Stan Uris ruined my life. Steve Harrington? Mother of thirteen Send me prompts pls my inbox is THIRSTY I'm reddie trash it's not a secret I follow back from my main blog which is oliveflower01
WOULD LOOOVE to see badass reader get jealous over someone flirting with spencer
ty for requesting ♡ —spencer reassures you when he catches the eye of a receptionist at the ocean city precinct. fem!reader, 1.3k
Hotch lives on coffee lately. Any type from any source, he doesn't care what it tastes like so long as it keeps him awake. You're similar, in that even if you hated it, you'd keep it to yourself.
But you're frowning in disgust at your cup. Eyebrows wrinkled, lips in a fierce line. Hotch sighs and puts his hand on the back of your chair. "Are you alright?" he asks.
You've never told him otherwise. "Fine. Thank you."
"There's water in my bag," he offers. You won't meet his eyes. You probably have a headache. "And aspirin."
For as long as he's known you and worked with you, you've been as you are now, quiet, stern, with little sense of humour at work and not much more outside of it. The only evidence of your soft heart is how you work like a dog, and how you treat your coworker, Spencer. He's your achilles heel, your tender spot in all the tough scarring. Hotch knows there's nothing anyone can do to make you feel better if they aren't him.
Hotch turns on the spot to look for him. The case you're working on here in Maryland has hit a lul, and exhausted faces peek out from behind their desks at Hotch's looking. He searches for the short mop of brown hair that's required and finds it in an unusual place.
Spencer has been waylaid by a receptionist. Glimmering eyes, shiny silver fingernails that tap the desk in front of her as she speaks, the receptionist clearly has Spencer hanging on. He takes a step back and she doubles down, her storytelling audible from across the room.
"You'll have to see it for yourself, Dr. Reid, it's a sight!"
Hotch looks at you from the corner of his eye. "I see."
"Don't know what you're talking about," you mutter. You stand and tip your coffee into the bin, letting the cup fall in after it morosely.
"Why don't you go and help Reid?" Hotch asks.
"Help Reid what?" you ask. Your tone betrays you —jealousy, sure, that slight crisp to your words that must hurt on the way out, but worse is the weakness as your sentence ends. You're jealous, and it's upsetting you. "I don't think I want to help him with that."
Derek swings into the sequestered space you've been using to operate and beams at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking.
"Isn't it surprising how quiet he can be? Years of catching bad guys and he can't say no to a pretty woman," Derek says, giving you a knowing look.
You and Derek have a half-hearted rivalry in that he loves to flirt and you disapprove. Your soft spot extends solely to Spencer no matter how hard Derek tries to sway you, though as you and Spencer have gotten closer, you've softened.
Hotch thinks that Derek's teasing might erase any progress that's been made.
"Morgan," he says reproachfully.
Derek makes a who, me? face but quickly gives in. "Why don't you go save him?" he asks you.
"He doesn't need saving. Spencer is a grown man who can make his own choices," you say quietly.
Hotch bites his tongue. Thankfully, Derek speaks up, without any teasing. "Spencer's been expected to know how to do things without any help since he was a kid. I really think he just doesn't know how to walk away."
You look down at your hands. Hotch has been doing his job for a long time, and he can guess what you're thinking from a misaligned finger. You don't feel like you measure up to the woman at reception. You're insecure about Spencer's affection for you, because you can't understand why he likes you so much to begin with. Hotch has thought it about Haley, Derek of Savannah. It's a very human doubt.
"Spencer tends to stand straight," Hotch says, bringing the lip of his paper cup up. "Right now, he's leaning away."
It's in as simple terms as he can put it without outright telling you that he really, truly believes that Spencer wouldn't bother with anyone who isn't you. That Spencer loves you in the young, all encompassing way, even though neither of you seems to have realised the depth of it yet.
Confident, no air of the girl frowning down at her hands, you leave the nook to approach Spencer from behind.
"Hi," Hotch hears you say, "you okay?"
Spencer visibly relaxes. "Hey, I'm fine. Uh, Y/N, this is Anabelle. Annabelle, this is my partner, Y/N."
"Partner?" Derek asks.
It's news to Hotch. Perhaps news to you, if the way you take his hand is any hint. It's like you've never held it before, and Hotch knows you have, he's seen you linking pinkies under tables.
You strangle his fingers with yours. Spencer doesn't move an inch.
"She was just telling me about the sightseeing you can do here. Have you ever seen the world's longest worm on a string?" he asks you.
"Hi, Annabelle," you say, turning to Spencer with poorly masked whiplash. "We're gonna try narrowing the search radius."
"Oh, right." Spencer lets go of your hand in favour of putting a hand behind your shoulder, saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Annabelle before guiding you back to the makeshift BAU base camp. "What took you so long?"
"What took me so long?" you ask.
"I thought you liked me!" Spencer says, teasing, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't know how to tell her I've already read the pamphlet she was quoting. She seemed nice though, right?"
"She seemed nice, Spence," you agree, a little wobbly still but a thousand times less sullen than before. "I– of course I like you, you know I like you. Right?"
Hotch is proud of Spencer for how remarkably he responds. Spencer puts his body between you and Hotch and Derek where they're standing to offer you the privacy you prefer, dropping his voice to match your tentativeness. "Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I think they'd have to reassess my position on this team if I didn't know that." He grabs your arm, thumb pressing into the crook of your elbow. "Are you okay?"
"I thought maybe she was flirting with you."
Spencer shrugs uneasily. "Maybe. It wouldn't make a difference to me. Do you know that?"
Your head dips down. Hotch can't hear what you say, honestly, he doesn't want to know. Eavesdropping on the people he cares about in their unhappy moments isn't something he makes a habit of, but it's hard not to hear Spencer's response. "Don't say that," he murmurs. "That's not true… We'll talk about it later, okay?"
You clear your throat. "Yeah. Whatever you want."
Derek doesn't hide that he's been listening very well, pulling a crime scene document up to his eye line as you and Spencer pull apart. Your eyebrows furrow into a glare, but it's Spencer who says, "What?"
Hotch bites back a smile. Derek grins and holds his hands up in surrender.
"Just nice to see you taking care of my favourite girl," he smarms.
"Stop. You're extremely unprofessional," Spencer says, helping you into your seat unnecessarily.
"And you're not?" Derek asks, gesturing to his hand where it lingers behind your shoulders.
You finally chip in, apparently back to your regular self. "Only one of us was responsible for a unit wide HR mandate about inappropriate behaviour."
"You cannot keep bringing that up."
"Why not?"
Hotch takes a sip of his tepid coffee. He'd rather not get involved.
i’m really fucking soft and i’m skshajha. also, my friend @gentlescream helped me write these because we’re both huge stozier sluts.
stozier is a cuddly ship and you can’t tell me otherwise
richie always has his hands on stanley, whether it be holding his hand or holding on to his shoulders
stanley acts like he hates it but let’s be honest, he loves it
stanley kisses richie to shut him up 100%
also,, stanley uses coconut shampoo and he uses coconut oil sometimes to make them extra bouncy and curly
richie fucking lOVES IT
just imagine— richie is running his fingers through stanley’s hair and it’s just so fuckin soFT. and not to mention he smells nice too and soon enough richie.exe has stopped working.
This soft soft boy went to a store and bought seven shower caps just so his friends wouldn’t get spiders in their hair. Like who besides a genuinely good adorable person thinks “I’m gonna go get some shower caps so my friends don’t get bugs in their hair while we are down in our clubs house” and the soft smile on his face when he tells Richie what they’re for. Like he’s so proud of himself and so happy to be a good friend. All I’m sayin is Stan Uris was a real one and Stephen Kings a bitch.
