14. code blue

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𝐼𝐹 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐷𝑂 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐶𝐸𝑁𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝐼𝑆 𝐵𝐸𝐿𝑂𝑊, 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑁 𝐼 𝑊𝑂𝑈𝐿𝐷 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑀𝐸𝑁𝐷 𝑅𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑇𝐶𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐼𝑇 𝐵𝐸𝐹𝑂𝑅𝐸 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝐶𝐸𝐸𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑇𝑂 𝑆𝑃𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝑌 𝐶𝑂𝑁𝐹𝑈𝑆𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐵𝐸𝐶𝐴𝑈𝑆𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐶𝐸𝑁𝐸 𝑊𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝐵𝐸 𝑅𝐸𝐹𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐴𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅.

𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐾 𝑌𝑂𝑈. :))

~~~

𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺.
• mild praise kink

• mild praise kink

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"Shit."

Spencer knelt down, picking the scattered index cards up off the gym floor, embarrassment flooding his cheeks all the way down to his neck. "Next up is Spencer Reid— the famous prodigy of our school. He went on to graduate from CalTech with three PhD's and two BA's and he now works with the FBI as a profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. He's agreed to speak with us today about his success in the field. Please, would you join me in welcoming the resident genius— Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Spencer, it's fine. You don't need them," you said as you knelt down beside him, placing a hand over his back. He wouldn't look at you as he struggled to pick up one card, his hands shaking, cursing himself under his breath.

"Fuck, I can't-"

"-Spencer."

Cupping his cheeks, you pulled his head around to look at you. "You have an eidetic memory. You don't need the fucking cards," you said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Okay? And you're gonna kill it. Come on— I believe in you."

"Dr. Reid?"

His eyes flicked to the speaker as he nervously clenched his jaw. "Hey," you said to him, "if at any point you feel scared, just look at me. All right? I will be front and center the whole time, watching you. And when you come off stage," you paused, smiling at him, "I will be the one cheering the fucking loudest."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes seeking your approval as you pulled your hands away from him, smiling and nodding your head. "Okay. I- I can do this," he whispered, nodding his head at you.

"That's right. You got this."

Spencer stood, pushing the cards into his pocket as he made his way up the steps, smoothing his hands over his trousers. The speaker patted him on the back before he passed him the microphone, moving off the stage.

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