Fandom Imagines

Welcome Home (Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader)

Matthew was finally finished filming Lord knows what season of Criminal Minds, which meant you would have him all to yourself at home for at least the next month. He was due to arrive within the next hour, and you had busied yourself all afternoon preparing the perfect welcome home dinner. You were making his favorite: homemade, extra cheesy lasagna.

You had your laptop sitting on the counter, Netflix pulled up as you watched Criminal Minds while waiting for the food to bake. Watching the show was one of your favorite ways to feel closer to him while he was away. Hearing his voice and seeing his face never failed to bring you instant comfort. Plus, you loved watching him in his element, doing what he loved. You would be lying to yourself if you said it wasn't a huge turn on for you.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts that invaded when you thought of the genius that your husband portrayed so well. The last thing you needed was to get all hot and bothered before Matthew even got home, and especially not over a character he played.

The lasagna finished in the oven and you cut two pieces, an extra large one for Matthew, putting them in bowls and carrying them to the living room. You had set up the perfect atmosphere: a red checkered quilt on the floor with a few pillows, an ice bucket holding a bottle of his favorite wine, the roaring fireplace in the background. The perfect picnic set up in your magical haunted treehouse. How lucky you were to have this life.

You heard a car door slam in the driveway and you peeked through the blinds, watching him lock  vintage station wagon. Your heart fluttered.

The sound of the door unlocking was followed by his sweet, familiar voice, "Y/N?"

"In the living room!" You called back, smoothing the skirt on your sundress and giving your hair one last comb with your fingers.

When he entered the room, his eyes went wide with awe, glancing around, "Baby, you did all this for me?"

You beamed. Just being in his presence instantly filled you with warmth, like being in a room with the human embodiment of sunshine.

"All for you," you replied sweetly.

In no more than two steps he had you in his arms, his lips pressed to yours. Hands on your hips, he gave them an affectionate squeeze, slowly moving his lips against yours, getting reacquainted.

"As much as I would love to continue this," he hummed, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, "I'm starving, and I would hate for all your hard work to go waste."

You stared into his honey-colored eyes adoringly, carding your fingers through his fluffy curls. They were sticking up in every direction, no doubt from his hours of travel. "Of course, I'm sure you haven't had a nice, home cooked meal since you've been gone."

"Mmhm," he nodded, "you know me, surviving on nothing but water and Chinese takeout."

You rolled your eyes, leading him over to the picnic spread on the floor, nudging him to sit down, "I'm going to go get the garlic bread, it's been warming in the oven."

A pleased groan rumbled from him, "You spoil me, woman."

"That's the goal," you winked, turning and walking back towards the kitchen.

You placed the bread in a basket you had prepared and grabbed the wine glasses, coming back to find him with a mouth full of lasagna.

"Of all the things I've missed about you," he mumbled through his bite before swallowing, "I think your cooking is pretty high up on the list."

You smiled, occupying the empty space next to him on the quilt, "I'm glad you like it."

You poured him and yourself some wine and handed him a piece of garlic bread, which he took eagerly. You giggled, watching him eat. He looked like he was in heaven. Then again, didn't he always look heavenly?