#not edited

The guys have some sort of obsession with watching you get ready.

You’re not normally getting too dolled up, with missions and what not, but sometimes on leave you like to indulge a little.

The first time was when you were sitting on the floor in front of Soap’s dinky full-body mirror that distorted things just a little, lining your lips, concentrated on not fucking it up. You looked behind you in the reflection to realize Johnny was staring intently at your machinations, leaning back in his desk chair to get a better view, to the point where the front two legs were coming off the ground.

“Johnny, be careful.” You chastised, worried he’d fall over.

The chair slams back down, “I am…” he moves to stand instead, plopping himself down directly behind you, legs out so you’re cradled against his chest.

You’re applying the lipgloss now. “What’re you doing…” you’re talking without moving your lips, muffling your speech a little.

His chin finds your shoulder, slotting in perfectly to keep looking at you. “Just lookin’, birdie.”

Your lips turn up, “want some?” You turn your head to look at him, faces incredibly close now.

His ears turn red and he nods just a little. You connect your lips in a soft kiss, humming a little at how he melts even more into you.

It’s a nice moment, calm and happy, until—

“Hen…hen it’s burnin’. Why is it burning—love help me-“ he’s wiping his lips furiously and waving his hands in front of his face like it’ll cool it off.

You’re giggling furiously, “it’s- it’s plumping—“

“What devilry are ya doin’ to yerself?!” He’s moving to stand, running out the door to the kitchen to start rubbing water on the lower half of his face.

You follow him out slower, giggling all the while.

The rest of the team is in the common area, brought to attention to the commotion.

Kyle hums when he sees you, coming up to wrap his arms around your waist, “don’t you look pretty.”

You smile, leaning in—

“Don’t fall for it, Kyle!” Johnny brings his face up from the water momentarily to save his comrade.

Simon looks up from his book, “plumping gloss, Johnny?” He nods solemnly, “oldest trick in the book, got me with that one months ago.”

Johnny finally emerges from the water, lips…red and puffy.

“Seems you’re lookin’ pretty too, Johnny.” Price chimes in, clearly teasing him.

Somehow, you made it out practically unscathed but by the grotesque way your car is bent and wrangled, no one would have guessed at first sight. The fear paralyzes him when he arrives, he knows he’s moving but he feels stagnant. The seconds it takes him to reach you feels like a millennia, he can’t get there fast enough. And the uncertainty of your condition is unlike any fear he’s ever known- he thinks he’ll just about die a second time.

But the relief that washes over him from seeing you alive shakes him so violently, his body reacts before he fully digests the sight. The sight of you wrapped delicately in the back of an ambulance, his girl. Safe, unharmed.

His body fights to crawl to you, to smother you in his worries until you’re sick of him. But the sobs that pierce through him are so unforgiving, he can’t move. You hear him before you see him. You’ve heard his cries before. Nights spent locked behind closed doors- the soft sound of choked sobs bleeding from just under. That sick habit of hiding himself away, not wanting to be seen. Or the quiet sniffles towards the end of a movie with no happy ending. Quick to wipe his tears before the lights come up. But this is different. He doesn’t have it within himself to hide away. His biggest fear almost came true tonight- the grief of almost losing you ruins him completely. Jason knows he should pull himself together. He knows he needs to be strong for you but tonight, he’s inconsolable.

Just short of a few feet away, grasping at anything around him, stands your sweet boy. Clutching his chest, trying to ground himself. Jay doesn’t know what to do in this moment. He’s more shaken up than you are. But the relief of being given a second chance is what gets him.

From the day Jason was left for dead, he decided miracles weren’t for him. Rarely had he been shown grace, and what kindness was extended to him was just as quickly ripped away. He’d become compliant to the seclusion that found its way into his life. Isolated behind closed doors and shadows, thinking he’s doing everyone a favor. But the ease at which you made your way into his life had thrown him off course. Patient and kind, honeyed words melting him to mush- he stood no chance against you. Before he knew it, he found home within his very own miracle.

Kids tend to hover around Robert, something about him just screams ‘trusted adult’, but Chad will never get used to how the scene makes him feel. The kids cheer as he beats the level and Robert looks like he’s exactly where he wants to be.

They make eye contact and Robert smiles so sweetly at him and waves, all the kids repeat his motion and wave at him too. Robert is promptly dragged to the backyard by a dozen hands.

Chad smiles at the scene, he loves this, loves Robert. Makes him want to burst into flames, but not of anger, maybe happiness, fulfillment? If it were up to Chad he’d keep Robert in a little box in his pocket, carrying him around. He wants more, he wants people to think of them as a unit, that if Robert was somewhere then Chad must be nearby, a zigzag of flaming orange next to a clean line of plasma blue.

In simpler terms, he wants to marry Robert. Wants the whole ceremony and after party, wants to say embarrassingly vulnerable vows and slip a sliver band on his finger, sign the papers and smush their names together.

…

Chad finally snaps out of his love induced stupor, the table has gone quiet, aside from his sister very obviously trying not to laugh. His mom looks like she’s about to cry, and his dad looks both prideful and teary-eyed. What happened..?

“You know, I’m sure he’d say yes, if you asked” his mom’s wobbly voice offers.

You will be the fifth one this year alone since the team can't seem to stop dicking them down (or attempting to).

So John lays the ground rules firmly with this one. No. Fraternization. He doesn't even want them breathing your direction. He's sick of filling out the transfer forms, of trying to train someone who's distracted by his men.

They agree but the tone is set the moment you enter. Stunning. Easy going. Warm in a way they've been neglected for years. A little flirt slips out here or there but you never reciprocate. They're all struggling.

Gaz has rubbed himself raw in the first two weeks after you laughed so lovely at his jokes. Soap is drooling like a dog everytime you hum a warm, "Yes, sir." To the Captain. And Simon's been breathing down your neck ever since you patched up his papercut with a brightly bandaid and a playful peck over the blue plastic.

You're the juciest treat dangling right before their drooling maws.

So when they catch John flirting with you, they're in disbelief.

"New earrings, love?" He hums sweetly and leans in to draw the pad of his thumb over the shell of your ear.

"Yeah? You like 'em?' You ask with bright, hopeful eyes as he teases the studs.

"They're lovely on you." And he goes back to sipping his coffee like it's nothing. Directly in front of Gaz.

Soap glowers when their Captain checks your gear over before every mission with intense focus, tugging on straps and you rolling your eyes and pawing him away with a, "I already checked it."

"No harm in me checking again, dove." And those hooded blue eyes twinkle with mischeif of all things.

Simon's breaking point is when he catches a glimpse of John crowding you in an off base booth. The two of you looking all too cozy. Him darting to kiss your cheek, you nuzzling in close.

So when Laswell sends the boys to deliver paperwork directly to the Captain and you answer the door in a disheavled state and John's PT shirt, they're obviously upset.

"The hell is this, Captain? What happened to no fraternizing?" Kyle snaps when his Captain wanders out of the bedroom to see the commotion, looking rather annoyed.

"No fraternizing for you lot, yes." He insists.

"That's not fair!" Johnny accuses.

"The fuck it isn't!" Their Captain roars as you sigh and mutter something about needing coffee.

"Why's that?" Simon this time.

Spencer Reid x Smart!reader

WC: 1538+ (that’s when I looked last)

Summary: Cozy routine you’ve adopted with your boyfriend.

CW: Fluff. NOT EDITED! Reader is LOVESICK!! LOVES HER MAN. Maybe ooc Spencer. Maybe autistic/autistic tendencies!Spencer. Im trying to to write him as accurate as i can. (First time writing a kissing scene sorry if it sucks) (could be read as an extension of ‘Breathe for yes, backflip for no’ and ‘Save The Date’)

The first rays of morning light filtered through the window, warming the blankets as you blinked awake. Rubbing the blur from your eyes, you turn over and squint at the clock at Spencer’s bedside table.

It blinked, 5:30 AM, in blocky red letters. Looking closer your eyes blearily find your boyfriend of 6 months, Spencer Reid. He’s laid on his back, His curls unruly against his pillowcase. an arm thrown over his stomach, as his breaths softly puff into the air.

Slowly you shuffle from beneath the sheets and comforter, trying your best to make as little noise as possible. Once free, you stalk over to his side of the bed. A traitorous panel creaks under your barefoot. You wince as he shuffles further into the bed. Waiting until he settled once more, you reached the alarm. With a few soft clicks Spence’s usual alarm for 6:00 am was canceled.

Minding the creaky floor, you shuffle into the bathroom. Getting ready for the day. After finishing your shower, choosing your outfit, brushing your teeth, and finishing your skin care routine it was 6:10. You sighed in relief. Spencer had been too tired last night to set a second alarm.

Smiling at your small victory, you shut the door softly, before releasing the handle. Putting the kettle on and turning on the stove, you turn towards your other task. Assembling lunch. After trial and error, you found a solid meal to keep your boyfriend healthy and fed.

You split your time between heating up the leftover soup, and beginning to assemble Reid’s sandwich. You had learned pretty quickly that making Spencer a sandwich the “normal” way was a waste of time.

The first time you had packed one, he’d thanked you, eaten it, and insisted everything was fine. But you’d notice. You always did. The lettuce was pushed to the side, tomatoes untouched, and little rips of soggy bread left out.

While he never complained, he’d also never looked particularly happy to eat it. So, you adapted. Every morning, as if you were a professional food scientist, you tried something new. Concocted a new formula to keep the food just as he liked it. Eventually you made what you’d jokingly called your “Make-it-your-own” sandwich.

The bread went into one sandwich bag, the turkey and provolone into another. Lettuce into a small container, tomatoes into their own small tub to keep them and their moisture away from everything else.

The strawberries’ tops cut off and washed along with blueberries, before being put into their own small section. Two small condiment packets of mayo and one of mustard. You’d wrapped the ice pack in paper towels before placing all your cold items into the small insulated box.

Finally you added your finishing touch, a small container of grape jello. Prepackaged because, apparently no matter how hard you tried, you’d never beat the original recipe.

With the sandwich done, soup steaming, and thermos prepped and ready. You ladled the soup into the thermos. It was slightly dented, but you knew Spencer would never trade it for the world. These little things and small work around others would find burdensome filled you with purpose.

Every day you continued to learn, and every time you fell in love as if putting pieces into a puzzle, one little bit of information at a time.

Tightening the lid to the thermos, you moved the kettle before it started to scream, the bubbling clue enough that it was finished. You grabbed his favorite mug, chipped on the lip, but his all the same. Pouring the liquid you allowed it to steep as you began to clean up.

Giving the tea enough time to bloom, the scent slowly unfurls throughout the apartment. Bergamot rises and swirled with the deep aroma of black tea leaves. Lavender a soft whisper, and beneath it all, the cedar of your shelves lining your apartment.

You focused on the table first. The case files he had been going over scattered around the small rounded surface. You gathered them up, careful to keep them coordinated to his notes. Grabbing both his lunch and the corrected and fixed files, you put them into his messenger bag sitting next to the door.

Milo, your Angora ferret, has decided that today’s mission is to jump around your feet as you begin taking care of cleaning up around. You only got to finish his litter box before you checked the time. Swiping the wriggling noodle of fluff up, you set him into a box filled with his favorite toys. It would keep him entertained for awhile, you smiled at Milo. You continued your journey, carrying the mug of tea into the bedroom.

Spencer had shifted while you were busy. Curling in on himself away from the sunlight. An arm out and reaching into where you had laid. Without a doubt the warmth had left, however it was still a cute sight to see.

A fond smile tugged at your lips. Setting the steaming tea carefully on the bedside table, you sat on the edge of the mattress. Spencer didn’t stir.

Whispering his name and when answered with nothing, you smiled. Suppressing a laugh, you leaned down. Pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead. Then against his temple. Then his cheek. The tip of his nose. His jaw. The last one got his eyes to scrunch and his jaw to clench. The tic in it announced his reluctance to wake up.

“Wake up honey,” you whispered. He sighed, a groan escaping him. He opened one bleary eye to look up at you. leaning down to plant a kiss to his closed one. His smile that greeted you was so sweet. It made you wanna punch him. But instead you stroked the darkness beneath his hazel eyes. They were your favorite even if they were closed.

Even if you knew it wasn't normal, or romantic, you couldn’t help yourself. Dipping your fingers into the corners of Spencer’s eyes, you swipe the crust and whispered a small, “eye boogies.”

which caused him to release a soft startled chuckle and softly push your arms away. He turned his head with a moan of, “Rheum.”

You smiled, you could listen to his voice after he woke up for hours. It didn’t matter what the subject was. You were always entranced. It was rough, a little scratchy. You began to settle back into the bed to stare at him, the alarm blinking 7:30. Your smile faded into a frown and you leaned into him. After a few moments of silence. Spencer’s arm suddenly snatched you and with a startled shriek you were violently pulled into his chest.

You groaned as you looked at his smug smirk and his still closed eyes.

“Spence.” You petulantly sighed. He had an eye open a moment ago. When had he closed it?

“I have to go. I wanna kiss before I leave” As much as you hated to admit it, you did have to leave in ten minutes if you wanted to be on time, and you haven’t even looked at traffic yet.

For a moment, silence. Then he opened his eyes and simply stared at you, still half asleep, one arm wrapped securely around his waist. “One kiss?” He asked.

”one kiss.” You confirmed. You smiled and leaned in. The second you did, his grip tightened. Something dangerous, mischievous flashed across his face. “Spencer—“

before you could even finish, he buried his face against your neck and blew a loud raspberry. You shrieked his name.

after wrestling free (he let you go) you started pressing sloppy, spit-slicked kisses all over his face, in retaliation. Laugh filled breaths intermingling. Shoulders shaking as you exact your revenge on the man who you adore but betrayed you just a moment prior.

Even when he let you go, dragging over his face dramatically, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his lips.

Before you could run even more late you leaned in. Lips slotting against his.

Spencer smiled into the kiss. A soft hum escaping and vibrating gently against your lips. There was something genuinely unfair about how quickly he could make you forget about everything as soon as your lips connected.

You felt his hand slide up your arm, gripping softly against your skin as it made its way to rest on your shoulder. He tilted his head slightly, chasing your lips as you started to pull away. You planted your hands against his jaw, and gave him a quick peck.

While his big hazel eyes looked so sad and wet from sleep, you couldn’t help but give him a few more while stroking his jaw. “I gotta go honey” you murmured into the last kiss before leaving his warmth. The smell of him clinging to your nose.

You wished you could bottle the smell and turn it into a candle. You love him. As you left the bedroom, you heard a sleepy, “Drive safe”

You signed ‘I love you’

and his tired face lit up.

“You’ve been practicing,” his voice chased you as you went to the door. Wistfully you looked back, wishing you could spend more time with Spencer and Milo, who currently jumping in his basket, and would without a doubt forget your existence when Spencer got up to start the day.

You wished you could stay, but work called. Grabbing your tote bag, filled with case files, PPE, and an assortment of necessities for your job at the forensics lab. You slung it over your shoulder before, stuffing your keys into your pocket.

Today would be a good day, because you got a cute man and a cute moment to replay over and over again. Playing behind your eyelids when they closed, and spinning in your head as you worked. You’re excited to see him after work. To get all of his attention and see his reaction to his favorite treat you deed to today’s lunch. You sure do love your boyfriend.

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omg this is fucking filthy!!! actually im shy reading this… creampies for life (i have a fear of getting pregnant)