeal. 

“My back is not gonna survive that,” he says with a frown. “I think I’ll sleep at home.” His words are met with a chorus of disagreement, Erica somehow the loudest until she sees Derek glare at her. There’s little heat behind the glare, Noah suspects there will not be for a long time. “Stiles, you’ll be staying here, I think?”

“Love you too, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Noah says, trying his best to not let his voice waver. 

Stiles nods against his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, dad.”

They hug some more and then Noah leaves, wishing them all a good night. He makes it to his car and even gets in, but he can’t make himself turn the key in the ignition. After twenty minutes he gives up and lets himself into the building again. When he opens the large sliding door the apartment is quiet and dark, except for a small light by the iron wrought staircase. 

“You can take my bed, upstairs,” Derek says from somewhere in the middle of the ‘puppy pile’ and it’s the most Noah has heard him say all evening. Solemn red eyes blink at him in the dark.

Noah nods, knowing Derek can see him just fine even though he himself can’t see much more than dark shapes. He finds his way to the staircase, tells them good night again and goes to find that Derek has a very nice mattress. 

***

When Scott finds his mom she is livid. “You sold the house?!”

A moment later, she’s hugging him breathless. She returned inside the hospital, wearing the same scrubs she had on when she disappeared in The Blip. He can’t believe he’s hugging his mother again, he was convinced he would never see her again.

“Noah Stilinski?” Melissa asks, pleased to hear about him. “He’s always been a smart man. I’m happy he was still around to keep an eye on you. And Stiles?”

When people started returning left and right, Scott had run to the hospital, only to find that his mother wasn’t there anymore. He’d found her on the stoop of their old house, staring angrily at the front door with her old key in her hand - no longer fitting the lock. 

He takes her back to his apartment above the ice cream parlor in town and explains to her how he’d sold the house to pay for college. “I’m gonna be a certified veterinarian in little more than a year,” he says and she’s so proud that she immediately forgives him for selling their home. 

Of course it helps that he also tells her about the storage unit that houses the stuff he couldn’t fit into his apartment. “Noah’s idea,” he says with a self conscious shrug. At the time, he was trying his hardest to move forward, to get on with his life. He’d broken up with Allison and was determined to follow the new path he’d set for himself. 

***

Scott shakes his head. “It was just me and Noah. Oh, and Derek Hale. And Ally, but she’s living in Europe now.” He spends most of the night getting his mother up to speed about all the things that happened in the past five years. 

He also calls Noah and gets Stiles on the phone. The whole pack is over at the loft, but they understand that he stays with his mother. Scott promises to come see them tomorrow, after he’s dropped his mom off at the hospital. She wants to help out, even though her old job might no longer be available. 

“I had not expected to see you so soon already,” Melody says when she opens the door of her roomy office to Derek. “And you’ve brought a friend.”

The young man next to Derek gives her a finger wave. “Hi,” he says cheerfully, “I hope it’s not a problem that I’m tagging along?”

“I’m guessing that’s Stiles?” she says, smiling at Derek in his usual seat across from her. 

She looks at the way their hands are entwined between them and smiles. “No, not a problem at all. Come in.”

Inside she pretends not to notice how Derek lays a heavy hand across his friend’s neck, to which the younger man responds by rubbing a hand down his arm before they part and he moves over to the large windowsill next to her desk. He sits down on the sill and takes out his headphones, seemingly intent on giving them privacy for the session.

“I’m so happy for you.” She means it. She has come to know Derek as a gentle soul, scarred by the pain of his past; she sincerely wishes him all the best.

“It is,” the werewolf confirms, his eyes locked on the figure by the window. She recognises in his gaze what she still feels herself, little over a week since that joyful day: happiness and disbelief over the return of loved ones. 

“They all came back,” Derek says, looking at her. “My pack.”

“Your sister?” Derek asks, uncharacteristically chatty. She tells him how her sister, her husband and their daughter have all returned, just like his pack members, his family.

The boy in the window is silent, although she bets the werewolf can hear the music that’s playing on his headphones, or the movements of his head and foot in time with the music. “Why did you bring Stiles?” she asks, because even though she can guess why, it will be good for Derek to put it into words himself. 

To his credit, he only has to think for a moment before he says it. “I have a hard time letting him out of my sight.” The werewolf watches the boy, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly, the lines in his face softening. “I want to keep them all close, but…”

“Him the most,” she finishes for him, reading it from his eyes. “Have you talked to him about why that is?”

His shoulders hunch up slightly, yet he answers anyway. “A little. He understands, I think. I guess Noah told him how - how I reacted when he disappeared.”

They talk a bit about communication, how important it is for Derek to talk about his feelings and his needs with his pack. The werewolves will be able to sense a lot from each other, yet Melody has always been an advocate for open and honest communication between people. “If you want, I am also willing to do group sessions. It might help with finding balance again.”

Derek promises to think about it and as quickly as always their thirty minutes are over. When Derek stands, Stiles shoves his headphones off and comes over. He holds his hand out to Melody. “Thanks doc,” he says earnestly, “Derek told me you’ve been of great help.”

She smiles and shakes his hand. “Take good care of each other. But something tells me you will.”

***

The large table in Derek’s loft is filled with people. Everybody is talking over each other and wine and aconite laced beers are consummated generously. Their plates are polished clean, as are the oven dishes. Learning that Derek cooked from his mother’s cookbooks did funny things to Stiles’ insides, as did discovering that his dad and Derek were fast friends. He’s eternally grateful they had each other for support after the Mad Titan decided that the universe was a better place if he cut its population in half. Stiles hates to think what would have happened to either of them if they were all alone. 

It’s weird to think he’s been away for five years. To him, it doesn’t feel like that. Yet it is undeniable that a lot has happened, the world he knew is a different place now. His father has more grey hairs, more wrinkles, yet his eyes and mind are just as sharp. Derek also has grey hairs, that had been a fun discovery. He also has some lines in his face that weren’t there before, worry lines instead of the happy crow’s feet Stiles would’ve loved to see there. 

It’s been three weeks since everybody returned and although there are still a lot of things to figure out, the pack has fallen back into place, spending a lot of time together. It feels good. When they disappeared, some of them had been in college, others had jobs that took a lot of their time. That was all gone now. His studies at Berkeley had been cut off abruptly and it was still unsure whether or not he would be able to pick up where he left off five years ago. A lot of his professors had disappeared as well and just like any other institution or company, the university had to adapt, then and now. Stiles doesn’t worry about it: they will figure it out in time and then he can decide what to do. Right now, he isn’t going anywhere. Except the kitchen maybe, to get the pie for desert. 

He puts the pie - another one of his mother’s recipes - on the table in front of his father, handing him the large knife and therefore putting him in charge of serving a pack of hungry werewolves their pie. On his way back to his seat across the table, he walks behind Derek, trailing a hand over the man’s shoulder. The werewolf catches his wrist in his hand, pulling him in, his fingers settling on his pulse point so he can not only hear but also feel Stiles’ heartbeat. He leans easily against the back of the Alpha’s shoulders, his hand settling lightly on Derek’s chest, over his heart. He can feel how he relaxes, Stiles’ touch grounding him. Their absence - his absence - has been hard on the werewolf and it still overwhelms him to have them all back. 

The first few days Derek couldn’t bear to have them all out of his sight for longer than a few minutes. He didn’t articulate it, not like he should, a few years of therapy had not been able to change that yet. Luckily, werewolves do not rely on words alone for their communication. And Stiles may not be a werewolf, he’s been running with the wolves for long enough to know how they tick. 

He’s practically living at the loft now, which comes in handy because Melissa has moved in with his dad for now because Scott’s apartment is tiny. Besides, like Melissa said, her son is used to living on his own, he doesn’t need to have his mother around all the time. Isaac alternates between sleeping over at Scott’s and at the loft, Lydia is staying over at Jackson’s house until her parents have fixed things with the help, and the others sleep at home but spend a lot of their time at the loft. Still, Stiles is the one who is there every day of the week. 

Stiles has been low-key in love with Derek since he realised his obsession with Lydia was nothing but that: an infatuation with a dream girl. He’s never acted upon it, never actively pursued anything; nothing beyond building a steady friendship with the werewolf, recognising that it would be best to let things take their natural course.

The first couple of nights they all slept together in a puppy pile in the middle of the living room. After that, they all took to spending the nights in their own beds, with Stiles taking the sofa in Derek’s loft. That only lasted for half a night, when Derek kept coming out of bed to check if Stiles was still there. No matter that he could hear Stiles from his bedroom, he needed the visual and tactile confirmation. The solution was simple: they’re sharing a bed now. 

The Alpha prefers to go to sleep with his head pillowed on Stiles’ chest, listening to the tattoo of his heart. And for all that Stiles moves in his sleep, they always wake up connected, even if it is just their feet touching. When Stiles vanished five years ago they weren’t at this point in their relationship. They were friends, good friends, friends that relied on each other and listened to what the other had to say. Their current status is just an extension of that, if you ask him; a rapid, painless change for Stiles and one that inflicted a lot of heartbreak and hurt on Derek’s side.

Derek loves him, he knows that even though they haven’t talked about it. Not in so many words anyway. It’s not necessary. Not yet. They’ll get to it, they have time. Because Stiles isn’t going anywhere.

#sterek fanfic #after the snap #thanos snapped his fingers #marvel au #teenwolf fanfiction #tear jerker #happy ending #stiles x derek #ilse writes fanfiction #chaptered fic #derek hale #derek got left behind #stiles stilinski

[shojizbae]

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #the south #mechanical bullride #smut

[ssahotchnerr]

Reader sending Aaron cute messages when he’s off on cases and him not realizing he’s kinda smiling when reading them? Or they just make him in a much better mood in general and the others let reader know when they’re officially introduced? Idk it sounded cute in my head LOL

all thanks to you

omg that's ADORABLE cw; FLUFF

"you!" you had merely crossed the threshold of dave's foyer, only to be attacked by a sudden, warm embrace.

"me?" you said within a laugh. you caught yourself before penelope's abrupt hug caused you to lose your footing, quick to reciprocate and the butterflies in your stomach somewhat lessening.

it was your very first night meeting the bau team, and you had been beside yourself with nerves for close to a week now - ever since aaron had first mentioned the get-together. as they were the next closest thing to aaron's family than jack, you equally wanted to make a perfect first impression.

you must've shown aaron at least five potential outfits before you had left his apartment, asking him over again if he were sure the time was right for you to meet them, and if he was even more sure they would take to you.

aaron had reassured you, that first, you would look stunning in whatever you wore. and second, they would adore you. he offered the comfort that he himself wasn't worried, because he knew them, and he knew you. "trust me," he had said, chuckling softly as he grabbed his car keys. "i'll be long forgotten once they get to know you."

likewise, aaron had already warned you - penelope was ecstatic to meet you and would not keep that hidden in the slightest. but if she were half of what aaron had already described, you knew the two of you were guaranteed to be instant friends. and her current show, was pure evidence of that.

"it's so nice to finally meet you. you have no idea how long i've been waiting." penelope grinned, buzzing from ear to ear. "like, once hotch opened a text from you while we were all sitting around, y'know, being productive. and boy, i knew he was a goner."

"really?"

"are you kidding? okay," she takes a second, as if she's mentally preparing herself, ready to paint the picture. "we were sitting there, like i said. his phone goes off, and y'know that normal face he makes - eyebrows kinda pinched, mr mcpouty pants? - you know the one. he picks up his phone, reads it and he smiles. full-on smiles, right in front of us. he didn't think we noticed, but we did. didn't he smile?" her hand smacks out onto derek's arm, who happened to be passing by, resulting in a gentle slap.

"yeah babygirl." derek flashed a smile in your direction. "saw it with my own eyes."

"so," penelope's hand now flew onto your arm, resuming her energetic story. "when he realized he smiled, god forbid right - mr grumpy face returns, rather labored this time because again, the world will end if we witness anything otherwise. hotch simply puts down his phone as if it were nothing, but oh my god, he was blushing so hard i thought he was gonna explode. he was so so tickled."

"aww," you laughed, your lips curving into a smile and more love for aaron - if it were possible- swelling in the middle of your chest. "that's so sweet."

"oh honey, and that's one time out of, millions. dare i say, he got used to smiling and was generally in such a better mood all around." she lightly shakes your arm. "earlier nights, later morning starts, no more mr mcpouty pants - well, for the most part. all thanks to you!"

you felt a familiar presence still behind you, a hand finding your back. "you blush when i text you?" you turned your head up towards aaron, blush of your very own tinting your cheeks.

aaron shrugged reservedly, helping you slide your coat off your shoulders and folding it over his arm. "i did mainly at the beginning."

"sir, no." penelope shook her head, a pleased smirk vibrant on her face as her gaze switched between the two of you. "you were blushing today."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine

[mydearzero]

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

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

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

Pretty When You Cry | sub!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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

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

2.7K words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, Rossi. You're a lifesaver." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-" Spencer's eyes glazed over. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer shook his head aggressively. 

"Words, baby." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, Spencer!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #dom!reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x y/n #fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #mgg x you #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg x y/n #spencer x reader #Spencer smut #fic recs #smut #sub Spencer #dom reader

[luveline]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

Can I request shy!reader and Derek? Maybe where she's really shy about pda but she finally works up the courage to hold his hand or kiss his cheek in public and he just melts <3

tysm! ♡

"Penelope, I'm not wearing that." 

Penelope waves the custom t-shirt she's made at him threateningly. "Yes, you will, because you love me and you love Hotch and he deserves our support." 

She's created matching garb for their entire team as well as any partner willing to support Hotch. "This is his second triathlon, and he's very much going to remember last year's triathlon and his now ex-girlfriend. Plus, it's for charity!" She slaps his chest with the shirt. "Put it on." 

You smile at his reaction, the fond clench of his jaw, his rolling eyes as he peels out of his t-shirt. The smile quickly stifles, mouth dry as the Sahara in seconds. The tight pack of his abs ripple in the sunlight, dark skin practically glistening. 

"It's too hot for this," he complains. 

Penelope nudges you. "He can say that again." 

Derek squeezes into his shirt and laughs. "This better be the wrong size on accident." 

"Maybe." She leans down to grab another shirt from her tote bag, saying, "This should be the right size, sweetcheeks." 

Yours is big enough to wear over your original blouse easily. Derek glares at you without any real malice and swings an arm around your shoulders, dropping a kiss at your temple. "Looking good." 

Being with Derek has never made any sense to you. Or rather, Derek being with you has never made any sense —you'd be a fool to turn him down and he's a fool to think you're good enough. He's ridiculously attractive, a bombshell of a man, with ambition and a good heart, sweetness and heat alike practically drip from him. You're confused by him often and melted by him more, a melted puddle of a girl as he walks you to the crowd of BAU employees waiting at the finish line to cheer for Hotch.

Jack and Henry stand together, though Henry, JJ's son, is much smaller. Will crouches next to him to make sure he doesn't run anywhere he isn't supposed to, while JJ stands with Emily and Spencer, all already bedecked in their supportive t-shirts. 

There's a chorus of hellos as you join them. Everybody Derek cares about that isn't in Chicago stands in a bubble, and it terrifies you like always. You want to make a good impression. You don't want to let Derek down. 

Not that he cares about any of that. He knew you were shy to aching when you met and he has no intentions of trying to change you. "Sorry we're late," he says. "My fault."

Actually, it's your fault. You got the time wrong. But Derek doesn't embarrass you by telling them —your affection for him swells. 

He keeps a hand behind your back for a while. You sway under the huge sun beating down and on tired feet for a while, Hotch your saviour as he appears across the finish line. Will takes Jack to meet him, and Jack, the poor thing, gets a super sweaty hug.

Hotch isn't first to finish, but he runs a good time. 

"Better than last year's!" Emily cheers. 

Penelope wolf whistles. You clap your hands with Spencer, pleased if feeling a little out of place. 

"Maybe I'll sign up for next year's triathlon," Derek says, grinning. 

You know he's kidding, but Derek could do anything he set his mind to. You go on tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "I'd cheer you on," you say earnestly, stepping back, wiping the tiny balmy kiss print you've left behind. 

Derek looks at you plainly startled. Your heart skips a beat, worried you've overstepped. 

"Can I get another one of those, or are they in limited supply?" he asks, warm and quiet, not an inch of bravado to be seen. 

You turn back the unfolding scene of victory in front of you, "Maybe later." 

Derek is noticeably sweet on you for hours, and declares at dinner that he'll be joining Hotch in next year's triathlon. You reach for his hand under the table and nod along. You'd love to see him at the finish line. 

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #luveline's 40k party