Perfection.

This was so fucking good

NOT LIKE A FRIEND

summary: y/n overhears something that sends her on a spiral and harry has no idea

7.6k words

warnings: friends to lovers, a smidge of angst. this was requested months ago but here she is! it might not be exactly what the request was asking for but… there’s angst so enjoy <3

(Y/N) wished she’d walked down the hallway ten seconds later. Maybe then she wouldn’t have heard what she did. 

All of the bridesmaids and groomsmen were at the fitting at the same time and before everyone went their separate ways to try on the dresses and suits to make sure everything fit just right, Harry had stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Let me see you when you’re dressed.” 

At that, she rolled her eyes but smiled and nodded. She wanted to see what Harry would look like in the suit he’d been asked to wear, so she didn’t mind too much. She had a flowy sage green dress that she couldn’t wait to slip into so after parting from him, she followed the other bridesmaids down the hall to where their dresses were being held. 

Their good friends Jesssica and Landon were getting married and they asked both (Y/N) and Harry to be in their wedding. It was an honor and (Y/N) was almost brought to tears when they asked her. 

It was the final fitting just before the wedding that would happen a month or so later. 

One of the other girls who (Y/N) is certain is Landon’s younger sister, helped her with the zipper on the back of her dress and she did the same for her before finding an empty mirror to look herself over in. 

Of course, she wasn’t quite done up yet because this was just a fitting but the dress was beautiful. It exposed her shoulders and fell all the way to her feet. The fabric was smooth and it clung to every curve of her body. She really couldn’t wait to show Harry. He’d love it. 

The dressing room for the guys was on the other half of the building, so it was a little ways down the hallway, but she didn’t mind the walk. 

Harry and (Y/N) had been best friends for just about ten years. She’s not sure when it happened but they just suddenly started incorporating each other into their daily lives and they realized that they really enjoyed the company. It’s strange when she thinks about it now because now there is no way that she’d let anyone know her the way Harry does. 

He always knows what she wants before she does. He calls her everyday, she’s sure of it. He sends her silly photos that remind him of her, he’s knocking on her door every Sunday morning to take her to breakfast. Wherever she goes, he does too. She’s never been closer to someone in her entire life and she loves the support he gives her for everything and anything. 

She stopped at the doorway before the guys’ dressing room, just about to announce her presence when she heard something. 

“I know your type, Harry, and she is not it.” 

“You don’t know shit,” She heard Harry laugh. “(Y/N)’s not my type at all, actually, thank god.” 

“She’s cute though, isn’t she?” 

“She’s like a sister to me, Matt, come on.” 

Her listening was interrupted by the other girls coming down the hallway to show off their dresses. She wasn’t sure why Harry’s words seemed to have hit her so deeply. Her stomach dropped when she heard what he said but she doesn’t quite understand it right now. If she was feeling a little less lightheaded, she might follow after the others and force a smile to get through the rest of the fitting but she doesn’t. Instead, she makes her way back to the room with her clothes and changes back into them. The dress fits nicely. That’s all she needed to know. 

“Did you even try your dress on?” She heard behind her. In the mirror, Harry is in the doorway, dressed in his suit. He looked like a dream, if she was being honest. The suit fit to his shoulders perfectly and tapered at the waist. Whoever took his measurements really wanted to do him justice. 

“Yeah,” She answered, trying to keep a casual expression as she zipped the dress back into a garment bag. “I just feel a little sick suddenly.” She shrugged, watching as his eyebrows drew together in concern. 

“Oh, no,” And then he was in her personal space, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand, searching her face over intently, like he’d be able to figure out what was wrong with her just by looking at her. “I can get changed and we can get you home. Give me five minutes.” 

He left the room and she sighed, finding a seat to sit down for a second. 

She’s not sure why it makes her stomach churn in such a way. To hear that. She’s not Harry’s type? Not that it matters much because she never ever thought about him that way. Maybe right before she falls asleep when she’s in between consciousness and not but it’s never gone so far that she’s felt awkwardness with him. It’s just little what ifs. But hearing him completely shut down even the suggestion of it, made her heart drop. 

Harry is probably as attractive as attractive gets. She can’t believe he gives her the time of day sometimes. And she’d never want anything to ruin the friendship they’d been nurturing for the past ten years, so lines were never blurred between them. Strictly friends. Best friends. 

He couldn’t even call her cute though. Or attractive. Or pretty when Matt asked him. He just said she’s like a sister. And that should be fine. (Y/N) isn’t sure why she’s feeling nauseated at the thought of it but it ruined her day. Flat out. She’d just decided that. 

The other girls came back, dressing into their clothes and chatting amongst themselves but (Y/N) felt frozen. She hates the way that got to her. It doesn’t matter. Harry doesn’t think she’s his type. He’s right. She’s seen his type too and (Y/N) checks none of the boxes. The way that he was so sure and so quick to answer is really what’s nagging on her. Like he’s thought about it before and already deemed (Y/N) not good enough for him. 

She said goodbye to the other girls before making her way to the front of the building with her dress. She’s not certain she’ll be able to stand the sight of Harry. Not today at least. She needs time to ruminate and figure her feelings out. Why does it feel so weird to hear what she already knew? 

Before she could reach the doors, Harry was behind her, holding it open for her and then following her out. 

“I think I'm just going to head home on my own. I don’t want to get in the way of your plans.” She spoke up, already swiping on her phone screen to call herself a ride. Harry picked her up earlier and they were meant to go to dinner after the fitting but she can’t even think about eating at the moment. She just needs to be alone. 

“My plans were with you, (Y/N). I can take you home and make you something there if you want.” He offered, his hand rubbing down her back in a comforting gesture. She stepped away from him so he could no longer touch her and tried to remain calm. 

“It’s okay, Harry. Seriously. I just need to sleep, I think. And that would be boring for you.” 

“Well, I need to sleep too, so let’s go.” He took her phone right from her hand and slipped it into his pocket with a smirk. 

Harry is stubborn and as soon as he doesn’t get what he wants, he’s an annoying little shit and somehow the cards are always already in his favor anyway. 

So, she followed him to his car and let him shut her inside. The drive wasn’t too long but he kept the car quiet, like he was waiting for her to speak up and tell him what was really wrong but she didn’t. She just kept her eyes out the window and tried to keep her mind off of what he said only just shy of twenty minutes ago. 

“I’m just going to run a bath and go to bed, Harry. I don’t need a babysitter.” 

He’d helped her inside and was set on making her dinner and spending the night but she wasn’t feeling like being in his company right now. For the first time ever. 

“But you don’t feel good, (Y/N), and someone should be here with you,” He kicked his shoes off by her door, telling her that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “I’ll run the bath. You get comfortable.” 

She huffed as he walked down the hall to her bathroom and flicked on the light. See what she means? Stubborn. 

That was a month ago. And she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head the entire time. When she first wakes up and when she’s about to go to sleep, she’s thinking about what he said. She’s always had a hard time with letting things go. Even the smallest things. So she knows that conversation will be with her for a long, long time. 

She’s probably seen Harry five times since then. And she is positive he knows that something is going on now. She tried to be normal around him but it was too hard. He’d wrap his arm around her shoulders when they were sitting with friends at the pub and she’d make an excuse to get up and from under his arm. But he noticed, he just hadn’t said anything yet. 

The wedding is three days away. Jessica and Landon wanted to be married on the beach or near it anyway, so everyone would have to drive about an hour to get to the coast. It wasn’t a big ask, (Y/N) wanted to visit the beach first thing when they got there because it had been a while since she’s been. 

The wedding party was arriving two days before the ceremony so they could all help get things in order before the big day. (Y/N) was meant to drive down with Harry and Jessica had put them in the same room in the hotel because neither of them minded at the time. They’d shared a bed more than a handful of times so it wouldn’t be anything unusual. But now that (Y/N) knew what she knew, she had secretly asked Jessica if she could book another room, under the guise that there had been an extra room and to not tell Harry a word of it. Jessica was a little puzzled but didn’t ask and agreed. 

She wanted to hitch a ride with someone else but she doesn't want to hurt his feelings. Even though he unknowingly obliterated hers. For a reason she’s still not sure of. 

So, Friday after work, Harry came to help her finish packing and then they’d set out for the hour drive. 

When her doorbell rang, she was filled with dread. For the first time since she’s known him. But still, she opened the door for him and accepted his tight hug that he always gave her when he saw her. 

“Almost ready to go?” He pulled back, squeezing her shoulders and smiling down at her. 

“Almost.” (Y/N) stepped back so his arms fell away and started back toward her bedroom. He followed of course, and sat on her bed as soon as it was in sight. She was done packing for the most part, she just had a few things to shove in her bag and then they’d be ready to go. 

“Hey, babe?” 

She hummed because her back was to him as she finished stuffing a smaller bag with her toiletry items. 

“Who exactly are these for?” 

She turned, seeing her skimpy pair of black panties wrapped around Harry’s finger. Gasping, she stomped toward him so she could snatch them away. 

“Stay out of my bag!” Her hands shook as she shoved them down further into her bag where he wouldn’t be able to see them or get a hold of them again. He only laughed, relaxing further into her bed. 

“It’s cool. Can show me what they look like when they’re on. I think I’d like that more.” His smirk lessened none when she shot him a mean look before turning back to her other bag. 

“In your dreams.” She muttered, zipping the bag shut and tossing it on the bed. 

“Every night.” 

(Y/N) ignores him when he makes comments like that. He’s just a guy and they’re only friends, so she takes none of it to heart. Especially now that she knows what he really thinks of her. 

Once everything she could possibly need is in the duffle, Harry offered to carry it out to the car for her. She lets him, only because it’s heavy and he wouldn’t let her lift a finger for it anyway. 

They get comfortable in the car for an hour-long drive as soon as her house is locked up and everything is situated in the car. He always let her pick the music and this time was no different than any other. She connected her phone to his car and shuffled one of their usual favorite playlists before leaning back into her seat and shutting her eyes. 

There’s no talking until they get about fifteen minutes from the hotel. They both prefer the quiet sometimes and are totally always okay to sit in silence, nothing but music playing, and just be. Especially after a day of work, it’s nice to just mindlessly watch the scenery go by and not worry about much. 

Jessica and Landon arrived at the hotel hours ago, so the plan was to meet them in the lobby so they could get their room key. Jessica and (Y/N) had already smoothed over the plans for going about the extra room. It would just be a happy coincidence that there was another room and (Y/N) didn’t mind taking it. That’s how easy it would be. 

Harry, holding both of their bags on his shoulders, texted Landon and both of them met them in the lobby. Jessica hugged (Y/N) tightly and thanked her, once again, for agreeing to come all the way there for her special day. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jess.” She parted from the hug and from the corner of her eye saw Landon hand the key card to Harry. 

“Oh, right! We have an extra room if one of you wants it. It’s paid for so use it if you need to.” Jessica passed the other key card to (Y/N) and she smiled in thanks at her, trying not to look so relieved. 

“We don’t need that, but thanks.” Harry went to grab it from (Y/N)’s hand and give it back but she pulled away. 

“It’s paid for. I’ll use it.” She forced a convincing smile at him before nodding at Jessica again. 

Landon and Jessica left the lobby to go to the beach right across the street, leaving (Y/N) to get in the elevator with a now grumpy looking Harry. She paid him no mind as she pushed their floor number and hummed to herself. That was seamless. She really will have to thank Jessica again. 

“You’re really going to take that room?” 

“Why not?” (Y/N) can tell from the tense way that his jaw is sitting that he’s not exactly happy with the arrangement but she doesn’t think too hard about it. “It’s not that big of a deal, Harry. We’ll be right next to each other anyway.” 

He only huffed in response, grumbling something under his breath as he followed her out of the elevator to her door. 

“What if someone else needs it?” 

“Jessica wouldn’t have offered it then,” She shot back, trying not to seem so defensive about it. “Plus, it’ll be nice to stretch out.” 

“You do that every night anyway.” 

“Most nights, yeah.” She clicked the card in and pushed the door so she could step inside. 

“What do you mean most nights? Who the fuck do you have in your bed then?” He kept his grip tight on her bag when she tried to take it from his shoulder to set it down. 

Her eyes widened at his tone of voice. She’s never seen Harry like this and she’s not sure what to call it. But instead of asking, she laughed at him. 

“Set my bag down and let’s go to the beach.” Gently rubbing her thumb over his wrist like she liked to do sometimes, he released her bag, his face falling neutral again. 

“You expect me to go in that other room?” He pointed. “Because I’m not. I’m right here with you, I don’t want my own room, I don’t want to stretch out, I want to be here.” 

(Y/N) is unsure why he’s so adamant about it. She really thought he wouldn’t care and this would be her chance to get even more distance between the two of them. But Harry is unwavering in his declaration to not leave her room, so she sighed. 

“Fine. I guess you can stay in my room.” 

“Funny.” He dropped his bag before sifting through it to find his swim shorts. 

It’s evening now and they probably would need to stop somewhere at some point to get something to eat but she guessed Harry wanted to go to the beach first. She changed too, in the bathroom, into the orange bathing suit that she knew Harry was a fan of. He said the color went well with her skin and maybe it did, but she didn’t put much thought into those words either. 

(Y/N) put an oversized tee shirt on before she left the bathroom. She wasn’t sure they were actually going to swim since it was getting late, so she wanted to have something to cover up with. 

Harry led her back down through the hotel and out the doors that allowed you to step right into the sand. His hand brushed hers, earning him a look. 

“You don’t want to hold my hand?” 

“My hands are sweaty.” 

“So?” He chuckled, holding his hand out for her this time. The sand was a little hard to navigate in her sandals but she really doesn’t want to hold his hand either. She could manage on her own. 

“I’m okay.” She answered, thankful that they just reached Jessica and Landon so he wouldn’t force an explanation out of her like he often did with little effort. 

(Y/N) decided to just dip her feet in. That way, she didn’t have to take off the tee shirt and get wet. She’d much rather find something to eat after this and not be soaked while she does. 

Landon occupied Harry while (Y/N) got to whisper with Jessica for a little bit. 

“He refuses to stay in the other room.” She muttered, rolling her eyes. 

“What’s the issue with the room anyway? I thought you didn’t mind sharing a bed.” Poor Jessica. She should’ve given her a bit more information but she really didn’t want to explain to other people that Harry doesn’t find her attractive in the least. She’s already embarrassed, she doesn’t want anyone else knowing. Even though the entire room full of groomsmen heard. 

“We just need some space, you know? He doesn’t realize it now but…we do.” 

The water was calm at the moment. It just reached her ankles when it came up the shore and that was all she needed. The sun was just dipping past the horizon and everything was bathed in an orange glow. It’s beautiful and (Y/N) is so happy for her friends. And to be a part of something so special. 

“Aren’t you going to take this off?” Harry stepped beside her, his hand tugging on the end of her tee shirt. 

“I don’t want to get wet.” She kept her eyes on the sky. If she looked at Harry now in this light, she’d be a goner. And she needed to stay strong. He doesn’t want anything to do with her and that should be fine. She shouldn’t be wondering day and night what if things were different. What if Harry did think she was pretty? Would that change anything? 

(Y/N) knows that he enjoys her company. That part is evident. Her brain just won’t let the idea rest. Harry doesn’t think she’s good enough for him. It was as simple as that but it was a hard pill to swallow. 

There was little conversation between the two. (Y/N) knows he’s very aware that something had shifted, he just hadn’t brought it up yet. But Harry is not one to let things go either. He’d bring it up eventually. She tried to keep her eyes on the view in front of her. It was beautiful and it allowed her to relax for a moment and clear her mind. 

They said goodbye to Landon and Jessica on the beach and went to find something to eat. Harry suggested room service since a lot of the restaurants around the hotel were beginning to close. 

After eating, (Y/N) took a quick shower and snuggled into the sheets while Harry went off to take his own shower. She wanted to be asleep before he got back, but apparently, he wasn’t interested in being in the shower longer than five minutes. He was back before her eyes could shut so she was forced to interact with him. 

“Feel alright?” 

“Mhm.” She hummed, keeping her eyes sealed shut as he slipped into the bed beside her. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” She felt his body shift closer to her under the blankets. He’d moved so close that his chest was pressed to her back. Normally, this would never be a problem but now that she knows what she knows, she doesn’t feel as comfortable as she once did.

His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her even further into him. 

“Goodnight then.” He said before settling his hand over her stomach. 

“Uh,” She interrupted the quiet after his goodnight. “Would you mind like…giving me a little bit of space?” 

“Oh,” His hand pulled away quickly. “Sure. I didn’t realize that…yeah. Okay. Goodnight.” He moved back toward his side of the bed, laying on his back now. 

(Y/N)’s not sure why, but she feels like she’s being mean to him. Even though she really did want the space between them, it wasn’t something that she was saying just to hurt his feelings. But she knows she did anyway. 

At the moment, it feels necessary, so she doesn’t apologize or curl up next to him like she’d normally do. She just shut her eyes again and tried to get to sleep. 

***

The next day, (Y/N) and Harry were rushing around, trying to make the final arrangements for the wedding before the rehearsal dinner. 

There wasn’t much time spent with Harry actually, she was too busy doing things centered around Jessica. She figured Harry was doing the same for Landon but hadn’t yet responded to his text asking if she was as tired as he was. She was busy. At least that would be her excuse when he pouted and asked her why she was ignoring him when they met at the rehearsal dinner in just shy of an hour. 

She made it to the hotel room, showered, changed, and left again before he ever made it back. So, she didn’t have to deal with his questions quite yet. 

(Y/N) tried to keep herself surrounded by bridesmaids while Jessica and Landon’s families went on with speeches and toasts. And then Jessica and Landon themselves had a few words to say. So, she was able to sip her wine and pretend like she didn’t feel Harry looking at her every few seconds. When he walked in, she did send him a wave but didn’t get out of her seat to go join him at his table near the back. It was full now, so there really wasn’t a reason to go over there. At least, that’s what she thought. 

When everyone broke up to get dinner at the small restaurant right across the street from the venue they were in, the same one that would be used for the reception, Harry caught a hold of her arm. 

“Fuck’s sake. Where have you been? Don’t you know you’re supposed to sit next to me at something like that?” His smile was still bright and playful like he didn’t mind much that she was practically avoiding him. Or he hadn’t noticed. Or he was just pretending he didn’t at the moment, she’s not sure. 

Dinner was good. Sitting next to Harry was as it always is. His arm was splayed over the back of her chair and he was making jokes the entire time only for her to hear. He made her genuinely laugh a few times but most of it was her rolling her eyes and nudging him with her elbow. Things almost felt normal. Until one of Jessica’s cousins who was gorgeous sat in the empty seat next to Harry and she had to listen to them talk for thirty minutes and she wasn’t invited into the conversation once. Those same feelings of self-doubt and not feeling good enough came hurtling back at her. And then she couldn’t even look him in the eye when the girl finally did saunter off after slipping him her number like she didn’t want (Y/N) to see or something. And that just made her sick. 

Jessica and Landon were completely occupied with their family and they probably wouldn’t need her anymore tonight, so (Y/N) considered just going back to the hotel to get rest for tomorrow. Plus, the time that she’s supposed to meet Jessica and the other bridesmaids is early enough for her to want to go to bed now. 

“Hey. Take a walk with me?” Harry rubbed his hand over her shoulder. She nodded, agreeing even though she shouldn’t have. She just thought it’d get her back to the hotel quicker. 

In minutes, (Y/N) and Harry are on the beach, walking side by side in the sand. They kicked off their shoes in the grass before stepping into the sand and they hadn’t said a word since. 

“You’re stunning,” He said all of a sudden. “I mean…truly. You’re beautiful, (Y/N).” 

She wanted to shoot him a look and tell him to stop lying to her but she didn’t. Instead, she shrugged, trying not to take him too seriously. 

“Thanks.” 

“I missed you today.” Another bright smile was sent her way. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” He sighed, reaching for her empty hand. “Weddings are always fun, huh?” 

“Sure. It’s a lot of work though. But Jess and Landon are so good together.” It was true. (Y/N) had never really seen anything like it. How in sync the two of them are and how in love they seem to be. 

“I’d like to be married one day, I think.” His hand squeezed hers. 

“Me too, I guess. Just because.” 

“Really?” 

“Eventually.” 

“Can I be honest for a second?” Harry stopped where he was in the sand, causing her to do the same. She’s not sure what he’d want to be honest about. She thought he was always honest with her. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re my best friend, (Y/N),” Suddenly, his expression was serious, something that (Y/N) seldom sees. “And…I love you.” 

“I love you too, Harry.” It was something they’ve said to each other for years. But he shook his head as soon as she said it back. 

“No. Like, I like you.” 

“I’d hope so with how much time we spend together.” She chuckled. He grabbed both of her hands, another unamused look on his face. 

“(Y/N). Listen. I love you. I like you. I want you. Not like a friend. Not even close to a friend.” 

She snatched her hands away, taking two steps away from him. 

“Can we just go back to the hotel now? This was a waste of time.” 

“A waste of time? I just told you how I feel about you.” The very vulnerable expression he had is long gone now, replaced by something close to hurt and disbelief. 

“God, what did you do? Make a bet with Matt or something? Just to pull one over on me?” 

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard what you said to him.” (Y/N) is ready to confess and get this entire thing over with. She can finally tell him that she heard what he said and confront him about it. 

“To who?” 

“Matt!” She took another few steps away from him but he followed. “Is this fun for you? Messing with me like this? This is why I didn’t want to share a room with you.” 

“I’m so lost—”

“Of course you are.” Turning, she wanted to make her way back to the room, collect her belongings, and beg one of the other bridesmaids to stay in their room for the night. Surely someone would take pity on her. 

“(Y/N), just fucking talk to me! What’s going on?” He gripped her arm, spinning her to face him once again. “What did I say?” 

“How could you forget?” She laughed, ripping her arm from him. “You’re just so thankful that I’m not your type, aren’t you? I’m just your best friend, like your sister, and you’d never even take a second look at me. Because I’m not worth your time.” 

Maybe she added in a few bits that she’d been stewing over in her own mind. He didn’t outwardly say most of that but to her, it all fell in line anyway. 

“When did I—” He started to ask but stopped himself, as if he suddenly remembered when he said those things. “You’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“How else could you mean that? I’m not your type. Sounds pretty straightforward to me, Harry,” He looked helpless for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say to make it better. For the first time in his life. “And then that girl! She’s your type! Go get her since you seemed so interested earlier.” 

“What girl, (Y/N)? Christ, what are you on about?” Now he looks frustrated by her lack of answering his questions but she really doesn’t feel like talking. 

“Jessica’s cousin. She gave you her number, I bet you loved that.” 

“I didn’t take her number, (Y/N). I was just being nice!” 

“You’re always just so nice, aren’t you? So fucking nice all the time!” She hated that. He was too afraid to tell someone to fuck off, so he just put up with anyone that decided to to talk to him even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t bother me. It’s just the fact that you dragged me out here to try and lie to me. You like me—love me—I don’t buy it for a second. I’m done with this conversation. Goodnight.” 

It would be almost impossible to avoid him like she wanted to but maybe she’d find another ride home. They do have to walk down the aisle together but she doesn’t have to talk to him, she can just try to keep her face pleasant as she walks beside him. It shouldn’t be longer than a minute. And then she can ignore him for the entire reception and when they get home, she can consider figuring all of this out. After plenty of time, of course. 

“You misheard me. It wasn’t like that.” He reached for her but before he could touch her or say much more, she was on her way back to the hotel. After grabbing her sandals in the grass. 

She felt like crying. But there was no reason to. Yes, technically she’s in a fight with her best friend and they’ve never really had one before. They have disagreed a few times but never anything like this. He’d never made her so mad or hurt her so deeply. Talking about something like that to someone neither of them really knows just crossed the line. Matt is far outside of their friend group, he shouldn’t have gotten any information like that. (Y/N) just wonders why Harry offered it up. 

Harry doesn’t have to like her or think she’s attractive. It would almost be strange if he did, considering how long they’ve been friends. But hearing it from someone who looks like him cuts deep. She wishes she could brush it off because Harry isn’t someone she ever thought of as a possibility. But now that she knows there’s not one, it stirred something inside of her. All of her insecurities came right to the forefront of her mind and no amount of self-soothing has been able to fix it so far. 

She was lucky that she caught one of the bridesmaids in the hallway on her way back to the room. She explained very vaguely that it wasn’t quite working out in her room anymore and she’d sleep on the floor if she had to. The girl was nice and very reassuring and even helped her grab her things from the room. And the best part: she asked no questions. She was just nice and they briefly talked earlier when they were all assigned tasks to do before the rehearsal dinner so she didn’t mind at all. 

She’s also lucky Harry didn’t catch her in the hallway. He wouldn’t have let her go anywhere until he said his piece but she’s not sure he’s made it back to the hotel yet. 

(Y/N) just wants to go home. She hates to be so down during what’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of one of her best friend’s life. But it was hard to think about anything other than Harry. 

That night, she had to force herself to sleep. After thanking the girl ten more times. 

She just hoped that, even though she was upset with him now, everything would work out and they could put this behind them. 

****

(Y/N) ignored the messages on her phone for the time being. She was too busy getting herself ready and doing a few last minute things for Jessica. So, while she maybe wanted to see what he had to say, she didn’t give herself time to dwell on it. She’ll see him at the end of the aisle. 

He was there before she really knew it. Across the room, looking stressed. Like he tossed and turned all night. Like he wanted to run to her now and say a million different things. But he didn’t. He stayed put in line with the other groomsmen and sent her pitiful little looks occasionally when she’d catch his eye, while she kept a stoic expression, not wanting to give him any kind of false hope. She honestly didn’t know how things would be when she decided she wanted to talk to him again. 

Unfortunately for her, that time came too soon. She was already walking down the aisle with him. Their arms interlocked and pleasant smiles on both their faces, like they weren’t not talking at the moment. Like everything was fine. 

When they were meant to let go at the end of the aisle, Harry hesitated, but decided to do nothing more than give her another longing look. He was sorry about something. Or regretful. Something like that. She’d never know unless she talked to him. 

(Y/N) is almost certain that Harry didn’t hear a word of the ceremony. His eyes were locked on her the entire time. Every time she accidentally met his gaze, he was already staring right back. And that would make her force her focus back on the two people in front of them, only until she let her eyes wander his way again. 

The reception was only a short walk away, but she wasn’t sure she’d make it that far. He’d definitely catch up to her before she made it inside.

When the ceremony was over, Jessica and Landon walked back down the aisle and everyone else dispersed and made their way to the cocktail hour that was supposed to immediately follow. 

“(Y/N)?” 

There it was. 

“Can we talk, please?” A hand touched her arm, gently turning her toward him. She had no choice but to look at him and as soon as she saw just how sad he looked, she didn’t care about how mad she was yesterday. Maybe it was true. 

What if he did love her? What if he did want her, but not like a friend? Would that be so bad? She spent the past month making herself believe that she never stood a chance. Not that she has ever wanted to before now, but the idea was just so jarring. Him? With her? It didn’t seem possible. 

But here he is now, almost begging to make things right. 

“Yeah. We can talk.”

The relief that overtook his face made her own shoulders relax. It was only Harry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. A lot had been revealed in the last day but it’s only him. And she knows him. The fact that he’s willing to talk means that he cares a little bit about how upset he’d made her yesterday. Of course, he would though because that’s just who he is. He’s an amazing friend and he’s always there for her no matter what. Even when she completely overreacts and brushes off his feelings. 

They found a semi-private area away from all the wedding guests with the most gorgeous view of the beach with the sun setting behind it. In different circumstances, she’d comment on it, tell him to take her picture right here so she’d be able to remember this day. Right now, she’s not sure she wants to. 

It was quiet for longer than she thought it would be. He was thinking and she didn’t want to rush him, but the time for cocktail hour was ticking down and plus, she just really, really wanted to know what was on his mind. 

“How could you not believe me?” He spoke up suddenly, turning to look at her. “I told you I loved you and you just…blew me off. That took…that took a lot and I don’t understand how you couldn’t see it.” 

He put her on the spot. Did she really want him to know just how insecure she was? And couldn’t he see that they’re not each other’s type? At all. 

“I..I don’t know, Harry. I wasn’t expecting it and when you said it, it just reminded me of that time at the fitting. You were saying what I already knew, so I just didn’t think that you’d change your mind.” 

“What did you already know?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed. She took a deep breath. 

“That you’re not interested in me. I mean, we’re supposed to be friends, so I don’t know why it mattered so much to me, but it hurt to hear you say that and I was so angry at you.” Looking back, she wants to roll her eyes at herself. It was pathetic how she acted. Why couldn’t she just talk to him? This could’ve been cleared up weeks ago. 

“But I am interested in you. I think I’ve said that six times by now,” When he stepped closer to her, he grabbed her hand, and she let him. That one night being on uneasy terms had really done some damage. She felt so lost without him when he wasn’t there for her to run to. He was such a support for her and she didn’t realize to what extent until he wasn’t an option. “I’m sorry that what I said upset you. I was pissed that day. Matthew wouldn’t stop talking about how hot you were and it just fucked with me…he asked me what I thought and I just…I said that. And none of it was true. I don’t know what I was thinking but I also wasn’t going to tell him of all people that I’ve had a crush on you since I met you.” 

She didn’t mean to do it, but she snatched her hand out of his to put it over her mouth. 

“You don’t mean that.” She shook her head. How couldn’t she have known? He chuckled, grasping her hand again and holding it to his chest, right over his heart.

“I do. It feels so good to finally tell you. I guess I didn’t do a good job at dropping hints, did I?” He squeezed her hand. 

She tried to recall every conversation they’ve ever had. And nothing came to mind. Nothing he did or said ever made her think that he might be thinking of her as more. In all their ten years together. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She asked, letting him pull her closer to him. 

“I did. Every time I told you I loved you I meant it. Every day for ten years.” 

That almost made her weak in the knees. None of it made sense. Either he really is the worst at dropping hints or she’s blind. Maybe a healthy balance of the two is what kept them apart. 

“But I thought…none of your girlfriends have ever looked like me. I’m so far out of your league.” She wasn’t expecting him to wrap his arms around her back and press their chests together, but she didn’t exactly mind it either. 

“You are so out of my league. Never thought I deserved you. And of course they didn’t look like you because…you’re you. No one can compare.” 

“You don’t mean that.” Her hand swatted his shoulder before she wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself melt into him. 

“I’d never lie to you and I would never play with your feelings either. You mean so much to me. I couldn’t not tell you yesterday on the beach when you looked like that…like this. You drive me insane,” He pulled them closer together, though it was almost impossible with how they were already standing. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

What was she to do? She had never given it much thought, but over the last month, convincing herself that she’d never be good enough for him, was torturous. But he’s here now, making all the wrongs right and making her chest feel tight. In the best way. She couldn’t help it. 

A tear hurried down her cheek and he gently wiped it away, shaking his head at her, telling her not to cry. He always said he hated that. 

“I’m so sorry,” Her eyes squeezed shut and she shoved her face into his shoulder, forgetting about her makeup that was probably going to be ruined by the time they were done. “I wish that I just talked to you so we didn’t have to do this right now. I’m sorry.” 

He shushed her, leaning his head against hers. 

“It’s okay. We’re here now, right? And you obviously don’t hate that I have a crush on you. Have a crush on me or something?” He nudged his nose against her temple. “Hm?” 

“Maybe. Now that I think of it.” She muttered, not moving from his shoulder yet. 

“Maybe? Come on, I know you love me.” 

“I do love you.” She pulled back, meeting his eyes again. He was smiling, looking relieved. She felt it too. This conversation had been a long time coming and now that they’re both on the same page, all the tension has left her body. She can relax and finally enjoy the wedding. 

“Then, kiss me.”

That had her freezing, looking up at him in shock. 

“What?” She breathed out, suddenly short on breath. Kissing him would make it all true. Not that she still didn’t believe him but it would mean it’s real. And that might just be too much for her. 

“You’ve never thought about kissing me? Now I know you’re lying.” He laughed when she shot him a look. 

“No, I just didn’t know you wanted to do that now.” 

“Well, I do. Right this minute.” 

“Really? Right here?”

“I think I’m speaking pretty plain English, yes. Right here, right now. Kiss me. I’ve been waiting for years, no exaggeration.” One of his hands left her back to tilt her chin toward him. 

“Wait. What if it’s a bad first kiss? I’ll probably ruin it because I’m so nervous. And then you’ll change your mind.” She didn’t mean to say all of that all at once but all her worries came pouring out of her when she really didn’t want them to. 

“How could it be bad? Are you stalling? Please, cocktail hour is almost over and I need to tell Landon that you love me and all that.” He tapped her chin, leaning down toward her, but she turned her head just in time. 

“Landon knows?” 

“Everyone knows. But you, my love. And maybe Matthew. Fucking idiot.” He rolled his eyes.

“How could I be the only one who doesn’t know? That doesn’t sound—”

He grew impatient with her and pressed his mouth to hers, effectively cutting her off and effectively making her forget any doubts she’d ever had. 

While it was a long time coming, it happened at just the right time. 

They pulled away, trying to catch their breath. 

“Fuck me. I think that’s my new favorite thing,” He pecked her lips two more times and then he checked his watch. “One more kiss and then we’ve got to get to cocktail hour. You can kiss me all you want back in our room.” 

****

I had this finished a week or so ago but I decided to wait because last week was a lot. I hope you are all doing well and I hope you like this one!! 🖤

tags: @vamprry @sunflowersloverr @tenaciousperfectionunknown @caynonmoondreams @elidoho @peterbenjaminparke07 @daydreamingofmatilda @kissitnhekitchen @amberbambridge @danaehldy @straightontilmornin @forgetdelaney @harrysonlylover @me-undiscovered @80s-outsiders @littlenatilda @outofthisworl-d @butdaddyilovehim-hs @cherrys4suckers @harrystylessslut @hssunflowervol6 @indierockgirrl @satellitelh @daphnesutton @opheliaofficial07 @nathalielovesonedirection @velvetballaspark @watermelonlover @kathb59 @harrysolaf @szoszi2004 @ellaorchard @trooooye @daylighthazzz @prettytulips @stylesfever @mayamonroem @slut-for-artists @in-omn1a-paratus @lunaharrygurl @uncassettodiricordi @a-strange-familiar @sassamanda77 @fangirl509east @voniikg @adore-you-hs2 @m0mmyfromtarget @savannahwendel @babyyhoneyyy @mrschanandlerb @illicitverstappen

*I had more than 50 tags so I had to take out the ones that weren’t working ☹️☹️ sorry*

I love this so much

Patron Saints of Nightmares

Summary : Bucky needs to go on a mission, so he asks the rest of the team to take care of his girl.

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

Warnings/tags : Thunderbolts* spoilers!!!!!!! Established Relationship. TOWER FIC!!! Fluff, angst. Cursing. trauma. Death, nightmares, sleepwalking, hurt/comfort. Sam and Bucky aren’t mad at each other in this one (Please let me know if I miss anything!!!)

Word count : 4.1k 

Note : This story is based on my own experiences with sleepwalking. If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

The New Avengers weren't as polished as their predecessors. You weren’t even close to the universal beacon of hope they used to be — you flickered and survived.

This team was a patchwork of second chances and shattered pasts, proof that good people came with scars — that good people might have done things that kept you all up at night. It was a miracle anyone got any sleep at all. 

Least of all you. 

Ever since your first kill, you barely got a full night’s rest.

By the time you joined the team, it had already been years of fragmented rest— twenty-minute naps stolen on ships here, an hour of sleep on dirty cots there. And when sleep did finally drag you under, it was rarely ever peaceful.

Sometimes, the worst part wasn’t even the nightmares. Sometimes it was waking up in the living room, not even in control, your feet bare and your skin clammy from a sleepwalk you didn’t remember beginning.

You’d warned Bucky when you started dating him. 

One night, you sat him down while your fingers nervously pulled at the threads on your sleeve and handed him a list. Not a literal one, but it felt like that—“If I start talking in my sleep, don’t wake me up too fast. If I’m not in bed, check the bathtub or the closet. Don’t try to hold me down if I fight in my sleep. Only wake me if it becomes dangerous. But most of the time, it passes. I promise.” And worst of all, “Don’t be scared of me.”

You’d braced yourself for rejection then, for an excuse or another that said “you’re too much.” But Bucky had only taken your hand in his, metal fingers brushing gently against your palm like he understood in a way that no one else ever had.

One night, after you’d had a particularly brutal episode—screaming in your sleep, flinching from his touch even though he’d tried to soothe you—he didn’t say a word. 

He just pulled you close once you’d woken, let you curl into his chest with your face pressed against his skin.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he whispered into your hair.

That night, you cried into him until your breathing slowed, and for the first time in a long, long while, you stayed asleep.

Over time, you found a kind of peace with him that you’d never had before. It didn’t fix everything— Bucky would be the first to admit— but it eased your nights. You rested better because he made you feel safe. 

On bad days, he’d lie beside you, his arm around your waist, his thumb brushing circles into your side.

And sometimes, when sleep came like a gentle tide instead of a crashing wave, you’d open your eyes in the morning light and find him already awake, watching you protectively. 

“You slept,” he’d say with a proud smile, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

For a while, things almost felt normal again. Maybe not perfect, but better— until you and Bucky got dragged to be part of the New Avengers. And just like that, for convenience's sake, you both moved in the Watchtower.

It wasn’t awful. There was always someone around, always laughter coming from the common room. But adjusting was hard. 

The bedroom felt too large, the ceilings too high, the Watchtower too big. It was… unfamiliar. Uneasy. Still, with Bucky lying beside you, it was manageable.

But some nights… some nights were worse than others. You’d still find yourself drifting barefoot through the corridors, your eyes glassy, your fingers twitching restlessly. You’d pull open drawers, rearrange cabinets, and unconsciously line pens up in perfect gradients. Once, Bucky found you curled in the closet with a granola bar clutched to your chest. You didn’t remember getting there. You only remembered waking up in his arms, sobbing so hard even though you couldn’t explain why you were upset.

That night, when Yelena peeked out of her room to see what all the commotion was about, Bucky smiled and said, “She’ll be okay, Lena. She just needs some peace and quiet, right, baby?”

You gave a small, hopeful smile. “Y-yeah.”

Because with him there… it really was easier to breathe.

—

The next morning, you asked Bucky to tell the rest of the team of your condition, and he waited until you were in the shower to gather the team in the kitchen. Ava leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, John was already halfway through his second cup of coffee, Bob dropped his book, Alexei was drinking a glass of milk, and Yelena sat on the counter with a knowing look in her eyes.

Bucky didn’t pace or shift or stall. He just said it.

“She sleepwalks, sometimes. Worse when I’m gone. It’s not… always random. It’s tied to stress. Or nightmares.” His voice was gentle. “You might hear her moving around at night, maybe see her organizing weird stuff or… I don’t know, in a closet. Don’t freak out. Don’t wake her up unless she's in danger, Don’t make it a thing.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was understanding.

Yelena gave a small nod and muttered, “I’ve done weirder.” John just said, “Got it, man,” and reached for another coffee pod.

Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He didn’t want pity for you. He didn’t want tiptoes or whispers. He just wanted you to have a little space to exist without explaining yourself.

And when you wandered into the room an hour later, eyes still a little hazy, no one stared. No one asked questions.

They just said “Hey,” like it was any other morning.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

—

Still, no one got involved... yet.

Bucky was the only one who knew how to reach you. The only person who could read your silences like sentences, who knew exactly when to speak, and when to hold you so tightly the pieces couldn’t fall apart again.

So when Sam reached out to Bucky for help with an intel recovery mission in Madripoor, your heart dropped. You didn’t tell him not to go, but Bucky saw the way your hands twisted in the hem of your sweater, the way your mouth stayed open like you were trying to find a reason to make him stay.

He found you in the kitchen the night before he left, staring blankly into a cup of tea you hadn’t touched.

“Sweetheart,” he said, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Look at me.”

Your eyes slowly found his, and he knew. 

“I hate this,” you whispered, the words brittle.

“I know,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ll be gone for two days. Three, tops. I swear.”

You leaned into him, “I sleep better when you’re here.”

“I know, honey,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “I hate leaving you. But he needs me just for this one thing. And I promise I wouldn’t go unless I knew you’d be taken care of.”

You looked up at him, “I don’t want to be a burden to the team.”

“You are never a burden,” he said firmly, his voice a low rasp. “Never. And while I’m gone, they’ll keep you safe because they want to, not because they have to.”

Before he left, he gathered the others in the main room.

“Keep an eye on her,” Bucky said quietly. “She’s strong — don’t let her tell you otherwise — but she doesn’t always ask for help.”

They all nodded, some more solemn than others.

“If she does, don’t wake her unless you have to. It can be… disorienting. But if she’s not safe — if she’s near stairs or rooftops or anything like that — then wake her up gently. No yelling. No shaking her. It’ll only make it worse.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “What if we throw a blanket on her and pretend she’s a ghost?”

Bucky gave her a pointed look.

She raised her hand in defeat. “Fine. No blankets. Understood.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, quieter now, looking over each of them. “Just… She means everything to me.”

They nodded again. Even John offered a pat in the back, and Ava gave a flickering smile.

That night, he kissed you once more at the door. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

But time always moved slower without him. And sleep — if it came at all — would bring with it the ghosts you couldn’t outrun.

—

The first night without Bucky was the worst.

You didn’t sleep. Not even for a minute. You paced the compound like a spectre, wearing one of his oversized Henleys and a pair of mismatched socks. The halls were quiet but your mind was unbearably loud.

What if something happened to him? What if this was the one time he didn’t come back?

You were awake in the kitchen at 2 a.m., your fingers trailing along the countertops. You made tea and forgot it on the counter. You folded a blanket you didn’t remember picking up. You stood in front of the window for forty-five minutes, watching shadows move across the landing pad like you were trying to count sheep.

Yelena followed you silently, not intruding. She was nearby, perched on the kitchen island, tossing a grape between her fingers.

She didn’t ask you to sit down. She didn’t ask what you were thinking. She just waited.

“Can’t sleep?” she finally said casually.

You shook your head. “If I try, I’ll just end up with a bad dream.”

“Then don’t try. Come,” she said, patting the spot beside her. “Sit. Eat terrible snacks with me. I stole jerky from John .”

You offered a smile, and for a moment, it felt almost normal — like you were just friends pulling a late night, instead of trauma survivors outrunning your past. 

—

The second night was harder in a different way.

Your body gave in, just barely, around 3 a.m. 

You collapsed on the couch in the common room and curled into yourself. The others left you be — glad to see you resting at all.

But two hours later, you screamed in your sleep.

Bob got there first.

He found you thrashing in, tangled in the blanket like it was strangling you. Tears streamed down your face, and your hands clawed at the air as you whimpered words no one could quite make out.

“No—please—don’t take him—don’t—!”

Bob dropped to his knees beside you. He didn’t try to wake you — remembered Bucky’s warning — but he said your name softly, voice like pattering rain on glass.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, over and over. “You’re not alone.”

Eventually, your screams died into sobs. Still asleep, you curled toward him, burying your face in his shoulders. Bob let you cry against him.

He didn’t know if you’d remember any of it. 

John had stood nearby the whole time, sleepy when he was woken up by the noise. When Bob looked up at him with tired eyes, he invited John to sit next to you both. 

He did, because perhaps he thought he could help keep you both safe.

—

The third night was deceptively calm.

You seemed better. You’d eaten half a piece of toast that morning. You’d even made a small joke at Alexei’s expense, and everyone had taken that as a good sign.

Still, the team took care of you closely.

That night, after the motion sensors in the living room went off because you started sleepwalking, Alexei, Ava, and John took the unofficial nightwatch duty— all of them too alert to sleep anyway. You shuffled into the hallway around 1 a.m., eyes half-lidded. You looked straight through Alexei, who had been sitting on the floor playing chess against himself. 

He didn’t say a word, just stood up and followed you at a distance.

You wandered into the kitchen and opened the same drawer four times in a row. Flipped the light switch on and off, on and off. Then you just… stood there, staring at the fridge.

John found you a little while later, drifting into the laundry room. He didn’t panic. 

“Hey,” he said, blocking the doorway, “this isn’t your bedroom.”

You blinked slowly with foggy eyes, but didn’t respond.

“Come on, let’s go back,” he said, not touching you, just using the calm voice he’d been practicing since Bucky left. 

“Couch sounds better than tile, right?”

You followed him without protest, your feet shuffling over the floor. He guided you gently to the common room and helped you sit on the couch, draping a blanket over your shoulders.

Ava came to relieve him an hour later.

No one told the others to watch you. No one needed to. It had simply become understood — an agreement among people who’d known isolation too well to let anyone else suffer it.

You were never left alone for long.

—

The fourth night, things only got worse.

Bucky's message came in just past midday — the mission was running longer than planned. What was supposed to be three days had stretched to four, maybe more. They were holed up in a safe house, radio silent except for brief check-ins. Your already-bad anxiety only spiked.

So, of course, it manifested in your sleeping habits.

You were beyond exhausted, though. Somewhere between 2 and 4 a.m., your body gave out before your mind could. And that's when the sleepwalking started again. 

Yelena noticed first when the motion sensor on the jet landing pad pinged, lighting up the communicator on her bedside table. Her eyes snapped open in panic. 

One glance at the screen by her bed and—

Oh.

Oh no.

“Blyat,” she cursed, already half out of bed.

The security feed showed you barefoot and draped in one of Bucky’s shirts that hung past your thighs, drifting forward in a dreamy gait.

You were headed straight for the edge of the roof.

“Ava!” Yelena barked into the intercom by her door. “She’s up—she’s on the roof!”

Ava didn’t even answer. She was already phasing halfway through her bedroom door before the words had finished transmitting. 

Her molecules blurred as she sprinted through walls and the glass doors leading to the edge. 

She found you on the rooftop, barely more than a silhouette, the wind tugging at your hair and the cold bit at your bare feet.

You were standing at the edge. Right at the ledge.

The skyline sparkled as your fingers trembled to reach for something invisible in the air in front of you.

“He’s gone,” you mumbled into the wind. “I have to find him…”

Ava didn’t shout your name. She didn’t touch you too fast. She knew better.

She forced herself to become solid again and circled herself around your torso from behind.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t react — not really. Your muscles twitched, but you didn’t pull away.

John was next, thundering up the stairs with bare feet and wide eyes, stopping short the moment he saw you on the ledge. 

His instincts wanted him to act, to tackle you into safety, but he didn’t. Not when he saw how still you were. Not when he saw how gently Ava held you. He lifted both hands, palms out, staying back, like he might catch you if anything went wrong.

“Easy…” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. 

Alexei arrived just after. One look at the scene stopped him in his tracks. “Bozhe moi…” he whispered. He took a cautious step forward and dropped to his knees, trying to be less threatening.

“Druga,” he said gently, kneeling just to your side. “You’re dreaming, okay? Just a dream. We’re here. No need to find anyone — you’re already home.”

Bob drifted up moments later. He didn’t say a word. He just hovered nearby.

And then Yelena burst through the door, breath hitching as her eyes scanned the perimeter.

“Is she—?”

“She’s okay,” Bob answered quietly, “We’ve got her.”

Yelena let out a shaky breath and moved closer.

You whimpered softly, your whole body trembling in Ava’s arms. Your hands curled into fists, then relaxed again. Tears slid down your cheeks even as your eyes stayed closed. Even asleep, you were breaking.

You were inching closer to the ledge, your toes just brushing the edge of now.

“I have to find him,” you mumbled again, voice cracking. “He’s not safe. I have to find him.”

Alexei looked at Ava. At Yelena.

“She’s not coming out of it,” Yelena whispered. “She’s too far under.”

“Do it,” John said, tense. “Now. Before she—”

Alexei nodded once, then reached forward, placing one palm on your shoulders. It was him who finally made the call. “Time to wake up now. You’re safe. You’re dreaming.”

Your body stiffened immediately. The moment your nervous system registered something was wrong, your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in.

And they kicked hard.

Coming back into consciousness in panic, you bolted— or tried to.

Ava held you still, even as your eyes snapped open, and you screamed.

“No! No, no, no! Let go of me! Let go—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay—” Ava said, tightening her grip, keeping you away from the ledge.

You thrashed. Alexei backed off, hands up, trying not to crowd you.

Yelena stepped forward and crouched, her voice firmer than the others. “Look at me. You’re here. You’re home. We have you.”

But your body didn’t believe her. Your eyes were darting wildly, trying to make sense of noise and faces, adrenaline pumping so hard it made your vision blur.

John, who managed to grab a blanket, wrapped it over your shoulders while muttering, “It’s okay, you’re okay,” on repeat like a prayer, even though your eyes weren’t processing him yet.

Bob moved in slowly, hoping just being there would help.

Eventually—eventually—your eyes found something familiar.

The logo on the roof. 

The view on the edge. 

The ledge.

Your legs buckled the moment your body remembered gravity.

Ava and Alexei caught you instantly — Ava’s arms looping under your shoulders, Alexei scooping beneath your knees, reminding yourself he was a man who once threw tanks for fun.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” your voice broke, and you curled in on yourself, clutching the sides of Bucky’s shirt like it could protect you from your own confusion. “I don’t remember what I was dreaming. I didn’t mean to come up here. I didn’t mean—”

“We know,” Yelena said firmly. “It’s okay.”

“No one’s mad,” John reassured, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You swallowed, and with a shaky breath, nodded once.

You weren’t fully okay — not even close — but you were with them.

“Let’s get you out of the cold, druga,” Alexei said. 

You didn’t fight the suggestion.

The rooftop door swung behind you as Bob pushed it open. 

All of you managed to walk back in. 

No one said the obvious — how close you’d come to falling.

No one had to.

You reached the common room without question, because none of them wanted to put you back in your room alone. You wouldn’t sleep, and none of them would, either.

They laid you gently down on the oversized couch in the center of the room. You blinked up at the ceiling, eyes still dazed, until Bob appeared beside you with a warm cup of tea. He placed it in your hands.

You didn’t drink it. You just held it, palms wrapped tight around the mug, as if the warmth alone was enough to anchor you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, finally

“You don’t have to be,” Ava replied immediately, sitting beside you on the couches.

John sat on the floor in front of you, back against the coffee table, hands dangling over his knees. “We’ve all had bad nights. This just happened to be one of yours.”

Alexei brought in two more pillows and tossed one over your legs. He tucked the second by Yelena, who tried to wave him off before giving up with a sigh and letting him fuss.

Bob curled into an armchair nearby. “We’ll keep watch,” he said. “We always do.”

And then, something remarkable happened.

The exhaustion hit all of you at once.

One by one, you all stopped pretending you weren’t tired.

Yelena curled up beside you, legs tangled with yours, chin resting on the pillow between you.

John slid down to lie on the carpet, arms crossed over his chest like a soldier who could still sleep with one eye open.

Ava stretched out beside the couch, back against it as she put a hand over yours.

Alexei lowered himself onto the other couch with a dramatic groan, mumbling something about “too old for this” as he tucked a pillow behind his head.

Bob’s head tilted back and his breathing evened out.

And just like that, the common room became a patchwork nest of sleep. And it was some of the best sleep every one of you have had in a while. 

—

An hour, maybe two, slipped by. Then, the elevator dinged.

You stirred, still in a haze, but some part of you registered the familiar sound of heavy boots followed by a duffel bag hitting the floor with a gentle thump, carefully placed rather than dropped.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Bucky’s voice.

Your eyes blinked open, just enough to catch a glimpse of him standing in the spill of hallway light. His hair was damp, rain clinging to the ends. His jacket bore flecks of concrete dust and char near the seams. 

He looked like a man who hadn’t stopped running home since he left.

“Bucky…” you whispered, the name tangled in a yawn. “Baby… you came back…”

Your words were fragile, barely more than breath, and already fading into the fog of dreams again.

Bucky stepped over John — who was still passed out on the floor, snoring like a freight train — and made his way to you without a sound. He crouched down by the couch and wrapped his hands around yours — the one not held by Ava— and brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice cracking at the seam. “I’m so sorry I left.”

You made a nonsensical sound in response — half a word, maybe a memory. Something about rooftops, tea, jerky, his shirt. Nothing coherent, just the drift of half-dreams spilling from your lips. He knew you wouldn’t remember any of this come morning.

But still, Bucky leaned in and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there. For the first time in days, he let himself breathe.

Then he looked up — and finally took the full picture in. 

They were all there. The whole team, scattered in sleep around the living room like an improvised fortress. His girl — you — nestled safely in the center of it, wrapped in the arms of friends who had clearly refused to leave your side.

They looked worn down, but peaceful and content. Like being here, with each other, was exactly where they wanted to be.

So he moved quietly around the tower, opting for a quick shower and change of clothes. Then he walked to the hallway closet and gathered every spare blanket he could find.

One by one, he tucked them in.

He threw a thick crocheted navy blue throw over John, who mumbled something but didn’t wake. A quilt draped gently across Yelena and Ava. One across Alexei’s legs, already half off the couch,

Bob didn’t even stir — just sighed, as Bucky knelt, and carefully tugged a fluffy yellow blanket under his chin. It was like Bob somehow knew Bucky was there.

On the coffee table, Bucky found a scrap of paper and scrawled a quick note, placing it where they would see it in the morning.

Thank you for taking care of my girl. – J.B.B

Then he returned to you.

He stood there for a moment, watching you sleep — curled up in the middle of everyone who had held the line while he was gone. 

He was so in love with you — god help him — because all he could think about after the long mission was taking you back, holding you close, and not sharing you with anyone tonight.

So he picked you up in his arms effortlessly, like you belonged there, like he’d done it a thousand times and could do it a thousand more.

You stirred just a little, your cheek pressing into his chest.

“You’re home…” you murmured again, barely awake.

“I am,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He carried you back to your shared room, the weight of the world finally lifting from his shoulders.

There, he laid you down and pulled the covers up over you both, sliding in with one arm around your waist, the other across your chest like a shield.

You were finally asleep in his arms, and he wasn’t about to give the world a single piece of you until morning.

-end.

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 @rIphunter

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst @wingstoyourdreams @lori19

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23 @fan4astic

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt @softpia 

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy @buckybarneswife125 @buckybarneswife125

"You can't tell, but I'm livid rn" is so iconic

Could you do an f1 grid text x reader where the reader is feeling very insecure and just misses their boyfriend and they make her feel better?

ACCIDENTALLY TELLING YOUR F1!BOYFRIEND YOU THINK HE LIKES SOMEONE ELSE

( texts masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

★ : summary :: texting your boyfriend while sharing your insecurities with your bestfriend(s) ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort; heavy "insecurity" discussions

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★ : a/n :: ignore the typos, feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

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.” 

I LOVE jealous Spencer

ummm can i request jealous spencer? like reader has a boyfriend or spencer thinks she has a boyfriend and he gets all pouty. and then ... soft confession/kisses :)

feel free to ignore if it's not your cup of tea!

btw my criminal minds themed blog is @sweetheartspence !! but alas i cannot send asks from a side blog </3

thank u in advance! hope u have a wonderful day/night

Oh! This is definitely my cup of tea I love love love jealous Spencer 😋

BYR(b4 u Reid): Jealous & mean Spencer Reid :0, teasing, and a bit of fluff toward the end, along w a cute little kiss scene hehe

Jealousy | Spencer Reid

It had been a week. A week since Spencer started noticing the shift in your behavior.

You were… happier. Lighter. More willing to do things for your coworkers than before.

Staying late without complaint, grabbing an extra coffee for someone, taking an extra file without the usual dramatic sigh.

You used to roll your eyes when Morgan pawned off paperwork on you, now you just did it. No protest. No banter.

And then there were the little changes. The way you started painting your nails, the extra time you took with your makeup.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume someone was catching your attention, and truthfully he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Hey.” He called, catching you before you could leave the bullpen. “There’s a movie playing tonight, it’s based in the fifties, and about a serial killer who’d eat his victims. It’s supposed to be really good. Want to come with me?”

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “Aw, Spence, that does sound fun, but I can’t. I’m busy.”

“Oh.” His fingers curled around the strap of his bag, grip tightening. “No, that’s fine. What are you doing?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Just… something with a friend.” You said vaguely, offering him a small smile.

A friend.

He nodded, forcing a smile. “Nice. Okay. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah.” You agreed before walking away, leaving him standing there.

And it wasn’t just him noticing the change anymore, it was the whole team.

The way you were always texting, checking your phone like you were waiting for something. For someone.

Morgan noticed first, of course.

“Someone seems pretty occupied.” His voice was laced with amusement as he watched your fingers fly over your screen.

You glanced up, blinking. “Yeah, sorry.” You muttered, locking your phone and setting it down.

“Important stuff?” Spencer asks, trying to sound casual.

You shook your head. “No not important at all.”

Morgan snorted. “Right.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” He said, smirking as he leaned back in his seat.

You didn’t buy it, but you let it go, getting up from your spot on the jet and heading toward the restroom.

The second you were gone, Morgan turned toward Spencer, grinning. “That girl is definitely hiding something.”

Spencer’s head snapped to Derek. “Yeah? Like what?” His brows raised, eyes wide.

Morgan’s smirk only grew more. “Woah. Eager, aren’t you, pretty boy?”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m just curious. Does it seem like she’s acting different? Like… someone is causing her to be like this?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re worried.”

“Worried?” Spencer scoffed. “About what?”

“That she might be seeing someone.”

Spencer sat up straighter. “I’m not worried.” He said quickly, too quickly. “Just curious. She’s my friend. Don’t you want to know?”

“Yeah, but only because I’m nosey. You, on the other hand…” Morgan tilted his head. “You want to know because you’re scared of losing her.”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Losing her? How would I lose her?”

Morgan shrugged, still grinning. “No more movie nights, no more friendly dinners, and definitely no more sleepovers. Your girl is gonna be busy with someone else.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, looking away. “She’s just my friend.”

Morgan let out a low chuckle. “Sure, pretty boy. Keep telling yourself that.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lunch with Spencer had become a routine, quiet escape from the chaos of the BAU. Your usual spot, the same table by the window. Everything felt the same, except Spencer.

He was distracted. Off.

He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut, the one that told him something was going on with you. Something you weren’t telling him. The past week had been filled with too many smiles at your phone, to many whispered conversations with the girls, and too many times you’d turn him down.

So he had to pry a little bit.

“So, uh…how’s everything been?” He tried to keep his voice even, but there was a nervous edge to it.

You furrowed your brows. “How’s what been?”

“Uh, life?”

You smiled, stirring your drink absentmindedly. “Oh, good. Nothing much outside of work. Just busy.” You paused. “Why?”

Spencer shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just wondering if anything has changed in your life.”

You eyed him for a second, suspicious. “Oh…okay. Well no. Not really. You?”

“No. The same. Work and home. That’s about it.”

“Nice.” You said simply

There was a beat of silence before Spencer tried again. “Can I come over tonight? I’ve been wanting to play this new game I got.”

You hesitated, glancing away. “Oh, my house? It’s kind of a mess. Maybe we can do it at yours instead?”

His grip on his fork tightened. A mess? That was the excuse? Since when did you care if he saw your place like that? Unless… you were hiding something? Someone?

Had the person you were seeing already moved in?

The thought sent a sharp, unwelcoming sting through his chest.

“Yes.” He said, a little too quickly. “My house is good. Is eight okay with you?”

You nodded, smiling. “Perfect.”

Then your phone buzzed, and before he could say anything else, you grabbed it. You didn’t just check it, you smiled at it. A real, genuine smile.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek.

Something burned in his stomach. Jealously.

It was stupid. Irrational. He had not right to be upset. You weren’t his.

But he was upset.

“We should go back now.” He said abruptly.

You glanced at the time. “We still have some time, though.”

He clears his throat. “I’m not really feeling good.”

Your brows knit tighter in concern. “Oh. Okay.”

You don’t question it. And that made him feel worse.

Back at the office, he watched as you practically sprinted to JJ, Emily, and Penelope. The four of you huddled together, whispering, giggling.

Spencer tried to listen, straining to hear past the office noise, but all he caught were Penelope’s dramatic gasps and high-pitched “oh my gods.”

And then-

“We need to meet him.” JJ says.

Spencer could’ve fainted right there.

Meet who?

Why did they get to know, and he didn’t? He thought you were closer than that.

“Maybe Friday night?” You suggested. “We can all get together. He’d love to meet the team.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted. He.

Who the hell was he?

He felt sick.

But no one noticed the way his face fell, the way his fingers dug into his palm as he clenched his fists.

“Yes, Friday!” Penelope clapped her hands excitedly. “I’ll tell the guys! Derek loves a night out at the bar.”

“Alright, I’ll let him know.” You said, smiling at the girls before heading back to your desk.

Spencer, however, turned on his heel and walked straight to the restroom, locking himself in a stall to breathe.

By the end of the workday, he’d barely spoken to you. He wasn’t even sure he could without his feelings slipping out in some pathetic, embarrassing way.

But then you ran into him on your way out.

“Hey.” You greeted, smiling up at him. “Still up for that game?”

Spencer hesitated, shifting on his feet. His emotions were too raw, too tangled. The thought of sitting alone with you tonight, knowing Friday he was probably going to have to come face to face with that guy, made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“I, umm…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m still not feeling good. Maybe next time.”

Your face fell slightly, and it made his chest ache. “I can still come over and make you some soup? Or we can watch a movie?”

For a brief second, he melted. Your voice was so soft, so you. Sincere. You cared about him. But then reality him, maybe you were like this with him, too. Maybe you were sending him sweet messages, making him laugh, offering him soup when he wasn’t feeling well.

The thought made his stomach turn.

“Uh, no.” He said, voice flat. “I want to be alone.”

Something flickered across your face, something confused and a little hurt. “Oh. Okay. Well… get better. Let me know if you do want my company. I’d love to stop by.”

Spencer swallows hard. “Yeah.”

Then he turned and walked away before you could see just how much he hated this.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

By Friday everyone had noticed, Spencer was off.

His usual, quiet, awkward charm had been replaced by something sharper, something angry. He was short with everyone, but mostly with you.

“Are you okay, Spencer?” You finally asked, cautiously approaching his desk.

His eyes lifted from the case file in front of him, sharp and unreadable. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You frowned. “You’ve just been…I don’t know. Different.”

Spencer let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Me? Different?” His voice was laced with sarcasm. “Right. I’m different.”

Your brows knit together. “Did I do something?”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do. I need to focus.” His tone was clipped, dismissive.

Morgan appeared behind you, catching enough of the conversation to raise an eyebrow. “Hey man. just chill.”

“I am chill.” Spencer snapped, jaw tight. “Just both of you. Go.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re acting like a child, but fine. I’ll go.”

Morgan watched you walk off before turning back to Spencer with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Man, you’re scaring her off.”

“Why should I care?” Spencer muttered, flipping a page in his file like it didn’t matter. “She’s taken.”

Morgan scoffed. “Because she’s your friend, and she cares about you. You’re treating her like garbage.”

Spencer didn’t answer. Just clenched his jaw and stared at the file like it could somehow fix what was wrong with him.

Morgan sighed. “You’re gonna regret this, kid.” Then he walked off, leaving Spencer alone with the gnawing, unbearable feeling twisting in his gut.

Later, in the break room, Emily found you pouring yourself a coffee.

“Hey! Have you asked Spencer if he’s coming tonight?”

You sighed. “No. Honestly, I’m kind of scared to talk to him right now. He seems off.”

Emily’s lips pressed together. “Yeah, I’ve noticed too.”

“I’ll try again.” You said, exhaling “maybe he just needs time to cool off.”

Emily nodded. “Hope it goes well.”

With your coffee in hand, you made your way back through the bullpen. You passed Spencer’s desk, and once again, found the same hard expression on his face. He didn’t even look at you.

But you weren’t giving up on him.

Two hours later, you decided to try again.

You walked over and casually perched yourself on his desk, something you’d done a hundred times before. But this time, Spencer tensed. Like he wanted you off.

“Hey,” you greeted softly.

His eyes flicked up. “Hey.”

“Are you coming to the bar tonight? I’d love it if you came.”

Spencer swallowed. “I—I don’t know. Bars aren’t really my thing. You know that.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know, but someone really important is coming, and I’d love for you to meet him.”

Spencer inhaled sharply.

Important. You had to say it like that? Right to his face?

His fingers twitched against his desk. “Yeah, I-I don’t think so.”

You pouted. “Spencer, please. He’s so funny, so cool. The girls already love him, and I know you guys would. He’s such a good guy, you need to meet him.”

His entire body went rigid.

He wanted to snap. He wanted to yell. But instead, he just clenched his jaw so hard it ached.

“No.” His voice was sharp, and final.

You gave him those wide, pleading eyes. “Please?”

He shook his head.

“Alright.” You sighed, standing up. “Well, if you change your mind, it’s at Rudy’s. I really want you there.”

Before leaving, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

His breath hitched.

“I’m here if you need to talk.” You murmured. Then you walked away.

And Spencer ?

He dropped his head into his hands, exhaling sharply.

He felt awful.

Why was he like this? He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t control his jealousy, the anger, the way his emotions spiraled out of control every time he thought about you with someone else.

And worst of all?

He knew he was hurting you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bar was packed, the energy high. Everyone laughed, letting loose after a long exhausting week.

You were happy, smiling, surrounded by your team. But still, you couldn’t help but miss the one person who wasn’t there.

“He’s not coming.” JJ said gently, watching the way your smile faltered.

You sighed. “He hates me. And I don’t even know why.”

JJ shook her head. “He could never hate you. That boy practically worships the ground you walk on.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Then why does it feel like there’s nothing left for us? I should've made a move when things were good. Now it’s like… he's a different person. And I'm scared he doesn't want me.”

“Just give him time.” JJ said, squeezing your shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

You gave her a small smile before heading to the bar, sipping your drink.

Then.

“Can I sit?”

Your head snapped up. And there he was.

Spencer.

Your heart leapt. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.”

He shrugged, slipping into the seat beside you. “I changed my mind, I guess.”

“Good.” You beamed. “I’m so happy.”

His eyes softened. “Uh, so where’s that guy?”

“Oh, Brian? He’s running a bit late, should be here soon through.”

Spencer exhaled, forcing a nod.

“Come on, let’s sit with the group.”

Before he could process it, you grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the booth where the team sat. His pulse kicked up at the contact.

As soon as the team saw him, a cheer erupted.

“Look who finally decided to have a life!” Penelope teased.

Spencer forced a smile, sliding into the booth beside you.

For awhile, things felt normal. Drinks flowed, conversations bounced between cases, childhood memories, and ridiculous office gossip. It was the kind of night that made you all feel less like FBI agents and more like lifelong friends.

Until.

“So, this guy we’re meeting…” Rossi drawled sipping his whiskey with an amused smile.

Spencer tensed.

You lit up. “Yes! His name is Brian! I’ve told him all about you guys, and he cannot wait to meet all of you.”

Spencer swallowed hard.

“He’s amazing.”

Spencer rolled his eyes before he could stop himself.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice his reaction.

Then, your name was called.

Spencer’s stomach dropped, this was the moment he had to come face to face with his fears.

You turned, your entire face brightening as you ran into the arms of some guy. You hugged him tightly. Held on to him like he was the best part of your night.

Spencer was sick.

“Guys, this is Brian, my best friend.” You introduced him, glancing around the group. But when your eyes landed on Spencer’s empty seat, your heart sank. He was gone. A knot formed in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

The team greeted Brian warmly, and soon, conversation flowed easily. It didn’t take long for everyone to love him, he was energetic, kind, and full of the craziest stories that had the group laughing.

“So, Brian, what made you want to move here?” Emily asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well,” Brian grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “This girl right here told me there was a lot of cute guys out here, so I figured, why not? Hot guys and my best friend? Seemed like a no-brainer.”

He smirked, blatantly eyeing Hotch and Derek.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Derek had managed to slip away from the group, and go with Spencer who was at the bar, nursing a drink that seemed like it hadn’t been sipped on.

“Alright, pretty boy. What’s your deal?”

Spencer didn’t even look at him. “I can’t watch her be with him.”

Derek let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Look, man, you’re spiraling. You need to go talk to your girl. Seriously.”

“She isn’t my girl, she has a boyfriend.”

Derek rubbed his face like Spencer was exhausting him. “Quit your pouting and go talk to her. Before the night ends.”

Spencer didn’t respond.

Derek groaned and walked off, leaving Spencer with his own miserable thoughts.

He turned toward the booth again, watching you.

You were smiling and having fun but he knew when it was genuine and when it wasn’t, and right now it wasn’t.

A weight settled in his chest.

So he made his choice.

Pushing off the bar, he crossed the room, weaving through the crowd until he was in front of you.

You looked up, surprised, but your expression softened. “Spencer, you’re back.”

His voice was low. “Can we talk?”

You studied his face, concern flickering across your features before you nodded.

Without another word, he took your hand and led you somewhere quieter, somewhere just for the two of you.

You both sat down, the buzz of the teams laughter and music muffled by the distance. There was a silencer between you, not uncomfortable. You didn't say anything. You were waiting... For him.

Spencer was thinking. If the man had steam coming out of his ears, you wouldn't even be surprised.

Finally, his eyes met yours. “I’m sorry.” he said softly.

He gave your hand that was still in his a gentle squeeze, you should've pulled away because truthfully, he didn't deserve to hold it, but you couldn't.

“I’m sorry I was being a-”

“An ass?” you filled in, no hesitation.

His jaw dropped slightly at your bluntness before he sighed in surrender. “Yeah… I deserved that.”

You nodded. “You did.”

Then your voice lowered, a little more vulnerable. “What did I do, Spencer?”

His shoulders sank under the weight of your words, he couldn’t believe he made you feel like it was all your fault. “Nothing. God, you didn’t do anything.” He said. He couldn’t even look at you.

You followed his gaze and it was on Brian, so it all clicked together for you.

“Be honest.” You urged gently.

His eyes flicked to you, guilt written all over his face. “I was jealous.”

“By who?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it from him.

“Brian.” He muttered, looking down at his shoes like they might offer an escape. You tilted your head. “Brian?”

You could’ve teased him. Let him stew a little more, just for the hell of it. But he already looked like he’d been spiraling all week, and the truth was, you didn’t want to see him in pain, not when you cared about him this much.

“Spencer, Brian’s not into me.” You said. His head snapped up. “How?” He asked, baffled. “You’re- you’re perfect.”

You chuckled, shoulders lifting in a little shrug. “I’m not his type.” You glanced toward the booth where Brian was now leaned in, laughing at something Derek was saying. “But I think Derek might be.”

Spencer tracked your gaze, eyes narrowing in that profiler way of his. One second. Two. He blinked.

“Oh.”

The air left his lungs in a rush, like someone had cut the string pulling his jealousy tight.

But then his brows furrowed again. “Then why have you been different lately? Happier. Dressing up. You stopped inviting me over…”

You smirked. “Didn’t know you were paying so much attention, Dr. Reid.”

He flushed.

“Brian and I moved in together. That’s why I’ve been in a better mood, I guess. It’s nice having my best friend from home close. And yeah, I’ve been putting more effort in… but that’s because I’ve been trying to get the attention of this one genius loser I work with.”

Spencer blinked. That trademark genius brain of his clearly went offline.

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “You, Spence. It’s you.”

His lips parted, like the words were there but stuck. “I-I just didn’t want to assume.”

You gave him a playful look. “Right.”

He looked lighter now, like the guilt and confusion he’d been carrying and finally lifted.

“I really like you.” He said, voice more confident now. He leaned in a little. “And I-I want to make everything up to you.”

You raised brow. “Oh yeah? How?”

He smiled nervously. “Can I take you to dinner?”

You nodded slowly, clearly enjoying watching him squirm. “I’d like that…and?”

He bit his lip, thinking. “Movies…and then we can go back to my place and play that game I was telling you about?”

You nodded. “Not bad. It’ll be perfect if you also take on a couple of my files for a month.”

He groaned but smiled. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Your guys eyes locked on each others, and you weren’t sure who leaned in first. It didn’t matter.

The moment your lips met, it was soft, hesitant, but warm. Then Spencer deepened the kiss, one hand rising to cup your jaw, his other still holding you hand tightly like he couldn’t let go. His tongue slid across your lips, and you let him in.

You guys moved in sync, like you were perfect for each other.

And like this is where you guys were supposed to be.

You kissed until the need for air pulled you apart. Both of you stared, wide-eyed, lips parted.

“I was supposed to be mad at you a little longer.” You teased, he grinned smug. “Can I kiss you again so you won’t?”

You giggled. “Maybe.”

He leaned in again. This kiss was sweeter and gentler like he had gotten all the desperate need for you out with the first kiss. Now, he just wanted to continue feeling your lips on his, even if it was just a peck.

“I can do this all night.” You tell him

“I can too.”

And with that, the two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s company for the rest of the night. The team didn’t interrupt or tease, they simply let you be, giving you the space to enjoy the quiet warmth between you. It was easy, comfortable, like everything had finally fallen into place…

@beeintheskies Hope you love this<3 it was so fun to write, thank you for your request!

Divider from @hyuneskkami

💕💕

overheard — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: a girl flirts with spencer, leading him to tell her that he has a girlfriend, not realizing that garcia is right behind him. content warnings: secret relationship , they're at a bar , girl hitting on spencer a/n: hiii !! can u tell i love the secret relationship trope by now ? bc i do also theres a small tiny pride and prejudice reference if anyone catches it :')

“Do you want anything to drink?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle as his hand rested on your thigh beneath the table. His fingers squeezed slightly.

The two of you sat in a dimly lit booth at the bar, a casual night out with the team.

You turned your head slightly, considering. “I’ll take a soda,” you said with a soft smile. 

Spencer nodded, his thumb brushing over your thigh absentmindedly before he reluctantly pulled away, pushing himself up from the booth. You could see it—the slight hesitation.

The urge to press a kiss to your temple before he left was almost unbearable. It would be so easy—too easy—to forget where you were, who was around. But he caught himself just in time, swallowing down the impulse with a tight-lipped smile instead. 

Your eyes met his knowingly, before turning back to JJ and Garcia.

Spencer made his way to the bar, his hands flexing open and closed at his sides as if chasing the phantom sensation of your warmth. He exhaled slowly.

The bar was busy, and it took a moment to catch a bartender’s attention. As he waited, his gaze flickered to the side, and that’s when he noticed her—a woman nursing an almost-empty glass, her eyes fixed on him. 

Spencer tensed, his fingers tapping against the counter.He quickly averted his gaze, directing it back toward the bar, subtly shifting his weight in discomfort.

Finally, a bartender stepped in front of him. “What can I get you?” 

Spencer blinked, clearing his throat. “Uh—two sodas, please.” 

The bartender nodded. As Spencer waited, his eyes drifted back to you. You were giggling at something JJ had said, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and the sight sent a warmth through his chest. He smiled softly to himself before turning his attention back to the bartender—who was now deeply engaged in a conversation with another customer. 

Spencer exhaled slowly, realizing he might be stuck here for a while. His fingers tapped lightly against the counter.

That’s when someone suddenly slid into the empty barstool beside him. He turned his head slightly, only to see the woman from earlier—the one he had accidentally made eye contact with. 

“Hi,” she greeted, flashing him a wide smile. 

“Hi?” Spencer responded, his tone more questioning than anything else. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” she remarked, taking a slow sip from her drink, her gaze lingering on him through long lashes. 

Spencer hesitated, his brain momentarily scrambling for a polite but distant response. “Uh… yeah, I don’t come here often,” he finally said, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced at the bartender again, who was now fully engrossed in his conversation and seemingly in no rush to get him the sodas. 

“You should,” the woman said, her smile widening. 

Spencer swallowed, his shoulders tensing. Social cues weren’t exactly his strong suit, but even he could pick up on this one.

The way she leaned in slightly, the way her eyes remained locked on him—it was clear she wasn’t just making small talk. 

His fingers flexed at his side, an unconscious reaction to the absence of your touch. He didn’t like this. Because the only person he wanted to be sitting next to right now was still at the booth, completely unaware of this interaction. 

Her hand drifted closer to his on the counter, fingers brushing just barely against his own. Spencer immediately pulled his hand back, hoping she’d take the hint.

But she was too drunk to register it as rejection—if anything, she barely seemed to notice. 

He exhaled through his nose, his patience thinning. His eyes flicked back toward you, hoping—praying—you’d look over so he could silently plead for an out. But you were still deep in conversation, completely unaware of his growing discomfort. 

“What's your name?” the woman asked, her voice slightly slurred, her smile lazy as she leaned in a little closer. 

Spencer hesitated, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently. “I, uh—I’m Spencer,” he mumbled, keeping his voice polite but distant.

He didn’t return the question. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how to extract himself from the conversation without causing a scene. Direct confrontation wasn’t really his style—he much preferred logical exits.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much logic in dealing with an overly persistent drunk woman at a bar. 

Thankfully, just then, the bartender finally stopped talking and turned toward him. Spencer wasted no time making himself known. 

“Hi, excuse me,” he said. His urgency must have been apparent because the bartender immediately nodded. 

“Right, sorry about that,” he said, quickly grabbing two sodas and setting them on the counter. 

“Thanks,” Spencer muttered, relieved. He grabbed the drinks, ready to make a quick escape, but just as he turned, he felt it—her hand wrapping lightly around his own. 

His entire body tensed. His eyes shot down to where her fingers clung to his, and then slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. 

“You’re cute,” she giggled, her grip lingering. 

Spencer’s breath hitched in his throat, an overwhelming discomfort settling in his chest, as he removed his hand from her grip. He had officially had enough. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think twice. 

“Look, I’m just here to grab two sodas for me and my girlfriend,” he blurted, shifting the drinks slightly to emphasize his point. 

Spencer always felt a warmth in his chest when he said that word—girlfriend. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe it. But right now, that feeling didn’t even have a chance to settle, because the moment the words left his mouth, a loud, dramatic gasp sounded from behind him. 

His stomach dropped. 

No… No, no, no… 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if that would somehow reverse time or make what just happened disappear. But deep down, he already knew. 

He turned around hesitantly, almost like he was afraid of what he’d see. And there she was. 

Penelope Garcia. 

Mouth open, eyes impossibly wide, practically vibrating with the weight of this newfound information. 

“Garcia, wait—no—” Spencer started, panic rising in his voice. 

But it was too late. She gasped again, spun on her heel, and bolted toward the table. 

Spencer stood frozen, still clutching the two sodas, staring after her in absolute horror. He didn’t even care that the woman at the bar had pouted and walked away—his attention was solely on the impending disaster. 

At the booth, you were mid-conversation when you suddenly heard someone shout your name. Startled, you turned, only to find Garcia standing in front of you, hands on her hips, eyes ablaze with betrayal. 

“How dare you?” she demanded. 

You blinked, glancing at JJ, who looked just as confused as you. “What—?” 

But you didn’t even get to finish the sentence. 

“How could you not tell me you are dating our boy genius?” she exclaimed, her voice full of dramatics, as if you had just personally wounded her. 

“What?” JJ blurted, her straw slipping from her lips and falling into her drink. 

“Sweetheart, repeat what you just said,” Derek said, grinning so wide, clearly enjoying every second of this. Rossi, sitting beside him, raised an intrigued eyebrow. 

And then, from behind Garcia, Spencer slowly came into view. 

He stopped a few feet away, standing awkwardly with the sodas still in his hands, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

You stared at him. 

He stared back. 

He was red. His ears, his cheeks—blushing terribly, looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor. 

“Oh. My. God,” Garcia whisper-yelled, her hands flying up to her mouth as realization fully settled in. “It’s true! Oh, my God! How long?” 

Derek was cackling. JJ still looked like she was buffering. Rossi sipped his drink, clearly entertained. 

Spencer let out a long, slow sigh.

“Well,” he muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes, “so much for keeping it a secret.” 

Spencer carefully maneuvered around Garcia, who was still watching him like a hawk, her arms crossed as if she were about to interrogate him. He set the sodas down on the table before cautiously sliding into the booth next to you, his movements stiff with embarrassment. 

“What on earth did you say?” you hissed under your breath, leaning in slightly as the entire team erupted into overlapping chatter around you. 

“Nothing!” Spencer insisted, though his voice cracked slightly. He swallowed, shifting awkwardly. “I just… a girl was flirting with me, and I told her I already had a girlfriend. And, uh… Garcia overheard.” His voice got quieter toward the end. 

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh, though the situation was anything but funny to Spencer. 

“I cannot believe this,” JJ muttered, shaking her head in amused disbelief. She swirled her drink in her hand, blinking between the two of you as if processing new information she should have known long ago. 

You shifted in your seat, feeling increasingly self-conscious under all their stares. Garcia was practically vibrating with energy as she whispered animatedly to Derek, who was grinning ear to ear, clearly loving every second of this. Rossi, meanwhile, simply stared blankly, his expression unreadable, and JJ—well, she was definitely staring, her slightly tipsy gaze moving between you and Spencer as if still coming to terms with reality. 

You turned to Spencer, who was fixated on the glass in front of him, his fingers toying with the condensation as he tried to pretend he wasn’t still very red. 

Sighing, you nudged him gently with your knee under the table. “You know… it’s fine,” you murmured. 

Spencer looked up at you, eyes cautious. 

“Not having to hide anymore,” you clarified, your lips twitching slightly. “It sounds nice.” 

Spencer blinked at you for a second before something in his shoulders loosened. His lips parted slightly, then curved into a small, shy smile. 

“It does,” he admitted, nodding slightly, his curls bouncing with the motion. 

Without really thinking, you reached out and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair, the soft curls slipping between them. “Now I can touch you,” you teased. 

Spencer’s smile widened, his blush deepening—but this time, there was something more relaxed about it. He wasn’t panicked anymore. 

The moment was sweet. Soft. 

And then— 

“Oh my god, they're touching!”

The way I would just LOVE to listen to his rambles

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes--"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, her arms a flurry of motion, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a huff, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of motion and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did--like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was--the shift. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up--the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice--wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean—maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second—wide-eyed panic—but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak. His grin was insufferably smug, the kind that practically begged for something to be thrown at him. 

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part--it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that soft ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile—the one that always made you a little breathless—spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

The words hit you like they always did--soft enough, but with the force of a thousand butterflies taking flight in your chest. You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy--your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over--but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it--your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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I love this with all my heart

A Bit of Lunch and Thievery - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: HI! I have a request: What if, kleptomaniac!reader has lunch with spencer at the BAU and keeps yapping loudly about her interests (or her job) and she keeps like taking things from his desk and he keeps slapping her hand away (perchance cameo of some amused BAU members?) -anonymous

CW: light swearing, a suggestive comment, klepto!reader, technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series but each part can be read as standalone

AN: sorry I was gone for so long lmao lacrosse, school, and depression is rough. also does anyone else struggle writing fics when they're down bad for someone? anywayyyy-

_______

Words: 1.3k

It was a normal day at the BAU office. 

Well, obviously not a normal day considering they were even at the office and not on a jet across the country. The BAU was having a mysteriously mundane day full of filling out and organizing paperwork, so normal and boring that it was almost odd to them.

Of course, the peace had to end eventually. 

Spencer Reid’s phone rang, and he was fishing it out of his pocket immediately. The ringtone for this contact was different from the default ringtone that came with the device, different from the ringtone literally every other contact had. She had took the time to download the ringtone herself, stating he should always know when she was calling him because she was oh-so important.

Well, to him, she was. 

“Hello?” he said simply, leaning back in his chair. He could see Prentiss seated at her desk, JJ standing over her with a coffee complaining about some over-the-top thing her son, Henry, had done the night prior. 

“Hey, babe!” his girlfriend, Y/N, chirped on the other line. She was always so chipper, always so energetic. He was not. 

“You know I’m at work, right?” he deadpanned, though the corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. He could never be stone-faced when talking to her. 

She was used to his dry tone, not acknowledging it, “Why, yes, I do. Now let me in, I brought you lunch,”

Instantly, his eyes brightened, “Wait, you’re outside right now?”

“Mhm. Now let me in before the food gets cold.” 

Within the next six minutes and seventeen seconds, Spencer was back at his desk, but this time, with his lovely girlfriend seated next to him. He quietly ate the Spanish food she had bought as she spoke about her day. It was only 1 p.m., and he was sure she woke up extremely late, but, not to his surprise, she had a lot to say. A lot to say, despite the fact her day consisted of waking up and driving to get Spanish food and visiting him. 

“...yeah, I think we should get a dog,” Y/N said after explaining her run-in with a woman and her large doberman. Being herself, upon seeing the doberman running dead at her, instead of running away, Y/N had opened up her arms excitedly to hug the beast. 

She was lucky it was a nice doberman. 

“A dog?” Spencer’s brows furrowed as he contemplated the idea, “I don’t know…” 

“Well why not?” she pouted, and, not to his surprise, snatched the stapler from his desk. 

“Because I’m barely home,” he replied, gripping her wrist (a reflex at this point), other hand plucking the stapler from her and placing it back where it was before. “You’d be the one taking care of it the most, and that’s not fair.”

“Hmph,” her eyes darted to the stapler again then back to her rice, “I wouldn’t mind,”

Her hand reached for the stapler again and he gently slapped it, not even acknowledging it. See, his beautiful, wonderful girlfriend had her issues. Main issue being her diagnosed kleptomania, a condition that gave her uncontrollable urges to steal objects, no matter how useless and unneeded. 

Like the stapler which she kept eyeing. 

Upon his team finding out about her and her condition, they were all incredibly iffy on her, except Garcia, who was the one who uncovered everything anyway. One by one, Y/N was able to get the approval of each teammate, even Rossi, who had disliked her the most. 

He still didn’t trust her very much, but the rest of the team found her antics quite amusing. 

“Yes you would,” he told her, taking a sip of his drink, “You’d be fine with it for the first month or so, but then you would start getting annoyed with me and telling me I should be helping you take care of our son or daughter or whatever you would like to call it,”

Y/N paused, knowing he was 100% correct. Especially about the son or daughter part. “I think I’m more of a boy mom,” 

“Ignoring the point, I see,”

“Shut up,” she grumbled. 

“Hey, Reid, good afternoon Reid’s girl,” Morgan greeted with his usual smirk, a decent-sized stack of papers in hand, “Food looks good,”

“It is,” Spencer confirmed. Morgan plopped the papers down onto the genius’ desk. “Did you know there are over one hundred, twenty thousand varieties of rice- Y/N,” he slapped a hand down onto the stack of papers as Y/N went to snatch it up. “No,” 

“Sorry,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You are way too fun and entertaining to want to read those,” Morgan joked before deciding to leave back to his own desk. 

“Yeah…” she muttered, bringing her hand up to bite her thumb nail nervously, “Way too fun and enter….” she trailed off, Spencer picking up his pen in time before she could snag it. “Shit,” she placed her hands onto her lap, “Maybe I should go…”

“No no no,” Spencer took her hands into his own like he always did when she was getting her urges, “I’m happy you visited me. Stay a little longer,”

“I am a kleptomaniac in a federal building, this was a bad idea,” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, that’s what I’m here for,” he gave her hands a gentle squeeze, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure you don’t leave with anything,”

“A klepto dating a federal agent is so ironic,” she chuckled humorlessly, “How do you deal with me?”

“I don’t deal with you, I don’t tolerate you,” he replied, “Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you. I’m simply with you, because of the fact I love you,” 

“Don’t talk to me like that, I’ll fuck you,” she huffed, pulling her hands away while blushing red. 

“You did not just say that at my place of work,” he gasped, now blushing as well. He swiftly looked around to see if any of his coworkers were listening. He was sure every single one of them were, considering how nosy they were when it came to his relationship.

“Your fault, don’t talk to me like that,”

“Don’t talk sweetly to my girlfriend?” 

“Makes me all blushy and giggly,” she shrugged, beginning to smile as she looked away. 

“I’ll talk to you like one of your directors, I suppose,” Spencer teased gently. Y/N was an incredibly strong dancer, and had her experiences with rude and stress-inducing directors. 

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “I’ll kill myself,” Her eyes met his and she giggled softly, leaning in for a quick kiss, which he returned happily. 

“They’re so cute,” JJ told Prentiss fondly, taking a sip of her coffee, “They’re really good for each other,”

“They are,” Prentiss agreed with a nod and smile, “They’re the kind of people who you would least expect get together, but it just makes sense when they do,” 

At that moment, Hotch entered, a stressed look on his face. JJ and Prentiss exchanged looks, already thinking it was time to pack for a new case. 

Instead, he simply asked, “Has anyone seen my ID?”

Agent Aaron Hotchner? Losing his ID? Something so important, belonging to someone so aware and responsible? A completely out-of-character thing for him to do-

“Uh,” Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly, giving Spencer a knowing look. 

With a sigh, Spencer held out a hand, allowing her to drop Hotch’s ID into it.

Such a good read 🫶🫶

Soulmates

A/n: From this request. Also I lovedddd writing this it was such a cute concept

HELLO I HAVENT LOGGED ON IN MANY MOONS AND CATCHING UP WAS SO AMAZING I LOVE YOUR WORK

could you do a fic once spencer starts teaching and kind of disappears for a few seasons and the bau brings on an agent who never crosses paths with spence but the bau can’t stop thinking how good a couple theyd be and they think of how to set them up and then one day he walks in unexpectedly and just kisses her hello bc they’ve been together/engaged for years and everyone is shocked and it wasn’t ever a secret they’re just like “no one asked is so we didn’t say anything”

Summary: Everyone knew Y/n and Spencer would be the perfect couple, it was just a shame he left the BAU before she joined. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff) 

Content Warning: nothing ?? 

Word Count: 2.0k 

Masterlist

Everyone recognized that they were similar. It was a silent agreement that the newest member of the BAU would have been a perfect match for recently-departed Spencer Reid. Her flaws were perfectly complemented by his strengths and vice versa.

And they all thought it a shame that Y/n never got to meet Spencer.

Keep reading

💕💕💕

This makes me want a kid so bad

xoxo | s.r.

in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: horrible tooth rotting fluff, chemist!reader and leah, the spencer reid dilf agenda, valentine's day, reader wears pink (it's FESTIVE) word count: 1.47k a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!!!!

You had just finished helping your daughter put her visitor badge over her head before she proudly approached the two agents manning the security desk.

She brandished two Valentine’s Day cards for them, grinning while they looked down at her in surprise. You watched them tentatively take the cardstock from your three-year-old while she teetered back and forth in her pink Mary Janes. They thanked her while you pulled your visitor badge on. “C’mon, Leah,” you said, holding your hand out for her to take, “Let’s go see Daddy.”

“Daddy!” She chirped, her pure, childhood joy causing people in the lobby to stare. Most people were already vaguely aware of who she was, and even if they weren’t, it’s difficult to be truly bothered by a kid wearing heart antennae. Adjusting her grip on her basket of Valentines, she led you to the elevator, practically dragging you through Quantico.

Her hand couldn’t quite reach the button in the elevator, accidentally hitting the number four while wavering on her tippy toes. “Here, lovey,” you said, reaching over her and pushing the number six for her.

Leah beamed up at you. “Thank you,” she whispered, lowering herself and standing next to you, tugging on your pink sweater in an attempt to get your attention—as if she had ever lost it. “You wanna Valentine?” Her voice was soft, as if you were exchanging state secrets in the elevator, sweetly leaning her head against your leg. She stumbled over the name of the holiday a bit, replacing the second ‘n’ with an ‘m.’

“I’ll get one after everyone else,” you reassured her, adjusting her headband and smiling at the way the hearts bobbled.

She nodded confidently, making faces at her reflection in the elevator doors as you continued your way up.

You held your breath as the doors opened, once again holding your hand out for her to take so you could enter the bullpen in an orderly fashion, but as soon as they were open, she had taken off, the door being held open for someone else, leaving a perfect gap for her to slip through. There was barely enough time for you to call, “Incoming,” before she ran directly into Luke.

Thanking Anderson for holding the door for you, you followed Leah into the bullpen at a much slower pace and locked eyes with your husband, sighing in relief at the fact that you’d made it with little stress.

Your daughter had already been rescued from a room full of tall people by Dave, who’d hoisted her onto someone’s desk, so they were nearly at eye level. “Happy Valentime’s, Dave,” she said excitedly, urgently rifling through her basket to find a treat that she deemed worthy of his receipt.

Rossi smiled at her, “Happy Valentine’s Day, kiddo. What have you got there?” You weren’t sure if he was faking interest for the sake of your toddler, but either way, you were grateful for the opportunity to sneak by them, approaching Spencer’s desk.

He powered off his computer monitor as you leaned on the edge of his desk. “Hey,” he greeted, leaning his head up so you could plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Did she have fun?”

You nodded, peeking over your shoulder to see Dave walking Leah around to hand out Valentines to the entire office. “We severely underestimated the number of parents who keep their kids home for Valentine’s Day,” you informed him. Leah’s daycare class had been nearly empty when you picked her up early.

“What does that mean for us?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze.

Raising your eyebrows, you grinned impishly, “It means we’re bringing a lot of lollipops home with us.”

Spencer chuckled, eyes following Leah as she made her way to Emily’s office, jumping up the steps and giggling at the sound effects that Tara made when she landed. “How was your morning?” He asked nonchalantly, and since nothing Spencer ever did was nonchalant, you knew he was on a fishing expedition.

The corners of your mouth quirked up while he shuffled the papers on his desk, preparing to spend his lunch with you and Leah. “Oh, I dropped Leah off and then went to work. I only had one class to teach, Physical Chemistry, as you know. I had some time before I needed to be back at the daycare, so I decided to stop at home and found a large bouquet of red and pink roses on the kitchen counter. They didn’t belong there, so I tossed them in the trash before heading here.”

“You did not,” Spencer challenged, grinning up at you, pushing his tongue against his teeth like he did when he was holding in a laugh.

You laughed breathily, hiding your smile behind your hand until Spencer reached up and took your hand in his. “No,” you acquiesced, “But I have no idea where we’re going to put two dozen roses.”

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “How about the kitchen counter?”

Humming, you leaned down to kiss him again. “Works for me,” you murmured to him on your way back up. You turned your head to find your toddler, seeing that Penelope had made her way to the bullpen and was putting a red feather boa around Leah’s neck.

Listening in on their conversation, you frowned when you overheard Leah complaining that the boa wasn’t pink. “Leah,” Spencer called her name, having overheard the conversation himself. “What do you say to Aunt Penelope?”

The three-year-old spun around, stumbling a bit when she tried to come to a stop, before looking up at Garcia and jumping, “Thank you! Matches my butterfly ears!” She fumbled the word ‘butterfly’ a bit in all of her excitement—bubberfly.

Your husband looked at you, confused. “Butterfly ears?”

“Antennae, obviously,” you told him, shaking your head in faux disappointment that he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Hey, princess, c’mere,” he said, waving over your daughter.

You waved to JJ and Emily as they joined the impromptu gathering, with everyone in the bullpen watching while Leah skipped over to her dad. “Hi, Daddy,” she greeted, lifting her arms for him to pick her up, which he did happily.

“Hi, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replied, sweeping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He’d left before you got her dressed this morning, so he hadn’t been able to see her in her festive outfit, complete with a pink and red tutu.

Comfortably sitting in her father’s lap, she giggled when he tickled her side. “Happy Valentime’s Day, Daddy,” she managed to squeak out. Sighing when he finally gave her a break, she asked, “Lunch?”

You smiled softly, “Soon, lovey.” The three of you had planned to do lunch as a family, and Penelope had promised to take Leah for a sleepover so you could go out for dinner—you were nervous, and she was thrilled.

She kicked her feet contentedly, telling Spencer about the cards she had given away at the security desk in a hushed voice while you watched an exchange across the bullpen. Luke was leaning toward Tara, holding his lollipop in his hand, “What flavor did you get?”

Tara peered at him suspiciously. “Blue raspberry,” she replied.

“I’ll trade you a green apple,” he offered, extending his arm out for the swap.

Turning in her chair, Tara scoffed, setting her Valentine on her desk, “Not a chance.”

A small gasp to your side caught your attention. “No trades, Newbie!” Leah shouted from her perch.

Instead of turning on your daughter, Luke immediately pointed at Garcia, “You coached her!”

Penelope feigned offense, holding a hand to her chest and looking around the bullpen, “It is my duty as her godmother to warn her against certain people.”

“Meaning me?”

“If the shoe fits, Newbie,” Penelope replied, leaning against a vacant desk while she awaited Luke’s response.

He looked over at Leah now. “How did she even hear me?”

You shrugged. “She has freakishly good hearing; we’re thinking of having her tested.”

Spencer nudged you at your joke, smiling slightly, “She saw you.”

Sighing in defeat, Luke gave Leah an exaggerated pout, “I’m sorry I tried to make a trade. Can you forgive me?”

Leah nodded with a toothy smile. Luckily, she was three, and things were easy to get over. “Hey, do I get a Valentine?” Spencer asked, playing with the hearts on her headband.  

Humming, she shifted on his lap. “Mommy put all of the pink ones in a baggie for us.”

You flashed a grin back at your husband, pulled a Watermelon lollipop out of your purse, and handed it to him. “I’m very good at what I do.”