Champion Of Flirting - Sebastian Vettel

I love him so much, this is so adorable 😭

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeTkmpNy/ SPENCER MF REID 🙏🙏 can I pretty please request a one shot based on that video ITS SO CUTE

dewey decimal system | S.R.

in which spencer does the most spencer activity first thing in the morning - reorganizing your bookshelves

(tiktok link)

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: i'm fairly certain there aren't any word count: 619 a/n: the beauty of this being my account is that, even though my requests are closed, i was able to exercise free will and write it anyway. because reorganizing your bookshelves unprompted is so something spencer would do.

The other side of the bed was cold when you woke up. Your desire to roll over into Spencer’s arms before getting ready for the day squashed by his absence. Aimlessly patting your bedside table for your phone, you checked your notifications.

You hadn’t received a text, there was no note left on his pillow.

Sitting up in bed, you frowned before climbing out of bed. Cringing at the cold laminate under your feet, you hugged your arms around yourself and mourned the feeling of your comforter over your skin.

To your surprise, Spencer was wide awake, standing in front of your bookshelf like he was an opponent ready to strike. Padding across the living room, you approached him from behind and wrapped your arms around his waist, depending heavily on his body heat to give you the courage not to run back to bed.

“Good morning love,” he murmured, voice gruff from lack of use. With a morning slowness, he skimmed his palms along your arms, swaying gently to the soft sounds of dawn. “Are you alright?” He asked you when you didn’t respond, too caught up in the feeling of him to speak.

Pressing your cheek to the fabric of his plain white t-shirt, you sighed, closing your eyes and breathing in the scent of him, the scent of your laundry detergent on his clothes.

“What’s wrong, angel?” He whispered, softly squeezing your arms before turning himself around while trapped in your arms.

You didn’t let up, forcing him to twist himself within the circumference of your limbs just to see your face. The maneuver was so notably ungraceful that you couldn’t hold back your smile, “Nothing’s wrong,” you mumbled, now pressing your cheek to his chest while he tenderly cupped your head. “What are you doing up?”

Spencer dropped a kiss to the crown of your head, keeping his arms casually slung around you while he nodded at your bookshelves, “I was reorganizing your bookshelves.”

Furrowing your brows, you looked at your previously unruly shelves. They had now been adroitly redone, no longer having books stacked horizontally and being put off for another day, “What do you mean you were reorganizing my bookshelves?”

“Well, initially I had planned on using the Dewey decimal system, which is how my books are organized at home, but you had such an uneven ratio of each category that I ended up doing it alphabetically,” he explained to you, lazily using a hand to gesture to your collection.

Catching a glimpse of the titles, you asked, “By title?”

He shook his head, “Author’s last name,” he responded as if it should’ve been obvious to you. Spencer’s arms tightened around you as he craned his head to nestle his face in the crook of your neck, “Did you sleep well?”

You hummed contentedly at the proximity you had to him, “Right up until I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“I was reorganizing your books,” he emphasized, reminding you what he had spent his morning doing.

Nodding, you shut your eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingers as they now skated their way along your spine, “It looks nice, Spence.”

“Did you want to read a book together?” He asked you, continuing his ministrations on your back.

Pulling away slightly, you rested your palms on his shoulders as you looked up at him, “What?”

He jutted his chin in the direction of your shelves, “There are some books that I shelved, I think we could have a good time reading one together.”

You raised your eyebrows, “You’ll finish way before me though,” you hinted at his reading speed.

“Then I can read aloud to you,” he offered, beaming down at you.

This was sooo cute

theoretical knowledge vs. practical application ☆ spencer reid

summary: spencer studies intimacy like any other subject, but nothing prepares him for the reality of being with you. in your arms, he finally learns that some things can’t be understood- only experienced. pairing: inexperienced!spencer reid x reader warnings: fluff galore, lots of kissing (practically making out), intimacy, but no explicit sexual content! wc: 1.1k masterlist. a/n: this brilliant idea came from my very lovely moot @/jackiesistired over on twitter <33

Spencer had read five books about kissing.

Not just any books, no. They were scientific, psychology-based books that broke down the act of kissing into its most basic neurological, physiological, and psychological components. He’d also skipped numerous peer-reviewed journal articles, and, at some point, had managed to venture into less scientific territory- modern dating guides that made his skin crawl but ultimately did provide insight into what people expected in relationships.

And then, there was the… other research.

The kind that led to him sitting in front of his laptop at 3 a.m., his ears burning as he read about intimacy in ways he hadn’t yet experienced. He took notes. Intricate organized, handwritten notes in which he annotated his key findings, storing them away like highly classified information.

But all of it- all of the extensive research- meant absolutely nothing the moment your lips crashed against his.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

You and Spencer had been dating for a few months now, and while things had been progressing steadily, he hadn’t made any major moves beyond gentle, lingering kisses and hesitant, shaky touches. 

He was shy about it- not because he didn’t want you to know, but because he was terrified of messing up. He’d told you early on about his utter lack of experience, and you had reassured him earnestly that there was no pressure.

But he wanted more. He wanted to touch you the way you touched him. He wanted to kiss you until you were both breathless, and he wanted to see if reality could really live up to things he had spent so long reading about. He wanted to know if he was capable of making you feel good.

Most of all, he desperately wanted to stop overthinking.

Which is how he found himself here.

Spencer hadn’t realised just how sensitive he was until he was beneath your hands, beneath your lips, and was trying (and failing) to stay coherent.

You had started slow and gentle, kissing him with a sweet, lingering tenderness, but the moment he responded- the moment he made the quiet, needy sound in the back of his throat- you deepened it. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.

Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging softly, and the delicious whine that escaped him was so involuntary, so desperate, that you felt him tense in embarrassment.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Don’t hold back.”

His breath hitched. His head spun as his grip on your waist tightened, unsure whether to pull you closer until there was no air between you or to push you away before he completely unraveled under your touch.

“I- I don’t-” He swallowed harshly as your lips gently brushed across his jaw. “I didn’t know I was this-”

“Sensitive?” you supplied graciously, dragging your lips down his neck.

Spencer shuddered. “Y-yeah,” he admitted, voice wrecked already.

You smiled against his soft skin. “I like it.”

He let out a ragged breath, his eyes fluttering shut as you pressed kisses down the column of his throat. “I- I think I do too.”

You laughed softly as you trailed lower, and Spencer actually whimpered.

You’d never heard a sound quite like that from him before- so high and desperate- a noise that he clearly hadn’t intended to make. His whole body twitched beneath your teasing touch, and he was gripping the couch cushions like they were his sole tether to reality. 

“Oh, God-” His voice cracked as your teeth grazed over his pulse point, his hips shifting instinctively beneath you.

He inhaled sharply as you went back up and pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw. Suddenly, his brain kicked into overdrive. "Did you know that the skin along the neck has an increased concentration of sensory receptors? It’s why-" His words cut off with a sharp inhale when your lips gently caressed the skin where his neck met his shoulder.

"Why what?" you teased, brushing your lips lightly over his neck.

"Why- it’s- um- " His breath hitched. "It’s a- an erogenous zone- highly sensitive- oh-" 

"You were saying?" you murmured, dragging your lips up the column of his throat.    

"I-" He tried again, but when you nipped lightly at his jaw, his thoughts crumbled.    

You pulled back to take in the sight of him. He was flushed, panting, his pupils blown wide with something akin to pleading.

“Spencer,” you murmured, running your fingers through his tousled curls, reveling in how he leaned into your touch like he was starving for it.

He looked up at you in a daze, his lips parted like he was trying to form words, but he failed to find them.

“I-” He swallowed hard. “I did research on this.”

You tilted your head slightly and bit your lip, amused. “Uh-huh?”

“Very extensive research,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “A lot of it.”

“And what did your research tell you?” You hummed softly as you trailed your fingers lightly down his chest.

He inhaled sharply as he tried not to react to your touch. “That, uh- physical contact increases oxytocin, which promotes bonding, and- oh-” His voice broke when you pressed a kiss just below his ear, his whole body trembling beneath yours.

You grinned. “Go on, Spencer.”

“I- I-” His fingers clenched at your hips as you shifted, his breath stuttering. “Oh, my God-”

You kissed him again, slow and deep, and he let out the softest moan against your lips, feeling utterly helpless.

His hands trembled where they held you, like he was overwhelmed and he didn’t know where to move them. Like he was afraid that if he moved too much, or breathed too much, he might just lose control completely.

“You are adorable,” you whispered against his lips, dragging your nails lightly down his back.

He exhaled shakily. "I- um- "

Your smile softened, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Let’s practice more.”

Spencer’s hands tightened on your waist, and for once, he didn’t overthink.

He just felt.

And it was so much better than anything he had ever read.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

Later, when you were curled up against him, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest, he let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

You lifted your head. “What?”

He shook his head, cheeks still tinged pink. “I spent weeks preparing. Studying. Making sure I knew everything I could possibly know. And yet…” He looked down at you, still dazed. “Nothing I read could have prepared me for you.”

You smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw.

“That’s because,” you murmured, “some things you just have to experience.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, pulling you closer.

“Then I think I still have a lot to learn.”

You grinned, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Good thing I loved teaching you.”

And when you kissed him again, he decided that practical application was his new favorite subject.

Confidence Boost

Derek Morgan x reader warnings: language, some body insecurities, smut, squirting A couple of different req's combined into one. I'll admit it sat in the wip pile for a little too long, but let's hope that doesn't happen anymore!

Derek was fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist when he entered the bedroom, finding you in front of the mirror with a frown on your face. You were fiddling with your shirt, tucking it in then untucking it, pulling it tight, pinching at it to fall loose, pulling it over to only one side all while you turned in various degrees to see all the angles of your body. You let out a huff, hands dropping to your sides as your head tilted and you pulled up your shirt, pinching at your sides and stomach, pulling at your skin.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head baby?” He asked, crossing the room and you let out a huff, finally pulling your gaze away from the mirror.

“Are these jeans too small?” You asked, frown still on your lips as you turned back to the mirror, continuing to pinch at your skin.

“Do I have to fight somebody?” Derek asked, only half kidding as his arm wrapped around your waist from behind and he pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Did you see that pic Elise posted on insta from lunch?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, kissing at your neck again.

“My mother so kindly, and very publicly commented on it that it was looking like I should be laying off the fries and cocktails.”

“Bullshit.” He huffed in annoyance.

“Just made me think maybe she’s right.” You face dropped as your eyes returned to the mirror and you continued picking at your skin and adjusting your shirt. “We went shopping after and nothing I tried on fit properly in my regular size, maybe I need to do a cleanse….” You trailed off as your head tilted, gazing at your body in the mirror.

“Baby, I wish you could see the way I see you.”

“What’d you mean?” You asked, your head twisting to see his face and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before turning your face back toward the mirror.

“Well for starters, these jeans are your tightest pair.” His thumbs slipped into the waistband, tugging gently at it to prove the point as they barely moved from your body, “and I know that because they’re the ones that show off this gorgeous fuckin’ ass.” His hands moved around and squeezed at your ass, spanking you gently and he was happy to hear the little squeal you let out was followed with a laugh. His hands ghosted around your waist, taking your hands in his so you would stop scrutinizing yourself, “they’re so tight it doesn’t matter how tiny someone is once you’re sitting down they’re gonna push in on your stomach.” His hand brushed over your tummy, “and you’d just finished a big, fueling, nutritious lunch with carbonated drinks, a little bloat is natural.” He kissed the side of your neck again, “you are perfectly fucking stunning just the way you are. I think you’re the sexiest,” another kiss, “most beautiful,” another kiss, “stunning woman I have ever seen.” This time he nipped at your sensitive skin and your head fall back against his shoulder as you let out a little sigh.

“Derek…”

“Baby, you and this gorgeous body drive me absolutely wild.” He rolled his hips against your ass and you could already feel his cock starting to get hard, “and I will absolutely show you how much I love it and you.”

“Please…” You murmured and he chuckled, spinning you in his arms so he could kiss you properly. He caught your chin in his hand, directing your lips to his and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss.

Every time Derek kissed you he put every ounce of pleasure and love into it, lips molding to yours, moving with grace in the dance you’d perfected over the years. Your arms wrapped around him, fingernails tickling at the back of his neck and the arm he had around your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him. His tongue slid across the seam of your lips and you gladly parted them, letting him slide into your mouth. He began to back you towards the bed, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss to tug it over your head. Returning to the kiss he started work on the offending jeans, shoving them down your legs along with your underwear and you did your best to kick them the rest of the way off while he got rid of your bra.

“Lie back princess.” He nudged you toward the bed and you were quick to drop down onto it, shuffling backwards until you were nestled against the pillows. “God just look at you…” He purred, hands ghosting up your legs as he climbed onto the bed.

You let out a little giggle, your cheeks heating as your arms crossed over your body, turning your face away from him and into the pillows. “Derek…”

“Oh c’mon baby girl, none of that.” His hand softly gripped your chin, turning your gaze back to his, “there’s no reason for you to play shy.”

Derek ducked down, kissing you gently while his hands moved your arms, guiding them to loop around his shoulders while he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth. You couldn’t help but relax into the bed, your whole body melting at the feeling of his embrace as his tongue rolled against yours. One of his hands crept up your side, fingers tickling your skin, drawing patterns across your body as he went, teasingly slow. He traced the shapes and curves of your body, somehow leaving a pathway of both heat and goosebumps as he went, creeping closer to your more intimate areas. His fingers brushed just under the curve of your breast and his lips curved up into a smirk at the feeling of your back arching off the bed to lean into the touch. His hand came to rest, just there, just close enough for you to know it was coming but not bothering to move it any further quite yet.

You couldn’t help it, letting out a small whine into the kiss as you felt the need beginning to build up within you, tingles shooting through your body from where Derek was touching you all the way down into your pussy, gently fluttering around nothing. His lips pressed into the corner of yours, trailing a hot and sticky path across your jawline before he nipped your earlobe, his breath hot on your skin.

“Just relax for me baby, I’ll make you feel good, promise.” He pressed a gentle kiss right behind your ear and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips made their way down the column of your neck.

Derek’s nose nudged at your chin, turning your face away from him so he had better access to your sensitive skin, teeth gently scraping your neck before he sucked at the same spot, tongue laving across it. He let out a soft groan against your neck, his body nearly grinding down onto yours as he bit into your pulse point and you moaned, a hand wrapping around the back of his neck. While his mouth made a home in the crook of your neck, determined to leave you with a few marks his hand finally slid upwards, groping at your chest.

“Oh god…” You moaned, your body arching into the touch and you could feel Derek chuckle against your skin.

“You like that baby?” He asked, fingers pinching at your nipple, earning a small gasp from you as the tingles shot through your body once more.

While his mouth latched onto your neck he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pressing harder around it at random intervals until you were whining underneath him. He shifted slightly so he could mimic the movements on the other side, barely pulling himself away from your neck so he could see the way your nipples had hardened from his teasing.

“My princess does like that.” He teased with a grin and you were about to retort with something smart but his mouth was on your skin again, tongue licking its way across your collarbone and your head fell back into the pillows with a soft sigh leaving your lips.

Every touch from Derek was electrifying your senses, you felt him on your body, tongue, lips, teeth, hands, the weight of his frame on top of you as he left a path of kisses on the center of your chest. Fire prickled under your skin with each touch, tingling through you, lighting up your senses and sending pleasure shooting through you, building deep in your stomach with each pass of his mouth. One hand wrapped around one of your tits, groping it, thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple while his mouth found your other one. He bit at the top curve of your chest, tongue lapping out to sooth the burn before his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck…” You let out a gasp, feeling the tingles picking up and you couldn’t help but rub your legs together in search for some relief, your pussy beginning to ache between them.

Derek’s tongue flicked at your nipple while his finger did the same on the other one, teasing and toying with you, teeth scraping against your tender flesh while you began to writhe on the bed underneath him. He pulled your nipple away from your body, letting it go with a lewd pop, watching the way your mouth fell open and you let out a breathy sigh at the feeling. It only took a moment for him to swap sides, repeating the motions, his cock twitching between his legs at the sounds coming from your lips.

“That’s it baby…” he husked against your skin, “relax… I don’t want you thinkin’ about anything aside from how good this feels.”

“Mmm…” you whined in response, your breath catching in your throat as his teeth sunk into your skin again.

His hands ghosted over your stomach, fingers trailing across your skin with a featherlight touch while his mouth stayed on your chest. He shifted between your legs, hands rubbing at your inner thighs as he spread them wider for himself, now able to fully settle between them, the towel around his waist falling to the side. His hands wrapped around your thighs, massaging gently, thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to help you relax into the bed, spreading your legs wider for him while his mouth continued to toy with your chest. Derek slid one of his hands between your legs, cupping at your heat, lips curving upwards at the quiet gasp that escaped your lips. His palm massaged your pussy slowly, gently, just enough to have your hips softly rocking into the touch while breathy moans came from your mouth. His lips stayed wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth deeper as he continued to toy with you.

“Fuck Derek..” you sighed, feeling your wetness smearing across his hand each time he rubbed at you.

“Relax pretty girl.” He murmured.

Two of his fingers slid through your lower lips a few times, the tips of them barely dipping into your heat, collecting your juices before coming up to rub your clit and your breath caught in your throat. Your hips jumped up off the bed and he chuckled against your skin pressing harder on the nub before his hand returned to your entrance. One finger slid in easily, twirling inside you while the heel of his hand brushed against your clit,

“Already so wet, baby.” He grinned, nipping at your chest and you let out a small whine.

“More, please.”

“Anything my girl wants.”

A second finger slid in to join the first and you let out a soft moan at the feeling, gently stretching your soaked walls out. Derek hummed against your chest, his fingers pumping faster in and out of your cunt, beginning to scissor randomly. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from your chest, sitting up between your legs and each time his fingers came out of your pussy they were slick with even more of your juices. Your sporadic moans were replaced with breathy whimpers, your hands clawing at the bedsheets as your body arched off the bed, pleasure shooting through you, you could feel it building deeper and tighter in your stomach, fire crackling under your skin.

Derek sunk his fingers as deep as he could into your pussy, letting out a soft groan as he did, feeling the way you were already pulsing around him.

“That’s it baby, wanna feel you squeezin’ me tight.”

He placed his free hand down right above your clit, thumb angled so he could play with the swollen nub as he continued to finger you. Feeling you flutter around his fingers again he thrusted back into you before curling his fingers, quickly finding the sensitive spot inside you and the hand on your lower stomach pressed down gently, thumb flicking at your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned, your back arching off the bed, pleasure about to burst within you and all you could hear were the squelching noises coming from your cunt as Derek’s fingers picked up speed again.

“Relax pretty girl.” He purred, “just let go… trust me.”

Derek’s thumb increased pressure and pace, rubbing at your clit with more intent, watching with pride at the way your hips continued to buck up off the bed, griding against his hands harder with each thrust of his fingers. Your juices had drenched his hand, slicking down his wrist and dripping down your cunt making a complete mess of things and you didn’t have a care in the world, his touch electrifying your senses as you felt it twisting tighter and tighter inside you, the spark about to burst into a full flame.

“Oh fuuu-ck… fuck!”

Your thighs began to shake, threatening to close if Derek hadn’t been sat between them and he pressed down harder on your stomach, thumb rubbing faster at your clit while the fingers inside dragged across your g-spot. Your hips shot off the bed as you let out a cry, the damn bursting, the prickling under your skin exploding into pleasure you felt through your entire body. Your pussy clamped down around Derek’s fingers, juices spurting out, a second smaller wave coming when he pressed against your g-spot again and you swore.

“Fuck..” your body shook against the bed, “oh my god…. Oh my god…”

“Fuck that was hot as hell.” Derek murmured, finally pulling his drenched fingers from you, watching your cunt squeeze around nothing as you began to catch your breath. “Feel better princess?” He asked, barely giving you time to nod before he ducked his mouth down to your pussy, tongue lapping out to clean up your juices. He sucked and kissed at your thighs, avoiding the still sensitive spots until you’d finally stopped trembling and his tongue surged through your folds, letting out a groan at your taste, barely flicking against your clit before he crawled back up the bed.

“Christ…” You muttered and he laughed softly, “I’ve never done that before.”

“First time for everything.” He replied, leaning over you to kiss you and you let out a soft moan at the feeling of his cock twitching against your thigh.

“Need you…” you murmured, feeling his lips curve up into a grin as he wrapped a sturdy arm around your waist and rolled onto his back.

“How about you ride me? I wanna see this gorgeous body.”

A small smile on your face you pushed up to sitting, straddling his hips as you rubbed your pussy over his cock a few times, grinding down onto him, smearing your wetness and his head fell back into the pillows as he let out a low hiss. Your hand reached between your bodies, wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance while Derek’s hands found your waist to help brace you as you sunk down onto him. A mutual moan and quiet swear echoed through the room as he filled you, now fully stretching you out.

“Fuck, pussy feels so fucking good.” He moaned, his ever so slightly rocking up into yours and you let out a small squeak, pussy fluttering around him.

Bracing your hands on his stomach you pushed up until just the head was left inside your pussy and then sunk down all the way, setting a steady pace as you began to ride him. Still sensitive, your pussy was already pulsing, squeezing his cock in the perfect way, you could feel him throbbing inside you, the head rubbing against your g-spot with each rock of your hips. You began to let out small whines, your eyes fluttering nearly shut as the pleasure began to build up again. Derek’s hands squeezed around your waist,

“God look at you…” he groaned, “so pretty riding my dick. Always take me so well baby, you’re doing so good for me.” His eyes raked over your body, watching the way your tits were bouncing, how your lower lip was pulled in between your teeth and you brow was furrowed. He felt himself twitch inside you, resulting in your pussy clamping down around his cock and he let out a loud groan. “Play with those gorgeous tits…”

He squeezed at your hips again, making sure he had a hold on you to guide you riding him and your hands started to slide up your body. You cupped your chest, groping at the tender flesh as you let out a soft moan before pinching at your nipples and a small gasp left your lips.

“Fuck…”

“That’s it baby.” He grunted, “so fucking hot.” He drove his cock deeper into you and you let out a louder whine. “Gonna need you to come for me again princess, squirt all over my cock.”

He knew he was too close to last much longer and judging by the way you were clenching down around him and the wetness where your bodies were joined, you weren’t far off either. You let out a needy whine, your head nodding as you continued to toy with your tits. One of Derek’s hands left your waist, fingers quickly rubbing your clit again and you felt the similar sensation beginning to build.

“Oh god don’t stop!” You moaned, thighs beginning to quake, “fuck, Derek, s-so good!”

“Yeah?” He groaned, pressing harder against the pulsing nub, “you like that?”

“Mm-mm hmm.” You whined, “gonna make me come.”

“Then come for me baby.”

With a final press of his fingers, he rolled his hips just right and you cried out, your back arching before your entire body rocked forward, hands catching yourself on Derek’s chest as your orgasm rocked through you. Derek let out a low swear, feeling your juices drenching his cock, dribbling out around it as you did your best to continue to ride him.

“So good for me.” He husked, your body trembling in his arms, as you panted. He braced his feet on the bed, driving his cock faster and deeper into you as he chased his own release, panting into the crook of your neck before letting out a low swear and a grunt, his hips stilling against your own.

“Fuck…” you muttered, feeling his release coat your walls as you finally relaxed against him, nuzzling into his neck.

Derek’s arms squeezed gently at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as you caught your breath. Once he’d stopped twitching and could control his breathing again his hands began soothingly rubbing up and down your back, finger tips tracing patterns across your skin, peppering your cheek and shoulder with kisses. You let out a satisfied hum at the feeling, turning your head to face his so you could kiss him properly.

You shifted slightly, a breath escaping your lips as his cock slipped from you and you dropped to the bed beside him. He did his best to kick up one of the blankets, wrapping it around your waists while you nestled into his side, welcoming the embrace of his arm around you. Derek softly played with your hair while you traced the outlines of his shoulder tattoo. You let out a very happy sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest and his finger curled under your chin, tilting it up to him and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Feeling better now baby?”

“Incredibly.”

“Don’t feel the need to bad talk my favourite girl anymore?” He asked and you giggled, playfully rolling your eyes as you swatted at his chest.

“No.”

“Good.” Smiling, he kissed you again, “because you are without a doubt, the love of my life. And your body is beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, sexy and I love it just as much as I love you. Woman, I would happily suffocate between your thighs.”

“Derek!” This time you laughed loudly, punching his arm.

“What? I would.”

“Way to ruin a sentimental moment.” You half scolded; half teased, rolling out of the sheets to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I had to get you moving somehow.” He joked, “if we don’t get in the shower now we’re gonna be late for dinner.”

“Jerk.” You grinned, moving toward the bathroom as he scooped up the towel discarded from earlier.

“Hey, you’re the reason I have to shower twice.”

“Uh.. pretty sure you instigated, and you would have no matter what.”

“Yeah? How am I supposed to resist that ass.” He whipped the towel in the direction of your ass and you squealed, darting for the bathroom with Derek quick on your heels, “love that ass.”

“Perv.” You retorted, turning back to him and he grabbed you around the waist, pulling you to him.

“But I love you more.” He tapped the tip of your nose before his hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you deeply.

“I love you too.”

______________

Love Derek Morgan and don't want to miss out? Join the taglist here!

If you like what you've read and are feeling generous (or want to request a VIP fic/chapter) tip your writer <3

_______________

@lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @mysticfalls01 @barbasbodaciousbeard @sia2raw @dxtery @alexusonfire @bumblebear30 @haarrrys @clarawatson @fandom-princess-forevermore @kylieramey @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @evilregal2002 @rosaliedepp @disneyfan624 @supercriminalbean @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @niyizh @tommyriddleobsessed @iluvsreid @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @ivyflowers13 @silversprings-mp3 @elz-artzzz @speedynana @hanbower @boimlers-gonna-boim @nachofriess @khxna @tinyprettyangel @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @moonlightjxuregui @ms-downhill

Glasses Reid is elite and Emily in this is fucking iconic

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

What about cutie first season Spencer Reid who is desperately in love with his coworker and is kinda blind sided when Lila kisses him🥺 He wants to make it really clear that the kiss was one sided but his soon to be girlfriend is jealous jealous🩷

jealous — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader being jealous , mention of lila ( obviously ) a/n: hiii !!! i hope you like this :)

When you read in books the phrase “jealousy boiled in her veins,” you never quite understood it. Sure, you’d felt jealousy before, in fleeting moments of insecurity or longing.

But boiling jealousy? That had always seemed like an exaggeration. 

Not until four days ago. 

Though, boiling wasn’t the right word for it. No, what you felt then was explosive jealousy.

A kind of heat so intense it made your skin prickle, your throat tighten, your hands curl into fists at your sides. It was the kind of jealousy that made your stomach churn and your heart pound with something dangerously close to heartbreak. 

Because four days ago, you saw them. 

Spencer and Lila. In the pool. 

The images were burned into your memory, tattooed on the inside of your eyelids like a cruel joke. Every time you closed your eyes, there they were—her arms wrapped around his neck and their faces too close.

You had barely slept since. 

And work? Work was even worse. 

Two days ago, when you walked into the BAU for the first time since that dreadful moment, you told yourself you’d be fine. You could be professional. You could pretend it didn’t bother you. 

But you couldn’t even look at Spencer. 

Every time he stepped near you, all you could see was her in his arms. Every time he spoke, all you could hear was the laughter they shared in that damn pool. You forced yourself to act normal, to keep your voice steady and your posture composed.

But it was so, so hard. 

Elle had noticed. She kept shooting you those pointed glances, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Are you okay? 

Of course you weren’t. 

How could you be when you had been crushing on Spencer for so long, you could barely remember a time when you hadn’t been? How could you be okay when the sight of him with someone else had nearly shattered you? 

Spencer noticed too. Of course he did. 

He wasn’t oblivious—not when it came to you. He saw the way you avoided his gaze, the way your once warm smiles had faded into stiff nods and clipped responses. He saw the way your shoulders tensed when he entered the room, how you kept your distance like even standing next to him was unbearable. 

And it was unbearable. 

He wanted to talk to you, to explain. 

To tell you that what happened was one-sided. That he hadn’t meant for it to happen. That he hadn’t wanted it to happen. That it had been unexpected and overwhelming and, ultimately, meaningless. 

That he was in love with you, not Lila. 

But how could he say that when you wouldn’t even look at him? When every time he tried to get close, you turned away? When the words on the tip of his tongue kept dying in the silence you forced between you? 

Today, when you walked into the bullpen, the first thing you noticed was Derek. He was leaning against Spencer’s desk, a smirk playing on his lips as he held a paper in his hand.

The moment he saw you, he straightened, casually tossing the paper into the trash, his expression softening as he placed a warm hand on your shoulder. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greeted smoothly. 

“Morning,” you replied, offering him a small, tired smile. 

You already knew what he had been holding. The pictures. The ones of Spencer and Lila in the pool. The same ones Derek had undoubtedly been using to tease Spencer with before you arrived. You also knew why Derek immediately threw the magazine away.

Because Derek, just like the rest of the team, knew exactly how you felt about Spencer. 

And how Spencer felt about you. 

Everyone with eyes and ears could tell. The way you gravitated toward each other, how you always seemed to seek each other out, how Spencer’s face lit up when you laughed. It wasn’t just friendship. It had never been just friendship. 

Spencer glanced up from his desk as you passed by, flashing you a hesitant, almost hopeful smile. 

You only nodded, forcing yourself to keep walking. 

You settled into your chair, taking a slow breath as you forced your hands to stay busy, flipping through the files on your desk. You could feel Spencer’s gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to gather the courage to say something. 

Spencer missed you. 

He missed the conversations, the inside jokes, the way you used to nudge his shoulder whenever you walked by. He missed the way your voice softened when you said his name, the way you actually listened to his rambles instead of tuning them out like most people did. 

And he wanted—needed—to explain. 

But every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words tangled in his throat. Because what if he ruined everything? What if trying to explain just made things worse? 

He had been so close before all of this happened.

Just a few days ago, he had been sitting right here, talking to Elle, asking for advice on how to ask you out. He had been nervous, but excited. He had a plan, one he had been going over in his head a hundred times—something simple, something meaningful. He just wanted you to know how much you meant to him. 

But then Lila happened. 

And now, instead of planning a date, he was trying to figure out how to make you look at him again. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Spencer stood abruptly, pushing back his chair with a quiet scrape against the floor. He hesitated for only a second before crossing the room, stopping just beside your desk. 

“Can we talk?” His voice was quieter than usual. 

You didn’t look up right away, your fingers tightening around the file in front of you. A moment passed before you finally let out a slow sigh and nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Spencer felt his heart stutter in relief. 

The two of you walked to the breakroom in silence. 

Spencer closed the door behind him, the soft click sounding much louder in the quiet space. He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. 

“I—” He stopped, inhaling sharply. Then exhaled. Then hesitated again. 

You leaned against the coffee counter, arms crossed, waiting. Your heart pounded a little too fast in your chest. You felt awkward—just a tiny bit. Because Spencer wanting to talk to you meant he had noticed your behavior. Not that you had been subtle about it. 

But it also meant he had noticed your jealousy. 

And that was almost worse. 

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice quiet, careful. Earnest. 

“I miss you.” 

Your head snapped up and you just stared at him, wide-eyed. 

You didn't expect him to be so direct.

Spencer was blushing, a deep red creeping up his neck, dusting the tips of his ears. He looked like he wanted to disappear, like saying those three words had been the most terrifying thing he had ever done—which, knowing him, it very well might have been. 

But the way he was looking at you, like he was afraid he had already lost you, made something twist painfully in your chest. 

“I—” You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “You… what?” 

Spencer gave a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I miss you,” he repeated, voice softer this time. “And I—I know you’re upset. I know why. And I just… I need you to know that what happened with Lila, it—it wasn’t what it looked like.” 

You pressed your lips together, your fingers gripping the counter behind you. “It looked like you were kissing her,” you muttered, unable to stop the sharp edge in your voice. 

Spencer winced. “She kissed me,” he corrected quickly. “I—I didn’t expect it, and I definitely didn’t want it. I pulled away as soon as I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “It wasn’t what I wanted.” 

You stared at him for a long moment. He was shifting anxiously, his hands half-raised like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he could. His brows were drawn together, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was bracing himself for you to tell him you didn’t care. 

But you did care. That was the problem, wasn’t it? 

You looked down, inhaling deeply before meeting his gaze again. “Then… what do you want, Spencer?” 

His breath hitched. 

For a moment, he said nothing, just looking at you like he was memorizing every detail of your face, like he needed to get this right. Then, finally, he took a small step forward, eyes locked onto yours. 

“You,” he said simply.

Your heart stopped. 

And then it started again, thundering against your ribs, because Spencer Reid had just admitted—out loud—that he wanted you. 

The jealousy that had been burning inside you for days was suddenly replaced by something else entirely. 

Hope. 

“I—what?” Your ability to form sentences had seemingly vanished. Your mouth hung slightly open as you stared at him, heart hammering against your ribs. 

Spencer, for his part, was barely looking at you. His eyes flickered to yours for a second before darting back to the coffee pot behind you, like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“Me?” you finally managed to say. That was it. That was all your brain could come up with. Me? 

Spencer nodded, still not quite meeting your gaze. 

Silence stretched between you, thick with unsaid words.

Then, finally, he spoke again. 

“I was—I was trying to figure out how to ask you out,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more uncertain. “I was talking to Elle about it, actually. Trying to…to make a plan.” His hands twitched at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “And then Lila—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Everything just got messed up.” 

“Really?” you asked, your lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile. 

Spencer finally looked at you again, his expression both relieved and vulnerable all at once. “Yeah,” he breathed out. 

The heaviness in your chest eased, just a little. 

You took a slow step toward him, close enough that you could see the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers curled slightly like he was stopping himself from reaching for you. 

“So…” You tilted your head, your voice softer now. “How were you going to ask me?” 

Spencer let out a short, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… I had a whole thing planned. Something about books and coffee and, um, statistics on first-date success rates…” He trailed off, his face burning. “It was probably a bad plan.” 

You bit your lip, your smile growing. “I don’t know,” you mused, your heart pounding. “I think I would’ve liked it.” 

Spencer blinked at you, hope flickering across his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. It was warm.

You took another step forward, and this time, Spencer didn’t move away. He was still nervous, still hesitant, but he didn’t look away when you reached out and brushed your fingers against his. 

“I still would,” you said quietly. 

Spencer swallowed, his fingers twitching against yours before he finally, finally curled them around your hand. His grip was unsure at first—like he was waiting for you to change your mind—but when you didn’t pull away, his shoulders relaxed. 

“Then,” he said, his lips curving ever so slightly, “would you maybe want to—” 

“Yes,” you interrupted, grinning now. 

Spencer smiled, a real, relieved smile, and you felt something settle in your chest—something that had been in turmoil for days. 

𓊆 . ໋ 𝜗ৎ DEREK MORGAN & FOX! READER ˚ ୭ . ⊹ ۫

au work content, female! readers race not specified, dark content ( BAU content ), some nsfw content.

DEREK MORGAN & FOX! READER who had only been together for a couple months before his colleagues were sniffing at his clothes and giving each other knowing looks. of course, the looks don’t go missed by derek himself but he simply chooses to ignore them and let your smell cling to his shirt for the next couple weeks.

DEREK MORGAN who fully intended on keeping you to himself for a while—not out of shame, never that—he’s just not quite ready to give up the privacy of having his little secret yet. he intended on leaving it at small teasing and “needing to meet the misses soon.” a couple of grins, some smooth diversions—that had been enough. until one day, on the plane.

their places were already assigned by hotch, and there had been maybe two seconds of silence before emily broke it. “m’ just gonna ask what everyone’s been wondering—who’s the vampire?” emily teases, pointing at derek’s neck, her eyes bright with mischief. derek’s brow furrows until he mirrors her motion, his fingers brushing over the faint mark on his neck. then he remembers you—the way you’d smiled at him that morning, kissed him soft and sleepy before leaving him with a playful nip—and his mouth stretches into a wide, satisfied grin.

everyone is watching now, waiting. “none of your business. focus on the case,” derek says, his voice low and pointed. they all groan in unison. “ohh,” emily sings, eyes wide with mock scandal. “okay, mr. hit-it-and-quit-it.”

derek’s head snaps toward her, offended. “for the record, i am not hitting and quitting.” he points a finger at her. “It’s more of a hitting it and keeping it.” he gestures to spencer. “tell ’em, spence.” spencer immediately stiffens, wide-eyed. he looks at emily, caught. she’d had been interrogating him about for months. “i— i just found out like two days ago!”

emily’s mouth drops open. “so you did know!” she laughs, tossing a napkin at him. spencer looks down at it like it’s betrayed him. “wait, so you’ve seen her?” jj asks, shifting forward in her seat, suddenly a little too invested. derek’s eyes narrow. “hey—”

“you’re always worrying about who we’re interested in,” jj shrugs, shifting the file in her hand. “she’s got a point,” rossi chimes in with a shrug. “hey!” derek’s tone is all faux-offense, but his grin is sharp. “alright, alright, let’s stop harassing morgan and focus,” hotch’s voice cuts through the playful noise, his tone completely contrasting his slight grin.

“thank you,” derek sighs, settling deeper into his seat. but the low sound of soft laughs and teasing smiles linger.

DEREK MORGAN who is more than a little selfish about you even though he has no real reason to be. maybe because you have nothing to do with the BAU—and he likes it that way—or even though you don’t, you’re always keeping him on his toes and very much entertained. you make him work for it without even realizing you are, and derek? he wouldn’t have it any other way.

FOX! READER who always gives derek the illusion of control. he’s used to chasing—thrives off it—and the fact that you don’t even seem to notice you’re being chased just makes him want you more. you’re the sweetest to everyone on the team—always polite, always warm—but with derek, you’re different. you give him a hard time, whether on purpose or not, and derek loving this is an understatement—he adores it. he lives for the playful push-pull, the teasing edge you give him. and when he needs it—when the weight of the day is sitting too heavy on his shoulders—you don’t hesitate to be soft for him. no teasing, no resistance. just quiet warmth and your touch, grounding him instantly.

FOX! READER walks with grace in every step, always in loafers or thick-heeled shoes that click against the floor with quiet confidence. derek’s eyes track you every time. he adores your legs—always finding an excuse to slide his hand along your thigh, or press his mouth to the back of your knee when you’re curled up together. he’s obsessed with the necklace you always wear—the delicate chain resting just above the neckline of whatever low-cut shirt you’ve chosen—and he’ll trace his thumb over it absently as he kisses your throat, lazy and lingering. you’re quietly confident, showing it in the way you move and the way you speak—not cocky, just assured.

FOX! READER who lets derek carry all the jealousy on his own because you almost have none. you know where his loyalty stands and you’re sure no one’s taking derek from you. sure, you might give a hard glance to someone who’s getting a little too close, but you don’t need to say anything. derek handles it.

“thought she was gonna kiss you if you moved over an inch,” you say, amused as you lean back in your seat, eyes sharp. derek’s mouth twitches. comically, he shifts a little closer, arm resting along the back of your chair. “do I get a kiss?” you raise an eyebrow, lazy smile playing on your face. “sure you don’t want to try her first?” derek’s eyes darken, his hand sliding to your thigh. “i’m damn sure.” and of course, you give him that kiss.

work goes here . . will be filled soon!

asks are open for these two! read guidelines before submitting or i’ll just delete you’re ask lol.

The guilt that comes with grieving.

I lost my grandfather about a month ago, and now all I can think about every day is that I should have listened to his stories more. I should have spent more time with him. I should have cared more. I hate my younger self for not showing him how much I loved and appreciated him. I was only a kid, but I still feel so much guilt.

He had dementia and yet his face would light up whenever we saw him. He knew who we were up until his last day's and the way he reacted showed us how much he loved us but I don't think I'll get over the fact that I didn't love him enough until it was too late.

For the past couple of years, he has been my favourite person. I learnt more about him within three years than I did my whole life and the things I learnt about his childhood made me hate myself even more. He went through so much and dedicated his adulthood to making sure his children and grandchildren had better parental figures than he did.

I love him so much, but I will always be afraid that I loved him too late.

Fucking Perfection.

Jackass

Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why. 

Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!

Word count : 3k

Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!

The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.

One: He was grumpy.

Two: He was a private person.

Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.

That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.

That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.

What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.

With the florist.

With you.

“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside. 

They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.

“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.

Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.

Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”

Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”

“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”

They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.

That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”

As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”

Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”

“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”

Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”

“She was literally wearing it—”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.

Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.

Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.

What was the world coming to?

—

Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ. 

Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib. 

She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”

Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.

“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase

Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”

From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”

Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.

Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”

Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”

Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.

Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”

John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”

“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”

Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”

John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”

“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”

Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”

Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”

“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”

His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.

She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.

“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.

“You’re lying,” she snapped.

He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”

Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”

Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”

He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.

And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.

—

Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.

And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.

It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets. 

Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.

“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”

“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.

Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”

John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”

Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”

Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”

Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”

Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.

John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.

“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.

“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway. 

It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— ​​It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.

But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.

They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.

It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.

To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.

“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”

Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”

John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”

Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.

And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.

The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.

“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”

Yelena and John froze in their tracks.

James?

James?

No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.

Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”

Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.

Honey?

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”

Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.

You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”

Oh.

Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated

John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”

Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.

John let out a wheeze.

Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”

Bucky nodded. “Yup.”

“Like—actually married?”

“Mhm.”

Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”

Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”

“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.

Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”

“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”

“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”

“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”

Bucky could only nod again.

Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”

You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”

Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.

John looked like he was about to have a stroke. 

“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”

John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.

“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”

Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”

Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.

John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.

But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”

You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.

You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.

Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.

You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.

“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”

John scoffed, “A while?”

You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped.

“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”

John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”

Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."

Bucky only shrugged, unbothered. 

You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”

John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.

Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.

“How did you meet?”

“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”

“Does he ever actually smile?”

At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”

John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”

You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”

And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.

You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges. 

Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.

“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”

John choked.

Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”

Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut. 

For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.

And then, without thinking, you leaned in.

It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.

Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you. 

John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.

You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him. 

“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.

Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.

“Off,” you said simply.

Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.

Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say. 

John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.

You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.

“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.

Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”

And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.

The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.

A ring.

A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.

She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.

That’s why he always played with it.

Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.

Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.

-end.

Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

This is so sweet 🤍

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Bombshell r loosing her mind when Spence walks into work late that one day and he has the “boy band” haircut

“What’s with the face?” 

Morgan raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer you don’t have. 

“What’s wrong with my face?” you ask. 

“Nothing–”

“Clearly.” 

“You look way too happy, considering.” He gestures to the board currently displaying a grisly crime scene photo and the empty seat across from you. “Another case, and a severe lack of your favourite toy.” 

“Spencer isn’t my toy, he’s my sweetheart, and I’m gutted he’s running late but I’m toughing it out.” 

Being on the team is all you’ve ever wanted. With Gideon long gone and enough time elapsed between Strauss’ political push for Emily, you’re here permanently, where you’ve always wanted to be. It’s been the best few months of your life. A lot of that due to Spencer’s unfailing friendship. He’s so kind to you. You’re really getting along. 

“Let’s focus in,” Hotch says. 

You bridle with excitement, poorly contained. You don’t get very far into spitballing when JJ’s lips part in bemusement.

“Well, hello,” she says. 

You turn in your chair away from JJ and Penelope where they’re giving the presentation to the door, where Spencer is smiling genially. He sits down with his bag still on his shoulder, a heavy silence having fallen over the room. 

Spencer has cut his hair. Gone is the long, mostly straight lengths of his hair. Did he get a perm? You’re shell-shocked. “Oh my god,” you mumble to yourself. 

“What, did you join a boyband?” Hotch asks, frowning. 

His lips part in small offence. “No,” he says. 

Emily and Morgan laugh. Spencer tucks his chair in, and you don’t know who wants to say what or how quickly you’re supposed to pretend to get over this, but you don’t care. “Spencer!” you say, “Spencer!” 

“L/N, please don’t start.” 

Hotch is only saying please because he knows he had his own reaction he could’ve kept internal, how can he ask you to smother your own. You lean hard across the table and gaze at Spencer lovingly —startled but inarguably infatuated.

“You’ve never, ever looked this handsome before,” you say, true and not true, “ever. I gotta–” Your hand reaches out at the same moment your legs decide to stand. “Can I touch it?” 

Hotch sighs with disappointment. 

You pass behind your teammates' chairs to look at him. 

“Stop,” Spencer says immediately, his palm to your stomach. “You’re being mean.” 

“I’m being mean? You didn’t even consult me.” 

“It’s my hair.” 

“Spencer, you’re gorgeous no matter what, but I need some warning if you don’t want me to do this.” 

“Sit back down,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes. 

You tuck one lovely curl behind Spencer’s ear carefully. “I love it so much, I can’t believe it. This is the best thing that’s happened to me since I joined the BAU.”