Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader
Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)
Word Count: 1.2K
Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.
“Fuck!”
The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief.
You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.
“You ‘lright?”
The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”
“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”
Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.
“What’d ya do to your hand?”
He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.
“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”
You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.
“Give it ‘er.”
You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.
“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”
His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.
“Just surprised, is all.”
“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”
He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”
His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are.
“You have a cigarette?”
The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.
“What’s goin’ on?”
You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.
“It’s just Shane…”
You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.
“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.”
“Hey…”
The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.
“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”
Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for.
Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.
“Thank you, Daryl.”
A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips.
“It was nothin’.”
You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.
pairing ; daryl dixon x doctor!reader (gender neutral pronouns)
synopsis ; you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.
words ; 7.9k
themes ; heavy angst, mild action, doctor au
warnings / includes ; death and violence, negan at his worst, vulgar language, guns/weapons, descriptions of injury/blood, mentions of maggie's pregnancy, negan goes on long ass monologues, poor rick is going Through it, the walking dead s6-7 spoilers (fic starts right at the season six finale), mild sexual dialogue from negan
main masterlist.
Maggie hummed with discontent when you pressed a cold, damp cloth to her forehead. There was a pallid color to her skin, and her temperature was beginning to rise, despite her violent shivers beneath the blanket. The inconsistent, rocking motions of the RV weren’t doing her any favors, either.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Hilltop real soon,” you said, feeling mildly guilty that you couldn’t help her more, despite being a doctor yourself. Alexandria was completely out of medical supplies and this was urgent—if Maggie didn’t get help soon… you’d never be able to forgive yourself if something bad were to happen to her or the baby. “Hang on for me, okay?”
The brunette slanted her lips in a tired smile, eyelids heavy.
Rick knelt down beside you, speaking in a low, comforting tone. “We’re gonna get there. Once we get the medicine from Hilltop, Y/N will fix you right up.”
A small sigh fell from her pale, trembling lips. A thin film of tears warbled over her eyes. She was terrified.
“Oh, Maggie,” you murmured, gently pulling away the short strands of hair sticking to her face.
“How do you know?” muttered your friend, gaze trained on the ex-cop.
“Everything we’ve done… we've done it together. We got here together and we’re still here. Things have happened, but it’s always worked out for us, ‘cause it’s always been all of us. That’s how I know. As long as it’s all of us helpin’ you, we can do it.”
A hot tear meandered down Maggie’s cheek. You nodded gratefully at Rick—he’d always had a way with words that you’d never really gotten a grasp of.
The next hour passed by slowly. You switched between cooling her head, and helping her drink some water, sometimes just holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be fine. To take her mind off the pain, she’d asked you to tell her about how you and Daryl met, all those years ago long before the dead began to walk.
“I’m glad Daryl’s not here right now, because he always tells the story differently than I do. Well, how I remember it, he and his dick brother used to come to a small convenience store near their trailer park. That’s where I worked. I was around… nineteen at the time? Almost twenty. I was just working a couple jobs on the side to pay off my growing student debt. Daryl was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Merle tried to cozy up to me—and I didn’t have any of that. I told him to fuck right off. And later that night, just as I was to close up, Daryl came by and apologized on his brother’s behalf. He was real sweet, so I—”
“What the bitch?” barked Abraham from the driver’s seat, effectively cutting your story short and rolling the RV to a grueling halt.
“What?” asked Rick, standing up to look out the window. You followed suit, eyes widening upon the sight.
More than half a dozen Saviors blocking the road with three of their cars—and all of them holding large guns. A lump formed in your throat, and you cast your worried gaze to Rick.
“We goin’ through?” asked Abraham, jaw set.
Rick gnashed his jaw together in thought. “No,” he said. “We’ll talk to them. C’mon. Y/N, you stay here, watch over Maggie.”
Teeth worrying into your bottom lip, you nodded, stepping to the side to let the rest of them file out of the RV, their own loaded guns at the ready.
From inside, you couldn’t hear what the Saviors were saying, but from the smug expression of the one in the center with a hideous pornstache, you knew it couldn’t be anything pleasant for your group.
Three minutes later, they came back in, all looking a bit disgruntled. Rick, most of all.
“What’s going on?” you asked Carl, placing a hand on his forearm.
The young man that you were so fond of grimaced, shaking his head and lowering his voice to a whisper so that Maggie couldn’t overhear. “They won’t let us through. Want half our stuff.”
Your breath hitched. At this rate, you didn’t know how long Maggie could last without the proper care and medicine. And Alexandria was running low on supplies as it is—taking away half of everything would put the community in a pretty dire situation.
“Alright, thanks kid,” you told him, trying your absolute best not to cry from frustration, your nose burning with the effort.
The truck began to pull further away from the Saviors, until they were only but little dots against the horizon.
“Logrun Road’s a straight shot,” said Eugene, repeatedly tapping his finger against the map spread out across the RV’s pull-out table.
Next to you, Sasha shook her head. “We want visibility.”
You pursed your lips, craning your neck to scan the small, faded texts of the map. “Can we go down Shelton?”
Eugene hummed in agreement, drawling out in his thick Southern accent, “Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain—no bum rush from the bogeymen. We’d see ‘em from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third but we’d get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens.”
Both you and Sasha stared at him blankly.
“You’re being serious, right?” asked Sasha.
“As coronary thrombosis,” replied the man across from you, stony-faced. Besides, Eugene was never one to joke around.
Sasha rounded her gaze to you expectantly, waiting for you to explain in normal terms. “He’s serious,” you said. “It’s a longer route, but it’ll be well-sheltered and hopefully keep us hidden from the Saviors. I’ll try to keep Maggie steady until then.”
The two nodded at you, and you pushed away from the table, heading further back into the RV where Maggie and Rick were. She was pale and clammy, but still had enough energy to talk to you, so you took that as a good sign.
Not even ten minutes later, while you were taking measurements of her blood pressure and body temperature, the vehicle came to another rumbling halt.
“Bitch nuts,” cursed Abraham, loudly for both you and Rick to hear.
The Saviors were blocking the road. Again.
You could feel panic seize about your chest, constricting your lungs. The situation wasn’t looking good for Maggie, not one bit—but you couldn’t give up hope. Not now, when she needed you the most. You blew out a shaky breath, absentmindedly wishing Daryl was here with you to give you some comfort of mind.
“We making our stand?” asked Sasha, staring out of the window, where more than a dozen saviors were lined up.
Carl, ever the fiery one, spat out, “Yeah. We end this.”
The blue of his father’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Not now. It’s too dangerous for Maggie. They’ve been waiting—they’re ready. We ain’t. With one of us behind the wheel, and Y/N with Maggie, that’d be five on sixteen. We’re gonna play it our way. How we want it.”
Reluctant, Carl nodded.
Slowly, the RV started backing away. Three successive, warning gunshots were fired into the air. You could feel a sick, twisted rage curl up within your stomach.
If Maggie died on your watch—her blood would be on the hands of the Saviors.
You fumbled for another map pinned up on the cork board, eyes roaming over the roads, desperate for another available route. Could they possibly have you surrounded? No—the woods were vast, and the roads were winding—there were so many paths left to take to Hilltop. The Saviors simply wouldn’t have the numbers to stop you.
Wouldn’t they?
The RV came to another stop. This time, there were no Saviors blocking the road, but instead, a line of chained-up walkers. Not wanting to risk damaging the RV by driving through them, the rest of the group filed out to check if the coast was clear. You told Maggie you’d be right back, before hopping out of the RV, lingering by the doorway to narrow your gaze at the restrained walkers.
“That’s Michonne’s,” breathed out Carl, his single eye widening. A lock of her hair was stapled against the center walker’s forehead.
Horror, as black as tar itself, seeped into your chest when you glanced over to the next snarling form, just to see two of Daryl’s arrows embedded into its decaying stomach. Daryl always retrieved his arrows. Which meant… something had happened to him.
“That’s Daryl’s,” you said, loud enough for Rick to hear. “Oh, no, Rick… they did this on purpose. They knew we were coming this way—!”
Just as Rick was about to cleave his axe into the walker’s skull, ricocheting gunfire crackled into the ground, making the dried leaves flutter up with the sudden force, plumes of dust and smoke flying with each bullet.
“Get back to the RV! Go!” yelled Rick. You scrambled up the steps and ran to a concerned Maggie, trembling as you carefully hovered over her, in case any bullets pierced through the walls and accidentally hit her. Carl and Sasha began shooting blindly into the woods, having not a clue where all the shots were coming from. Rick surged forward and thrust his axe down onto one of the walker’s rotting arms, effectively leaving a gap open for the RV to drive through.
The rest of the group rushed inside, and Abraham practically threw himself into the driver’s seat to get the RV moving.
The shots died away after a few minutes. With shallow, inconsistent breaths, you slid off of Maggie, slumping down beside her. She croaked out a question, but it fell upon deaf ears, ringing with static and white noise. A warm tear fell from your burning eyes, and you quickly brushed it away with the back of your palm.
Something happened to Daryl. And it was killing you that you couldn’t help him. That you didn’t even know where he was.
You looked out the window through a watery film of tears, watching the yellow-green fields pass by in a blur. A quick glance at the lowering sun told you that the group was going to lose daylight soon enough, as well.
A strange, creaking noise was coming from below the RV.
“What’s that sound?” said Sasha, worried.
“Undercarriage could’ve caught a bullet,” replied Eugene. “Could be transmission. Could be nothing.”
Agitated, Rick growled out, “They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren’t trying to stop us.”
“They want us in this direction,” you murmured, making his wild gaze swivel to you. You gestured to the map. “Rick, they know we’re coming. They know we wanna go North.”
“Meadows would take us East a piece,” said Eugene, “but we can get back on track on Mayhew.”
It would take too long, you thought. Maggie doesn’t have the strength to carry on anymore.
Shaking her head, Sasha said, “We’re down to a third of a tank—we could top off at the next stop, but it’s risky. We can’t have any refills after that.”
A low moan fell from Maggie’s pale lips as a wave of pain washed over her, moving in and out of a hazy unconsciousness. You were quick to check her temperature, blanching at the fact that she was nearly scalding to the touch. You quickly placed the damp cloth to her skin again, trying your best to keep her temperature down.
“Rick, she’s burning up,” you told him, voice thick with worry.
It was then that the RV came to another stop.
This time, there were more saviors—around three dozen, maybe even four.
“Go back,” said Rick, eyes wide and stress evidently painted across his strained features.
Abraham squared his jaw. “We have nowhere to go back to.”
With a shaky breath, you stroked Maggie’s head, your heart shattering into millions of pieces. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” you said, a sob bubbling in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—I wish I could do something, I’m sorry.”
Disoriented and not having heard a word of your apologetic babbling, Maggie croaked out, “Are we there yet?”
More tears slipped down your cheeks. Rick was by your side, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on Maggie’s arm. You stifled your sobs with your palm, and Rick replied in your stead.
“Yeah, Maggie. We’re—we’re getting there.”
The woman’s eyelids fluttered lethargically. “Were there… I heard shots.”
Rick’s expression softened. “Yeah, the Saviors—they’re gone now. We’re gonna get you there.”
A ghost of a smile tilted the corner of Maggie’s lips up. “I know.”
“You’ll be okay,” you told her, sniffling. “The baby’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end.”
“There’s more,” agreed Rick. “There’s gonna be more, I promise.”
A beat of silence.
“I believe in you, Rick,” she hoarsely said. Maggie’s gaze slowly moved from Rick to you. “In both of you.”
Maggie was asleep again. You made sure to give her plenty of water and what was left of the antibiotics you had saved—but that was the very last bit of supply you had. There was little else you could do for her other than getting her to Hilltop for the proper medicine and treatment she needed.
“So what’s the play?” asked Abraham. “They’ve cut us off every turn we made.”
“She needs medicine,” said Rick, desperation lacing each word. “She’ll die without it.”
“We only have two plausible routes North from here. They’ve cornered us,” Sasha whispered, gaze trained on the map.
Hopelessness laid uneasy on all of your shoulders.
“They’re probably waiting for us right now,” said Aaron.
Eugene gritted his teeth. “So, they’re ahead of us. Heck, probably even behind us. But they’re not waiting on us, per se—they’re waitin’ on this rust bucket. They don’t know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon.”
“We need to leave now if we want Maggie to make it to Hilltop,” you said, voice trembling with a myriad of guilt, anger, and frustration. “We carry Maggie, and we go on foot. Through the woods. They can’t block us there.”
Eugene took the RV in hopes of tricking the Saviors. Everybody else in the group set off into the woods, taking turns carrying Maggie on the makeshift stretcher, bundled under two layers of blankets. The sun had long set, and the whispering winds were cold this time of year.
“Just let me walk it,” she rasped, voice scratchy and throat dry.
“No,” you were quick to reply. “You’re in no condition to walk right now, Maggie. It’s only a few more miles. Just rest up a bit more, okay?”
Though she didn’t look happy, Maggie didn’t protest any further, letting her tired eyes slip shut once more.
After a couple more minutes, Aaron stepped in to carry one end of the stretcher for you, telling you that you also needed to rest your arms for a second. With a grateful nod, you reluctantly let go, falling into stride with Carl.
“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his hand brushing yours, his nonverbal way of saying that he was here for you if you needed him. “I’m sure Daryl and Michonne are fine. They’re fighters. Maggie’s going to be fine, too.”
You sent him a fond, but tired smile. “Yeah, I hope so, kiddo,” you told him, cuffing his shoulder affectionately. The thought of Daryl out there, probably worried sick for you as well, made your stomach twist into knots. “I really hope so.”
It was at that moment, a shrill whistle sounded out from the darkness of the forest. The group halted in their tracks. One by one, more whistles were added to the ear-splitting melody. It sounded like there were dozens, if not a hundred voices surrounding you.
“Go!” yelled Rick. “Go!”
The rest of you broke out in a sprint, and you grabbed Carl’s hand, winding around tree trunks and hopping over overgrown roots, ignoring the stinging scrapes of twisting branches against your face.
The whistling only continued, growing louder, louder, louder—
Until you came face to face with the source itself.
Car lights suddenly flashed open, momentarily blinding you. You drew Carl closer to you, instinctively protecting him, but it was no use. They had your group surrounded. Saviors, hundreds of them, gathered around you with leering expressions. All of them were clutching guns.
Raw fear curled around your lungs when you saw Eugene on his knees not too far from you, tears dripping down his face.
Rick looked destroyed. Devastated.
You were shaking so hard that your knees began to buckle beneath you.
Finally, the whistling began to dwindle away.
From the crowd, stepped out a familiar face—the man with a hideous pornstache that stopped the RV on the initial route.
“Good,” he called out. He swept his arms out in a faux inviting gesture. “You made it. Welcome to where you’re going—because you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we’re done with you. We’ll take your weapons.”
When he pointed a gun straight at Maggie, you immediately did as he said, pulling out the pistol wedged in your belt. There was a knife inside your boot, but you weren’t too keen on giving that up yet. You tossed your pistol on the ground just as Abraham threw down his rifle. The rest of the group followed suit.
Trembling, Rick spat out, “We can talk about this—”
“We’re done talking,” interrupted Pornstache. “Okay. Get her down, and let’s get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”
“She can’t,” you snarled, stepping in front of Maggie protectively. “She’s sick, she can’t—”
“Oh, she’ll be far worse than just sick if you don’t get her on her knees,” the man easily rebutted, eyes roaming over your protective form.
Lips trembling, you turned around, and with Abraham on her other side, you helped Maggie limp off the stretcher and gently set her down on her knees. Your eyes glistened and warbled with unshed tears. Maggie could only shake her head, as if telling you that it wasn’t your fault.
Terrified, Rick glanced around at the rest of the group. He’d failed you. All of you.
“Gonna need you on your knees, sweetheart,” said Pornstache, slowly dragging the end of his gun up your cheek with a salacious grin.
With a withering glare, you sank down beside Maggie, Rick on your left side, breathing haggard and lips quaking. Sasha and Abraham followed suit. Carl was the last, fists clenched by his sides.
“Dwight!” whistled Pornstache. “Chop chop! Bring out the others!”
A blonde man with half of his face horribly marred by what looked to be a severe burn injury, stepped forward, yanking open the back of a truck.
And, to your horror, he dragged out your boyfriend, covered in blood—blood that you could only pray wasn’t his, even though you knew deep down that that was only wishful thinking. Following Daryl was Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn, equally distraught.
Daryl caught your eye for a brief second, pure terror within his irises. He looked over you to make sure that you were alright, and you did the same with him, a tear slipping down your cheek.
I love you, you mouthed to him. He dipped his head once in understanding, before forcing his gaze away, not wanting to give the Saviors anymore reason to torture either of you.
“Maggie…?” Glenn painfully rasped once he caught sight of his wife in such a state. He tried to make his way to her, but the Saviors grabbed his arms and forced him down, guns digging harshly into his back.
“Alright!” exclaimed Pornstache. “We got a full boat! Let’s meet the man, eh?”
He knocked twice on the door to the RV you were in not even an hour ago.
The door slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges.
And out strode a tall man clad in a leather jacket, a bat covered in barbed wire hanging off his shoulder. He took his sweet time making his way towards the group, feet languidly dragging along the gravelly dirt, and a smirk accentuating his smug expression.
“Pissing our pants yet?” he drawled, voice tapering into a light chuckle as he stepped out into the light, smiling down at your group on your knees. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close. Mm, yeah—it’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Now which one of you pricks is the leader?”
Pornstache pointed at Rick. “It’s this one here.”
The man with the bat grinned wider, before stepping right in front of Rick, who craned his neck to glare up at him. “Hi there. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killin’ my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people… you killed more of my people. Not cool, man. Not cool. You have… no fuckin’ idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Mmh, yeah. You are so gonna regret crossin’ me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.” A dangerous, wolfish grin flashed across Negan’s face. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what—you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes—pay attention.”
He lowered his bat off his shoulder and slotted the barbed end right below Rick’s chin. You held in your breath, your entire body wracking with tremors. Though you knew you needed to stop, you couldn’t help but chance glances at Daryl every so often, your concern for him rapidly growing. Some of that was his blood, it had to be—his eyes were sunken with exhaust and his chest, the very chest you would fall asleep on every night, was rising and falling unevenly, making you believe he was hurt, but you just couldn’t see what was hurting him.
“Give me your shit… or I will kill you. See? Simple as that.” Negan pulled the bat away from Rick, and began walking around the group as he spoke. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow. But swallow it, you most certainly will! You ruled the roost. You built something, Rick. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged—more pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. If that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door… you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us? And we will knock it down. You understand?”
Rick swallowed heavily. Narrowing his keen eyes, Negan cupped his ear and leaned down closer to the kneeling man.
“What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. I just wanna make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me—and you can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growin’ a garden. But you killed my people—a whole damn lot of ‘em! More than I’m comfortable with, honestly. And for that… for that you’re gonna pay.”
Your hands curled into fists on your knees. You knew what was coming. And you’d be damned if you were going to let it happen.
“So, now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” Negan inhaled sharply, as if he enjoyed prolonging the torture. He bent down once more, showing off the barbed bat. “This right here—this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!”
Negan stopped in front of Abraham, who straightened and glared defiantly at the smirking man. In thought, Negan subconsciously rubbed his bearded jaw with one hand at the sight of Abraham’s own mustache. “Huh. I gotta shave this shit.”
On he strolled, before halting in front of Carl. “You had one of our guns. Hm. You got a lot of our guns.” Carl only scowled at the man. “Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little.”
Chuckling, Negan moved on.
You could feel one of your eyes twitch when you saw his shoes stop right in front of you. His bat was beneath your chin in an instant, forcing you to look up. The sharp metal on the bat painfully scratched against your jaw, and fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
“My, my, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? What’s your name, darlin’?”
Hatred simmered within your chest, but you forced your expression to remain indifferent.
You quietly told him your name, wincing when his bat dug deeper into your neck and he ordered you to say it louder. You repeated yourself, voice cracking. A single tear meandered down your cheek and slid down your chin, dripping onto Lucille.
Negan hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “Now that’s what I want to see, folks! A little emotion around here—Y/N’s got the gist of it!”
“Kill me,” you gritted out, making the rest of the group’s eyes widen. You could feel Rick’s stare burning holes straight through you, but you refused to meet his gaze, staring straight up at Negan. “You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go. Maggie, on my right, she’s real sick and she needs medicine—if she doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, she’ll… she’ll…”
The man in front of you barked out an amused laugh. “She’ll what?”
“She’ll die,” you snarled. “So kill me. Get it over with—and let them go.”
And for a split second, you let your eyes return to Daryl, one last time. He wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that Negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.
But it was all futile. He noticed anyway.
He followed your gaze over to Daryl, lowering his bat to gesture between the two of you.
“Ah… you two are a thing, ain’t ya? Damn. And here I thought you were available for takin’, sugar.” Negan tossed his head back and chuckled with mild disappointment. “God, look at you bein’ all heroic, offering yourself up for the chopping block! No, no, darlin’, this ain’t a game of who gets to be a martyr and save their friends. You don’t decide what’s happening here. I do. You think I don’t know you’re the doctor of the group? My people have been reporting to me—they know you’ve been the one taking care of Little Miss Sickly over there. No… you’re far too valuable for me to kill. We need more people like you, darlin’. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bash in your pretty little face, now, would I?”
With a hum, Negan stepped away from you, fixing his gaze upon Maggie.
“Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now—!”
“NO!” screamed Glenn, scrambling onto his feet and lunging at Negan. Before he could even begin to make contact, Dwight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threateningly shoving Daryl’s crossbow into his face.
Maggie cried out—both from a fresh wave of pain seeping through her bones, and from the sight of her husband being dragged back to his spot like a ragdoll.
Huffing out a sigh, Negan grunted out, “Nope. Nope, nope, get him back in line.”
Glenn screamed, choking back a sob. “No… don’t. Don’t!”
Negan could only smile. “Alright, alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again—I will shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one’s free—it’s an emotional moment. I get it. Mmh. Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”
Rick trembled violently beside you. Tilting his head, Negan glanced between him and Carl, realization dawning upon him when he noticed the physical similarities between the two.
“This is your kid, right? Ohoho, that is definitely your kid!”
“JUST STOP THIS!” yelled Rick, so sudden that it made you flinch.
Equivalent in volume, Negan bellowed back, “HEY! Do not make me kill your little future serial killer! Don’t make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody—everybody’s at the table waitin’ for me to order, hm?”
The man whistled out a shrill tune, one that sent a shiver dance down your spine.
“I simply cannot decide. But I got an idea.” With that, he pointed the bat at Rick. “Eenie.”
He moved to you, before narrowing his eyes, and skipped over to Maggie. “Meenie.”
Abraham. “Minie.”
Michonne. “Mo.”
Glenn. “Catch.”
Daryl. “A tiger.”
Rosita. “By.”
Eugene. “His toe.”
Sasha. “If.”
Aaron. “He hollers.”
Carl. “Let him go.”
And so on he went.
My mother told me to pick the very best one. And you… are… it.
Your heart dropped when the end of his bat stopped in front of Abraham.
No. No… no… no…
“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start! You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doin’ that!”
And with that, he swung the bat back and brought it clean down on Abraham’s head.
Screams erupted from around you. You could feel your vision blur over with your tears, and you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see such a gruesome sight, curling in on yourself as you listened to the repeated, sickening squelch of Negan’s bat repeatedly hitting your dear friend. Negan gloated and laughed and jeered. You cried and sobbed and flinched with every strike.
His blood—Abraham’s blood—splattered on your face. You could feel it.
Warm, moist, and thick. Dripping down your cheek.
“You guys… look at my dirty girl!” proclaimed Negan, jutting out the bloody bat for all to witness. The monster of a man tilted his head at Rosita, whose eyes were horrified and bloodshot, dripping with fat tears. “Sweetheart… lay your eyes on this!”
When Rosita began to cry harder, Negan hummed. “Oh, damn. Were you… were you guys together? That sucks. If you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and damn if that isn’t a good name for him—he just took one, or six, or seven for the team! So take… a damn… look.”
Rosita refused to move her gaze from Abraham’s mutilated corpse.
And, much to your horror, Daryl growled out as he surged forward on his feet, landing a clean punch against Negan’s jaw. You screamed out his name when three Saviors grabbed him and beat him back onto the ground, pinning him tightly against the gravel. A sob wracked through your frame and you could feel your stomach twist into itself. Daryl was still struggling against them, clutching his side as he panted out.
“No!” yelled Negan, clearly furious. “Oh, no. That—is a big no-no. The whole thing—not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!”
Terror clutched at your palpitating heart when Negan shoved Lucille right up into Daryl’s face, smearing Abraham’s blood all over him.
Dwight strode up and pointed Daryl’s own crossbow against the back of your boyfriend’s head. A sob fell from your lips. You couldn’t watch this—you just couldn’t.
“Daryl,” you cried out, hiccupping through your words. “Negan… no. No, please, don’t! I’ll do anything, please! Not him. Please, not him!”
Amused at your pleading, Negan casted a sidelong glance to you, before grabbing at Daryl’s hair and pulling him upright. “See what you did there, Buckaroo? You got your little partner all upset! Look, they’re crying their eyes out, worried for you.” Negan got back up on his feet. “Get him back in line,” he barked, though his eyes were trained on you.
And in two quick strides, he was back in front of you, gripping your face tightly between his gloved hand. “Look at you, darlin’, all covered in blood. Would it be weird if I say it makes my dick hard as fuck?” You scowled, trying your best to pull your face away from his uncomfortably rough grip. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart—your boyfriend here didn’t listen to me earlier. I said the first one was free, didn’t I? And what does that mean? Second one’s got a price, hm? I said I’d shut that shit down—no exceptions. I don’t know what kind of lyin’ assholes y’all have been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important! I need you all to know me. Know that I’m not joking around with this shit. Now, if you weren’t a doctor and you weren’t so fuckin’ hot—I would’ve bashed your head to pieces without battin’ an eye! But, lookie here, I’m faced with another dilemma. I need to kill another one of you to get my point across.”
A wail bubbled up in your throat and you began to claw at Negan’s fingers now painfully squeezing your jaw. “No… please, please… don’t, please—!”
“And I want you, darlin’, to pick which one of your little friends I kill.”
“No!” you spat, breathing shallow and panicked. “Me—just kill me, Negan—you don’t have to hurt anyone else, please, please, let them go, you—”
Getting irritated with you, Negan shook your face until you stopped blubbering. “You’re not listenin’ to me. Pick. Someone. Not you, and not your little boyfriend. I want him to live with the fact that one of his friends died because of him. Pick someone. Anyone, sweetheart. You’ll be doin’ em a favor, honestly. They get to save the rest of you from a miserable death! Now, doesn’t that sound appealing?”
A beat of silence. Negan stared you down, and you glared right back.
“Eat my shit,” you snarled out.
Narrowing his eyes, Negan finally relinquished his hold on you. You gasped for breath, chest heaving, stabilizing yourself with your hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you’re feisty! Might have to keep you around after this—holy fuckin’ shit. Mmh, alright… fine, then. Since you won’t pick—I’ll just have to kill your precious patient’s boyfriend, hm?”
Before any of you could react, Negan spun on his heel and arced his bat through the air, right onto Glenn’s head. Again, and again, and again.
A piercing scream echoed across the forest. Maggie’s scream.
Your mouth dropped open as a silent cry scratched down the sides of your throat.
Glenn was still alive, somehow, after all those bashes. Blood caked his entire skull and part of his head was caved in—to your nauseating horror, one of his eyes had come out of its socket.
“Buddy, you still there?” exclaimed Negan in astonishment, bending down to inspect his handiwork. “I just don’t know… seems to me like you’re tryin’ to say something! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just cracked your skull so hard, your eyeball popped right out! And it is gross as shit!”
After all that, Glenn managed to slur out, “Maggie… I’ll find you.”
Sobs rang throughout the clearing. The rest of the group cried tears for Glenn—without him, all of you would’ve been dead three times over.
“Awh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys,” said Negan. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I did say… no exceptions!”
With that, he brought down his bat again. Over, and over, and over.
Maggie cried so hard her voice started to give out.
Daryl, your beloved Daryl, flinched with every stroke of the bat, his eyes red and puffy with tears. You could see it already—the guilt behind his gaze. He thought it was his fault Glenn was killed.
You shut your eyes again.
“Lucille is thirsty! She’s a vampire bat!” proudly declared Negan, as he swung one final hit on Glenn’s long-dead body. “What? Was the joke that bad? Tough crowd, huh?”
“I’m gonna kill you,” whispered Rick once Negan was done. Rick had blood splattered all over his face, as well. Abraham’s blood. Glenn’s blood.
Negan squatted down beside him, tilting his head. His bat was dangerously close to you. “What? I didn’t quite catch that, Rick. You’re gonna have to speak up.”
Squaring his jaw, Rick drew in a sharp inhale. “Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”
Negan sucked at his teeth. “Jesus,” he softly said. “Simon. What did he have? A knife?”
Pornstache raised his brows. “He had a hatchet. An axe.”
Snorting, Negan shook his head. “Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without ‘em? A whole lot of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… or did I…”
The man waved the bloodied bat in front of Rick’s face, taunting him.
“Sure, yeah. Give me his axe.” Pornstache handed Negan the small weapon and Negan smugly slid it into his belt. Suddenly, Negan grabbed the back of Rick’s jacket and yanked him up, practically dragging him by the scruff towards the RV. Your breath hitched, wanting to stop him, but all the guns trained on the backs of your friends made you freeze. All you could do was lower your head and stave away your raucous sobs.
“I’ll be right back, folks! Maybe Rick will be with me! And if not… well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean… the ones that are left!”
They were gone for hours.
During those hours, part of you wanted to go to Maggie, comfort her, check if both she and the baby were alright. No doubt she was in a tremendous amount of both emotional and physical pain. The other part of you wanted to go to Daryl, curl up in the safety of his arms and cry into his chest.
But you couldn’t do either. Not with the Saviors pointing the barrels of their rifles to the back of your skulls.
The sun was already beginning to rise, tinting the sky a sweet, soft shade of blue. A stark juxtaposition to the dark red blood steadily drying on the rocky ground.
When Rick got back, Negan ruthlessly threw him down in front of the group. He looked exhausted. More than that—he looked dead inside. The light behind his eyes was gone.
“Do you know what that little trip was about?” asked Negan.
Rick looked around wildly, as if making sure that everyone else was alright.
“Speak when you’re spoken to,” Negan hissed.
Begrudgingly, Rick bowed his head. “Okay… okay.”
Negan wolfishly grinned, though there was a dark glimmer to his irises that you misliked. “That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you’re still lookin’ at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work!” Once again, Negan squatted down beside Rick, that smug expression still plastered across the man’s coarse features. “So… do I give you another chance?”
After a moment’s pause, Rick hacked out, “Yeah. Yes.”
Satisfied, Negan clapped Rick on the back, before getting back up onto his feet. “Alright! Here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s last crap day… or just another crap day. Get some more guns to the back of their heads. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire… it’ll be a real fuckin’ mess.”
You could feel cold metal graze the very top of your temple.
“Kid, come here,” said Negan, making your heart plummet to your stomach. Rick’s expression shifted to one of pure dread.
Carl didn’t move.
“Kid… now.”
With cautious movements, Carl stood up in front of the taller man.
“You a southpaw?” asked Negan while he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of its loops.
“Am I a what?”
“A lefty,” clarified Negan.
Carl scowled. “No.”
“Good,” retorted Negan, before grabbing Carl’s left arm and tying the belt around his bicep. “That hurt?”
Gritting his teeth, Carl bit out a negative.
“It should. It’s supposed to.” Negan smirked, knocking Carl’s cowboy hat off his head. “Alright, get down on the ground next to daddy, kid. Spread them wings!”
Slowly, Carl lowered himself down beside Rick, his cheek pressed flat against the dusty gravel.
“Simon, you got a pen?”
Pornstache nodded, brandishing a marker from his pocket and tossing it over to Negan. The man uncapped the black pen with his teeth, flashing you a wink and spitting out the cap somewhere to the side. He kneeled down by Carl to draw a straight line just below the junction of his elbow.
“Sorry, kid,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s dick, as if he were hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm! Gives you a little leverage, don’t it?”
Stammering, Rick muttered out, “Please… please don’t. Please don’t.”
Negan tilted his head, lightly chuckling. “Me? Oh, I ain’t doin’ shit. Rick… I want you to take your axe and cut your son’s left arm off—right on that line! Now, I know you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though—I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then your kid dies. Then the people back home die. Then you… eventually. I’d keep you breathing for a few years just so you could stew on it!”
“You… you don’t have to do this,” pleaded Michonne. It was the first time she’d spoken since she got out of the truck. Seeing Carl splayed out in front of her, practically her son, made something inside her snap. “We understand. We get it, we—”
“You might understand! I’m not so sure Rick here does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. You remember those, right? Nothin’ messy. I want a clean, forty-five degree cut. Give us somethin’ to fold over. You got Y/N right there to fix him up nice and good. The kid’ll be just fine. Probably.”
Rick was just about losing his mind, rocking back and forth, murmuring incoherently beneath his breath. Sweat dripped down his bloodied face, his hair, mixing with the salty tears leaking from his crazed eyes.
“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Before I crush the little fella’s skull myself.”
Swallowing down his sobs, Rick choked, “It can—it can… it can be me. It can be me. Wh… you… you could do it to me. I c-can go with—with you.”
Negan smiled at his desperation. “No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe, Rick. Not making a decision is a big decision, let me tell you that. You really wanna see all these people die? Because you will—if you don’t PICK UP THE FUCKING AXE!”
Rick began sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, my God,” said Negan, pulling at his face wearily. “You gonna make me count? Okay, Rick—you win. I’ll start counting. Three!”
“PLEASE!” screamed Rick. “IT CAN BE ME. PLEASE!”
“Two!” Negan kneeled down and slapped a sobbing Rick across the face, before grabbing his cheeks, not unlike he did with you hours before. “This is it, Rick. Make a decision. One!”
With a gut wrenching scream, Rick’s trembling fingers curled around the handle of his axe.
“Dad…” whispered Carl. A tear slipped down your cheek as the events unfolded in front of you. “Just do it.”
Rick cocked his arm back, seconds away from bringing it down to cleave Carl’s hand off.
But Negan grabbed Rick’s wrist at the very last second, stopping him.
The man smirked, pleased with himself. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”
Frantically, Rick nodded his head.
“SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO! You answer to me. You provide for me!”
“I’ll provide for you!” cried Rick.
“You belong to me! Right?” hollered Negan.
Hiccuping a sob, Rick bobbed his head. “Right.”
“Now that… that is the look I wanted to see.” Negan grabbed Rick’s axe from him and stepped away. “We did it. All of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you before… that is over now.”
Negan clapped his hands together, sighing out in relief.
And strangely, you were slightly relieved, as well. Maybe he was done. He wasn’t going to kill any more of you. This was all over for now.
Right?
“Dwight,” said Negan. “Load him up.”
To your shock, Negan pointed Lucille straight at Daryl.
“See, he’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know,” Negan told Rick. “I like him. He’s mine now. You still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of… what’s his name?”
“Daryl,” said Pornstache.
“Wow. That actually sounds just about right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep! Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”
“No…” you croaked out, when Dwight grabbed your boyfriend and dragged him back to the truck as if he were a wild animal, crossbow pointed at his chest. Maggie sobbed from beside you. “No, Daryl… please, no, don’t—please don’t take him from me!” you cried. “Please, I need him… Daryl!”
Negan smiled down at you. “Mmh. Alrighty, then. I’ll take you, too. Come on.”
A gasp lodged in your throat when he suddenly grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards.
“No, wait, I’m the only doctor they have, they need—Maggie needs m—!”
“I don’t give a rat’s flying blue ass,” growled Negan, shoving you in the direction of the truck, where Daryl watched you with wide, scared eyes. You craned your neck around to look at Rick and Maggie and the rest of the group—your family—one last time, unsure of when, if ever, you’d see them again. “You’re mine now. Got a whole lot of shit you can do for me, that’s for sure, darlin’. Load ‘em up!”
One of the Saviors pushed you into the truck just as Negan yelled out, “Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits! I’ll leave you a truck. Keep it—use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… ta-fuckin’-ta.”
You collapsed straight into Daryl once you were inside, thundering sobs spilling from your lungs. He wrapped his burly arms around you, smelling of dirt and blood and motor oil. No words needed to be said. No words could be said.
The both of you had lost so much today.
And now… you’d lost your freedom, as well.
Daryl began crying into your shoulder, and you could only hold him all the tighter.
Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.
Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.
A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...
Masterlist
If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents.
Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults.
Including your most recent problem child.
You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds.
Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases.
You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met.
Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person.
You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety.
“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk.
“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”
“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.”
The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad.
“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness.
“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.”
“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-”
“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.”
You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault.
“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?”
You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow.
“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you.
“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering.
“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat.
“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?”
The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word.
“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?”
In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went.
“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”
“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.”
The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second.
“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?”
“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”
The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well.
“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-”
“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.”
The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy.
“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?”
You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket.
“Great. Sure, let's go see.”
Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on.
“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?”
“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs.
Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her.
“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?”
“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.”
If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now.
“Harper, that's not how it works-”
“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation.
“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?”
Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks.
“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?”
The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood.
“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces.
“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little.
“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?”
“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.
"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!”
Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve.
You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word.
“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.”
The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going.
“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.”
The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted.
“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.”
“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him.
“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-”
“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?”
The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy.
“It was that obvious?”
“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too.
“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.”
Summary: You have always been there for Spencer. Turns out, he's never going to be there for you.
Warning: Angst.
A/N: one of my many drafts... enjoy 👀?
— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿
You love Dr. Spencer Reid.
As a colleague, a friend, and, well, a respected man.
Granted, you spent most of your days with a small herd of profilers, but you were great at hiding your feelings for him, if you do say so yourself.
You watched him smile awkwardly with love from one woman to the other. Then, there was Maeve. He was in love with her. You didn't need your profiling skills to lead to that conclusion.
It broke your heart when you heard Spencer's plea. It broke your heart when he couldn't even function properly. And your heart broke for him as you watched him fall on his knees, crying over Maeve.
So you chose friendship. You always have, after all.
You became his anchor. His support. His best friend.
You were there for him. You were there when he was ready to open up. You lent him your shoulder. You became his personal napkin, soaking up all his tears in the hopes that it would lessen the pain, even just a little bit. You kept him company, dragging him out of his apartment to bring him anywhere besides the gloom in his empty home.
And without him, or you, knowing, you gave him your heart. You were in love with Dr. Spencer Reid.
It made you feel guilty, but it was inevitable. Who would've known you could fall deeper than you already were? Not even you, apparently.
And yet, you remained the person he could cry on for two years. You pawned him a shoulder for a long, drawn-out two years. Shoving your feelings in the back of your mind as if it wasn't anything important to you.
The deeper you fell for him, the faster the team caught up with your feelings.
JJ figured it out first when she saw the ends of your hair as you walked in Spencer's apartment the first year of Maeve's death. Spencer had been unresponsive to everyone, but not to you. You managed to get him to open his door just by the sound of your footsteps. She knew, then, that he was in good hands.
Emily and Derek noticed how you felt at the same time. You were all on a case, and an officer who awfully looked a lot like Maeve emerged. You were protective of Spencer and knew exactly what his reaction would be. So you had everything he needed and offered to work with him before Hotch could even mention it. Of course, along with that was Penelope getting a confirmation about your feelings for Spencer.
Rossi always knew. He always saw the way you would giggle silently to yourself whenever Spencer sassed his statistics into them. One time, he saw you clean Spencer's desk before everyone arrived. And he suspected that you did so a while back before he caught you.
Hotch? He noticed, but he said nothing unless you verbally told him. He thought you weren't ready to openly admit your feelings to the team yet, so who was he to mention it?
And so it goes...
Emily would grin whenever Spencer gave you coffee every morning. Derek would wiggle his eyebrows whenever he caught your gaze on Spencer, then gossip about it with Penelope, which led to her teasing you 'til sundown. Rossi, at times, tried to ease your feelings when they surfaced. Your solid companion whenever you felt down. And Hotch was ever a menace, stern face or not. He would partner you and Spencer up, specifically on the days when your feelings for the genius were oddly stronger.
So, you could only imagine the heartbreak when Spencer arrived one morning with the wrong order of your coffee and a wide smile as he told you that he was going out on a date.
You immediately showed your protest. Of course, Spencer wasn't happy about it. What was worse was he didn't know why. And worse than that was you couldn't tell him why.
Or so you thought.
"I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of this," Spencer followed you as you walked around the bullpen.
"You just met this woman, Spence. I think it's safe to say, I'm worried. You don't even know whether this person is safe." You lied. You had to. He didn't need to know you didn't want him to go on a date because it would break you.
Spencer crossed his arms, knitting his eyebrows as he felt offended by your words. "I'm a profiler and have 187 IQ. I can take care of myself." He stated, earning a couple of stares from the other agents.
You mirrored his actions, "Really?" You challenged, nodding in his direction, specifically to his tie. "You can't even tie the same tie you've been wearing for years properly. Looks like you haven't done laundry too, because, as far as I can remember, you've been wearing that same vest for the past three days. Are you going to wear that on your date?" You raised a brow.
Emily's eyes blew wide, pursing her lips to eat her laughter in. She looked away in hopes that the urge to burst into fits of laughter would subside. Unfortunately, Derek was doing the same thing, and they both snorted at the same time.
"Obviously, I'm not going to wear this on the date. This is clearly not about how homeless I look like. Just be honest with me and tell me why you're so against me being happy." Spencer's voice climbed an octave higher. He was frustrated and confused, and you both knew how much he hated both.
You closed your eyes and sighed deeply. You really had no other choice, do you? You turned around to face Spencer, "I'm in love with you." You confessed, hoarding the entire bullpen's attention.
Spencer chuckled, shaking his head, "Right, nice joke."
"I'm not joking." It offended you a bit. How much he compared your confession to a silly joke.
Spencer's face darkened. He uncrossed his arms and dipped his hands inside his pockets. His next words broke your heart, "I'm very disappointed in you."
Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open as you heard your heart break into pieces, so loud you couldn't get a sense of what more he was saying.
"I came to you for two years to mend. You became my best friend because I thought I could trust you. And now, you're in love with me? Did you help me just so you could gain my affection?"
It stung. The silence that fogged the bullpen was deafening. Emily wanted to claw Spencer's eyes, but JJ was fast to hold her back.
Derek began to move beside you, "Reid, don't—"
Your manic laugh cut him off.
Spencer's eyebrows narrowed, "What?" His voice was far from the gentle one you were used to.
"You know what, Reid?" You scoffed, running your tongue on your lower lip to control your anger. "You're right. I was there for you. I was there to lend you a shoulder to cry on. I was there to keep you company. I made you smile. I even made you laugh! And sure, you're very disappointed in me because, god forbid, I fell for the genius prodigy. With the 187 IQ you're boasting, imagine my disappointment when you can't even figure out that I have feelings for you."
The bullpen fell silently dead as you stared at Spencer with such hatred it made his stomach climb on his throat. He has never seen you so... disgusted.
You couldn't take it. You couldn't look at him in the eyes anymore. You felt like you were going to throw up the longer you stood in the center of it all.
His words insulted you. And it hurt like a bitch.
There were many possibilities on how Spencer could've responded to your feelings, but this was beyond your limit.
You bit your lower lip, hesitant yet eager to spill the next words that came out of your mouth. "For the record, I regret falling in love with you." And with that, you left.
An offer from another unit had been sitting in your inbox. And despite having no plan to leave such a beautiful family of colleagues, you filled out the transfer form. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that you needed an out sooner or later. And Spencer's insensitive reaction was just the right motivation you needed.
The Monday after your outburst became the BAU team's worst nightmare.
Spencer immediately noticed your absence. He knew. Of course, he did. You were always the first person to greet him as you spun around in your seat. It was rare for you to be late.
You haven't contacted him for days, either. And he didn't have the guts to do it first. He has been drowning in guilt and couldn't figure out how he'd make it up to you. He realized how unfair he was to you, albeit too late.
Everyone arrived one by one, and there was still no sign of you until Hotch cleared his throat, "Let's start."
Penelope stumbled, hesitating at the sight of your empty seat. "What about..." She softly muttered and yet loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Agent..." Hotch sighed as he spoke your name. He still remembered how you went back to his office while everyone was out for their lunch break and submitted your transfer request. "She officially transferred to unit 4, violent criminal apprehension program... today," Hotch announced, much to his dismay.
Derek's eyebrows knitted, glancing outside the window of the conference room to your desk. "Are you kidding? Her stuff is still here."
Hotch took a deep breath, glancing at Spencer for a moment. "She said they were unnecessary items." He cleared his throat and gestured for Penelope to continue what she was doing.
Regrets stung Spencer like a thousand bees.
Most of the things that clattered on your desk were things that you both shared. His pens that you never gave back. Post-it notes he left for you that had no importance, but you kept them up on the wall of your cubicle. A photo booth picture of the two of you from one of Rossi's Christmas parties. The small bookshelf on top of your desk overflowing with Spencer's annotated books.
"But she didn't even tell us. She didn't say goodbye." Penelope exclaimed. Her eyes matched the frown on her lips. She couldn't help but talk about you. After all, they were your family for many years.
"Could you blame her though?" Emily scoffed, giving Spencer a glare.
Spencer messed up. Big time. And he has no idea how he would make it up to you.
can you write anything with bau! reader x spencer, who are expecting a baby🥺 i love dad spencer sm🫶🏻
Yes omg dad!Spencer he's my favorite! Hope you like this 🫶❤️
Spencer Reid x reader
Warnings: reader a little upset (Spence makes her feel better tho), pregnancy (duh), flufffffff, short and sweet, not proofread, wordcount: 582
You try your best to focus on the task at hand, the stack of paperwork you had been putting off all week, emails on top of emails gathering in your computer's inbox, but the kicks of the baby growing inside you keep your mind elsewhere. Her little, still growing, feet kick into your ribs harshly making any position you try to move into uncomfortable, she just can't seem to keep still today; absolutely restless.
If you were home you might whine to your husband, Spencer, maybe even cry out of frustration but being surrounded by coworkers keeps you from doing both just as much as the baby keeps you from work.
Spencer watches as you rest your left hand on top of your bump -your thumb moving gently back and forth against the fabric of your top- and he smiles at the ring adorned on your finger, but when he takes notice of the slight discomfort etched onto your face his grin quickly dissipates. Your brows are drawn together in what seems to be annoyance, your eyes are closed, and your head is tipped back as you swivel your desk chair back and forth in an attempt to calm yourself and your little one.
you can feel Spencer's eyes raking your figure -he's always been able to read you just as quickly as he can read books- and you keep your eyes shut to avoid his worried glance despite your current need for his safeguard. You don't want him to think you're dramatic, that maybe you're being annoying despite knowing he would never think something like that of you and never has.
One of your eyes cracks open to glance at him and you hope the quick movement of you swiveling in your chair will keep him from noticing your peeking, but of course, he's far too perceptive to not detect your gaze. His head cocks to the side in question, "Are you alright," he asks.
You close your eye again and bring your hands to rub at your face, the tips of your cold fingers digging into your eyes, you're starting to get a headache.
Without warning two large hands land on your shoulders, fingers poke and prod at your skin in a way that makes you sigh in relief. When you tilt your head back -eyes still closed- your husband frowns at you, "I wish you'd tell me when your not feeling good."
you almost don't respond the movement of his fingers gently gliding to your hair and scratching at your scalp makes your bottom lip quiver slightly. "I'm okay." Your voice breaks when you speak and Spencer doesn't comment on it, he doesn't want to make you actually cry by pointing it out, instead he moves only one of his also cold hands down the slope of your heated cheeks and rest it there, a gentle remind that he's here for you.
"You look pretty, do you know that," he moves his head closer to your ear to whisper to you, "beautiful."
That finally makes your eyes snap open and he's grinning at you again. Groaning at how his teasing worked to get you looking at him, you tilt your head and lay a kiss on the palm of his hand, "your child is restless," You complain to him, "she gets it from you."
"I'm sorry." His words are sickeningly genuine, they make you smile.
description: Spencer's wife struggles with the aftermath of JJ's confession
length: 1.5k
warnings: JJ's 14x15 confession spoilers (big ick, pull yourself together Jennifer) infidelity, thoughts of worthlessness, reader thinks Spencer is going to leave her for JJ.
authors note: I have loved JJ for all of fourteen seasons and fourteen episodes. this was a BIG ICK for me watching this won't lie
She should have known something was wrong the minute they left that damn store.
It took her all of two seconds to throw herself into her husband’s arms, her voice choked with tears that had threatened to spill when she’d seen the video of Casey shooting at him, and she swore Spencer had never grabbed her so tight.
“I thought you,” She sniffled, running her fingers through the back of his scalp, the entire spanse of his huge hands ran along her spine, counting every vertebra to make sure she was still intact, despite the fact he had been the one held hostage, “I thought he’d shot you- it came so close,”
He hushed her mewls, a hand reaching to the back of her head and tucked her into his neck further, the sob rattling through her ribcage almost, almost, taking his mind entirely off what JJ had said in that stupid game of truth or dare.
What the fuck did she mean she had always loved him? She had a husband and children who doted on her; Will, who loved every shred of her being like it was his only purpose in the world. His godsons who had known him as uncle Spencer since he’d held them in the hospital, covered in goop and looking like the cutest little aliens he’d ever seen.
And yet JJ, his friend, perhaps one of his longest friends, was willing to throw it away for him? He, who had a wife he adored more than there were birds in the wind, leaves on an Autumn floor, more than there were galaxies in the damn cosmos. His wife, who had been there for him since the moment they’d met, who he’d known was the one since that first day she’d ran into him in the lobby, their files mixing together because neither of them had been watching where they were going, like one of those romcoms she forced him to watch and he pretended to hate, or like the silly thing she called fate that she insisted was very much real.
Spencer was a man of statistics and numbers and facts; things he could see. But he was sure there was nothing in any textbook that could have ever made sense of how the one person so perfectly created for him, the blob of cells that made up his wife that seemed to call to his own as if they were coming home to one another, would have just so happened to bump into him on a random Tuesday in August.
Most people waited decades for that kind of love, or something close, and he’d managed to get it at the ripe age of thirty three.
And yet in the space of ten seconds, of four little words in a wretched game, he felt like the carpet had been pulled from beneath him. Because why would JJ, who saw as clearly as anyone else how much he cherished his wife and the future they were planning together, try to take that away from him?
And as if his own odd spiral of thoughts wasn’t a kick to the gut enough, his sweet wife had quickly released him from her grasp and thrown herself at JJ, who seemed to just now be understanding the gravity of her words as she looked around with wide eyes, tear stains wetting her cheeks, the guilt gnawing in her gut already.
“JJ! Are you okay? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so scared,” She sobbed, wrapping her friend in a loving hug that was shakily reciprocated, like JJ was waiting for the second she would get a fat shiner to the nose for confessing such a thing.
But that never happened. Instead, she pulled away from the frozen blonde woman, who looked like she could burst into tears then and there and apologise for everything until her face turned blue, and ran a kind hand over the JJ's hair, stroking it behind her ear tenderly as she tried to quell her cries because she wasn't the one who had been held at gunpoint.
She didn’t know. It hit them both at the same time. She didn’t know what JJ had said, hadn’t even got an inkling into what had happened, and god did it make the sinking feeling in Spencer’s chest swallow itself up into something the size of the Mariana Trench.
And what was left, what had for a second been a horrid mix of confusion, shock, fear and then another big dollop of confusion for good measure, quickly was dragged away by the current and replaced with anger.
Anger that JJ could do something like this to his wife; he frankly didn’t care how her words had affected him, that if he had been single he would have been left feeling unworthy of her affection the first time it had been offered around, like there was something so disgustingly wrong with him this was what it took for her to say anything. He didn’t care about any of that. He cared that this would absolutely destroy his wife.
And it was for that reason Spencer hurried the paramedics into fixing the small graze on his palm as he watched with boiling blood his wife tend to JJ like she would any other time her close friend was hurt in the field. He seethed whenever Jennifer would simper and avoid her friend's eyes, how his beautiful, caring, devoted wife would stroke the woman’s back and will her to talk, to tell her what to do to make it better.
Because it was her who should be fussing over his sweet wife, certainly not the other way around.
But he couldn’t say that, not there at least, and so he didn’t, not until he had got the greenlight from the medics to leave and he had all but cut off the circulation in her fingers with how tight he’d held her hand as he led her to the car.
Spencer said nothing, not wanting to fight when she forced him to sit shotgun as she climbed behind the wheel, not wanting to cause a commotion when there was a much bigger bombshell he was sitting on that he knew would change her feelings entirely.
-
“What?” Her voice was soft still, a murmur in the quiet night air of their bedroom. She sat, fresh faced, minty breathed, kevlar vest long gone and replaced with one of his old Dr Who shirts and comfy bottoms.
She said the word again, like she hadn’t heard him, but judging by the way her expression had fallen into something dejected, he knew that wasn’t the case.
Sighing, drawing gentle motions up and down her legs with his warm hands, shuffled closer where he kneeled down in front of her submittingly. “JJ said that she has always loved me; that was her ‘truth’ in the game,”
“Well, she-she was lying right?” His wife said quickly, her voice shaking, trying to make sense of it herself. She didn’t get an answer right away, just her husband’s eyes casting down as he tried to think of the best thing to say, “Right, Spencer?”
“I don’t know,” He said earnestly, and he saw immediately the way tears sprung to her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, her face warming in wet-anger, “But it doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, to me- baby, please don’t cry,”
“Ofcourse it changes things, Spencer, it’s JJ. She’s literally the hottest woman to walk the earth, Pen said you were like in love with her when you started the BAU, and now you have your chance,” She whimpered, fat tears rolling over her freshly moisturised cheeks, and he swore he felt his chest concave at her words.
“My chance? I don’t want a chance, I want you,” Spencer said in earnest, his hands rubbing further and further up her legs until his hands went under her night shirt, grabbing onto the soft of her hips with pleading tenderness, “I want you forever, no matter what JJ or any other woman feels about me,”
She sniffled pitifully, her eyes still unsure and he took it as a sign she needed more, so he leaned in fully to hug her to him.
“But it’s JJ,” She said again, like that was going to change anything, and he shook his head, stroking over the back of her hair softly.
“I don't care,” He said, and she sniffed gently into the crook of his neck, his skin wetting with the contact. She finally wrapped her arms around him, and he knew he was close to getting it through to her, “I had the smallest crush on JJ, what, fifteen years ago? Honey, I want you for the rest of my life, and nothing and no one is going to change my mind about that, not even you.”
“Really?” His sweet wife whispered tearfully, and he chuckled sadly, hating how hard she had cried that it had ripped the life from her voice.
“Cross my heart,” He kissed her hairline softly, tipping her head upwards with one long, warm finger under her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her wetted lips, “Hope I never die,”
She smiled sorrowfully, kissing her husband as if it was the last time she could ever do so, hoping it made up for how puffy and ugly her tears had made her face. But he didn’t care, he never had, he thought she was perfect just the way she was.
And he’d remind her of that any time she thought otherwise.
Reader and Luke not being together yet (even tho theyre both stupidly in love with the other (duh)) and reader falls asleep on Luke in the jet after a rough case!!
statistical anomaly
pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader
summary; after a case drags you to the jet late at night, you fall asleep on luke's shoulder but not before overhearing him talk about you
warnings; fluff, tired reader, team being absolute chaotic little gremlins, spencer reid (my beloved <3)
notes; i saw this and despite how ill i feel (nothing is new there, literally been dying for six months straight(not actually, just feels that way)), i was kicking my feet and giggling because STOP, i need this and want this in my life. so, i may have written a little drabble hehe, is it edited? no. is there mistakes? probably, i'm tired. but the thoughts of luke alvez never stop so enjoy
(also i made this before a case instead of after bc i just honestly, idk, i just did, so whoops but same vibes)
masterlist
It was late when you were called in for a case. You had just got home, texting Luke that you were home safe (like you always did) when Garcia called. She profusely apologised for calling you in so late but then asked you to come back. You did, without question. It wasn’t Garcia’s fault and there were lives to save; even if you were exhausted.
A soft sigh escaped your lips as you settled into the jet. You were sat around the table. Luke was next to you and Emily and Reid were sat across from you. You all had the case files out, the laptop with Garcia on it was on the table too. Emily began to run you all through the case, preliminary discussions passing quickly without much of a word from you.
You were exhausted and your brain was lagging behind so you knew it was better to stay quiet for now. Once you were done, everyone slipped away into their own little group. Reid and Emily were discussing the case while you simply closed the case file. Luke glanced down at you.
“Everything okay?” He asked softly. You ran your hand across your face before you nodded your head but you weren’t convincing him or anyone. He gently took a hold of your wrist, resting it against the table, “Do you want a coffee?” He added after a moment. You shook your head.
“I’m fine, really,” You attempted to convince him but he wasn’t. He glanced around before his gaze returned to you, “Talk me through the background,” You requested. Luke looked at you for a moment and he eventually gave in to you. You were giving him the eyes and he couldn’t ever resist that. So, he began to read through the background that Garcia had managed to compile.
You really tried to listen but listening to Luke’s voice was calming you down. You felt the exhaustion seeping back in and you let your head rest against Luke’s arm. He - obviously - didn’t have a problem with it. Any excuse to have you close was good enough for him. He loved holding you, touching you, keeping you close.
“Did you get any of that?” He teased softly, noticing how your eyes had fallen closed. You mumbled something but he didn’t catch any of it. You were clearly exhausted and so he shuffled so that you could rest more comfortably against his shoulder, “I’ll wake you when the flight lands,” He whispered softly into your ear. You hummed happily in response before you let sleep take you.
It was hard for Emily and Reid not to notice. Reid was the first to suspect that there was something going on between the two of you but whenever he brought it up, he was shut down. But the rest of the team were catching on now.
“You know, a friendship, on average, takes 21.9 months to turn romantic,” Reid stated and Luke lifted his gaze up, cocking an eyebrow, “But you’ve been friends for nearly three years, so you’re both a statistical anomaly,” He added. Luke tried his best not to shift but it was clear that he was baffled by Reid’s sudden statistics.
“Reid,” Emily warned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Reid to talk because she did enjoy hearing him but she didn’t want to make a situation out of this right now. They had other things to worry about.
“Nothing is going on between us,” Luke responded. A scoff escaped Emily’s lips involuntarily and Luke’s head snapped towards her, “I’m letting her sleep,” He defended. Emily tried to distract herself from this conversation by looking at the case file but she was still gonna be nosy.
“You let her touch you more than anyone else on the team. You also regularly watch her while she’s working and you’re much more engaged when she speaks and you’re more likely to defend her when one of us fights against her theories. You might not have something going on but you clearly love her and she loves you,” Reid stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Luke’s eyes widened and he glanced down at you before he looked back at Reid.
“How do you know that?” Luke asked, the emotions warring in his chest as he tilted his head to the side slightly.
“Oh, she told me,” A smile appeared on his face and you bit your lip as you still rested against Luke’s shoulder. You had been asleep for a little bit but Reid and Luke speaking had roused you from the brink. You had been silently listening but Reid noticed you begin to smirk slightly.
“Stop talking about me, please,” You mumbled, your tone thick was exhaustion. Luke’s eyes widened and Reid chuckled softly, “I’m trying to get some sleep.” Luke looked down at you and then back at Reid and he seemed completely dumb-founded. He was at a loss for words. It was cute and that is why you just let yourself settle back down and go back to sleep. You needed it.
Luke doesn't have many hoodies but somehow during cases they all disappear one at a time. He doesn't suspect you at first because he might forget one or two at a hotel but after catching you in the act of stealing his hoodies he confronts you
i was in such a fluffy mood so i wrote this little one-shot, i think it came out SO CUTE, luke is just such a softie when he is friends with someone and AGHHH, i just love this!!
thief
pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader
summary; you steal all of luke's hoodies like the good friend you are.
warnings; fluff, pure fluff, just happy luke being cute, it's a goofy little fluffy one-shot
masterlist
You were not a kleptomaniac. Or at least, that’s what you thought.
Then Luke started giving you his hoodies. At first, he was simply being a gentleman. If you were cold on a case and forgot a jacket, he’d give you a hoodie that he kept spare in his bag. Then you’d forget to give it back until you’d slip it back into his to-go bag after a few days.
You really tried not to be a klepto but it was hard when Luke’s hoodies were so soft.
You often spent evenings in his hotel room, talking and theorizing about the current case and you’d inevitably put on one of his hoodies. He wouldn’t even notice you’d put it on and sometimes, you’d sneak into his room just to grab one if you were cold but didn’t pack anything warm enough.
In your defense, you also tried to return them but at some point, Reid had clocked on to you sneaking hoodies back and you didn’t want him to blow your cover. So, you were growing a horde of Luke’s hoodies in your drawer at home. You weren’t complaining though because they were comfy, soft and you wore them constantly.
Little did you know, that you had left Luke perplexed because he didn’t understand where the fuck his hoodies vanished too. He preferred jackets over hoodies generally but as the months dragged on, he found himself constantly buying new ones because sometimes he just wanted a pull-over. They were comfortable and when he was taking Roxy on a walk and it was freezing, a hoodie was always the better choice.
But they were always gone.
At first, he didn’t suspect anything because even if they vanished for a few days or weeks, they’d suddenly reappear. Honestly, he just assumed that he wasn’t seeing it or he was being an idiot but then, he noticed it.
Whenever you stayed late, you were wearing a hoodie. You’d come out of your hotel room wearing a hoodie. Whenever you slept on the planes, you were in a hoodie. And not just any hoodie. His hoodies. He was sure of it. Though he had no proof.
That was until now. The team was heading out to the PD for another - no doubt - long day and you had said that you needed to grab something from your room (after Emily had commented about how cold it was outside). He decided to test his theory and he made up an excuse to head back to his own room - curious looks be damned.
And lo and behold, he watched as you walked into his hotel room. He couldn’t help but almost laugh at the absurdity. You both trusted each other with everything so he really didn’t care that you were going into his room but to steal his hoodies? He didn’t understand why you didn’t just ask.
He approached the hotel door but decided to wait. He heard you moving around and let out a soft ‘ah-hah’ when you discovered the hoodie he had been wearing last night on the armchair. You tugged it on and went back to the door, pulling it open.
Only to find an amused Luke Alvez on the other side. You stared at him, eyes wide and he tilted his head to the side slightly.
“Hi,” He said and you stared at him, the heat rushing to your cheeks. He had caught you in the act. How were you supposed to explain this? You were stealing your friend’s hoodies like a complete freak. You didn’t know what to say.
“It’s not what it looks like,” You were quick to splutter out. Luke chuckled as he looked at you with a curious gaze.
“It looks like you’re stealing my hoodies and not returning them,” He stated. You pouted, head tilting down slightly.
“Okay, maybe it is what it looks like but I can explain,” You attempted. Luke chuckled and he stepped back from the door.
“Go on,” He urged. He wanted to hear this and the grin on his face told you that at least he wasn’t mad at you. That was one positive.
“Your hoodies are really comfortable and you let me borrow them a few times. I always returned them and I want to return them but Reid started to notice me bringing in hoodies - that were not mine. So, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and so I’ve just been amassing a pile of your hoodies and I wanted to give them back. I really did but I didn’t know how and it had gone so far that I have like 6 different hoodies from the past few months in a drawer in my house. And like I trust you with my life and you have been over to mine so many times but how was I supposed to tell you that I’ve been stealing your hoodies? And it got too awkward, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react and I didn’t think you’d notice and I just I’m sorry,” You muttered. Luke could see the way the anxiety sat heavy in your stomach and he shook his head in amused disbelief.
“If you wanted to borrow a hoodie, just ask,” He said. You looked up at him, a sheepish smile on your face.
“Can I borrow a hoodie?” You asked. Luke chuckled and nodded his head.
“Of course you can but we’re going back to yours after this case and I’m getting them back,” He stated. You nodded, resting your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. It was really comfortable and it smelt like him.
“They don’t smell like you anymore anyway,” you mumbled. Luke looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow and you just returned a sheepish smile to him. He had no words but he honestly just found it to be adorable. He had never known someone to steal hoodies but you had given him a lot of unexpected feelings and experiences so this just added to it.
“Come on, before they get suspicious,” Luke urged you to head back to the group in the lobby.
Luke sleeps like a starfish when he's alone. Taking up all the space in the bed without Roxy next to him but on a case you have to share a room with him. It only has one bed
okay, i wasn't entirely sure what ask to reply to since what i am about to give you is a combination of 4 (not 3 as i told you last night (whoops)) asks that you have sent in! i just kind of got carried away and this one-shot is just SO CUTE. i'm gonna leave the prompts i combined for this below and then there will be the one-shot
so please enjoy the chaos below
star-fishing
pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader
summary; luke helps you clean up after a fight with an unsub.
warnings; fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, one-bed trope, description of injuries (and cleaning them up), reader is down-bad for luke, a little bit of teasing and kissing
“Ow,” You hissed softly as Luke gently ran the cotton swab across your forehead. The Unsub had got you pretty bad but you had insisted that the medics didn’t need to clean you up. Which meant that Luke was doing it now. He was wedged between your thighs as you sat up on the hotel bathroom sink. The first-aid kit was laid out next to you but he was focusing on cleaning the blood from your skin for now.
The hand holding the cotton swab rested against your head as he swiped away the blood while the other had a hold of your face, keeping your head level. Luke was so close to your face. You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks as you tried to decide what to look at. The heat was creeping up your cheeks despite your best attempts to keep your bubbling feelings at bay.
“Sorry,” Luke muttered, “I’m nearly done,” He added, briefly meeting your gaze before he returned back to the wound. There wasn’t much blood left so now he was doing his best to disinfect the wound. It wasn’t as bad as it had looked at first which gave him a sense of relief.
“I could have done it myself,” You said after a beat of silence. You couldn’t tear your gaze off his face. His eyes were boring into you and his hand was so warm against your cheek. You were sure he could feel the heat that had rushed to them but you tried not to think about it. He didn’t even notice as you admired his face.
His stubble had grown in a little since he hadn’t had the chance to shave and it somehow made that rugged yet soft look more prominent. His lips were so full and kissable. Every part of you wanted to just grab his face and snog him, fulfil the urge that had been clawing its way to the forefront of your mind for weeks. The feeling of his stubble and his lips pressed against yours would make it so easy to forget everything, you were sure of it. But you had to fight the urge.
You and Luke were friends. That was all you had been and probably all you would be.
His cheeks were slightly red from the heat of the bathroom and his chest was resting so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His skin was so warm, you could have melted into him. Your hands always seemed to run cold and you desperately wanted to shove them underneath his hoodie to warm them up but you didn’t. It was unprofessional and he would complain about feeling cold himself.
You averted your gaze from his face, letting your eyes rove over his shoulders and down his arms. Even in the hoodie, you could see how built he was. But Luke wasn’t like the other muscular guys you had known. Usually, they were arrogant and the muscles were purely for vanity. Luke’s at least served a purpose outside of boosting his ego.
But what confused you was how gentle he was despite the muscles. When you first met him, years ago, you had expected him to manhandle you. If you got hurt, you expected him to be frustrated but he was always so gentle. All the strength he held turned to softness and he held your face so gently as he took care of you. It was so disconcerting and it was far from what you were used to when it came to men but it made you feel safe.
Luke made you feel safe.
That was probably why you spent so much time around him. It was easy to be around him because he was such a teddy bear when he wasn’t trying to do his job. It made it easy to talk to him. He was so easy to talk to and you didn’t know how to deal with the feelings that he gave you. You had told yourself that you would never mix work life and your love life but Luke made that so hard.
You felt his gaze shift and his eyes traveled over your face. He could see how nervous you had suddenly become and he nudged your cheek with his thumb. Your eyes jumped up to meet his gaze and smiled at home.
Luke chuckled softly before he pulled back, a hand still rested against your face as he flipped the cotton bud. He dipped the clean end into the bottle of disinfectant before he returned to the wound on your forehead.
“Your hands haven’t stopped shaking since you punched him in the face,” Luke stated. It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about. The Unsub. You scoffed, balling your fists. He was right even if you didn’t want him to be.
You dug your nails into your hand, hoping that maybe it would stop them, “I just-” He paused as he adjusted his hand so that he could tilt your face up to make sure everything was disinfected properly, “don’t want this to get infected.” You rolled your eyes before letting them close. It was sweet that he cared so much.
“I nearly had him,” You muttered after a moment. He chuckled, looking at you and tilting your head slightly. In the fluorescent lights of the hotel bathroom, it looked pretty clean and so he dropped the cotton bud into the bin. His hand left your face and his body moved from between your thighs as he searched for an appropriately sized plaster in the first-aid kit. You unclenched your fists but your hands were still shaky.
“We’ll get him,” Luke reaffirmed as he grabbed a couple of band-aid options. He then stepped back between your thighs.
“I know. We got lucky finding him the first day here,” You said after a moment. Luke nodded and he began to compare plasters for your forehead cut. He tilted your chin slightly to make sure it was the right size and once he was sure, he dropped the rest of the options before he ripped it open.
“Would have saved us sharing a bed,” Luke muttered, glancing at your face to gauge how you reacted. You pouted playfully, cocking an eyebrow.
“Don’t pretend you’re not gonna love it,” You stated, a teasing smile on your lips. Luke chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.
“Uh-huh,” He muttered softly. He shifted the band-aid on your forehead before deciding on the position. He then pulled the backing off and stuck it down against your skin. He ran his thumb over it, smoothing it down before he stood back.
“It’s beginning to sound like you want to be in bed with me, The great Luke Alvez never ignores a teasing comment,” You continued to taunt him as he checked over the rest of your face. Aside from the bruises and busted lip, you seemed to be mostly okay. There were no immediate cuts and you didn’t have a concussion
“How’s your lip?” He asked, avoiding your comment. You shrugged, your finger coming up to gently press against the cut. It was busted, it wasn’t great but it wasn’t as painful as you had expected. The pain mostly just blended into the background.
“Could be worse,” You shrugged. Luke nodded, “Just for the record, we are having a pillow wall. I’m only teasing,” You said. Luke smiled up at you, he tilted his head slightly as he looked into your eyes. Your eyes kept shifting anxiously, you were picking at the nails on your hand without even realising it, “And before you get an ego boost, I am only doing this because I didn’t have another choice.” There was a teasing lilt to your tone, a smile on your lips which completely contrasted the anxious movements of your hands.
He chuckled at your comment, it was a deep chuckle and it made a grin crawl onto your face. It was hard to resist despite the pain that it caused your busted lip. It was such an easy laugh from Luke, you wanted to hear it forever. His hands rested at his side, a green hoodie covering his usual button-up. He looked so soft and domestic, it was hard not to admire him.
“You could have shared a room with Rossi,” Luke suggested. You scoffed and shook your head vehemently.
“No. That man snores. I can hear him through the walls, if I was in the same room as him, I would commit a homicide.” Luke chuckled again and stepped back to help you down from the counter. You let out a soft sigh. You were so tired but you felt so dirty. Sweat, mud and the smell of the local PD was clinging to you and you wanted to shower it off so badly.
“I guess you’re stuck with me then,” He teased. You huffed out, pretending to be annoyed but you really didn’t mind. Part of you wondered if Emily had set it up so that you and Luke had to share a room. Her, JJ, Penelope and Spencer had already confronted you about your possible feelings for Luke at monthly pasta night. So, it wasn’t a hard leap to make but you didn’t want to assume - or make a fool of yourself.
“Yeah but you’re not watching me shower so get out,” You said, shaking yourself out of your thoughts, “I know you’d love it but not tonight mister.” You felt a little awkward and clunky teasing Luke the more your feelings rose to the surface but you tried to keep it up. Your relationship was built on teasing each other and if you stopped, Luke would be suspicious. You were not gonna let that happen.
“Not tonight?” He asked, a mischievous smile on his face, “So another night?” He asked. You scoffed and smacked his chest playfully.
“Play your cards right and maybe,” You stated before you urged him out of the bathroom. He chuckled as he threw his hands up in mock defense.
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” You sent him a teasing smile before you closed the door behind him. Once you were sure it was locked, you stripped out of your work clothes and walked over to the full-length mirror. You had fallen pretty badly during your fight with the Unsub and there was already a pretty nasty (and massive) bruise blooming across your hip.
You gently prodded at it before you checked over the rest of your body. Except for a few bruises on your knees and arms from hitting the ground, you were fine. So, you switched the shower on and waited for it to heat up before getting under the spray. The warmth soothed your skin and you did your best to keep your hair and face out of the spray. You didn’t want the band-aid to peel off and by some miracle, you managed to not get it wet.
After scrubbing the grime of the day off your body, you got out of the shower and slipped a towel around your waist. The shower made you look a little more sane and you dragged your to-go bag from beside the door onto the counter so that you could change into your pajamas.
Thankfully, you had packed the more modest pajama option for this trip so you were in long pajama pants and a comfy vest. You took your time going through your night-routine just so you could calm your anxiety. The thought of sharing a bed with Luke was obviously fine but it made you feel nervous and giddy. Nothing was going to happen but you hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since your last partner so it just felt strange.
After taking a few deep breaths, you stepped out into the bedroom to find Luke star-fished on the hotel bed. His head was buried in the middle of the pillows and he seemed to be asleep. He wasn’t even under the covers so it was hard to tell if he had actually conked out or not. You also couldn’t see his face. He might just have been resting for all you knew.
Either way, he was in his own pajamas. Well pajama pants. He had neglected to wear a top which you didn’t really mind; it was a good view.
“Move over,” You stated as you walked over to the bed. Luke’s shoulders shifted at the sound of your voice and he lifted his head, eyes opening groggily. Had he been asleep? You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Clearly the day had taken it out of him, “I’m sleeping in this bed too,” You added. Luke let out something incoherent before he reluctantly shuffled over. His head buried in the pillows again and you couldn’t help but smile softly. He was so sleepy, it was adorable, “Lights on or off?” You asked after a beat.
“Off,” Luke grumbled. His voice was thick with sleep which just made you smile even wider. You had never seen him like this before and your earlier assertion that he was like a teddy bear only seemed to be more accurate.
Before taking your place in bed, you switched the big light off and trudged back over. The room was plunged into almost complete darkness but you could still navigate your way around relatively easily. You dropped into your side of the bed and tugged at the duvet.
Luke was still half-asleep on top of the covers and his hulking form was making it very difficult to move the covers comfortably around you. You let out a groan of annoyance as you tugged a few times with no avail.
“Luke,” You whined as you tugged again. He grumbled something incoherent and rolled over. Well, that was helpful, “Luke,” You complained again, tugging harder but it did nothing. You let out a soft huff and got up onto your knees. You leant over Luke and poked his cheek. He grunted in annoyance before attempting to swat whatever was poking him. But you evaded and did it again. He mumbled something incoherent again and you poked once more. His eyes reluctantly opened and you chuckled.
“You’re hogging the duvet,” You stated. Luke looked up at you, leaning over him and his eyes blinked closed for a moment before he let out a grumble. He then grabbed your waist and tugged you on top of him. You let out a yelp as you landed against his chest, “I’m cold,” You muttered. Luke wrapped his arms around you, tugging you closer.
“I’ll keep you warm,” He muttered as he snuggled up to you. Part of you just wanted to give in to this fate. It was comfortable and Luke was a human radiator but your toes were cold and Luke was half-asleep. It felt like you were taking advantage.
So, instead, you opted to poke at his chest and face a few times as you said his name softly, asking him to get off the covers. It took him a moment but eventually he opened his eyes again. It was a split second but when he realized what he was doing, his eyes popped open. All traces of sleep disappeared from his features and he let go of you immediately.
“I did not- I didn’t realize- I-” Luke began, stumbling over his words as he shuffled to sit up against the headboard. You giggled at his flustered reaction as you crawled over to your side of the bed again, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-” He continued to try and excuse himself but when he realized that you were laughing. His eyebrows furrowed, “What?”
“You really know how to woo a girl,” You teased. His eyebrows furrowed and you tugged the covers back, “I think you’re half-asleep self is better at flirting with me.” You knew that you were stepping into dangerous territory with that comment but you couldn’t help yourself. It was endearing to see him so sleepy and touchy and you were also exhausted which made you a little more bold than you would like to admit. Luke was stunned by your reaction, “Come on, let me get under the covers. I’m freezing and I’ll set up a pillow wall. Avoid any more half-asleep kidnappings.” Luke watched you for a moment before he finally moved, “But if you are gonna cuddle me in my sleep, I’m not gonna object.” You were acting so confident but your heart was thudding in your chest as you moved to grab a pillow.
But when you turned back, Luke was just looking at you. He didn’t seem to know what to say as he looked into your eyes. You tilted your head to the side slightly but just as you opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, he had tugged you towards him again.
“I want to kiss you,” He stated. You stared at him, your eyes widened as he looked at you, “Can I?” He asked. You nodded your head and he grabbed your face, pulling you to him. Your lips connected so softly. He was being so cautious of your busted lip and you melted into him. He only gave you a few soft short kisses before he pulled back a little. You reopened your eyes to look at him and he looked completely love-struck.
“Do it again,” You urged as you moved one hand to wrap around his neck. He grinned and tugged you into his lap before kissing you again. It was so soft and he let you take the lead as you adjusted your body to get a better angle, not disconnecting your lips for even a second. You were right. His lips were so soft and they made it impossible to think about anything but the two of you kissing in that moment.
Your head tilted to the side as you kissed him over and over again, his tongue ran across your bottom lip and you let him in without a second thought. His hands moved from your face to your hips and he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you as close as he could. His tongue explored your mouth as you held his face, whining softly as your fingers ran through his hair.
A groan escaped his lips when you tugged at his roots and you let out a breathless giggle. He smirked and opened his eyes briefly before he let them fall closed again. You tugged him closer, hand cupping his jaw as you continued to connect your lips. Your fingers scritched at the stubble and you felt how he melted underneath your touch.
It was exactly what you needed.
The two of you kissed till you were breathless and when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his. Your breaths mingled together as you panted, arms moving to wrap around his chest as you gently nudged your noses against each other.
“If I knew getting in the same bed with you would get me this, I would have done it ages ago,” You mumbled. Luke chuckled, his eyes closing as you moved your hand to rest against his chest, feeling the way that his chest rumbled with laughter, “Mhm, the wait was worth it though,” You said after a beat. Luke tugged you closer.
“More than worth it,” He muttered as he pressed a few kisses to your face and cheek and forehead. It was so sweet and you felt yourself melting into him.
“I think it’s time to sleep though,” You mumbled softly. Luke hummed in agreement and he shuffled back so that he could lie down. You were laying on top of him as he tugged the covers over the two of you, “My hands are cold,” You grumbled. Luke chuckled and he grabbed your wrists and tugged your hands underneath his back. The two of you shuffled to be comfortable before he wrapped his arms around your waist again.
“Better?” He asked. You hummed in agreement before cuddling up to his bare chest, eyes falling closed. You fell asleep, content against his chest with a sheepish smile on your face.
cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff
a/n: this made me feral
He had been gone for weeks.
You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.
Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you.
You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.
The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.
Spence: Are you home?
You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(
Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?
You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser
Spence: Have you had anything to eat?
You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later
Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.
“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.
“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.
“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout.
You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you.
You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile.
“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.
You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed.
You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed.
“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.
“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk.
“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”
“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”
You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”
“Thank you,” he beamed.
The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.
“This okay?” You asked.
“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.
You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box).
Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”
“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.
“You don’t have to,” you laughed.
“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition.
The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).
“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”
“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”
Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?
But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.
“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.
“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.
“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter.
You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme.
“How bout a coffee?” you asked.
Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”
You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.
“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention.
“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”
Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested.
“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.
“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”
“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.
Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.
Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.
“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.
Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”
You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.
Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous.
“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.
“I, uhm-”
“You don’t want to?” You asked.
“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.
You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”
Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.
“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.
“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.
“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”
“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.
Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.
It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.
And god you were perfect.
Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.
“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.
“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”
“Bit weird, you think?”
“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”
A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”
“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling.
“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”
Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.
“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again.
You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.
He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then so am I.”
That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs.
“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.
“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple.
“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.
“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”
“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.
a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)
jbbartram-illu
ellievsbear
jacobvanloon
dailybridgerton
