#boldlyreblog

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

And I’ll Do Anything That You Say (If You Say It With Your Hands) (+18)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut-- emotional sex, dirty talk, unprotective sex, oral (female receiving), use of good girl. Angst with a Happy Ending, an unhealthy amount of Taylor Swift references, post Maeve

Summary: Spencer and Reader are forced to share a room, but can't resist falling into old patterns, even though it's dangerous and just might break them.

Category: Angsty Smut with a Happy Ending (NO MINORS)

Word Count: 6.4 K

Cards Chosen: Library (Season 10), Revolver (Requited/Unrequited Love), Hotch (One Is Never Enough)

Author's Note: Nat!! OMG!! Words really don't do you justice. You are an amazing person through and through. I love interacting with you on here. You make my day so much better. Love you to the moon and to Saturn forever and always @reidslibrarybook. And a very big thank you to @sleepyspencer & @spencerslibrary for being a beautiful betas <3

And I’ll Do Anything That You Say (If You Say It With Your Hands)

You couldn’t be anything but enamored with him. Even though you shouldn’t be anymore.

Enchanted by his integrity, the way he always does the right thing. Captivated by his soft brown eyes, you never thought that eyes could be kind before you met Spencer. Swept away by his intelligence, how just being around him made you feel smarter than you could ever dream.

You don’t dream of him whispering sweet promises in your ear or holding hands in the grocery line. You don’t dream of making the miserable magical, you can only think of the heartbreak, the pain, the annihilation that he would scar you. If you let yourself slip, if you let him carry you away on a white horse, you’d never come back the same.

So, as long as you don’t cross that invisible line, you’re in the clear. You’ll love him from afar. From a distance where you can’t get hurt. But, in the same token, is loving him from afar loving him at all?

All that separates you is the floor between your two beds. Maybe if you concentrate you’d be able to hear his breathing. You know you can’t sleep and neither can Spencer. His ghostly form, covered in the cheap motel sheets doesn’t move, but you’ve slept in enough motels with him only ten feet away to know when he’s not sleeping.

“Spence,” you whisper, hushed tones in the dark.

“Y/N,” he whispers back. You shouldn’t like the way your name sounds on his lips, how inviting and warm and natural it sounds coming from him.

“I can’t sleep,” you say, your hollow, tired voice echoing in the motel room. Spencer’s bed creaks as he turns to face you. The moonlight dips into the room, making his face glow. His eyes, trained on you, are a blaze of fire, “I can never sleep without…”

“Neither can I,” he finishes, knowing all too well what you were going to say because he feels it too.

The silence in the motel room has never been so loud. You lay on your respective beds, just ten feet apart. Neither of you dare to be the first to make the move, even though you desperately want to. Scratch that, need too.

You’ll betray yourself millions of times if it means he’ll hold you like he could love you one. For now, you’ll cling to the possibility, even if it makes you a traitor, even if it will, one day, be your downfall. All because the falling is too good to resist. Spencer Reid, and his warm brown eyes and his soft smile and sweet dispositions, will be your downfall.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the one to get out of bed. For a second, you let yourself think that he’s pulled to you just as you are pulled to him. He turns down the covers, slipping into the cool sheets. Spencer’s hair is messy from nearly two hours of tossing and turning before you both give into the rush of being close. You like it like that. It looks like you’ve run your hands through it. You love feeling his soft curls in the palm of your hand and wish it wouldn’t kill you to feel it again.

“How long have you not been sleeping?” you whisper, involuntarily opening your arms for Spencer to fold himself into. His face is inches from yours, laying there on the same pillow. You have to keep the distance between you two. You can lay here as long as your lips don’t touch. As long as there’s that uncharted territory you don’t succumb to.

“A really long time,” he answers, the no man’s land between your lips and Spencer’s lips growing shorter and shorter and you breath in and out.

“Ever since that night,” Spencer clarifies, his arms pulling you close so your front is flush against his. You’re reminded of that night when you slept alone in the cold bed feeling empty and hollow. The nights, as it turned out, were the hardest to get over. In a strange way, you are comforted by knowing that Spencer missed you in the same way that you missed him. How you missed falling asleep to the steady sound of his breathing, how you craved the weight of his arms, and how you longed to wake up to his head buried in your neck.

“Me too,” you reveal, feeling like you’re spilling your darkest secrets to the one person who you shouldn’t be, “I miss you. I miss us,”

You should be wary, wary of the haunted, desired look he gives you. You shouldn’t let yourself get lost in the daydream and the promise of a sequel. It would be smart to turn away, to run away from the hungry desire that gnaws at your heart. But he’s quicksand, one look and he’s swallowing you whole. One look and you can see yourself so clearly twisted in bedsheets.

“I never stopped missing you,” he whispers, his hands moving from your upper half to ghost up your arms. His thumb, the calloused skin rough, brushes your hair out of your eyes, “I’ll always love you, even if it kills me,”

“Love shouldn’t hurt,” you tell him, speaking to yourself more than to Spencer. You both need to hear it again and again until the world loses all semblances of meaning. You’ll say it so often until it becomes a watered down, diluted mixture of sounds and syllables. Meaningless and empty.

Someone so beautiful shouldn’t be this dangerous.

“Not being able to love you hurts more than loving you,” Spencer says. You close your eyes as his thumb grazes your eyelids. You hold your breath, but you can still smell his ivory soap and peppermint shampoo. You close your eyes, but you can still see him smiling in your mind’s eye. You try to resist, but you give in, knowing he’ll forever be the one you want.

There’s a time for words. Not now though, now is for doing. Now is for reaching out across No Man’s Land even though it’s reckless and dangerous. Now is for looking danger in the eye and trudging forward even though you’ll end up scarred. You can’t decide if getting swept away is a choice, but the sound of his voice ricochets around the room. You cling to the hope that the spark hasn’t died out yet. And that passion and love and desire are strong enough to keep it aflame for even one more night.

Spencer’s hand puts the tiniest bit of pressure against the back of your head. He’s letting you decide if this is what you actually want or if you are both letting yourselves get swept up in the intensity of being so close after holding each other at arm's length for so long. It’s the kind of love that’s stubborn like grease on a stovetop. No amount of friction could keep you away from him.

You’re kissing him again. Kissing the man you never imagined you would have a last kiss with. Kissing Spencer again after the eight month drought is picking up where you left off. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, tugging as he kisses away the numb tingle. You sigh into his embrace, feeling for the first time in a very long time completely at peace. You fall back into the familiar rhythm. Just two souls searching for something to fill their empty hearts.

You wonder that, when this ends, if it ends, will you be left with the saccharine artificial taste of regret? Will your heart still ache for him even though his kisses fade and the sweet nothings whispered where as paper thin? Despite it all, despite every fiber in your being screaming at you to stop while you are at it, you don’t.

You kiss him back with enough fervor and intensity to match him. Grabbing at the bottom of his thermal sleeping shirt, you pull it up over his head, making a mess of his perpetually messy hair. He’s agreeable, letting you peel off his shirt. He turns on the mattress so his arms hover over you like a protective shield. Together, you form a delicate bubble. It’s so fragile that you know any sudden movement will pop it. Sending the once strong shield to the ground. But in the bubble, your defenses are down. All you are is skin and bone, fated to fall apart.

“Oh, god,” Spencer groans, his hands sliding down to your shirt, “I fucking missed this,” he curses, his lips, soft and pliant move across yours as he talks. You can taste his minty toothpaste, how sweet and cool it is. It’s familiar in an eerie way. You’re reminded just how easy it is to fall into old habits.

His hands, as the claw at the hem of your shirt, are cold against your skin. Spencer’s hands are always freezing, you remember warming them up in between him back when touching him was as natural as breathing. It still is, but at what cost.

“Spence,” you cry out, begging him with just his name to do something, anything. You rest on your elbows, letting him take your shirt off so you’re both left in only bottoms, “Spencer,” you plead, chasing the minty sweetness from his lips. Panting, you lean back against the headboard, hoping that the walls aren’t as thin as other cheap motels.

The moonlight drips in from the slits in the blinds. You let out bated breath, internally trying to calm yourself down as Spencer’s hands graze up your arm till he reaches your face. He holds your face in his palm as gently as he did all those year ago. You stare at each other, eye to eye. And even though he’s so close, his face, his unfortunately beautiful face, grows out of focus. You’re sure it’s because you’re dizzy from the anticipation of having him again.

“Shhh,” Spencer says, his voice wavering as he whispers, “I still think about you,”

And with that, Spencer’s fingers leave your chin, tingling down as he drags them down your chest. His touch brings forth everything pleasurable in this world. You’re back to the old games again; the games that left you empty and alone. But there’s that little voice in your head telling you Spencer’s worth it.

The voice, however, goes silent as his nimble hands drag down your pajama pants. His eyes, always so kind and shy, meet yours as he continues to undress you. You aren’t a reckless person. You don’t do silly things that you’ll regret in the morning. You’re a don’t-drink-on-Sundays kind of person.

And yet, you knot your hands in Spencer’s hair, satisfied with yourself when he moans as you tug. The one thing that’s good about hooking up with your ex, is knowing what he likes. You bottoms bunch at your feet so you kick them off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Spencer, who’s grown quiet, places his hands on your hips, letting his cold hands rest against your flushed skin.

His fingers brush over your underwear that grows damp at his steady attention and tiny touches. Spencer’s hand, wrapping around your upper thigh, holds you still as he toys with you. You close your eyes, breathing in shakily, and let the pleasure from Spencer’s knowing fingers engulf your body. He presses kisses into the soft skin of your thighs. You aren’t sure if his kisses are new promises or old apologies. Do they mean something or is he just doing this because he knows you like it?

Oh how you wish it could be different. But it has to be this way. There’s nothing you can do about it. He’s your Achilles Heel. You’re fated to love him forever, he’s fated to love someone else. So much for the fall, for the rush of being someone’s someone.

“Still so responsive,” Spencer remarks, his fingers dancing across your hips. Sometimes you envied his memory. You were jealous that he could remember all the good times you made together. You wish you could commit the way his eyebrows knit together when he concentrates or his zealous excitement at sharing the world’s secrets with you. There was nothing sweeter than being his, “Just like I remember,”

“Spencer.” All you can manage is his name, but you say it like a prayer. You cling to the sounds of his name. Hold on to the syllables that form his name. You thread your fingers through his hair, marveling at the sight before you.

He pulls down your underwear, tugging at the elastic waistband. You’re bare to him, completely naked compared to his pajama bottoms. Spencer takes his time, his fingers darting back up your legs and his eyes lowering past your chest and stomach. His lips lower to your stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way down. His breathing has gone labored. Maybe he’s anticipating it as well; wanting to hold back for so long because he knows it will be over much sooner than he’d like. You cling on to the hopeful thinking, wanting to be a beautiful fool over a wise soothsayer.

“You really are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Spencer whispers, saying exactly the words you always wanted him to hear. He says the words that you don’t want to hear from anyone else. Together, you’ve seen colors that no one else can see. He’s taken you to places that you’ll never dare to venture alone. And now, gone are the romantic picnics and fancy hotels. You’ve traded them in for longing looks and scratchy sheets.

He lowers his lips to your inner thighs. Spencer’s wild curls tickle your sensitive skin. It’s not the time for laughter, so you hold it in as it threatens to slip from your lips. Spencer nips at your skin, leaving marks there when you wake. The marks on your skin may fade, but he’s mark on your heart is etched into your soul. He’ll take the leftovers, store them in his pocket. He’s taken a piece of you and left the rest to heal and grow without him to watch.

“Holy fuck,” you plead, remembering just how good at this he is, “Spencer, fuck. Please,” you whimper, tugging on his hair to give him a sign to continue. You try to control your voice, knowing very well that a teammate could be next door, “I need it,” you whine, covering your face with your arm. You’re vulnerable like this, letting yourself get swept up in pleasure at Spencer’s hands. It was also a dangerous game with him, yet it’s something you’ve both loved at one point or another.

You have to stop talking before those three little words slip out. Those words, the only words that should be off limits, are the ones you want to say. Heartbeats in Morse Code, kisses in Sign Language, and touches in Braille. You can still translate it, even after all the time that’s past. You know you’ll always be able to read the language of Spencer’s kisses because at one point you would have sworn they were for you to decipher.

He dips a finger in, his hands holding you still, not letting you move from his grasp. Spencer brings his glistening finger to his mouth, letting his calloused fingertip brush against his plump lips. You always loved kissing his lips, biting them and watching him squirm at the sensation. He moans as he sucks on his finger, turned on by the memories of you as he tastes you on his finger. Spurred on by his pleasure, you grip his hair, tugging on his curls as he brings his mouth to your bare inner thighs.

“You always tasted like Heaven,” Spencer whispers, his lips hitting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he speaks.

“That’s scientifically impossible,” you reply, pushing his messy hair from his forehead. He might say you taste like Heaven but where he brings you in nothing but sin, “You should know that Doctor Reid,” you add, daring to poke him. But you taste like Heaven to him and look like sin so you should be able to get away with it unscathed.

“Watch it,” Spencer mumbles, kissing your legs as his fingers rub slow circles around your clit. You bite your lip, holding in the reactions to his ministrations. You feel yourself grow more and more wet as Spencer continues to pay attention to you, “I’ve got you,” he assures, as his talented fingers continue to untie your sanity. You never imagined you’d be doing this again with Spencer. Not after the burning red heartbreak he put you through.

His other hand crawls up your torso and his nimble fingers latch on to your nipple. His cold hands send shockwaves of pleasure, making you arch your back in response. As you do, Spencer takes the opportunity to hoist himself up so your faces are inches apart. Your lips are so close that it could be considered kissing. You miss kissing him; you miss feeling his heartbeat against your chest and his cold hands tightly holding you face as he practically devours you. If there’s one thing you can confidently say about Spencer, it’s that he gives everything his all. And kiss is no expectation.

So when his face eclipses the little moonlight the drips in between the slots from the blinds, you know that he will be your downfall. You knew he was trouble from the moment you saw him shooting off that film canister in the bullpen. Yet, all those kisses since then could not have prepared you for how Spencer’s hands grip the side of your face. He used to hold you like if he was too forceful you’d shatter. But now, he holds you so tightly as if you’d fall apart without the glue of his grip keeping you together. You figure that he’s already broken you once. Shattered you into fractured pieces of memories and promises. So if he doesn’t hold you tight enough you’ll break again into those millions of pieces.

He kisses you with the intensity that he should have fought for your heart with. Your hearing is impeded by his hands covering your ears, so all you can hear is the warbled tones of Spencer’s groans and your whimpers as his lips glide over yours. His breath is hot against yours. The minty taste of the toothpaste and his unyielding lips leave you stunned. Spencer, despite his cool and collected reserve, isn’t as impenetrable as he thinks. Just as he knows what makes you tick, you know what makes him tick.

His body covers yours and his lips bite yours swollen and puffy. Your hands travel from his back, leaving scratches in your wake to his hair. You tug and pull his hair, encouraging him to kiss you deeper, rougher, hungrier.

“I want to taste you again,” Spencer says, his voice haunty with self satisfaction as his eyes run down your front looking at the marks left from his affections, “I need to,” he says, the pleading sparking something about your being. You give in to him, letting go of his hair and watching as he kisses down your torso and legs.

“Sit on my face,” Spencer says, the words tumbling from his lips before he can shy away from what he truly wants, “Please,” he adds, the tone of pleading back in his voice. Tapping his cheek sarcastically, you think you just might give into him.

He’s made you crumble tonight, why not watch him fall too.

Spencer scoots up on the bed, giving you the space to move so you’re straddling his waist. Encouraged by his prematurely blissed out expression, you grind down on his erection, satisfied with the disgruntled moans of pleasure that he lets out. His hands cling to your waist, holding you still from your movements. Spencer’s eyes, darting around in the dark hotel room, look for yours.

“You better stop, if you want to continue,” he warns, loosening his grip on your waist in a sign to get you closer to his face.

“Yes, sir,” you tease, poking fun at the way he’s writing under your touch with the title. He smirks, proud of himself, despite the inevitable burn that will come tomorrow.

With either of your thighs on the side of his head, you lower yourself to his waiting mouth. Spencer’s tongue presses up against your folds, daring to break through as he eagerly starts kissing your skin. Gripping his hair, you’ve given yourself permission to let go. You’ve allowed yourself, for the night, to give into the temptation that Spencer is.

He teases, darting his tongue around your entrance. You can feel his smile grow as you squirm above him. Gripping on to his hair, you use him as a handle, much to his pleasure your tugs grow rougher and rougher. He matches your grip with his hands. They dig into the soft skin of your upper thighs. No doubt there will be bruises left on your skin to remember him by. Yet again, all you’re left with is bruises and marks fated to fade. Bruises and kisses can only linger for so long.

Spencer’s pleasure, evident by his wild moans and quicker licks, grows rapidly. You reach back and slip your hand under the waistband of his pants. He groans into your skin, his hot breath vibrating through you stimulating and tickling your clit. He continues to lick, focused intently on driving you wild. You drag your thumb up his tip, watching the way his veiny hands grip at your thighs.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Spence,” you cry out, running your hand up and down his cock lazyily as he grows more and more frantic. His moans fill the room, muffled by your thighs and causing vibrations to shoot up to your center, “I’m going to cum, baby. You did such a good job for me, all for me,” you reassure him, as you come undone over his eager mouth. He continues to lap up your release, licking and kissing your sensitive folds.

You slide off him, your legs shaking and unsteady from your orgasm. Spencer wipes his face with the back of his hand, looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes are like headlights in the dark room. They are lights flashing a sign of warning before a tragic collision. But you’re too far into the crash to care about the fallout. So you kiss him. You kiss him so he’ll remember you long after you’re back in Quantico pretending that this night never happened.

“Let me fuck you,” Spencer says, confirming that you want to continue as much as he does. He slides up so he rests against the headboard, “Let me fuck you so you’ll always feel me. You’ll feel me when you let some pathetic excuse of a man fuck you,” he whispers, his voice deep and heated in your ear. You want to do nothing but comply. His hands draw you in. They’ve always drawn you in. Spencer’s filthy words replay in your head. Is it true jealousy or is it just part of the allure? You wonder if it’s him wanting you back or him fucking with you one last time?

“Please,” you call out, crawling up to sit in his lap. His pants are kicked down, laying forgotten on the bed. You’re skin to skin. You can feel him blush deep red as your fingers dance across his face. He’s beautiful like this, but tragic. Maybe that’s why you were drawn to him. You’ve always loved beautiful, tragic things, “Please fuck me, Spencer,” you insist, kissing his neck, leaving marks of your own.

“Has anyone fucked you since I’ve had you?” he asks, the patronizing tone shouldn’t have the effect on you that it does. It washes over you, threatens to rip away at your sensibility and overrun your sanity. Spencer’s dark eyes, blown out in pleasure, are dangerously beautiful. He’s always walked the line of dangerously beautiful. If love shouldn’t hurt then why do you crave the sting that his kisses leave?

“No,” you tell him, honestly, despite the humiliation that comes. He knows that you’re not over him and yet he’s going to leave you wondering if he’s still hung up on you, “No one would compare,” you tell him, hoping it’s the right answer to convince him to do something.

“Is that right?” Spencer coos, his voice oozing with pride and lust, he kisses your temple, his hands cling to your back, “You’re a smart girl, Y/N. You know that only I can make you feel like this,”

He’s right. Never did you feel the deep, burning passion for someone. Never did you feel so strongly for someone until Spencer. Not with your college hookups or early twenties relationships did you ever want someone as much as you wanted Spencer. He’s quicksand, he’s dangerous, and yet you find yourself clawing out from the wreckage seeking his soft lips and kind brown eyes.

“Only you,” you choke out, as Spencer’s fingers find your clit once again. He grinds up into your, letting your soaking folds meet his painfully hard cock. You hold in the moans that want to escape, knowing well that you’ll wake up your neighbors if you don’t. You would think that Spencer is magic from the way his fingers and lips find the parts of you that need him the most. But magic doesn't exist. It’s not magic that drives him to the places that you yearn for his touches, it’s not love either. It’s passion and desire. He has the map to you; the very map that he shred to pieces years earlier.

“That’s right, baby,” Spencer teases, lining up against your entrance as he kisses all over your chest. Your breasts fall in front of his face, nearly distracting him from what he’s saying, “I’m going to fill you up so good, sweetheart,”

You sink down on his cock, sighing as you relish in the way he fills you up. His hands cling to your hips, keeping you in place, like you’d even dare to move. Your mouth opens as you feel the burning sensation of him inside you. Spencer’s index finger draws along the curve of your upper lip, marveling as you whimper as the tiniest of touches. You want to move, to see if he can get deeper inside you, but you don’t dare to do anything with his permission first. His steady breathing, his finger against your lip and his eyes trained on yours has your flushing with anticipation.

“Oh sweetheart, I missed this,” Spencer coos, kissing the sides of your jaw messily. You smile at his praise, loving the feeling of making him feel good as you try to focus on steading your breath, “I miss you, Y/N,”

“I miss you too, Spence,” you say, the words tumbling out as you plant a kiss against his lips, hushing the words he was about to say, “I need more,” you beg, hoping to convince him to move. You know he can feel your walls grip around him, needing something more than the stillness he offers.

“Be patient, good girls are patient,” Spencer chides, kissing your forehead and over your eyelids. He can smother you in his kisses if you’d have it your way. Death by a thousand kisses; cuts patched up by healing pecks.

You start to roll your hips, hellbent on reliving the burning pleasure that blazes through your core. Spencer, though on his last defense of resistance, grips your hips, halting any attempt at seeking your release.

“Be a good girl,” he whispers, remind you of your place, “Be my good girl, Y/N,”

“Yes,” you say, eager to follow his demands. You take his hand in your hand, inspecting it. His veins start near where his wrist meets the back of his hand. It takes over the whole expanse of his skin, coloring parts of his skin a blueish green. The veins lead into his slender, long fingers. You’ve hand them lost in your hair and on nearly every inch of your body at some point— and still it’s not enough. He is a perfectly crafted balance of delicate and strong. You kiss the back of his hand, teeth grazing against his prominent vein, feeling the life course through his hands. Turning his hand over, you left wet kisses across his palm. You can feel him twitch inside you, as he watches you pepper kisses on his hands in an act that resembles worship.

“I’ve hardly moved,” he says, referencing your labored breathing and blown out pupils, “looks like I can still make you fall apart,” his fingers sneak up to your face. His cool touch is the cure to your flushed, heated skin.

You never doubted that he could make you fall apart. The real question is if he could — would put you back together. You want to have faith in him, even if it’s a faithless fate. You want to love him again, even if it will kill you.

“I need more, Spence,” you beg, not caring that you sound desperate in his arms, “Please fuck me,” you plead, hoping to appeal to the side of him that you know can never resist your charms. Especially as you kiss along his jawline, whimpering into his ear.

“You’re so fucking cute like this,” Spencer says, brushing his hands over your hair as he thrusts up into you. His hands grip your hips, spurring you on as you begin to move on his cock, “Come on, Y/N. You’re so insatiable. I know one is never enough for you,”

His lips seek yours, hungry to feel you against him. Spencer groans, feeling you tighten around him. He holds you to his chest, his grip digging into your skin as he grinds his teeth.

He kisses you again, his lips seeking the contact after just moments apart. His quiet whimpers and fingers against your face make you a traitor against your own will. You feel yourself melt away as his feverish kisses become more erratic. You can feel the tense build in your chest and it threatens to spill over.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers, so quietly you’re sure you’ve missed it. You kiss him, or rather, smother him with your lips.

“I love you,” you say in return. Not because it’s what you say after someone says they love you. You can’t even count how many times you’ve said it. To your college roommates as they run out the door to their terrible paying jobs, to your mother from the fire escape as she gets in the taxi after visiting, to your cat as you dash out the door when whisked away on a case. It’s such a simple three words. Simple, but heavy.

With an equally heavy breath, you whisper it again in Spencer’s ears.

“I love you, Spencer,”

He is so close you can stretch your lips so only a little bit and is flushed chest. You can feel in suck in a breath as you kiss his skin. Your touch, not foreign to him, but charged this time.

“I never stopped loving you,” Spencer says, his words hanging in the air as they drip from his lips, “And I’ll never stop,”

His hands return to your face, holding you gently. You’re still consumed by the weight of his confession, by the promise of being his again. The fears of falling into old paths and hurting each other again rests in the back of your mind as Spencer’s delicate fingers run across your face. His fingertips leave evidence of his love on your skin and you never want to wash it away.

Together, you’ll dance across the dangerous slope. And though it might make you a traitor, with Spencer by your side it might just be worth the risk.

“You feel so good, so good, Spencer,” you cry out, stunned by how deep inside you he reaches. The headboard bangs against the wall, disturbing your unlucky neighbors, “I feel so full,” you tell him, making his thrusts grow faster and more intense at the praise.

He kisses your cheeks, losing himself for a moment. Forgetting that things like that don’t happen during hook-ups. He kisses like he’s making promises. You can get dizzy off the way his lips mesh with yours and the way his hands hold your face. His slender fingers slide down your jawline and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Spencer tugs on your lip, smiling as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock. He closes his eyes, moaning.

“I know,” Spencer says, still holding your face, “I know it’s good, sweetheart. You were always so good for me,” his voice strained. Exhausted from your first orgasm, you feel yourself grow more tired. Spencer must notice because his hands leave your face and hover over your back.

Gently, he pushes your back so your chest is flush against his. Overwhelmed by his thrusting, you lean forward, resting your forehead against his sweaty chest. He heaves as he breaths, hellbent on chasing both your climaxes. His words stick to your skin as the room burns down around you. You sway in the dark with your arms wrapped around Spencer’s torso and your legs around his waist. Crying out in pleasure, Spencer’s lips cover your mouth, quieting you effectively.

“Spencer,” you cry out, stopping at his name because you know you won’t be able to stop the rest of the words that follow, “I love you,” you say, his name and those three little words synonymous on your lips.

“Spencer, I’m gonna- I’m gonna come,” you cry out, your voice hoarse from trying to keep quiet.

“You want to come on my cock?” Spencer asks, his thrusts growing sloppy and unmeasured as he nears his release too, “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. My good girl,” he adds, kissing the side of your head as he draws shapes on your back.

“Yes, please, Spencer,” you shout, not caring that your voice carries throughout the room and down the hallway, “A-anything, fuck, Spence,” you cry, pleading for Spencer to allow for your release. He’s usually lenient, or rather, you’re his weak spot.

“Okay, sweet girl,” he says, kissing your face as he relents, “you can come, but right after you let me fill you up,” he tells you, his words making your body rage with an inextinguishable fire. His fingertip kisses burn your skin.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, carried away by Spencer’s continued ministrations on your clit as he comes undone, “Please fill me up, Spencer. Please I need it, I need you,”

He comes undone, his thrusting growing sloppy and his vocal whimpers ricocheting in your ears. All through his release, Spencer continues to rub circles on your clit, encouraging your shy whines and needy moans. He smiles at your desperation as he acts on his promise.

“Can you take it, Y/N? Be a good girl and take my cum. Just like that. I love you, Y/N. I love you,” he cries, his lips finding yours as he kisses you again, “You can come now, Y/N. Such a good girl for me,” he says, kissing you in encouragement. His words and lips are enough to help you reach your climax.

It’s never like how it’s described in those bodice rippers you hid in between your mattress in college. You don’t see a big white light and there’s no moment of clarity. His teeth clash against yours as his thrusts slow, your release evident on your thighs. You’re still sensitive when he tries to pull out. You hiss at the sensation of him leaving you. Spencer, still drunk off the high of doing this again, kisses your collarbone as he calms down.

He lays next to you breathing unsteadily as he comes down from his high. Spencer’s hands snake around your body, searching for your warmth and acknowledgement that the words spilled were just as heavy as they seem. Shyly, contrasting his words and actions just moments before, Spencer moves his head to rest against your bare shoulder. His hair tickles your neck and you know you’ll get numb from the weight of his head against your arm.

“Do you think we get second chances in life?” Spencer asks, his voice wavering as he mumbles in the dark, “I mean I don’t think I deserve a second chance, because of everything that’s happened…”

“We both hurt each other,” you say, taking part of the blame, that is rightfully yours to carry, “We both did things we regret. But what’s important, Spence is that we came back to each other,” you promise, kissing his hand that rests on your stomach. You lace your fingers in his squeezing as you continue to kiss the scars and marks on his beautiful hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you again. Ever,” Spencer whispers, “I love you, but does me loving you hurt you?” he asks, his reservations bubbling to the surface as a stream of tears run down his face.

“Spence, there isn’t a rulebook for this. I don’t have the answers for what to do when a good man hurts me and I hurt him too. There’s no answer, baby,” you tell him, wiping away the tears from his face as they collect on your skin, “But here’s the thing, you’re worth the risk,”

“I’m going to love you,” Spencer says, “I’m going to love you for a lifetime and then some,” he tells him, twisting his body so your legs and arms are tangled up in the sheets, “It’s just, after Maeve, I didn’t think I deserved to be happy. I thought that I had all the happiness I was allowed. I thought that I was done,”

“You’ve got enough love to share, Spence,” you say, hoping his heart is big enough for you, even know with the wounds that you both wear, “It’s big enough for both of us,”

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, sitting up to pick his long discarded shirt from the bed.

“I know,” you say, kissing his forehead as your heartbeats mesh into a single beat.

You’re not a faithful woman, but somehow, you do believe in Spencer’s promises, “And you’re worth it in the end, Spence,”

“I love you,” Spencer says, repeating the word as he did before till it loses all meaning, “I love you,” he says, as sleep, for the first time in a very long time, takes the reins of both of you.

His deep breathing and steady heartbeat is the lullaby that you’ve dreamt of. It’s worth the risk if you’ll wake up in his arms tomorrow morning with more than the lingering kisses to remember him by.

TAGLIST

@pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @folkreid @muffin-cup @reidslibrarybook @jswessie187 @emilyprentisswif3 @doctorspenceryeet @alexrosex99 @lowensashleigh @cncos-baby @reidslovely @shemarmooresfedora @strawberryspence @mimischaos @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @gspenc @ssa-uglywhore27 @alexxavicry @spencerreidat3am @reidsmilf

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[kingdom-by-the-sea]

Book Snob

Summary- Reid and reader both have feelings for each other which haven’t quite risen to the surface yet. Reid is a book snob

Warnings- just fluff

——————————

“You don’t know what Twilight is?”

Y/N’s were filled with shock nearing disapproval. Spencer returned her outburst with a blank expression and pursed lips.

“It’s one of the most popular book series in the world and the movie grossed hundreds of millions of dollars. How could you possibly not know what it is?” Y/N spit out the words quickly, growing somewhat red in the face in her surprise.

Spencer gave a small laugh at her reaction, remaining in step with her as they walked away from the coffee shop, “The novels I read tend to be published prior to the 1900s.”

Y/N shook her head, “That’s absolutely ridiculous. You read twenty thousand words per minute and you can’t spend any of those minutes on a book written in this century?”

“I do read books from this century,” he quickly corrected, “I just finished reading a book on the geometric unification of science and art through numbers.”

All of a sudden Y/N inhaled sharply, “You’re a book snob! I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You had me fooled with your whole ‘every book has value thing.’ But you’re really just a book snob!”

“What?” Spencer’s voice went up an octave or so, “I am definitely not a book snob. I don’t even know what that means!”

“Oh you totally are,” she responded, staring him down with new confidence, “You’re one of those people who thinks that anything that isn’t already held as a classic has no value. You probably don’t even think audiobooks are real books!”

“Well,” Spencer absently scratched at his neck, “I mean they’re not exactly the same as physical books…”

Y/N was aghast, mouth parted open in shock, “I can’t even look at you right now. I genuinely don’t think we can keep being friends.”

“What can we be then…?” he asked quietly in response.

Y/N smiled and scrunched up her face, “No, you don’t get to say things like that when I’m trying to be mad at you for being a book snob.”

Spencer smiled at her expression and watched as she slowly gave in to her own goofy grin.

“Fine,” Spencer said while attempting to resolve their fake argument, “What do I have to read in order to not be a book snob?”

Y/N looked up at him with bright eyes like a kid on Christmas, “You’re going to read whatever I tell you?”

“Within reason,” he clarified.

Y/N impulsively grabbed his hand not even realizing what she was doing as her mind sped along with thoughts of books, “You know there’s a bookstore about a block from here with a really good YA selection.”

“YA?”

“You have so much to learn,” she pulled him onward with the biggest smile on her face.

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #boldlyreblog

[reidsbookclub]

All's well the ends well to end up with you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Word count: 3K

Category: angst , hurt/ comfort , happy ending

you can find the angst no happy ending version here - I recommend reading both since the story differs slightly throughout not just in the ending.

Shout out to@samuel-de-champagne-problems for encouraging me to write this & @boldlyvoid and everyone who helped me come up with Venus' name... you'll see why her name is important in this version

There’s a point in the life of someone where you just give up on the idea that you will find a loving partner that accepted every single shining side and damaged ruptured side that you have to offer, Spener Reid was at this point in his life where he was just about to give up on finding a partner to grow old with. Spencer had always longed for a family to call his own, a partner he could confide in all his fears, insecurities, hopes, and dreams, and children he could tech about life in all of its shiny facets such as mistakes, rebounds, heartbreak, and love. He first could see that dream become a reality when he asked JJ out on that date, but now he is forever grateful that it resulted in an amazing and unmatchable friendship with Penelope after JJ invited her to tag along. With Lila, he saw the spontaneous, get-love quick scheme side of what a shiny lust-driven relationship would entail but he knew that there would be no future there.  Things were slightly different with Elle, he was ready to let her teach him the ropes but she chose another path, a path that he had no choice but to respect. The first time Spencer was able to get a glimpse at the life he always longed for was with Maeve, but it got ripped away from him in the cruelest of ways. Austin brought him an imaginable joy in the form of his daughter and just as he was about to propose, two short days after she was born he showed up at the hospital to find every trace of Austin gone, in her place a letter detailing how sorry she was but this was a life she was just not ready for. It left him heartbroken, not understanding how she could abandon someone as delicate and fragile as their daughter in just days. He ended up picking the name alone, naming her Venus Penelope Reid. Hoping that the little angel would grow up to shine as bright as Venus does and radiate kindness and positivity the same way his best friend does.

Now, Spencer spends his free weekends at the park reading with his daughter and teaching her how to play chess. At times he finds himself wishing that there was someone next to him with her head resting on his lap reading or listening to music. Someone who actually would remember to pack snacks because he was too worried making sure Venus was covered in enough bug spray and sunscreen but, he was slowly resigning himself to the reality that a lifelong partner was just not in the cards for him.  That’s when Spencer looks up and sees her. The sunlight casting a glow on her that he had never seen anyone wear. And when she turns his direction and smiles brightly at him, waving at his little girl Spencer knew that he wanted to get to know everything about her. For the rest of the day, Spencer couldn’t concentrate on his book, just thinking about her and what it would be like to go on a date with her. He spent the whole week daydreaming about the possibilities he would be giving his daughter if he actually found that long-life partner in her, surprising even himself at how wonderstruck and enchanted she had left him.

“Sweetheart, would it be okay if you spent tomorrow with Aunt Penny?” He asked the following Friday.

“Yes!! I love auntie  Penny but why daddy”

“Daddy is going to be a bit busy with tomorrow, that's all, let me call your aunt penny to see if she is not busy”

Spencer spent more than half of his Saturday walking around Centennial Park looking for her, eventually feeling a little silly because the chances of her being there two weeks in a row were not in his favor. Spencer spotted an empty chess stable and sat down planning on starting a game against himself until he was greeted by the most melodic voice he had heard.

“Do you play?”

“Yeah, actually I do” Spencer replied in a rare surge of confidence

“I don’t, would you teach me?”

“I-uh- yeah of course. I love teaching people chess, I teach my daughter every Saturday.”

“Oh…so…so you’re married?” Y/N asked sadly

“No, actually I’m not.”

“Y/N Y/L/N , hi nice to meet you.”

“Spencer. Spencer Reid.  Did you like Pride & Prejudice?

“How did—how did you know? Wait?”

“Ohh-i- i actually saw you—geez I sound like a creep and I’m stuttering like an idiot teenager” he mumbled. “ I saw you last week reading it, you waved at me and my little girl…. I’m not a creep I swear.” he was silently wincing and cursing at his word vomit.

Spencer thought she would walk away right then and there but instead, she just laughed, a harmonious giggle that sounded straight out of one of the many princess movies that his daughter loves to watch, one that he longed to be woken by for the rest of his life.

“I know Spencer, why do you think I’m here. I was hoping to run into the handsome man I saw last week”

Spencer spent all afternoon teaching her how to play chess and in another surge of confidence he asked her out on a date for the following Friday but was overdriven with joy when her reply was, “its barely 7:00 pm how about a coffee date right now?’

Six Months Later

Six blissful months of dates with each other, and in others including Venus is what they both liked to call family outings. Spencer loved the way she fit right in, bringing joy and spontaneity to their lives.  Everything seemed to be going very well for Spencer and Y/N. There were the slight moments that they could tell Venus was adjusting to sharing her dad with someone but they knew that eventually, they would get to become the family that both Y/N and Spencer had longed for.

It wasn’t rare for Spencer to leave Venus with her when he had a case since they started dating, what was rare was the lack of communication and how long he had been gone. Venus was starting to get antsy and annoyed at everything Y/N did that was not the way Spencer did. From not adding chocolate chips to her pancakes to doing her hair wrong, Y/N hoped that Spencer would be back soon.

It takes as a shock to everyone when Emily lets them know that Spencer was in prison in Mexico. The biggest shock came to Venus, when she heard the news she exploded, taking her anger out on Y/N.  “Everything was perfect without you here, and now he is in prison. I HATE YOU”

“Tell you what, behave for me, and when he gets out- because he will- I will leave, everything will go back to the way it was before.”

“You promise?”

“I do”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

Y/n goes to make an ‘x’ motion across her heart and says, looking directly into Venus’ eyes “cross my heart and hope to die”

As the weeks passed Y/N could see Venus needing a distraction from everything. She needed a change of scenery so with Spencer’s permission she took her a weekend to New York City. Spending a girls' day at spas and shopping. Y/N and Venus even played a couple of chess matches at central park in honor of Spencer.  Throughout Spencer’s time in prison, Y/N made it her mission to bring just a little bit of light into Venus’ daily life. From baking nights with Penelope to movie nights just the two of them. And when Venus needed help in school she was right there to help her, even if it meant spending all night up trying to understand the ins and outs of mathematics.  And slowly but surely both Venus and Y/N were finding a new normal. And it was one of these nights when Venus got up in the middle of the night for some water that she spotted Y/N cursing at her textbooks and silently wishing Spencer to appear next to her that she found herself wishing Y/N would stay with them for a long time, even catching herself starting to call her mom in front of her friends, but quickly dismissing it as just missing her dad and waiting for a parental figure around.

Three Months Later

Spencer could sense it in the air when JJ told him he was free. He could feel a whole new nightmare begin he just never thought about how hard it would actually hit him. All he wanted to do was go home and hug his two girls. It surprised him when they weren’t outside waiting with Penelope, and he was even more surprised when arriving at the BAU and she wasn’t there only his team, Venus and Diana.

After everyone had their turn in hugging him and welcoming him back he turns to the Venus and says, “Where’s Y/N?”

Venus had long forgotten about the pact with Y/N so she full-heartedly believed what she was saying when she replied, “oh, she said she was going home. She wanted to give us some time for ourselves, your real family she said.” Spencer couldn’t grasp the meaning of her words, the gravity they held. He was too happy to be back and be able to hug his daughter and mom to fully hold on, grasp, understand, and notice the wording his daughter had used.

That night, when Venus and Spencer went home, he noticed the apartment a different shade of black, it was as if every color had been stripped away. The apartment felt 10 degrees colder than he remembered and he felt his heart drop to his stomach when he turned to look at the coffee table and notice every photograph that had y/n in it gone. Silence surrounded them, it was as if you could hear a pin drop. He didn’t like the eerie feeling one bit.

He ran to his bedroom and noticed all her things weren’t there. Spencer started pulling on his hair, scrambling around the apartment mumbling, “no no please no” tears threatened to spill out.

It was as if his heart was being torn apart by a thousand cuts. A thousand paper cuts that is, the reason a paper cut gives feels like it hurts so much worse than other wounds is because of the amount of nerve endings residing on your fingertips. It was this exact feeling that spencer felt slowly taking over his heart.

Two weeks later

Spencer was worried,  alongside Penelope and Luke were picking his daughter from school and when they pulled up to where she was Venus started crying.

“No no go away I want mom, I want mom”

He could feel his heartbreak for his daughter. She hadn’t cried out for her mom in years.

“Baby, my little V, your mom left a long time ag–”

“Not her! My mom. I want my mom Y/N”

“My sweet girl, Y/N left, remember. I think me being in prison was too much for her.”

It was then that Venus decided to look up at her father. And with a guilt-ridden face, she said

“No, she didn’t leave because of you, she left because I asked her to do so.”

Spencer was stunned. That was on reply he wasn’t expecting.

“Care to elaborate?”

“ I was mad. Everything was going well. I felt my life was perfect with just you and me. And then she came along and you went to prison so I was bottling up my feelings - which yes I know that's not a good thing to do - but I did it and then I told her I hated her and that I wouldn’t listen to her for as long as she was in charge of me. That's when we came up with the pact. She said that if I behaved when you got out she would leave. And she did.”

Spencer was holding back tears, he knew Y/N well enough to know that she wouldn’t be back because she respected and loved Venus like her own daughter. Spencer knew that if Venus didn’t want her  around she wouldnt be.

“Wait,” Penelope said, which is when Spencer remembered he had brought both Penelope and Luke with him. “Why are you calling her mom then?”

“Okay so, today we had to write about a family member, why we loved them and how do they make us feel safe and I wanted to write about you dad I really did, but all I could write about was mom- y/n. And I need to tell her. We need to tell her daddy. I need to tell her she’s my mom. I need to tell her how much I miss her, how I had forgotten about the pact, and how even my friends refer to her as my mom. That’s how much I talk about her.”

“You need to understand that what you did has consequences, bigger than getting grounded”

“How big?” she asked

“She might not want to come back, she might have moved on already there are many things that are a factor sweetie”

“Can you at least try to find her so I can apologize?”

“I’ll do my best, little one and I’m sure Aunty Penny will love to help”

Two Weeks Later

“Hello, Dr. Spencer Reid speaking ”

“Hi, Dr. Reid this is Dr. Lancaster from Memorial Hospital I’m calling because a Y/N Y/LN has you as her emergency contact. How soon can you get here?”

“I’m on my way”

It was as if the world had suddenly stopped for Spencer.

Standing up in the middle of the BAU he felt time stand still, he couldn’t hear the world around him, didn’t notice Penelope had picked up his daughter from school and brought her in. All he could do was feel his stomach bubbling up, shivers running through his spine letting out a high-pitched shriek he crumbled to the floor, a panic attack coming in

“Dad dad dad what’s wrong”

“Spence!”

“Boy wonder??”

“PRENTISS GET HERE NOW” Luke yelled

“Y/N….Y/N”

“daddy did you find mom??? Can I finally tell her I love her like a mom and that I’m sorry”

“…Y/N she’s at the hospital”

“Well then let’s go!” A very excited Venus says.

The whole team went to the hospital with Spencer and Venus, there for emotional support in case it was needed.

Walking into the emergency room Spencer felt like he could finally breathe again the moment he heard

“ I don’t care what Dr. What’s his face said. I too am a doctor and I’m telling you I don’t need an MRI, Ct scan, OCT, or anything else that ends in a scan.”

Chucking he couldn’t help but speak up, “well luckily for the poor nurse you’re scaring, I too am a doctor and I say you do…let’s call it…your second opinion shall we?”

“Your Ph.Ds. are of no value here,” y/n said in a teasing matter then added, “what are you doing here anyway? We broke up remember”

“ First, we didn’t break up you left, giving me no choice. But that doesn’t matter I’m here now. Second, you have me listed as the emergency contact”

Y/n wanted to explain why she had left but she didn’t want to get Venus in trouble, not when she had grown to love her as her own. She was bout to come up with a little white lie when she was was interrupted with Venus’  pleading

“Mommy, can you please get the scans done so I can hug you and ask if I can please call you mom because that’s what you are to me? I told dad about our deal and I’m very sorry but mom please get checked out I can’t lose another mom”

Turning to the student male nurse y/n says, “well you heard my daughter take me to the ct scan. Or what do I have to drag myself there?!”

“Dr. Y/L/N please, don’t scare away my student nurses”

“Sorry Bokhee” she sheepishly siad.

“And there will be no scans for you. Dr. Montgomery sent me. She will call you later today with more information, she knows how much you hate being here as a patient. But congratulations you’re pregnant.” Spencer finally remembered he had an audience when a collection of cheers from the team could be heard alongside “I’m going to be an older sister!” excited chanting a y/n saying “I’m what now?” But at that moment all Spencer could feel was happiness, he finally had the family he had longed many years for, the woman he loved was okay, his daughter was happy and he was going to be a father again. It was then when he knew that all would be well if he ended up with her.

“So….y/n can you please come home?” He whispered in her ear memorizing the feeling of her between his arms

“Let’s go home Spence,” she said with a smile.

8 months later

“So pretty boy you got Venus and what are you guys naming this handsome boy?” Penny asked.

Spencer and Y/N at each other knowing that the team would be shedding some tears after this.

“Well, his name is…wait pretty boy? Derek’s the only one that calls me pretty boy why did you—unless..”

“…you didn’t think I was going to miss the birth of the new prettiest boy now did you? Let me see where is he?”

Spencer is grinning widely. Turns to Y/N and sees her nod signaling it’s time.

“ well, you first need to know I named this princess Venus Penelope because Venus is the brightest planet in the solar system and she was my light and my beacon after Austin left and Penelope because she’s the kindest soul I’ve ever met and I wish that for my daughter... And this little guy his name is after the best big brother I ever knew, the first real friend I had as well as after the sun because I think this family is ready to spend some time in the daylight. Meet Derek Aelius Reid.”

Taglist: @samuel-de-champagne-problems

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[ssavanessa22]

Birthday Girl

Summary: after a long day of celebrating your birthday you and Spencer reflect on the future

Warnings: pregnancy

Paring: Spencer x pregnant! Fem! Reader

A/n: happy birthday @makailaa your ask for swallowed by tumblr but I hope you had a wonderful day and I hope you like this and a massive shout out to @boldlyvoid for being my beta and really helping me with this fic go read her fics guys they are an incredible writer. And I’m 5 away from 100 followers so please follow you won’t regret it :)

He was never really a fan of birthdays; after William left and it was just him and Diana, he never had time to celebrate like how a normal kid would. He was busy taking care of his mother. He was never around his peers much growing up, never having the typical experience that the average american child would. As he got older the fewer people he had to celebrate being on this earth for another 365 days.

“You could say he hated his birthday. Well, he hated it until he had someone to celebrate it with, and now that person just so happened to be you.”

Not only did you give him a new lease on life, you made him want to celebrate things like birthdays again just so he could see your face beam with happiness and surprise whenever he did something for you. All the stress of finding something for you was worth it for him because he knew every year after your birthday, like clockwork, you would call your mother 10 pm on the dot and spend a good half hour telling her how your birthday was; what spencer and your friends got you for your birthday, and how much you were loved.

And like clockwork after your phone call with your mother where you would always promise that you and spencer would come visit soon and an araye of I love you’s, you left the living room at 11:30pm and made your way to your bed to spend the last 30 minutes of your birthday with the man you love

You were a bit worried that Spencer would already be asleep; between working at the bau, grading papers and helping Derek renovate the new house you were going to move into, he had a lot on his plate. But as you got into playing with his hair, his body facing away from you, he turned around and rubbed his nose against yours “how was your yearly birthday conversation this time, love?”

“I didn't know you were still awake? I thought you had gone to bed?”

He feigned a joking look of betrayal and shock “me going bed without pillow talk with the birthday girl? That would be blasphemy, how do you think so low of me?”

“Okay , I am sorry that I would assume. In my defence, however, you have been falling asleep on me without pillow talk for the last 2 weeks so...”

slotting himself into your neck, he replied, “that’s different, baby, because all those days weren’t your birthday. Your birthday is a special day.”

“oh, okay ,well that makes a lot more sense now thanks you for explaining, and thank you for today this has been the best birthday ever, and me and mum just spoke about you know usual”

“Did you tell her about-''

“no, god no, I think if I told my mother that we were pregnant over the phone and not in person she would kill me and then you. we’ll tell her when we visit in two weeks” he left a flurry of kisses as he began rubbing his hand over your small baby bump.

“yeah probably for the best she would have burst your eardrum through the phone with how loud her reactions would have been”

“I love you and I love our little nugget and I love our life so much.”

he starts laughing into your neck he questions,”nugget? You have named our unborn child nugget?”

“I just poured my heart out to you and that’s all you're gonna take away from what I said is nugget.”

even though he was still laughing he answered “no, no, i was listening to the other stuff as well i just was blindsided by the name nugget, but I love you, too, and I love our life and I love nugget so much. Happy birthday, my love.”

“I love you, baby, thank you for the best birthday ever.”

As you turned to face away from him so he could be the big spoon his hand landed on your small bump slowly rubbing it up and down thinking about how his view on birthdays had changed so much since being with and having the love and support he desperately needed when he was younger, again thinking about how he would have another birthday to be just as excited for he lowered his face to be level with the small bump in your belly.

“Hey, little nugget, your mummy and daddy love you very much and would do anything for you, anything, and every birthday we will get you anything you want, and we will love you and support you no matter who you become. Your mummy is obsessed with birthdays, so even though I’m not well versed in them, you will always have the best day possible.”

Groggily you interrupted Spencer “don’t think I haven’t already planned your birthday extravaganza Spencer, ” poking your belly, “you too nugget birthdays 1 to 6 are gonna be bangers!”

Spencer Reid taglist 🏷

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[metalheddie]

BESTIE i was bored and saw that you were looking for fic inspo so i made this mood board for you! i hope it helps! 💛💛💛

HEY HEYYY

sorry this is sO incredibly late! right after this i went into a massive writing slump :( but im all good now bc i wrote this in an hour and i think it's one of my favorite things i've done so far!

wc: 881

genere: fluff so sweet it'll destroy your insides

cw: food and worrying at the end!

Finally… A Saturday with nothing to do. No cases, no one calling in from y/n’s job asking her to cover, it was pure bliss. The morning sun beamed through the curtains shining golden rays on her and Spencer’s sheets and faces.

He looks so peaceful like this. No worried crease in his brow and his jaw is slack with sleep instead of clenched with fear that comes with the job. Y/n lifts her hand to softly stroke the unruly curls out of his face. He stirs slightly but cuddles into her even more. She smiles as he says “Good morning my love” in that deep morning voice she can never resist.

Y/n shifted so she could look into his hazel eyes, filled with sleep and adoration for the girl who made his sun shine brighter. Y/n smiled and kissed the top of his head, then moved down to his nose, his cheeks, his chest… Spencer groaned lightly as he held her. Before she got too into it, she pulled herself back up to kiss his lips sweetly. Who cares about morning breath?

“Coffee?” She asked, sweet as the sugar Spencer puts in his shitty office coffee.

“Yes please…” He said in that voice again. Oh, he totally knows what he’s doing.

Y/n gets up and out of bed just for Spencer to grab her wrist and try to pull her back again. As much as she wants to stay in bed and cuddle all day, she desperately needs coffee.

“Come on Spence… If you wanted me so bad you’d follow me into the kitchen!” she said as she spun around with a cheeky smile to meet his gaze. He moved to get up and follow her and grabbed for her waist. She dodged every attempt until they finally made it to their destination. She finally gave in when she was backed up against the marble counter. Spencer bent down and to place his face in y/n’s neck and whispered

“I would chase you anywhere if it meant I was able to do this every time afterward.”

“Babe...you can’t say stuff like that so early in the morning… you'll make me cry!” y/n stuck out her bottom lip as she rested her head on top of his.

Eventually, they were able to detach from each other and make coffee. Spencer’s black with 10 pounds of sugar and Y/n’s Iced Vanilla Oat Milk Matcha Latte. Sure hers wasn’t exactly coffee and it was super fancy-sounding, but it gave her energy for the day, and that's all that matters. She offers some to spencer, like usual, he declines, like usual. He’s a creature of habit, sue him.

After Coffee and Lattes were finished and books and shows were binged, they were bored. Suddenly y/n had an idea pop into her head. She jumped up and ran to the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards looking for her mother's recipe box. When she finally found it in the back of her dry ingredients section, she found exactly what she was looking for. Her mom's brownie recipe written on her favorite little notecards.

As y/n is going through more of her cupboards getting out all the needed ingredients, Spencer padded into the room and stood in the doorway. Y/n turned around and almost dropped the bowl she was holding because he was so quiet. He smiled at her and asked,

“And what could you possibly be doing in here that you need 3 bowls, 2 pans, and 16 various ingredients?”

y/n rolled her eyes playfully and said “Brownies for my beautiful boy… Is that a crime?”

“No, not at all” he responded as he made his way over to the filled countertop. “How can I help?”

“By sitting and looking pretty” she teased.

He laughed and rested his head on her shoulder and swayed a bit. She turned around in his embrace and decided to put on some music, oldies of course.

While she got everything prepped, mixed, panned, and into the oven; Spencer did just as she told him, he sat and looked pretty while he watched her work so hard to make the brownies perfectly. He just hoped she would let him lick the spoon.

As soon as y/n was done, she pulled Spencer up to dance to her favorite song. They swayed and spun to the music without a care in the world while their apartment filled with the smell of love and brownies.

At last

My love has come along

My Lonely days are over…

In an act of impulsivity, Spencer blew a raspberry into the side of y/n’s neck and made her laugh uncontrollably.

That’s what she loved about him most… He wasn’t afraid to be silly with her... Dancing in the kitchen to Etta James spinning on the record player and brownies in the oven. The domesticity made her heart hammer in her chest, nervous of what could be ahead for the two of them. She tried not to think about it for too long so as to not ruin the moment. Instead, she looked into Spencer’s honey brown eyes and savored the sweet moment. She wanted this to last forever and more.

Fin~

#strawberryspence <3 #fic request <3 #maddies fics <3 #maddie.writes #maddie.answers #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #boldlyreblog

[boldlyvoid]

guys i want to start a tracked tag, so if you guys add #boldlyreblog to your fics/gifs/blurbs/head canons/icons, anything really, i will queue them and reblog them for you to help anyone who follows me get the traction they deserve on their own creations!

#boldlyreblog #tracked tag #about me

[kingdom-by-the-sea]

Perfect Fit

Summary- Exhaustion paired with a need for comfort may finally result in a confession of feelings

Warnings- Just Fluff

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count- 1.7k

A/N- Hi! This is my first time posting on tumblr so if there are any issues with formatting or anything strange that a newcomer might not notice, please let me. <3 

-----------------

After an exhausting and mentally draining case, it had all been too easy. They were both tired and desperate for the kind of comfort neither had waiting at home for them. There would be no warm embraces or gentle touches there. Only the dark void of an empty apartment. As soon as Y/N set foot in Spencer Reid’s apartment, it was all just a slow progression to the inevitable. Neither of them wanted to be alone, not after the case they had worked and not when being alone would stretch out a larger sense of emptiness in each of them. It had started with a glass of water, then sitting on the couch but once Spencer had gone to get something from his bedroom and Y/N had followed, all resistance began to unspool from the weak bonds that had been holding it back. 

Spencer sat on the bed head in his hands, looking up at the sound of footsteps entering. His smile was soft and easy but there was no denying the exhaustion written across his face. 

“Hey…” he started, voice right with tiredness. 

She smiled back, lips pursing slightly as she lingered in the doorway, “You should go to bed… I’ll head home.”

“No-,” his heart clenched at her words, “Please… I just- I don’t want to be alone…. Stay with me?”

Spencer’s eyes were wide with hope and a hint of desperation, mirroring a loneliness Y/N recognized in herself. It was far too easy to feel alone with this job and the comfort of her best friend was impossible to resist.

She nodded in response and watched him stand and cross the room to his dresser digging in it for something. Once he found what he was looking for, he pulled a large shirt of soft material from the drawer and offered it to her, “Will this work?”

Her hands wrapped around the cloth feeling what she knew was material worn by years of Spencer sleeping in it.

“Yeah,” she breathed out quietly. 

“Do you want to change in the bathroom?” he gestured vaguely towards a door, “And I’ll change in here?”

She nodded again, a sleepy smile dancing on her lips. Once in the bathroom, Y/N pulled off the day’s heavy clothes, which seemed to be further weighed down by everything she and the others had been working on the past week. She left only her underwear before putting her arms through Spencer’s shirt and letting it settle around her. It was softer than she’d thought and Y/N was caught off guard by the wave of comfort that hit her. It was all so pleasantly mundane but it was perfect, as if this time with Spencer was sending rays of light into the darkest crevices of her heart. 

After a moment of contemplation, Y/N slowly eased open the door and saw Spencer settled on the bed in a shirt and pajama pants. He blinked slowly at her, looking over how his shirt fit on her much shorter frame. Momentarily, Y/N considered the situation, noting how the material of Spencer’s shirt only covered a few inches of her thighs but any resistance was quickly drowned out by exhaustion and the comfort of being in the same space as Spencer.

Carefully, she eased under the covers and into the bed next to her best friend. 

“Hi…” he whispered to her, eyes blinking slowly with exhaustion while he studied her face. 

“Hey,” she smiled up at him. Lying next to him was heaven and it was easy to settle into a pleasant comfort lying beside Spencer but it didn’t completely settle the restlessness in her body. 

“Spence…” she whispered, trying her best not to disturb the peaceful environment around them.

“Yeah…?”

“Do you- do you think-?” Y/N knew what she wanted to ask but struggled against the words regardless. Spencer’s gentle fingers brushed a hair from her face as he watched for her question, “Do you think you could hold me?”

Spencer blinked again, briefly amazed by her request before whispering back, “Sure, of course.”

They shifted slightly, finding where they fit together in each other. Y/N’s head rested against Spencer’s chest just below his chin and he held her close, arms wrapped around her body. Their limbs tangled together becoming something different and whole. 

Y/N fit into his arms better than he could have imagined. She was soft and sweet and for this beautiful moment she was his. Her hair pooled out across the pillow next to him. It smelled perfectly like flowers and lulled Spencer even further into this pleasant dream state. Her eyes blinked slowly, heavy with the weight of exhaustion. She rested her head on Spencer’s chest, inhaling the smell of soap and faint cologne and, in what was likely only her own imagination, old books. His arms around her seemed like heaven and she couldn’t remember a time when she had been more at peace. It was so right and she was so tired that she didn’t bother to question the logistics and complications of curling up in bed next to her best friend. 

“ Y/N,” Spencer whispered, eliciting a slight hum, “You are so pretty….”

Spencer’s voice carried the weight of his own exhaustion and his thumb was gentle as it traced over her cheek bone like he couldn’t help but make the observation. Y/N let out a soft chuckle. 

“You can’t even see me….” She muttered partially against his chest, melting into the soft material of his shirt. 

“There’s enough light,” he said softly, tired eyes watching her, “And even if it was completely dark you’d still be the prettiest girl in the world.”

She blinked up at him, watching his face for some kind of indication as to how she was meant to react. His features were softened by exhaustion but his unusually easy smile was impossible to miss. How could anyone expect her not to fall in love with this man? 

Y/N buried her face further into his chest and let out a heavy sigh as every complication came rushing back, cutting through her sleepy state. He wasn’t hers and she wasn’t his, regardless of how much they danced around the issue. Spencer was her best friend. There was no one in the world who made her as happy as he did, and maybe that was the problem. He was too good, too kind, and too loving to not fall head over heels for. For as much as she pretended, there was no way to misconstrue her feelings for Spencer as simply those of a close friend. She was fully and completely in love with him. 

Spencer traced circles on the bare skin of her shoulder, noticing the shift in Y/N. Then the tears came, wet and warm against the material of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N muttered, reaching a hand up to wipe the tears away from her face as she tried to roll away from him. 

He pulled her back to face him with a gentle force she easily could have resisted if she had wanted to but didn’t. It was too easy to fall back into the sweet comfort of his arms regardless of her current state. 

“Y/N?” Spencer asked with as serious an expression as he could muster after having been awake for nearly forty eight hours, “What’s wrong?”

“Spence,” she started slowly, momentarily bobbing her eyes up to look at him before glancing away again, “Do you ever wish that there was someone waiting for you to come home at the end of the day?”

Spencer was hit with a wave of emotion. He swallowed. He didn’t want someone waiting for him. He wanted the one person who made him feel whole and loved.

“Yeah,” he whispered, thoughts heavy, “Yeah, I do.”

Y/N nodded against his chest, eyes starting to well again, “That’s what I want. I just- I’m so tired of being alone. After everything we do all day I still come home to a dark empty apartment.”

“I want-” her face scrunched up as she struggled to find the right way to end her sentence, “I just want it.”

“Y/N,” he responded, desperate to say something even if he wasn’t sure what. Her face was so close to his and their limbs were tangled into one collective mess. There was so much Spencer wanted to say even if he couldn’t put it into words. Her name the only solace he could pull from the mess in his mind. “I just- I don’t know how to-”

“Spence,” she whispered up at him, brushing her fingers against his face in an attempt to ease his strain.

“I’m sorry- I can’t- I just- I need you to say it first,” his eyes were wide with fear and panic but he still leaned into the touch and feel of her.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head slightly, racking for the right words herself, “Say what-? How do I say all of that?”

Her face flushed and she looked up at his face, her own struggle evident, “That you’re the best person I know? That I love every minute I spend with you and still want more time? That I have been falling hopelessly in love with you since the moment we met?”

A haggard sigh left Spencer’s lips and a weight seemed to have been released from him, “I love you- I love you so much more than I could possibly articulate to you.”

All the discomfort rushed from her body and she was left simply in his arms with a new warmth in her heart. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t just say it,” Spencer confessed to her and the quiet night, “I have been trying to for months now and-”

“I know,” her hand found one of his and she threaded their fingers together, “Me too…”

His other hand came to rest on the side of her cheek, “Could- could I kiss you?”

Her smile was wide despite her exhaustion and heavy eyes, “Yeah…”

Spencer unwound his hand from hers so he could hold Y/N’s face in both his hands, as her arms wrapped around his body, hands meeting the bare skin of his back under his shirt. Their eyes met and Y/N watched Spencer mirror her smile, bright and happy as they both soaked up this perfect comfort. He was slow and careful this first time as he leaned in, knowing that he would have time for every other type of kiss with Y/N. As their lips met, they both melted together finding yet another way they both fit perfectly together. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #boldlyreblog

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Red Lips & Rosy Cheeks

Pairing: TA Spencer x Student Reader (She/Her)

Category: Smut & Angst (no minors)

Summary: Spencer Reid is a wallflower. But what happens to wallflowers when they’re invited to the dancefloor?

Content Warnings: Angst with Smut, Smut- Oral (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, hinted Sub Spencer, unprotected penetrative sex, mentions of ‘marking’

Word Count: 5,600

Prompt: “I feel so unsure, as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor.”

Author's Note: Congrats to @mercy-burning! You are one of the reasons I started posting on here. I adore your writing and am so happy for you 1 Year! Lots of love to you <3

Red Lips and Rosy Cheeks

He felt so out of place in his ill-fitting suit. His shiny shoes pinched his toes and his dark tweed jacket made him stick out in the sea of faculty twenty-five years his senior. Spencer’s no stranger to imposter syndrome and when it comes to big events like the annual end of year banquet, it comes back in full force. He tried his best to make small talk to the professors, from other departments, but his pride was stricken one too many times when the waiter at the open bar asked for his ID, but not his companions.

And just like that he was back in the halls of high school, ridiculed for his clothes, tormented for his family, teased for his youth. In his misguided optimism, Spencer would have expected that that kind of immaturity wouldn’t have followed him all the way to CalTech. He had hoped that it would have died in the dry Las Vegas desert. He wished he could bury his past, desert the undesirable attention. But, as it turned out, being the smartest person in any room, comes with its drawbacks.

Spencer, despite the weak start, finds himself enjoying the chatter of the banquet. The students from his chemistry class milled about, chatting happily with their classmates. A pang of jealousy hits Spencer’s heart as he watches them. He never got a ‘normal college’ experience. Being years younger and years wiser, he missed out on the parties and friendships. And now that his third PhD is completed, he’s ready to move on to the BAU with Agent Gideon. It’s a little terrifying to leave the comforts of academia. He’ll miss the quiet library and the familiar buildings with their hiding spots. But what he’ll miss more is the memories that he never got to make.

Just as another wave of self pity is about to hit Spencer, a twist catches him off guard. Y/N, a student from his chemistry class, walks over to him. Instantly, Spencer goes through a whirlwind of emotions. First, excitement because she’s walking over. Second, guilt because she’s his student. As unprofessional (and inexperienced) he is, he still can’t resist that the very thought of kissing her makes him a little more than hot under the collar.

“Good evening, Dr. Reid,” she says, smiling with her eyes as she approaches him, “You look like you’re having the time of your life,” she jokes, leaving Spencer stammering to come up with an answer.

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “I was actually thinking about slipping out. It’s not like anyone would miss me here, besides, I have to feed my cat” he offers, taking in just how breathtaking she looks. He doesn’t even have a cat, but he’s known for quite awhile that all his intelligence floods out his ears when he’s talking with Y/N.

“That’s a bummer,” Y/N says, her eyes twinkling as she sets down her drink on the empty table to her right, “I was here to ask you to dance,”

“Yes,” Spencer says, cutting her off at the end with his unadulterated enthusiasm, “I mean, if it’s okay with you. Well of course it is, you asked me,” he backtracks, internally cringing at his word vomit.

“What about your cat?” she says, the levity of her voice telling Spencer that she’s teasing him. She holds her hand out, extending him a piece of her to grab onto. He wants nothing more than to clasp her hand in his and never let go.

“I don’t know why I said that,” Spencer confesses, taking her steady hand in his shaky one, “I’m nervous. I never danced with a girl before,”

“You’re cute,” Y/N says, holding his hand as they walk towards the dance floor. Spencer is grateful for the cover of the dimly lit ballroom. Otherwise, she’d see his rosy cheeks. He doesn’t think she’d laugh at his reaction, but the doubtful side of Spencer urges him to act with caution, “I’m glad you’re staying,” she whispers into his ear.

He feels so unsure, as she takes his hand and leads him to the dance floor. The music thumps in his chest. He can feel his blood circulating throughout his body and he’s sure that he’ll end up having a heart attack from how fast the adrenaline moves through his system. And yet, as Y/N brings her hands to his shoulders and directs his hands to her waist, Spencer’s never felt more alive.

“See, you’re dancing with a girl for the first time,” she says into his ear. The music is so loud that her lips brush up against his ear for him to hear her, “It’s not that bad is it?” she asks, teasing him again.

“N-no,” Spencer says, still struggling to form sentences as her hands clasped around his neck. She sways to the beat to the music gracefully. He must be an eyesore, stumbling along clumsily, “It’s nice,”

“I’m glad, Dr. Reid,” she whispers, laying her head on his shoulder as the song changes to a slower ballad. Her hair tickles his nose and her flowery perfume makes his heart skip a beat, “I wanted to tell you something before you left,” she says.

“You don’t have to thank me, Ms. Y/L/N,” Spencer says, using her formal name, despite their less than formal closeness, “You’re a very bright student and it was my pleasure to help you throughout the semester. Your paper on Thermoelectric Materials had incredible insight. I was impressed, and proud, if I can say that,” Spencer says, letting his hands rest on her back as they continue to sway to the music.

“That’s not what I wanted to say, but I’ll admit, you being proud of me gives me butterflies,” she confesses, lifting her head from his shoulder to watch his facial expression.

“I-I,” Spencer stammers, his brain unable to compute what Y/N is insinuating, “I’m not sure what you mean, Y/N,”

“Is it really not that obvious?” she asks, fidgeting nervously with her fingers, “I mean, I brought you cookies like every tutoring session and I can’t help but stare at you in class. Spencer, I thought you knew and didn’t like me like that,”

Like her like that. Like her like that. Like her like that.

That little sentence tumbles around in Spencer’s mind as mind’s eye images of their time spent together flash before him. Countless hours spent sneaking glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. Lingering after class as she’d pack up her books so he could hold the door open as she walked to her next class. How had to contain his excitement when she asked him for private tutoring sessions, even though she was already at the top of the class.

Part of him wants to kick himself for not catching it; for being so caught up in his own supposed flaws that he didn’t see what was right before him. But another part, the hopeless romantic in him, wants to kiss her in front of everyone.

“I wanted to tell you before I graduated, and you’re moving onto bigger things,” she says, lifting her head from his shoulder. Warmth lingers in the spot where her head rested on his shoulder. Spencer can feel his pulse quicken when she looks at him again, a hopeful smiling playing on her lips.

“I’m glad you told me,” Spencer says, not wanting to drop her hand as they dance, even as the music stops, “Even though I’m leaving soon,” he adds, wishing that things could have been different.

“Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean you won’t remember me,” Y/N whispers, threading her fingers in his hair. Gone were the innocent glances and stolen stares. With the feeling of her fingers in his hair, Spencer was ready to trade it in for something much more salacious. And though he might stumble his way through it, he knew that once this night faded into nothing but longing memories of possibility, he’d never regret it, “You know this banquet hall has some unoccupied rooms, down the left. And I think we’re the only party here today,” Y/N says into his ear.

Her lips hit his skin again. From the corner of his eye, he can see her fiery red lips. When she first walked up to him, he had to avert his gaze. Something about her red lips and the promises they told reeled him in.

Spencer nods in response, not trusting himself to talk and reveal all the sweet, and surprisingly sinful things he’s thinking as they walk away from the dance floor. He feels so unsure, as she takes his hand and leads him away from the dance floor.

The music echoes throughout the otherwise silent hallways. Spencer’s shoes still pinch him in the toes and his tweed suit jacket is much too warm. He can feel his palms get sweatier as Y/N leads him down the hallways, looking for a room.

Spencer has only done this once before. It wasn’t love to the other person, though in his mind she was the only thing. It’s almost as if when he walks along the cushioned carpets and he looks from the ostentatious decor to Y/N’s sinfully red lips he’s seen this film before. But Spencer wants this to be different, even though they are simply fated to fall apart. He desperately wants them to have the only ending they aren’t allowed to get.

“This looks like a good spot,” Y/N says, turning to face him with a wicked smile, “There’s no lock, so don’t be too loud Dr. Reid,”

The tiny cupboard holds the banquet hall’s fancy linens and tablecloths, but it might as well be The Door of Death and Y/N the sinfully disguised Charon. She drags him through the threshold by his tie, showing no mercy.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Y/N says, as Spencer shuts the door behind them. She reaches up to pull down the lightbulb. The cupboard, like the banquet hall, is dimly lit, making Y/N’s face look ghostly. Her red lips and stunning eyes are the only signs of life in her otherwise haunted face. Spencer swears he hasn’t seen anyone so unabashedly beautiful.

“I always wondered what you’d be like, Doctor,”

His honorific slipping from her lips is too much. Spencer’s breath hitches as Y/N’s fingers cascade down his front. She looks like she’s enjoying watching him squirm. He wonders if it makes her feel powerful having him react to her touches as if he was attached to a string. Yet, as her face eclipses the lightbulb and her lips come to cover his, Spencer knows that anything else is futile. If she wants power, he’ll lose the meaning of will.

“Please kiss me,” Spencer says the desperation in his voice coming out in little puffs of air, “I need to have kissed you at least once,”

“You’re even cuter when you beg,” Y/N says, her cool affect short circuiting the synapses in his brain, “As much as I want to hear that, I think I want to kiss you more,”

His glasses fog up first. Then, he finally feels the pressure of their lips meeting. Spencer can feel her lipstick rub off on his lips as she glides over his mouth. Her fingers are knotted in his hair again, pulling him closer. Her kisses are controlled and thoughtful. As she moves across his jaw, Spencer hopes to himself that the lipstick will remain when their spark invientably extinguishes. He wants to commit her to memory. He hadn’t even left yet and he was missing her already.

“You’re good at that,” Y/N says, pulling away from the kiss. She rests her forehead against his. For a second Spencer lets himself breathe her in. He soaks in the smell of her hair, never wanting to forget how the sweet scent hits his nose, “Are you okay, Doc?”

Spencer licks his lips, hoping to taste the lingering lipstick. He doesn’t, which means he’ll just have to kiss her again. His voice, with Y/N so close and every fiber of his being lit on fire, is useless. Spencer wants to give her more of an answer than a small nod, afterall she does like it when he begs.

“God, yes,” Spencer says, chasing her lips. He’s been deprived too long, and in a short while, he’ll be deprived again. But this time for the rest of his life. Y/N’s eyes search his; looking for the slightest bit of doubt or regret. She must not find it because her lips are on his again.

He whimpers as her hands find their rightful place in his hair. Only when she starts to peel off his tweed jacket, does Spencer realize just how overheated he was getting. The door rattles when Y/N pushes him back against it, working her way down his jaw. He can feel her smile through the kisses. She leaves her crimson red mark on his skin, a physical symbol for his already tainted heart. Just to think, moments ago he was shaking with uncertainty as he danced with her.

She grabbed his hand, led him to the dancefloor and proceeded to whisk him away. It’s like a headrush, experiencing all those experiences he was desperate to live out.

“I knew you’d be so noisy,” Y/N says, undoing Spencer’s tie as he looks at her longingly, “Tell me if this is too much, promise?”

He nods, wondering what she could mean. Y/N holds his undone tie bunched in her hand. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what exactly she’s thinking of doing with it. Spencer gulps, the anticipation nearly killing him. If he’s honest with himself, he would bet money that she’ll kill him before the anticipation does.

“I did say you were too noisy,” she says again, smiling devilishly with the blood-red lips, “As much as I’d like to hear those cute little whimpers, I don’t think either of us want to get caught,”

Spencer nods his head, fully understanding Y/N’s intent. His eyes are wide with desire; he’s swimming in uncharted territory now. There’s no map to tell him the way when he’s backed up against the door with his former student offering to gag him with his tie as they…

“Yes,” Spencer says, “Please, just do something,” he begs, opening his mouth to let her stop the noises that he lets out.

“That’s right, Doc, good boys use their manners,” Y/N says coyly. She places his tie in his mouth. The texture of the silk hits his tongue. He can’t close his mouth, but if he really wanted to he would be able to remove it. He supposes that that’s the thrill of it all.

His whimpers sound even more pathetic through the fabric of his tie. Y/N looks to be enjoying herself. Compared to Spencer, with his disheveled hair and lipstick stained skin, she looks so put together. It’s not a secret who holds all the power, and Spencer wouldn’t want it any other way.

Sweetly, Y/N kisses Spencer’s forehead and nose, making him flush red in the cupboard. The sickly sweet moment ends as she drops to her knees. Spencer is a smart man. He knows that even though she’s on her knees, there’s no guessing who is listening to who.

As her fingers undo his belt, Spencer is grateful for the tie blocking out the moans of approval. His pants fall to his ankles. Y/N skims her finger around his underwear waistband, purposefully not giving into what he wants. As much as he likes her attention, Spencer feels himself grow more and more impatient with desire at her lack of attention. He squirms, standing against the door with his head thrown back.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this, baby?” Y/N asks, his heart skipping when he catches the name she used for him. He feels almost silly, blushing at being called ‘baby’ while her hands inch down his underwear, “Has anyone seen you come undone?”

The last time he found himself in this situation was 3 years ago. And, to everyone’s displeasure, it didn’t end, or rather, finish, with mutual satisfaction. Spencer, with the benefit of hindsight on his side, supposes that nearly everyone’s ‘first times’ are muddled with shaky hands and uncertainty.

He can’t speak through the makeshift gag and he swears that she’s doing it on purpose. Spencer wonders, as Y/N palms him through his underwear, if she knew the effect she always had on him. It’s different than when they’d meet late in the library for her totally unnecessary tutoring session. That was the daylight; this is the afterglow. The dim light bulb formed a halo around her head. She was angelic, but what she was about to do to him was nothing short of devilish.

“Then you’re all mine,” she says, mercifully reaching a hand into his underwear. She smiles from down below, her lips curving as she watches him react to her. He wanted nothing more than to let his guard down.

Letting her drag him out to the dancefloor was the first drop into the bucket. And like one of those Rube Goldberg Machines, Spencer knows what’s next. He’ll, for the first time he can remember, let control go. He’ll take all that insecurity that he held in the palm of his hand and discard it. It was probably gone the moment she told him she liked him afterall.

“You know, as much as I don’t want to get caught. I think I need one last chemistry lesson, Doctor Reid,” she asks him, before finally giving into what he wants. Her delicate finger brushes over his erection. Her wicked smile and scarlet lips make her look like everything sinful personified. She holds her hand with her palm extended for Spencer to spit the tie-gag out. He trusts her, but is still apprehensive on how a chemistry lesson tracks.

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” she cooes, her hands not touching him as he squirms with frustration, “If only everyone could see the smart Dr. Reid all dumb like this. I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you,”

Her mocking tone shouldn’t make him more eager, but it does. In some kind of twisted reaction, it only makes Spencer want her more. His breathing, as she wraps her hand loosely around his cock, hitches with yearning. Something about her eyes spells out desire. It draws him in, but reminds him that he’s only allowed one taste before it’s all gone. She’s a sinful Cinderella. Or maybe he’s Cinderella, because Y/N’s certainly charming.

“Y/N, please. I need more. It feels too good,” Spencer pants. He knew that that moment she dragged him onto the dancefloor he was fucked. But now with her touching him with her pants down to his ankles, fucked can’t even begin to describe the situation.

“Tell me, Doctor Reid,” she starts, her saccharine voice and Cheshire smile leaves him mesmerized, “What are the chemicals associated with sexual gratification?”

Blank. His mind is blank. All that he can see is red. Her red lips painted a deadly crimson. All he can feel is red. His cheeks burning red with need.

“Uh, um,” Spencer starts, closing his eyes to concentrate, “Lust is estrogen and testosterone and attraction is dopamine, serotonin, and norephedrine. Those are the chemicals associated with sexual gratification. It’s an evolutionary development,”

“Good boy,” Y/N says, fully knowing the effect that those two little words have on him. His heart races, his pupils expand, his entire body tenses.

It’s science.

Spencer opens his eyes just in time to watch Y/N take his cock into her mouth. He wishes that she didn’t take the tie out of his mouth. There’s no stopping the round of moans and whimpers that leave his mouth. Her tongue is soft against him, her mouth warm and inviting. Spencer knows it’s scientifically impossible, but he thinks that a part of his brain has died.

“Y/N, oh god, Y/N. That feels so good, please.” he begs. The words leaving his mouth without much thought or consideration.

He doesn't seem like he’s forcing her, but he needs to grip his hand onto something. Lightly he rests his hands in her hair, holding as gently as he possibly can. He feels Y/N moan around his cock as she continues flicking her tongue around him. The vibrations cause more throaty moans to creep out. He feels like he is on fire. Nothing lasts forever, but this is going to take him down.

She releases him from her mouth, running her finger along his tip. The sensation makes him shiver and his reactions make her smirk. Spencer, unsure how much more he can take, feels embolden. He helps Y/N pull, practically hauling her to her feet with all his might.

Unlike the kiss prior, Spencer is sure of himself. He kisses her with an intense ferocity. Her lipstick, between kissing him before and what had just happened, had worn off quite a bit. The remnants leaving Spencer’s skin marked up for all Y/N’s glory.

“Looks like you enjoyed that,” Y/N says, licking her lips with a self-satisfied grin as Spencer nods his head frantically, “I did too,”

And as if the corners of his mouth were pulled up by invisible strings, Spencer smiles. He leans forward again, kissing Y/N. She seems surprised, but enthusiastic at his initiation. Spencer wants nothing more than to melt into the kiss. He wants to let it wash over him again and again. He wants to be able to memorize the feel of his lips kissing every inch of his skin, because soon it will all be gone. She’ll be nothing, but a memory that will haunt his dreams and invade his thoughts.

“You can taste yourself on me can’t you, Dr. Reid?” Y/N says, “You want to feel how wet that makes me?”

As if it was possible, Spencer’s cheeks burn at Y/N’s crude words. She takes his hand in her hand, bringing it up to her mouth. And as she looks at him, straight in the eyes, Spencer isn’t sure if he should avert his gaze.

“Yes,” Spencer says, immediately agreeing to whatever it is that she wants. It doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll give it to her without hesitation, “Please, whatever you want,”

“You’re an even better student than teacher, darling,” Y/N says softly, kissing Spencer’s index finger from the knuckle to the tip before slipping it into her mouth. Just as she sucked him moments before, she welcomes his finger into her mouth. This time, Spencer gets a better view of how the eyes refuse to look anyway, but his.

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer says, uncharacterisitcally swearing, “Y/N, you’re going to kill me,” he murmers under his breath.

She releases his finger from her mouth; a trail of spit attaching the tip of his finger to her soft red lips. Some of her lipstick rubbed off on his finger, another piece of him marked by her.

“I had to get you nice and wet for me,” she says, “Come on, baby. Don’t you want to touch me?”

“Yes,” Spencer says, his hand shaking, evident with anticipation, “I want to make you feel good too,”

Noticing his nerves, Y/N guides his hand lower. She bunches up her dress to her waist, revealing her underwear. Now nothing is left to his imagination. Spencer can hear the faint music through the door. The speakers boom loud and louder, or maybe that’s just his heart about to take flight.

Finally, he touches her. He feels just how wet sucking him off had made her. If anything, he’s very observant. He uses his natural skill to figure out just what Y/N likes. He circles her entrance with his index finger. His mind and hands working together to pull out the most beautiful noises from her. Y/N holds his wrist tightly, making sure he continues to rub circles on her clit.

In a moment of tenderness that will make his head spin for years to come, Y/N places her hand against Spencer’s cheek. He continues to rub circles around her clit, placing slightly more pressure to make the sensation more intense. She kisses his forehead, whispering words of encouragement as he continues to pump in and out with another finger.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. You’re going to make me come,”

Prompted by her sweet words and even sweeter kisses, Spencer whimpers in response. He can feel her constrict around his finger. And he’s read enough scientific articles on the female orgasm to understand what this means. He wants to feel her come undone at his hands. He wants to feel her desire for him so he’ll be able to hold onto the memory.

“I’m so close,” Y/N whispers, so quietly that Spencer is sure a ghost whispered it, “So close,”

Whines and strangled moans filled the room. Spencer can tell that Y/N is trying to be quiet as she comes. A part of him wonders how loud she would have behn if they did this in a bedroom, not in a storage office at a university banquet. Even though she holds back, she’s still beautiful as she climaxes.

“God, you are so beautiful, Y/N,” Spencer says, peppering her cheeks and collarbones with sweet kisses. He means it. The words. The kisses. He means every word of it. She is beautiful.

Spencer knows that he must be a sight. His lips feel swollen from Y/N bitting kisses. His skin is littered with bruising kisses and lipstick stains. And his hair. He’s always had trouble controlling it, but in the heat of the small storage room, he’s sure his hair is wild and messy.

Yet, just as he looks at Y/N like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Her eyes mirror his. She studies him, and he’s filled with the hope that she’ll remember him, even her wildest dreams.

“I want to fuck you now,” she licks her lips, her controlled exterior tarnished with the soft look she gives him. From his position facing the table, they are eye to eye. He holds out his hands, letting them hover over her waist as she sits on the table.

“I want to remember this forever,” Spencer says, his words coming out more earnestly than he expected, “My only regret is waiting so long for you,”

“It’s okay,” she says, bringing him in closer. His breath hitches as his cock brushed up against her soft thigh, “We’ll make it count for today,”

She reaches down, taking his cock into her hands and lining him up. Spencer’s labored breathing grows desperate. He’s positive that he can feel every cell in his body singing with lust. He moves closer, pushing himself inside her.

It’s like time has stopped. He can hardly breathe. His mouth hangs open and he rests his forehead against Y/N’s. She kisses his nose, the only part of him her lips can reach.

“I knew you’d feel so good inside of me,” she says, her words sticking to him like glue.

Her words are the encouragement that he needs to start moving. His thrusts are slow and untimely. He tries his best to mirror Y/N’s controlled and throughout movements, but he’s nothing but a poor intimation.

Her lips, messy and red, whisper sweet nothings that he’ll treasure like love letters for years to come. He’s a mess of emotions as she continues to claw at him in pleasure. His whimpers and her moans fill the room.

Spencer tries his best to have a coherent pace as he continues to thrust. Y/N meets him halfway, moving and constricting around Spencer as he’s buried deep inside her. She guides his hand to her clit, wordlessly telling him what she needs. Spencer’s happy to listen, wanting to do anything to please her.

“You are an eager little slut,” she whispers, the dirty words painting his cheeks as red as her lips once were, “My eager little slut,”

That little word is what makes him lose it, but the next sentence is truly what ends him.

“Be a my good boy and ask for permission”

“God, Y/N,” Spencer says, his voice raising an octave as he feels like he’s never felt in his life, “Please, I’m going to come, please,” he begs. It comes full circle. Her red lips smiles wickedly as he begs for permission. He’s eating out of the palm of her hand, and there’s no other way he’d rather do it.

“Since you’re such an eager slut, make me come first and then I might consider it,” she offers, leaving Spencer scrambling to help her reach her climax.

His nimble fingers rub circles around her clit and his lips leave no spot on her skin untouched. He kisses her enough for a lifetime. Though, if they were together, a lifetime would not be nearly enough. Her hands are in his hair, twisting and tugging in pleasure.

“That’s it, darling, that’s it,” she says, chasing her release as Spencer doesn’t relent, “Such a good boy,”

He feels his heart skip at the praise. He’d need nothing more but that for the rest of his life.

Spencer groans as she comes while he’s inside her. Her legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to her. His eyes meet her eyes and Spencer never felt more at home. He’s sure it’s the cocktail of hormones and her being so close that makes him want to pretend that this can last forever. She’ll haunt his hindsight, he’ll see them in flashbacks tangled up like they are now. Her hands knotted in his hair and her lipstick marked him as hers.

A chorus of thank yous, pleas of pleasure, and chants of her name slip from his lips as Spencer reaches his climax. His brain turns to mush as he pulls out, his release sticking to Y/N’s thighs. Spencer rests his head against Y/N’s shoulder, concentrating on his breathing. She gently rubs her hand against his back, holding him close. She kisses his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

“It was worth the wait,” she says, her voice low as Spencer feels himself come back to Earth. Her legs unwrap from his waist and she looks around for something to wipe herself up with. She finds a linen, looks at it, and then look back at Spencer, “I think I’ll have to steal this,”

Her deadpan humor forces a wry chuckle from Spencer.

“I suppose so,” he says, his tone sounding even more unsure than he was when she brought him out to dance, “I’m fine,” he says, because he knows that question is coming. He takes the linen from her hands, cleaning her legs up. He crumbles it up, giving it back to her to slip in her bag.

“You sure,” she says, “Because we can stay here for a couple more seconds if that's what you want. I want make sure you feel good, Spencer,”

If it was only seconds with her that he needed. But he shakes his head, pretending to be okay when he’s anything but.

“I’m all good,” he says, “Just not used to hooking up in linen closets,”

“Really?” Y/N teases, her smile playful. She reaches out, kissing Spencer. He accepts it gleefully, treating it like it's the last time they’ll kiss, because it very well might be, “Please don’t forget me, Dr. Reid,”

Her voice is sincere as if there is a true possibility of him forgetting her. Not even if he could, would he. She’ll remain as fresh in his mind as she did the very first time they met. Memories of her touch, her smell, her taste will haunt him like footsteps. It’s a blessing and a curse to never forget her.

He takes her hand in his, kissing her fingers before bringing them to his heart.

“Never,”

“Good,” she says, kissing his forehead one last time. She jumps off the table, adjusting her dress and fixing her hair.

Grabbing her bag, she opens the door only to close it again. She turns, facing Spencer. Y/N walks over to him, her fingers holding him so tight the lipstick stains will have bruises to match. He kisses her back.

“I had to do that one last time,” she whispers, turning her back to him. It’s the last glimpse of her he’ll ever get. Her eyes marred with tears, her lips messy with red lipstick, her skin burning with passion.

The door shuts, leaving him alone in the dark. He can hear his heartbeat and it sounds lonely without hers. His heart will break again and again. He’ll fall in love and out of love over and over. Someone will swoop in and glue fractured pieces together. But the cracks will show. The missing slivers will never let him look the same again.

Spencer will miss her like he misses the sunset when he watches the sunrise. And can only hope that she’ll miss him like she misses the sunrise as the sunsets. His heart will mend again, but he’ll dream of it being broken by the same hand if that means she can love him for real.

As he slips out of the closet, checking both ways, his heartbeats for the one he can’t have. Every pang the soundtrack to the life they will never share together.

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Forever Composed of Nows

Summary: Spencer continues a tradition and asks an important question.

Word Count: 2.6K

CW: Kissing, marriage

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader )

Author's Note: This is for @spenceyre fic challenge! Love you to the moon and to Saturn, Rose!! I hope you enjoy this little fic! I really appreciate any and all reblogs, likes, and comments. I WANT to know what you think!!

Join my Taglist │ Masterlist │Tell Me What You Think Here

Forever Composed of Nows

Spencer runs his fingers along the spines of the books, searching for the perfect book. His eyes race past the titles; non-fiction, fiction, romance, horror, self-help, and sci-fi collect on the walls. Hundreds of titles stick out in his mind, yet none of them are perfect enough for him to bring home. He knows that he’s being picky, but he also knows that he has to be picky. It’s become a ritual of sorts, each time that Spencer goes away, he comes home with a book for Y/N. He’ll fill the pages with the ideas that float around in his head as he reads on the plane. Between the lines of pages, Spencer can be as brave and as brazen as he always desires to be.

“Come on, Reid,” Derek says, getting annoyed at Spencer’s excursion to the used bookstore, “I really can’t believe that I let you drag me out of a club to go book shopping,” he says, leaning against the shelves of biographies.

“Almost done, Morgan,” Spencer answers, not really paying attention to Derek. The books, all different sizes and conditions, line the walls with their histories and stories. The last book he brought home was Age of Innocence, which, he’ll admit, wasn’t the best book to make sweet notes in the margins, “I just need to find the perfect book,” he mumbles.

“I don’t know why you do this every time. Shouldn't you like to be able to just memorize the book?” Derek asks, flipping through a battered copy of Breakfast of Champions, “This is a good one,” he suggests, tossing the book Spencer’s way. Spencer clumsily attempts to catch the book, but it falls to the ground with a flop.

“I was thinking something a little more, uh, romantic than Vonnegut, Derek, but thanks,” Spencer says, replying with a straight faced smile as he turns around to look for his book. But before he can even turn around, Spencer feels Derek’s hand on his shoulder.

“Romantic?” he asks, a stunned expression on his face. Perpetually the “baby” of the team, Spencer has grown frustrated at the team’s constant teasing about his lack of romantic partners. Which was part of the reason he decided that he didn’t want his co-workers knowing about his relationship. The other part just wanted to have his personal life and work separated. He’s seen what it did to Hotch and that’s the last thing that he wants to happen to Y/N.

“Yeah, uh,” Spencer says, trying to sound nonchalant, “I have a girlfriend,” he confesses, the term still feeling strange on his lips even though loving Y/N is the most natural thing in the world, “Her name’s Y/N and each time we go on a case, I get her a book,” Spencer explains, feeling his face burn as he speaks so fondly of his person.

“That’s very sweet, Reid,” Derek says softly, smirking at the unsure look Spencer gives him, “come on, dude, you don’t think I can be romantic,” he scoffs, “you have a lot to learn, Pretty Boy,”

“I have to say, I think I’m doing very well for myself,” Spencer answers cockily, drawing his attention back to the stacks of books, “Y/N thinks so at least,” he says, more to himself than to Derek.

“When can we meet her?” Derek asks, “I mean the way you’re talking and this whole book thing, it doesn’t seem like a hookup or anything that’s going to end anytime soon. Don’t you think it’s time that I meet someone who’s got you unable to find a book?” he teases, “I got to make sure she’s good enough for my baby brother,” he says, putting a comforting hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“How’s tomorrow,” Spencer asks, tucking a book under his arm as he and Derek walk towards the counter to pay, “and I’ll set it to you straight, she’s perfect for me,”

***

Each time he pulls into her driveway, he’s more and more grateful that he made it home to her in one piece. It also has the reverse effect, each time he pulls out of her driveaway, Spencer is even more terrified that he won’t make it home to her in one piece. He knows that she can say one word and he’ll leave this world behind forever if it means that he’ll get to spend it by her side in one piece.

He shuts off the engine, sitting in the car quietly, focusing on his breathing. No matter how many times he comes home, it doesn’t get any easier to stop himself from practically running to the door. Spencer, shoving his satchel over his shoulder, slams his car door. He bounces up the steps to Y/N’s small house, despite not sleeping for days he has the energy of an Olympian. Before he can even unlock the door with his key, the wind is knocked out of him.

Spencer closes his eyes, nestling his head into Y/N’s neck. His arms are tightly around her upper body, but he’s not able to get close enough to her. Their hearts beat so fast and so hard it’s impossible to tell whose is whose. But that doesn’t matter, because as far as Spencer’s concerned only one is beating. His heart, afterall, belongs to Y/N. He separates from her, despite every fiber in his body yelling at him to keep holding her close to his chest. It’s really an involuntary movement for him when his hands go to her face, cupping her cheek in his palms.

“Spencer,” Y/N says, and in that one word she says everything, “I missed you,” she says quietly, twisting to kiss his palm.

They stand there in the doorway, his hand on her cheek and her lips on his palm. He forgets the deep fears that take hold him, fears of never doing this again, fears of becoming a stranger to the only person he’s sure knows every part of him.

“Did you?” He says, walking forward and dropping his hand from her cheek. Like an impressive dance move, his arms wrap around her waist. Y/N shuts the door behind him, pressing him up against the door before he can even realize it, “because I don’t think you really did,” he teases. Spencer smiles cheekily, when the hallway light darkens on her face. It’s eclipsed as Y/N’s face nears his.

He’s laughing too much for the kiss to be perfect, but that’s okay. If everything goes right tonight is just one night of the ‘nows’ that adds up to forever. Y/N nearly misses his face, but saves herself by firmly grabbing Spencer’s collar. Their noses bump against each other clumsily in an uncoordinated dance in which only they know the choreography. Each time he breathes out, Y/N giggles. Her breath against his cheek doesn’t just tickle, it electrifies him. He’s shaking with anticipation, and doesn’t complain when she finally breaches the gap between them.

In Spencer’s mind, kissing is a science. It’s a chain reaction that produces chemicals in the brain. He’s willing to be a test subject for the effects of dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin on the brain, but he knows that the true test is what it does to the heart. No matter who many times they’ve carried out this little experiment, Spencer still finds himself shy and nervous. Sweaty palms and chattery teeth are akin to dirty beakers and finicky flames. She must realize that he’s grown shy because Spencer feels her hand tug the back of his head, pulling him into her.

“See,” she says, with him still firmly backed up against the door, “I did miss you,” Y/N beams, panting Spencer on the cheek suggestively.

“I really missed you,” Spencer says, following her into the living room, “So much,” he mumbles, tugging off his sneakers and tossing them before he plops down on the floor. His back rests against the front of the couch and he leans his head back to rest it in Y/N’s lap. She sits behind, running her hands through her hair, silently knowing that he can’t just yet talk about the case. But it’s more than enough, she’s more than enough, and she makes him feel like more than enough a thousand times over.

Spencer, realizing that he left his bag in the hallway, attempts to stand up, but is pushed down by a stubborn Y/N, who hardly lets him lift a finger the night he gets home from long cases.

“Sit back down, what do you need?” She asks, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning over his shoulder, “I’ll grab it, Spence,”

“My satchel,” he answers, “and don’t look in the bag because I have something in there for you,” he remembers her, even though she probably knows by now that he’ll have a book for her. Passing him, Y/N ruffles through his hair and Spencer can’t help but smile. He catches his reflection in the mirror. It’s always interested him, the word reflection, he looks at himself smiling, happy, loved. His reflection reflects what he feels, loved and happy and so content that it hurts his heart and cheeks to keep smiling.

Y/N comes back, but this time she sits down next to him on the floor. With the bag between them, Spencer reaches out with a glimmer in his eye. He’s grown to love this little ritual between the two of them. It’s made the constant distance and traveling easier on both of them.

“Ready?” Spencer asks, failing to wiggle his eyebrows, but succeeding with a self-satisfied smirk that still makes Y/N leave over and kiss him, “I guess I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, brushing his lips against hers as he speaks.

“You’re something else, baby,” Y/N says, nodding for him to continue. He hands her the book, this time a battered copy of famous sonnets. The front cover is a peaceful looking field with bushes and flowers that lazily grow and grow. She runs her fingers over the cover, looking up at Spencer.

“Read to me?” she asks, a whisper above the hum of her refrigerator, “please, I miss your voice so much when you’re gone, Spence. I wish I could just bottle it up like perfume and have you with me all the time,” she says, not waiting for him to answer. She pushes the book of collected poems into his hands and situates herself so her back rests against his chest.

Sitting on the floor with his long legs extended out, Spencer kisses the back of her head. He opens the page to the particular poem he wrote all over on the plane ride home. Just as Y/N knows him better than anyone else in the world, he knows her better. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know that though, he just has to love her.

Kissing her shoulder, Spencer starts to read:

Forever — is composed of Nows —

‘Tis not a different time —

Except for Infiniteness —

And Latitude of Home —

From this — experienced Here —

Remove the Dates — to These —

Let Months dissolve in further Months —

And Years — exhale in Years —

Without Debate — or Pause —

Or Celebrated Days —

No different Our Years would be

From Anno Domini’s —

He can smell her hair as he reads and recognizes himself in scent. Spencer remembers Y/N asking what kind of shampoo he uses. She says that she likes it, but maybe she likes it because it reminds her of him. Their hands touch as he holds the book open and her legs rest against his. He’s so aware of her body against his, not in a desirable way, but in a way that makes him think she was made to sit here against his chest.

“So, tell me what you thought,” Y/N says, turning her head against Spencer’s chest, “this is always my favorite part, Spence,” she says as she wraps her arms around his waist tightly. The pressure comforts him, grounding him as he starts to talk.

“Is it cheesy to say all I could think of is you, Y/N,” Spencer says, mumbling into her hair, “All these small moments I get with you, mornings where you sneak out of bed to make coffee, kisses before I leave for cases, right now,” Spencer say, rubbing his hands up and down Y/N’s arm, “all these ‘nows’ they add up to forever, our forever,”

“Forever with you will never be enough,” she says, her voice muffled as she talks into his chest. Spencer lays the book down on the floor by their knees. Soon it will find a home among the others, a soundtrack to their shared life and filled with the memories they haven’t yet made, “but it will have to do,” she tells him, meeting his eyes in warm, yellow light.

“There’s another poem in here,” Spencer says, chasing the sliver of bravery that he feels, “in the book, I mean,” he clarifies, grabbing the book and placing it in her lap. Spencer flips to the very last page of the book, his sloppy scrawl is hardly legible, but it doesn’t matter because he has every word memorized.

She knows, because of course she does.

“Spence,”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Y/N. I love you so much and it shocks me- it’s overwhelming how much you love me. I always thought that I was too much. Too much for my mom to handle, too much to have friends, too much for my team. But you,” Spencer says, stuttering on the words he had ingrained in his mind, “with you, you’ve changed me,”

He’s crying now, but he knew that there was no way that he’d make it through asking her this without crying. Y/N turns around so she’s on her knees holding Spencer’s tear stained face in her hands. Tenderly she wipes away the tears that stream down his face. Her eyes search his face, looking at him so intensely that Spencer blushes.

“You’ve changed me,” he repeats, “You make me feel like I’m worthy—”

“I love you, Spencer, but you can’t put my favorite person down like that. Not when you’re asking me the only question I’ve ever needed to hear,” she says, “So ask me, ask me again, but don’t say anything bad about the man I’m going to marry,”

“Will you spend forever with me, Y/N?” he asks, grabbing her hand with his shaking one. He takes out the little velvet box, revealing a ring, one that’s been in his pocket for 683 days. Spencer’s shaking so much that Y/N has to steady him to put the ring on her finger.

She rests her head under his chin and their extended legs touch. He twists around her, sitting up on his elbows, to kiss her. Their kisses are hardly ever perfect. Usually it’s too much time spent apart to contain themselves. But this time, Spencer kisses her without hesitation. Every single fiber in his body moves as one as his right hand rests on her cheek and his left hand on her waist.

He catches himself in the reflection from the fireplace. Their bodies are distorted in the golden mirror, but in Spencer’s eyes they look perfect. Y/N sighs contently, grabbing his hand with her hand that wears the ring. It twinkles in the reflection.

“Till forever falls apart,” Y/N says, holding his hand steady, “and then some,”

Spencer doesn’t need a mirror to recognize his reflection and to know that he’ll watch these hundreds of imperfect nows add up to a perfect forever. In her arms, they’re painted golden, glimmering forever and then some.

Taglist

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Body and Soul

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 2.5 K

CW: Dom Spencer/Sub Reader, Fingering, Light Choking, Degradation, Aftercare at the end (please let me know if I missed anything)

*Also, let's pretend that Gideon didn't die at the cabin, because that kind of ruins the mood for Spencer*

It was Spencer's idea to get away from the bustle and overall busyness of your lives. Between your job at the publishing company and Spencer traveling all over the country, you hardly got alone time anymore. Lately, it seems like the only time you even get to talk is when Spencer stumbles into bed, exhausted from grading papers after cases that seem to last an entirety. He'll kiss your cheek, and, if you're lucky maybe he'll pull you in close and you'll fall asleep to

He must have noticed your worry about him, or rather realized his own worry for you. A vacation is what he suggested to get some alone time. In the five years that you and Spencer have been together, he's taken a vacation all of three times. Two of which he was laid up in the hospital and the other was for his thirtieth birthday. He's not used to resting, but if there's one thing you'll do this week, it's make your boyfriend rest.

Watching Spencer read from your spot on the plush armchair, you start to put your plan into place. When he wasn't looking, you grabbed his dark gray cardigan from the bed in the room over. Slipping it on over your bra and underwear, you waited for Spencer to notice. The thing is, it shouldn't take long; he's rather observant. But nothing, not even his girlfriend wearing his cardigan (and only his cardigan) can distract him from a large stack of books. He's run through dozens of books already and you're convinced that he's going to get a sore neck from looking down all day.

You're the one that should be sore, you think to yourself, shifting in your seat.

It's taking too long, and it's been too long, so you're taking matters into your own hands. The sound of knocking down the stack of books on the coffee table makes Spencer's neck snap up, finally looking at you. It takes all of two seconds for him to react and watching his reaction is priceless.

"What are you doing?" he asks, sounding annoyed, but you know it's under false pretenses.

"The question actually is, Spencer, is what should you be doing?" you ask, kicking your legs over the arms of the chair as the cardigan slips down your shoulders, revealing the lacy purple bra strap.

"You're dangerous," Spencer whispers, finally putting down the book. You could scream with relief, but you know that that will be coming later, "very dangerous,"

He stalks over, his tall frame casting shadows on your face. Spencer's standing right in front of you and his long fingers lift up your chin, forcing you to look at him in the eyes. He smirks, knowing all too well that you're already putty in your hands.

"I think it's more dangerous to ignore me, sir," you say, bating your eyes at him pulling him closer by his belt hoops.

"You're playing a dangerous game, my dear," he whispers, his thumb running across your lips. Emboldened by the promise of him all over you, you slip his thumb into your mouth, sucking and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"You make me feel good, sir," you say, holding onto his hand and slipping his thumb out of your mouth, "please,"

"You've become so needy, so needy," Spencer tuts, crouching down on his knees in front of you, "wearing my cardigan, dressing like a fucking whore. For what? For my attention?" he asks, his hands moving so fast over your body you feel dizzy.

"Please," you whine, already falling apart at the seams, "please,"

"I've hardly touched you. You're a mess already," Spencer says, "But it's okay," he says, his voice going soft as his hands caress your face, "I haven't been doing my job,"

You must have looked at him in with a confused look on your face, because the next thing you know, he's kissing your cheeks softly. His stubble is rough against your soft skin. The contrast makes you whimper and cave into Spencer's deceptively strong body. You don't have to be a genius to know that you neck and collarbone will be littered with angry, red marks. It's been so long and he feels so good, it's almost too much. Suddenly, you're very warm. You twist out of Spencer's grip, stopping his attack on your neck.

Shrugging off the cardigan, Spencer stops you immediately. He forces it to stay on, as he kisses down your clothed arms all the way to your fingertips.

"No," he tells you, "keep it on," he says, lacing your fingers in his and squeezing in a moment of tenderness.

"Yes sir," you say, half joking, "God, I missed this," you whine, loosing yourself in the way his lips brush against your knuckles. He's on his knees for you, but you both know well you're the one who's begging.

"So beautiful, so beautiful like this," Spencer coos, leaning back on his heels to watch to writhe on the chair. If he keeps up the pace, you're sure to just finish on the couch, before heading to the bedroom, and the kitchen, and the library, and the backyard and the....

"You with me, Y/N. Baby," Spencer says, whispering against your neck, his tone more serious and less commanding, "You good, love?"

"Mm, good," you whimper, trying to get closer to Spencer, as close as possible. All you want to do is touch him, skin to skin, soul to soul, "So good, for you," is all you can make out when all you can think of his him.

"Yeah," Spencer says, standing up to his full height, he towers over you and if you could focus on anything but his veiny hands, you would be on your knees in an instant, "I love you, Y/N. And I'm sorry it's been so long," he says, brushing his hand over your hair.

You nod, feeling the tears sting your eyes as Spencer wipes them away, "I'm good, I just love you so much," you say, heart beating to the silent rhythm of a dance that you know the moves to.

"So desperate," Spencer whispers, teasing his fingers over your collarbone, down to your breasts, over your stomach. They tingle on your skin, a golden tattoo permanently etched into your skin, "All mine,"

His words are a drug, he's your drug that you'll use for the rest of your life. You don't even realize that you hands are shaking as you try to undo Spencer's belt buckle, until his more steady ones cover your trembling ones. The touch is the gentlest you've ever been held. He touches you like you're something precious and delicate. In his eyes your are, in his eyes you're everything.

"No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” Spencer whispers, grabbing you by the hands, standing you up, "go into the bedroom, love," he says, his hand on your lower back, guiding you to the bedroom silently.

"Let me make you feel good," Spencer says, this time he's the one begging, this time he's the one on his knees. His eyes are wide, and his hands are eager as he slips off your underwear.

It's been so long, too long, but again, you never forget to ride a bike. And this, this is just like that. He knows your body like it’s his, listening to your whimpers and moans as his fingers run over your stomach, inches from where you want him the most.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer requests, moving strands of hair from you face, “tonight is about you,” he says, kissing your collarbones, down your chest and all over your stomach.

“I want you, please, please Spencer,” you whimper, desperation increasing by tenfold as he doesn’t relent, “I need you,”

“I know,” Spencer says, running a long finger up inside you. He pumps in and out, you’re already soaked before he even took of your underwear. You try to contain the moans that flutter from your mouth as his thumb grazes your clit. He teases, never giving enough with his fingers or mouth.

“Ugh, Spence,” you cry out, tugging on his hair as his head lowers dangerously close, his tongue lapping up your wetness, “Spencer,”

“I know, sweet girl,” Spencer says, his breath hot on your thighs is so much, too much and all you can think about his how close you are, “I know, let me make you feel good, love,” he whispers, tightening his grip on your thighs as he continues to eat you out.

He is relentless, his rough fingers moving in and out as his tongue flicks against your clit. You feel the pressure build, moving closer and closer to the edge. Spencer nips and kisses the skin of your soft thighs. If you weren’t so distracted by him, you might have noticed the quiet, almost inaudible sigh he lets out as he continues to kiss and nip and tease. You tug at his hair, gripping him like you’re hanging on for dear life.

His pace is brutal and relentless and it’s nothing short of sucking the life out of you. He’s so in tune with your body, knowing the signs of your impending release the he stops to look up at you.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart? I am making you feel good?” Spencer asks, his patronizing, condescend tone making your heart flutter. His chin is slick with your release, making his pink lips glisten in the dim light. If you could even think straight for more than a minute, you’d make a mental note to make sure he wears his glasses next time

“So good, so good,” you pant, “I need more,” you whine, tugging on his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself as his lips glide against yours. He dominates the kiss with his hands tangled up in your hair and his body hovering over yours. You can feel him smirk against your lips, relishing in the pathetic moans that you can’t control.

“Yeah, I’ve made you into a desperate whore, I haven’t I,” Spencer says, his right hand wrapping around your throat and his left hand going to tease your clit, “I’ve neglected my little whore. Don’t worry, darling,” he muses, adding pressure to his grip on your throat, “you’ll be very satisfied later,”

There’s nothing you can do, Spencer’s body covers yours. Above everything, you probably like the feeling of his body over yours more than anything, but he makes it hard to think with his hand rubbing circles on your clit and his other hand squeezing your throat.

“Oh god,” you pant, as he lets go of your throat, he’s quick with his fingers, still rubbing and pumping in and out, never relenting.

He stands up, suddenly ridding you of any contact. You feel empty and you look up at Spencer wondering what he has in store. He looks down at you, fiddling with his belt buckle, but stops to run a finger down your head to your chin. He lifts your chin up, mirroring his previous affection.

“I love you,” he says, leaning down and kissing your nose, “I love you so much,” he says, crashing down on the bed.

“God, I love you too, Spence,” you say, wrapping your arms around him, ready for whatever comes next.

“I love you, I love you,” Spencer whispers against his cardigan, “you ready? You ready for me, love?”

“Yes,” you whimper, planting kisses along his shoulders as he kicks off his boxers, “I need you,” you groan, scratching down his back as he lines himself up to you.

“Tell me how I make you feel, sweet girl,” Spencer orders thrusting deeply. It’s so fast and so much that the only thought in your mind is how it feels to have his skin against yours.

“So full,” you mumble, reaching for Spencer’s face to kiss him, “so full, so good,” you say, just focusing on the way his stubble rubs against your neck, his lips against your collarbone and his cock buried deep inside you.

It’s so much and you love him so much and it’s been so long….

“Oh god, oh Spencer,” you say, clawing towards his head as his lowers his mouth to your breasts. He kisses and sucks and rolls his tongue around your soft skin, moaning as he explores, “I’m going to come, Spencer,”

“Yeah, you’re going to come? Hmm, you used to be a good girl. And good girls ask for permission. Are you going to be my good girl?" Spencer asks, lips gliding across your collarbone and pepper kisses over any skin he can reach.

"Please, let me come, please" you beg, gripping his hair and wrapping your legs around Spencer to keep him close. You've done this hundreds of time, but this time it's so intense.

"Come, Y/N," Spencer orders, "show me, love,"

Frantically, you press Spencer's face to your chest, savoring the messy, wet kisses on your skin. You feel the pressure build again, but you know this time you'll be pushed over in no time. With Spencer's languid pace and his hot breath against your neck, it's so much are right there. He knows you well enough by know to continue through your release, thumb rubbing against your clit and thrusts slow, yet deep.

"Good girl, good girl wants all my cum," Spencer says, his pace growing erratic and messy as he reaches his end too, "I bet my cumslut wants me to cum deep inside her little pussy, isn't that right," he whispers, voice trembling. You're smart enough to not tease him on it, but ten minutes from now, he's free game.

Spencer's thrusts and fingers don't stop as your climax takes hold of you. You feel it in your bones, deep inside of you and Spencer's constant reassurances, his words of praise and sweet kisses tether you to the bed.

Groaning, as he comes undone, Spencer's head drops against your sweaty torso. It's not until you regain your composure that you realize how hot it is. Spencer's skin burns against yours, but he's so spent and exhausted, you're half convinced he passed out on your stomach.

"Spence," you say, tapping his shoulder and brushing his hair from his forehead, "baby?"

"Hmm," Spencer says, drawing shapeless figures and lazy lines along your arms, "I need a second," he says, kissing your torso as he rises from his spot on your stomach. He collapses on the spot next to you, his hair wild and his eyes excited, despite the exhaustion that seems to consume him.

"Spencer, I promise that you can cuddle and hold me as soon as I get this cardigan off. I'm so fucking hot," you say, chuckling as Spencer helps you up. He lets you rest your forehead against his shoulder as he peels off the cardigan, tossing it to the floor.

"Now can we cuddle?" Spencer asks, holding his arms opens, ready to swallow you hole, "Please?" he asks, the softness that you love covering his features.

"Of course," you say, but swinging your legs over the bed and standing up, "but how about round 2, this time in a shower. An ice cold shower," you say, winking and giggling as Spencer scrambles to follow you into the bathroom.

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Passwords & Passionate Pecks

Summary: It’s time to change computer systems passwords at the BAU. To make things easier, Garcia tells Spencer to memorize the passwords, but for some reason Reader doesn’t want him to know.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

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Passwords and Passionate Pecks

There’s no such thing as a lazy day at the BAU. From flying all over the country to finalizing paperwork, it seems like there’s always something to do. Even if there isn’t anything to do— something will inevitably come up.

Today is no exception. After three weeks of non-stop cases taking the team as far as South Dakota, an easy housekeeping day at the bullpen seems like a vacation. It’s a consensus amongst the team that a paperwork day was needed— Derek hums quietly to himself with his earbuds in his ears, blocking out the world. Emily stares at her computer with a pen in her mouth, concentrating intently on a game of online scrabble with JJ. Penelope, always having something to do one way or another, flits in and out between her office and Hotch’s. Hotch, however, never seems to allow himself to enjoy a paperwork day.

Like the rest of the team, you attempt to appreciate the slow day of paperwork and filing by occupying your mind with something other than ballistics and bullet holes. You watch Spencer, or more like it, watch his hands as he fiddles with an old film canister, a tablet of Alka-Seltzer, and a bottle of day-old water. You find it almost too charming that Spencer thinks he’s being sneaky. You peer over your desk, across from Spencer’s, with your chin resting in your palms. Despite knowing that Derek is probably going to start throwing erasers at you, you continue staring at Spencer and his ridiculously magical hands.

“Y/N!” Spencer shouts, pulling you from your dazed stare, “come, quick it’s gonna happen,” he says, calling you over to his desk. You swivel over, gliding on your chair, “any second now,” Spencer says, wiggling his fingers above the canister for the full magic effect.

“Spence!” you say, peeking from his shoulder. Your hand rests on the arm of his chair and he’s so close to your face that you can see the small freckles on the back of his neck. You never thought that freckles on the back of someone’s neck could be cute until you saw them on Spencer.

“Be patient, Y/N,” Spencer teases, “besides, you didn’t say the magic word,” he tells you, looking over his shoulder as the canister fizzes rapidly. Water bubbles out from the sides, spilling over onto the desk, yet nothing happens.

Then, the canister, fizzing wildly, shoots into the air with an audible pop that ricochets throughout the bullpen. JJ, occupied by paperwork, looks up at the sound of the loud pop, only to find it falling straight towards her forehead.

“Ouch, aw, Spence, what the heck,” JJ says, “I thought Hotch said that you can’t do physics magic in the bullpen,” she scolds, unable to shed her parental tone that seems natural to both her and Hotch.

“Sorry,” Spencer says, looking bashful as JJ tosses the canister back at him. He scrambles to catch it, nearly falling out of his swivel chair, “Y/N likes physics magic,” he explains, as if your getting amusement from something as simple as a film canister and an Alka-Seltzer is enough for Spencer to ignore the rest of his work responsibilities.

Suddenly now in the spotlight, you decide that it’s probably best if you head back to your desk to avoid the nosy stares of your co-workers. It’s the BAU’s worst kept secret that you’re ridiculously in love with Spencer, who in turn is completely clueless of your affections.

Before Emily or Derek can make a smart comment about Spencer and you, Penelope Garcia, yet again, saves the day.

She comes bearing a large box of paperwork, which means it’s Computer Security Day at the BAU. Every 90 days, Penelope has to make sure that the team updates their security passwords for their desktops at headquarters. It’s a tedious process, namely because certain members of the team habitually forget their passwords.

“Get your notebooks out my fellow crime stoppers, because it’s Password Day!” Penelope says, sounding way too cheery for someone who’s going to spend the whole day helping the team change their passwords.

“What if we don’t use the computer, Garcia?” Spencer asks, “isn’t that the best security? Not indulging in technology. I read an article that highlighted the significant determinants when relying on modern technology—”

“Reid, for the last time,” Garcia says, slamming down the stack of papers, “you’re not going to change the entire FBI’s mind about implementing technology. Welcome to the modern age, my technophobe genius,” she says, placing the stack of papers on Derek’s desk.

“You all have to change your password. And keep in mind it needs to meet the security requirements. This means, it needs to be case sensitive, have at least one number or symbol. And it has to be at least 8 characters,” Penelope instructs, eyeing Spencer carefully as he twirls in his chair.

“You got it, baby girl,” Derek says, winking and flashing a winning smile as Garcia begins to sort through the stack of old cases on his desk.

Spencer, feigning annoyance, slumps into his seat and continues to spin around in the swivel chair. You watch from across your desk, thinking of what you should make your password. Within the team, you’ve been notorious for forgetting your password. Usually you’ll write it down somewhere in one of your many notebooks to help you remember. But sometimes even that doesn’t work.

Perhaps, you just never made up a password that you could always remember. The team could go weeks at a time without returning to their desks at Quantico and between the rough cases and the jet lag, remembering the password was the least of your worries.

You look through the photos on your desk, thinking of something different enough, yet easy enough to remember each time. Pictures of your cat, Theodore, your mom, and Spencer line up on your desk. Garcia always warns against using pet names as passwords. Apparently it’s too easy to detect. But suddenly, with a glance at Spencer’s bright smile captured with you planting a kiss on his cheek in the photograph, sparks an idea.

Clicking on the entry line for “new password” you quickly type out:

Ilovespencerreid1028!

With a quick glance over at your teammates, you’re confident that none of them saw your fingers type out your new password. It’s certainly something that you’re never going to forget. To your amusement, Spencer, tries to distract himself from the misery of being forced to use technology, starts his physics magic trick up again. He’s almost successful, but before he can finish it Penelope snatched away his Alka-Seltzer tablets.

“Hey! Garcia!” Spencer whines, sounding rather annoyed as he tries to swipe back his tablets, “come on, I already reset my password,” he argues.

“But did you write it down?” Garcia asks, peering down at Spencer through her glasses.

“I think you forget that I can’t forget passwords, Garcia. I can’t forget anything,” Spencer says, cockily as he reaches forward again, trying to get his Alka-Seltzer tablets.

“That’s it!” Garcia says, like she’s having a personal eureka moment, “Reid you really are a genius, Wonder Boy!” she says, as she makes her way over to you.

“What’s it, Garcia?” you ask, waiting as your computer reboots from having it’s password reset.

“Tell Reid your password,” she explains, “You always forget your passwords. So tell Reid. You’ll never forget it because he’ll never forget it,” Garcia says excitedly.

Between her excitement of never having to help you reset another password, Garcia didn’t realize just how wide your eyes grew when Penelope told you to tell Spencer your password. You’d consider yourself a quick thinker, but in the seconds that you had to think of something to tell Penelope, nothing comes to mind.

“I can’t,” you say, cringing internally at your lack of answer. If there’s one thing that you know, it’s that Penelope Garcia can’t take no for an answer.

“I won’t tell, Y/N, I promise,” Spencer says, wheeling over to where Garcia and you sit.

Derek, realizing that an interesting conversation might be occurring, takes out his earbuds listening intently. JJ and Hotch, whose passwords were probably already changed before the rest of the team got in, sit in their own offices, unaware of the conversation happening below.

“I can’t,” you say again, just repeating what she said before over. Nothing new comes to mind. There’s nothing else she can say but the truth. And the truth. It just might kill her, “it’s I-I can’t tell you, Spence,” she says, hating the shake in your voice.

“Come on Y/N,” Garcia presses, “it’s Spencer. You tell him everything. You two are like twins. It’s freaky how much you know about each other. But sweet,” Garcia says, quickly recovering, but not saving the embarrassment from peppering along Spencer’s cheeks. He burns red from his nose to his eyes and his tongue flicks out along his lips. You’re reminded too late that Garcia is standing right there, because you find yourself staring at Spencer’s lips for too long. It’s his own fault really for having lips that look so soft and red. And god they aren’t even bitten yet—

“So what’s the big deal!” Garcia says, “Tell him the password, Y/N. The three of us know that you’re going to forget it,” she argues.

“I won’t forget this one, Penny. It would be pretty much impossible for me to forget this one,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with Spencer.

“I just can’t see why you can’t tell me,” Spencer whispers, keeping his voice low as Penelope walks away, who’s probably already filling in Derek on what’s happening, “it’s a password, Y/N. I’m not going to hack you or anything. I thought you could trust me. I thought-I thought I was your favorite person,” he says, going even lower, if it was possible, than a whisper.

You move closer to Spencer as he spoke, and feel your knees brush up against his. It’s nothing really, but then again even nothing with Spencer feels electric. You're feels alive with him. You can feel your heart beating in your chest. It thumps deep inside reminding you that he’s so close and it would just be so easy with him.

“I can’t do this here, Spencer,” you tell him, getting off your chair and heading straight for the stairwell before your nerves can come back to call you a coward.

You’re not even sure he’s following you, but when his hand catches the door before you can shut it, you know that you have to do this. You’ve spent too long tip-toeing around Spencer when loving him feels so right in the dark, you can only imagine what loving him in the daylight must be like.

“This must be pretty secret if you can’t do it in front of the team. I know I’m all for computer security. We don’t know when those things are going to take over—”

“I love you,” you interrupt, stopping Spencer as he rambles for probably the first time ever. You always let him finish what he has to say. You want him to know he’s important and what he has to say is important to you. He’s always been important to you.

You wonder one day, you’ll laugh at the irony of interrupting him to tell him that you love him when one of the biggest things you love about him is that he always has something to say.

“What?” Spencer says, “you what?” He repeats, speaking slowly like he needs to watch the world in slow-mo to fully grasp what he’s being told.

“I-I, uh. My password. It’s ‘Ilovespencerreid1028!’” you say, “I love you, Spencer. For a really long time,” you tell him, swaying on feet, hoping that maybe he’d want to steady you body with his.

“You love me?” Spencer asks, repeating it yet again in disbelief. He’s eye level to you, staring in your eyes as you stand on the top stair and him a couple down. He looks at you like he’s trying to solve a problem, and the solution, the one that was desired and dreamt of all along, is finally found.

Yet, Spencer falters. He presses his lips together again, his mind spinning around and around.

“You love me?” He asks, and the emphasis on me doesn’t go amiss.

“I’m sorry, Spence. I’m so sorry,” you say, covering your chest with your arms protectively. In all the dreams you’ve had about this moment, none of them ever ended in him rejecting you. For in your dreams, you could be the kind of lucky soul that Spencer would happily sweep off your feet. And he’d be the kind of man that would kiss you passionately as he tenderly holds you in his arms.

It’s all going wrong. You’re not one of the lucky ones that gets swept away and the man you love isn’t going to do any sweeping.

“You don’t think I love you?” Spencer asks, perhaps more confused that the love wouldn't be reciprocal than he was when you confessed, “because, Y/N. I love you. So much,” he says, taking a step toward you on the stairs. He reaches up, taking your cheek in his hand as he licks his lips.

“Really?” you ask, taking your turn to not believe what you desperately want to believe, “you didn’t seem so sure,”

“I really do love you, Y/N,” Spencer says, “and I’d very much like to kiss you,” he professes. And before he can even breathe again, you’re kissing him.

You’ve kissed a total of five people in your life. It’s not a particularly high number, but enough to know what good kissing and bad kissing is like. Yet when you kiss Spencer, it’s like your slate is clean again. But you’ll take all the good and bad kisses that lead you here, kissing your favorite person in the stairwell of work.

You knew his lips would be soft and that your fingers would find themselves tangled in his hair. You thought about kissing him so much that doing it for the first time seems more like practice. Spencer’s eyelashes flutter along your cheeks as he breaks the kiss. You want to be disappointed at the loss of contact, but you don’t have the time because he guides you into the wall. Your back is flush against the concrete and he presses up against you. Dreaming about kissing him is something that always floods your mind on lonely nights.

The first kiss was sweet and soft, barely scratching the surface of what could be. It was quiet and fleeting. Your lips brushed up against Spencer’s, hardly able to contain the energy that threatens to explode. It started off quiet and sweet, but then tension rose to the surface. Maybe you and Spencer both realized just how much you wanted this. But you always thought he’d be tender and gentle, but this is passionate.

You almost forget that you’re kissing him in the middle of the stairwell, until you feel the badge scanner against your back. You must have winced because Spencer breaks apart, his lips hovering above yours.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to..I-” Spencer says, suddenly genuinely concerned that a mistake has been made, “I mean I did want to kiss you, uh, what I mean to say is. Did you want to-” he says, his voice trailing off when you shut him up with another kiss.

Like the first one, this is light and sweet. You have to concentrate to feel his lips against yours, but you know they are there. You can feel his hands cup your cheek and his forehead rest against yours when you break apart again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “And I wanted to kiss you, Spence,” you confess, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I still can’t believe that you made your password that,” he jokes, kissing your cheek through a smile, “it’s cute,” he teases, planting a kiss on your other cheek.

“It’s probably not the most secure password, Spence,” you say, “Considering it’s like the worst kept secret here,” you joke, pushing past him and holding your hand out for him to grab. You’re ready to push through the door, knowing well that one way or another, you’ll never forget a password.

--

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[reidsbookclub]

The Dating Profile

Title: The Dating Profile

WC: 2K

Author’s Note: changed it up a bit but it’s based from the request below.  Last two text parts were supposed to be a pic but I already had the 10 allowed by Tumblr. This is my first time using the “fake texting”

Special shout out to Sifen for the request, @boldlyvoid & @lcvingprentjss for your help.

Spencer Reid was always on the go, running up and down from the BAU to helping his friends, babysitting his godchildren, walking around museums and doing everything he possibly could to keep on going. But it wasn’t until the dark hours of the night, when he got home and winded down that he remembered the only reason for always runnig from place to place was because he felt the need to suppress the feeling of loneliness he felt on a daily basis. Walking into a dark, cold and lonely apartement always served as a cruel reminder that unlike his friends, he didn’t have anyone waiting at home.

After spending the day at the park with Penelope, Micheal, and Henry for what Penelope liked to call “Fairy Godparents Outting” he walked into his apartment and started to microwave a frozen meal. He looked around and started imagining a life in which he would have someone to come home to and be willing to listen to every story he had to share. For Spencer, this was beginning to morph into one of his many unattainable dreams. But he never once imagined that one tex message would be all it would take for  his daydreaming to become a reality.

*next day*

Spencer was baffled. A dating profile? He surely would have known if any of his friends created a profile for him, wouldn't he?

It had taken less than 10 minutes for Penelope to assure Spencer that the dating profile was in fact real and not a vindictive unsub coming out to get him. And unbeknownst to Spencer, Penelope had also found out who had created his dating profile.

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at this. Being on the opposite side of what a fugitive is. He wanted to text back, get to know them, but unfortunately glancing up and seeing Penelope with a stack of FBI files he knew duty called. Putting his phone away he sighed and went to the briefing room. As the days went by Spencer kept thinking back to the nameless person that texted him. He wanted to know more about them but this was a first for Spencer, he did not know how to proceed. He also did not want to ask anyone on the team knowing that he would get teased. Spencer feared that the longer he went without talking with them the sooner they would forget about him, and so two weeks later after a long and disturbing case, he decided to message the mysterious number again.

Spencer couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at this catching the attention of Derek Morgan

“Pretty boy laughing at his phone at 11:00 pm… am I dreaming?”

“Shut up” Spencer mumbled slightly annoyed but definitely embarrassed at the fact that he was caught. Morgan definitely catches the slight smirk on Spencer’s face but chooses not to say anything.

Spencer was enthralled with this mysterious texter. No one had wanted to get to know him before. And hiding behind a screen he felt comfortable enough to be fully and unapologetically herself. But there was a seed of doubt that had settled in the deepest corner of his brain silently echoing his word thoughts and fears which led to him thinking about how maybe once this person got to know them they would run always. After all who could ever love Spencer? Who could ever stay with him? All he’s ever known was loneliness.

Spencer wanted to ask Derek for advice but he always wanted to prove his ever-growing fears and anxieties that he could actually do this by himself. What he didn’t know was that back in Virginia across the hallway from his apartment was a very shy librarian who in a spur of the moment drunken mishap created a dating profile and stumbled upon his. To y/n, it was a mystery how someone with a dating profile wasn’t active on it but instead left his phone number to text. And yes they were weary of cat-phishing but something about this profile caught their eye.

Spencer was never the type of person who looked at his phone the minute he woke up. But he couldn't help but reach for his phone the minute he woke up after the conversation he had with his mysterious texter last night. But what surprised Spencer more than the fact that he was constantly reaching for his phone was the disappointment he felt when no new text messages were found on his phone.

“Kid, is your mom okay?” Rossi cautiously asked

“She’s doing fine, taking well to her medications. Why?” Spencer asked curiously

“Well you keep glancing at your phone, I haven’t seen you pick up a book all day”

“Oh-umm- no yeah everything is okay”

Spencer thought he had credibly dismissed Rossi’s worries but he couldn't successfully hide the blush that spread across his cheeks when his phone dinged signaling an incoming text. Nor could he dissimulate the growing smile when he say that his mysterious texter had finally texted him.

It had been two days since their last conversation due to Spencer being caught up on a case. He would just receive good morning and good night texts with good luck and stay safe texts throughout the day. He really wished he had the time to text back but 5 children’s lives were at stake. Finally, the case wrapping up in the early hours of the third day after their conversation, he hoped that the team would get back to Quantico in time before the library closed.

“Hey pretty boy we are all going to-” Derek began saying when Spencer interrupted with

“I can’t, have to go-book-library-bye” as he rushed out, moving faster than anyone had ever seen him move.

Walking up the steps of the library Spencer stopped to calm his wandering mind before opening the door. Making his way to the front desk he began fiddling his fingers on the strap of his satchel. Noticing an older lady by the front desk he walked up to her

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Y/N Y/L/N”

“You just missed them my dear, do you happen to be Dr. Reid by any chance?”

“Uh, yes ma’am that me”

“This was left  for you, good choice of material” To which she added, “Its already been checked out so you’re free to go unless you are looking for another book”

“Thank you.”

Taking the metro home, Spencer began taking out the book to read when a note fell from inside the pages, without thinking he took the note and put it in the pocket of his coat.

As they continued talking, Spencer couldn’t help but start feeling a sense of closeness and familiarity whenever he texted y/n. It was as if with every passing text an invisible string pulled his heart closer to theirs. Spencer had finally found someone in which he could confide in without feeling like he was being judged and that was a feeling that he was not planning on letting go any time soon.

*6 months passes by*

Spencer takes out his phone to text the only person he would actually speak with and open up to.

Spencer: would it be completely inappropriate of me to dump a whole lot of feelings and ranting? I just- I need to talk it over with someone. Get some clarity

y/n: the handsome genius doctor Red needs my help? Well absolutely

Spencer: Remember that one friends I told you about? The one that died?

y/n: Emily. Yes, I remember

Spencer: well it turns out he isn't really ... you know.. dead

Y/n: wait...you mean to tell me the fbi really does do the whole fake deaths and shit?

The chuckle that slipped from Spencer’s mouth startled him in the midst of his silent apartment. Loving the way y/n made him feel. He wanted to meet them, he really did, but something at the back of his mind kept telling him that once they met y/n wouldn’t want anything else with him. But, he also knew that if y/n was the only person that could get him to see, understand, and most of all accept the reasons why Hotch, JJ, and Emily had to keep it a secret then they must be someone really special.

*one week later*

Spencer was dying to hear their voice, his imagination running wild thinking about how his name would sound like falling from their lips. He had just come back from a case, mentally exhausted, the team having to rely on his knowledge of physics to solve the case.  There even came a point where he was feeling like he was too slow in figuring it out. Wanting to feel “normal” for a bit he stepped out of the elevator, taking out his phone he pressed the call button on his phone.

“Well hello there doctor sexy”

“You’ve never even met me, how do you know I am not… i don't know a pipe cleaner with eyes?”  Spencer chuckled when saying this remembering his time back on that case, much had changed in his life and in the BAU since then. Reaching his door he starts searching his satchel for his key.

“A what now?”

“A…nevermind did I wake you?”

“No…the neighbor across the hallway has some crazy work hours I guess and they are making a lot of noise right outside the door”

“Funny, I myself am standing right outside my door looking for my keys”

“Hey doc, what are you wearing?”

“Why would you ask me– should I be the one aski-what?”

“Humor me for a sec yea?”

“Uh, black and white converse, a blue sock with rockets and green socks with donuts, black dress pants, White shirt with a-”

Suddenly he hears y/n laugh, a noise he knew he would always want to hear and she continued for him, “with a gray cardigan and a brown leather satchel across your body?”

“Uh yeah how did you know?”

Spencer then hears his neighbors door open and hears the same laugh he heard moments ago, “well it looks like the annoying neighbor that won’t let me sleep is my very own doctor handsome”

Startled, Spencer just stands there not knowing what to do. He is just admiring how the halfway light is casting a reflecting glow on y/n. Quickly gaining his confidence back he clears his throat before saying,  “my apologies for not letting you sleep, mind accompanying me for a late-night cup of coffee.” And at that moment they both knew that whatever new chapter was beginning in their lives, it would be one they would remember all too well.

*4 months later*

“Dr. Reid, could we talk for a quick minute?”

Spencer could quickly tell that his friend was nervous, Anderson kept shifting from side to side, not meeting his eyes and picking at his nails.

“Anderson, please we’ve been working together for how long? It feels weird that you call me Dr. every time.”

“About four months ago I couldn’t help but overhear  Penelope and Derek talking about a dating profile you have…or had”

“I KNEW IT. I knew it had to be one of them that did it”

“No, actually it was me”

“…you? Anderson but why?”

“Well, you see during JJ and Will’s wedding you got drunk and began telling me about how lonely you felt so I just thought… I’m sorry if I caused you any problems”

Spencer couldn’t help but notice how much his colleague cared about him and smiled. And shock Anderson by saying, “well, thanks to you I’m thinking about asking y/n to move in. We live across the hallway anyways and hey, promise me that if we get married you’ll officiate the wedding, after all, we met because of you.”

*two weeks later*

Spencer: would your life to move in with me sunshine?

y/n: bubs, I'm standing right next to you can’t you just ask

Spencer: but we met this way :(

y/n: I would love to move in with you my love.

Spencer: great! Now can we please cuddle?

y/n: I love you, dork

Spencer: ily2

Bonus Scene

Doctor Handsome,

I cannot find the words to express how much these past few weeks have meant to me by getting to know you. I have to say that it's kind of frightening that I don’t know you at all yet I feel like I met you 20 years ago. All this time I have felt like just another face in the crowd and I keep finding myself reaching out for you, terrified of knowing if you would ever love me. Because I know that you could be the one that I love, you are the one that I dream of and all I can do is send this message in a book, waiting here hoping it gets to you.

Spencer kept looking down at the piece of paper he had tucked in his coat pocket and forgotten all about. It was at that moment that he felt y/n putting roots in his dreamland. He finally began to feel his dream would become a reality and he couldn't wait.

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Only See

☆ Summary: Spencer thinks back to all the times he’s been in love, has mistaken pain for love, or wished he was in love

☆ Content Warning: Mentions of Ethan, Lila, JJ, Maeve, and Cat

☆ Pairing: Bi Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

☆ Word Count: 2.8K

☆ Note: This is something that I’ve been working on for a long time! Please tell me what you think! The biggest thank you to @reidslibrarybook for helping me get through this! So I really really hope you all like this, I think it's one of my favorites that I've written. There isn't much dialogue and it's pretty much taking place in Spencer's mind. But I hope you give it a shot and let me know what you think!

Latest Fic | Masterlist (WIP) | Taglist |

I Only See

Spencer knows all too well what it’s like to have a broken heart. To be nothing but skin and bone without anything to mend the ache of being alive. Sometimes it seemed like no one could ever love him again; like everyone could see right through him. They all leave him broken-hearted or start out at friends and end up being his enemy.

He can comb through the memories, searching a part of him that they didn’t touch. Spencer’s been in love. He’s been loved. He’s mistaken obsession and toxicity for love and passion. He’s almost settled for mundanity when all he’s wanted is to be cherished. It’s a wicked game when you’ve got so much to give and even more to lose.

Ethan is dark gray.

And missing him is like trying to forget someone Spencer’s never met. Which, with his mind, is impossible. Ethan floated into his life as quickly as he left it. He’ll always hold a special place in his heart. Spencer supposes that everyone’s first kiss does. He remembers being a sweaty-palmed terrified 19 year old with the weight of the world on his shoulders. With Ethan, in all his wisdom beyond his years glory, Spencer felt like he was a kid again.

Ethan made him laugh. Ethan made him feel whole. And Ethan, even though he left him with a note, made him feel loved.

They were just kids, stupid kids chasing each other in grassy corridors thinking that their glass hearts could never be shattered. Back then Spencer solved the unsolvable, but the only time he was wrong was when he thought Ethan would be his forever. With hindsight, Spencer thinks it was a little foolish of him to think that what was nothing but a fling would lead to something real. It was real. At least to a ganglier, naïve Spencer. It was the realest thing he felt.

And when he left, Spencer was alone, again, and that was the hardest part to swallow. He missed Ethan, but what he missed more than anything was having someone to love him back.

JJ is baby blue.

The kind of blue that you see when you look up into a clear sky. The kind of blue that looks soft to the touch. The kind of blue that lavender smelling babies are swaddled in when handed to their loved ones.

Spencer remembers his first day at the BAU. He remembers the squeaky coffee maker and his even squeakier shoes. Gideon told him that FBI agents don’t wear Converse. But JJ, JJ , JJ told him in order to do his job right he had to let himself be himself. All he can remember from that interaction was her baby blue sweater.

Looking back on it, Spencer supposes that the love, the romantic love, he felt for JJ was bottled up pain from Ethan leaving him. She was kind to him. She didn’t seem to mind his quirks or his weirdness. When he’d lay awake at night all alone in a strange new city, he’d imagine her there next to him. Maybe it wasn’t so much as having her, but having someone to figure out his early adulthood with.

She made him feel warm and safe. And Spencer supposes that somewhere along the line he mistaken those feelings for love. It was love, sisterly love that he’d realize years later as he held her baby swaddled in a baby blue hospital blanket.

But in the thick of it, the Spencer with squeaky shoes and baggy pants was head over heels with the JJ with baby blue sweaters and kind smiles. And when Gideon, the man who he thought knew everything, handed him tickets to a sports game Spencer thought that all the cards had finally fallen into place. He stuttered and stammered his way through asking her to the game, hardly knowing him what sport he was about to watch. Despite his memory, Spencer doesn’t remember a word of what he said. All he remembers is the way excitement seemed to thump through his body, like when Ethan would grab his hand or when they lay in bed thinking of a not so far off future.

It was love.

Or so he thought.

When JJ showed up with Penelope Garcia following close behind, Spencer knew that JJ didn’t feel the same as him. He knew that the feeling buried deep in her heart would never be returned by the blonde girl with the canary yellow sweaters and kind smiles. Even though Spencer didn’t get the magical ending with JJ that he once found himself falling asleep to, he did love her. And he’ll be forever grateful for one Penelope Garcia for showing up to a football game on a blustery January.

He loves JJ and whenever he sees baby blue it isn’t sadness or yearning for her love that pulls at his heartstrings, but nostalgia for their stolen youth and collective their innocence.

Lila was this purple-pink.

The kind of color that’s a blink and you’ll miss it when the sunsets. Spencer’s always loved sunsets. Unlike sunsets, Lila never came back. But then again, Spencer wonders if he ever had her at all. When he thinks about that night when she dragged him into the pool and kissed him, all he can remember is how good it felt to feel wanted again.

He’s a man of science. Spencer knows that when humans are under a lot of stress and pressure their brain chemicals are messed up. Sometimes humans mistake the rush and adrenaline that’s needed to survive for love. When she kissed him Spencer felt like he was flying. He closed his eyes and felt like he could taste the sweetness of the candy pink and charming purple on her lips. And even now, when he’s a lot older and a lot less flighty, he can almost taste it again. It’s a bit more bitter now. Like him.

Transference. It was taught in the Academy. Drilled into their heads. Never get involved with victims. Even if they are dazzling movie stars with charming blue eyes and more than that meets the surface. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t much of anything, except a kiss that wanted him to be kissed for the rest of his life.

Maeve.

Missing her is blue and it’s like something he’s never known.

It’s almost too hard to talk about. Spencer knew she was beautiful even before he laid eyes on her. Her words and her mind and her kindness was her beauty. He spent months, years, grieving for the living. When Spencer lost Maeve, he let his future slip through his fingers like her blood ran through his hands, slick on his skin.

He felt bad for himself. For the children he’d never meet. For the memories of gingerbread houses at Christmas and tacky Halloween decorations and the mess of a beautiful life that could only live in his dreams. He stayed awake for days after her death, not because he would see her lying there with a hole in her head. But he’d see her happy and alive and in love. He could bear it, no matter how selfish it made him. He could bear seeing her happy if it wasn’t him making her happy.

After she died, Penelope signed him for group therapy. Ten or so people would meet every second and fourth Saturday in the basement of a local YMCA. The leader would supply stale donuts and even older coffee. At “Group” Spencer would hear stories of loss and life. He dealt with it his whole life, but he didn’t realize how red blood was until it was split from someone he loved. Loves?

Part of him felt like a fraud at the meetings. The people there lost wives, husbands, spouses, parents of their children. They had memories of gingerbreads and trick or treating. They knew their lovers’ middle names and where they went to high school. They cried at their funerals.

Spencer wasn’t even sure if Maeve celebrated Christmas or liked Halloween. He had no clue what her middle name was or where she went to high school. And he couldn’t even bring himself to go to her funeral. How could he have? How could he have stood there with her parents and people that actually knew her. He fell in love with a faceless voice and never got the chance to tell her that.

He’ll lay awake at night in the weeks following her death murmuring the same sentence over and over until it no longer sounded like words.

I love her. I love her. I love her.

He loved Maeve. He spent years thinking that she was his twin flame. Bruised and broken, painted the saddest blue you can imagine, Spencer wallowed in himself. He loved Maeve, but he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. The eyes that looked at him like he was the only man in the world that mattered. The eyes darkened when the light left her soul. The eyes that closed forever before he got the chance to kiss her.

Maybe they were blue because missing her is the saddest blue.

Cat Adams is burning red.

He hated her. He hates her, but why does she stick in his mind? Maybe he sees himself in her, a darker, twisted, evil version of himself.

And yet were times that Spencer thought he was so broken that he actually loved Cat Adams. Or at least that darker, harder, more twister, more evil side of him did. The side of him that slammed her up against a cell wall with her throat wedged between his two hands. Maybe that cruel and twisted part of him was nothing short of in love with her. Or maybe only someone completely broken and shattered inside could give him the tiniest sliver of something resembling love.

He knows now that it wasn’t love that he felt for her. It was something that burned red inside him. He’ll never forget the amused look in her when he nearly killed her with his bare hands. He hated the way her eyes glinted with mirth, but he hated the rush of power he felt even more. He’ll never forget the smell of her sweat and the feeling of her pulse against his skin. Etched into him like a red-hot brand. She scared him, toyed with him, tried to ruin his life over and over until all that remained was a broken version of who he once was. Spencer knows love now. He knows that he could never love Cat, even if at times it seemed like he could have.

It was messy and confusing. He hated the way she would get under his skin, but what he hated more was the rush that he felt during the chase. Spencer, a man who is always sure, wasn’t too sure who was cat and who was mouse. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Whatever she made him feel, Spencer knew that he never wanted to feel that way again. He’s hated himself his entire life, but when she got into his head, he despised himself.

Dark Gray.

Baby Blue.

Purple Pink.

Saddest Blue.

Burning Red.

He was heartbroken and alone when Ethan left him in that crappy first apartment. He spent years thinking that he lost his chance at love when JJ and Penelope came to the game with matching jerseys and pom-poms. Or when Lila kissed him in the pool and he felt like he could fly, but then she pretended like nothing ever happened between them. Maeve, whose eye color he can’t quite remember. And the manipulator who made him believe that love was nothing but mind games.

He used to think love was nothing but missteps and mistakes and all wrongs without any rights. He used to think that love would never be in the cards for him– that it was just a far off fantasy with a faceless person. He used to think love was cruel and unkind.

He used to think love was black and white. You fall in love and stay in love. Or maybe it was dark gray, or a soft baby blue. Maybe it was like candy purple-pink. Or the saddest blue. He once believed love was burning red.

But it’s not.

It’s golden. Golden like the daylight that drips from the blinds. As Spencer lays in bed he feels two arms snake around his torso. He can hear your breathing against his shirt and feel your palms against his bare skin. You are so close to him, pressed up perfectly against his body, and Spencer’s scared any movements will wake you up.

He likes you being so close though. So close that your hair tickles his nose. So close he can feel your heartbeat if he concentrates. So close that he’s not sure if it’s his heart beating or yours. It doesn’t matter whose heart is beating because his only beats for you. Spencer stretches his neck, breathing in the tea tree and lemon smell of your shampoo. Whenever he hugged you and squeezed so tightly he would breathe in the smell of home. He smelled the fresh scent, letting it wash over him.

At first, he was too timid to ask you the type of shampoo you used, so he snuck into your bathroom, while you read stretched out on the couch, to find the name of it. Maybe luckily, or unluckily, you caught him. He half expected you to be creeped out by him sneaking into your bathroom trying to figure out what shampoo you used, because, if he really thought about it, it was kind of creepy.

But you didn’t find it creepy when he stammered out what he was doing in the bathroom. Instead you smiled and held out a hand to him. And, without the slightest bit of hesitation, he clasped it. He held on tightly as you dragged him headfirst into the kitchen. You sat him down with his back towards the sink and his neck hanging over the edge. He felt the warm water from the faucet run across his head, warming his scalp. From his peripheral, he could see you pump the shampoo on your hand.

The golden liquid sparkled in the kitchen light; specks of sudsy gold flickering on your hand. You didn’t say anything as you washed his hair, letting him be with the thoughts in his head and feeling your hands against his scalp. Nothing needed to be said, but it was the moment that Spencer knew he loved you.

Now, as you lay sleeping in his arms, Spencer can’t remember a time that he didn’t love you. He’s been through a lot of hard things in his life. A lot of grief and heartache, nothing came easy. But loving you is the easiest thing he’s ever done and will ever care to do.

You stir, perhaps awoken by his thoughts, against him. Still twisted in the bedsheets, Spencer holds his breath as he watches you wiggle under the sheets. You open your eyes, squinting at the sunlight that blinds your eyes. Spencer loves the sunshine on his face, but you’ve always found it a bit annoying. He would say that you’re sunshine enough and don’t need anymore, thus you find even the smallest bit too much.

You’d roll your eyes and kiss his nose when he said silly things like that, which would just make him say them more often.

He sits himself up on his elbow, watching you stir below him. You hate early mornings, almost as much as he does. Which is good, considering the lack of sleep Spencer does get. Most of what would be considered dates was actually you two just sleeping in one of your beds. And eventually that just turned into your shared bed, something that still makes Spencer both smile and blush at the very thought.

“Good morning,” Spencer whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You groan, feeling the sun against your eyes and his lips against your skin, “You’re sleepy this morning,”

“Not my fault,” you mumble into his chest, scooting even closer to him, “You’re impossibly comfortable,” you say sighing.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Spencer says, trying not to be what you call, a hopeful romantic, but it’s impossible when you’re so beautiful and think he’s just as beautiful in return, “I love you,”

“Shh,” you respond, putting a hand against his face. Your touch, even years later, stings his skin and heals his back up in one motion, “You’re making me sappy and it’s too early for that,”

“I can’t help it if you look like an angel,” Spencer mumbles, brushing your hair from your face to kiss you. Lazily, you welcome the intrusion. Kissing you, even though he can’t even remember how many times he’s done it, will never get old. He’ll try to memorize the feeling of your lips against his lips or the sound of your breath against his skin. He’ll soak in your tea tree and lemon shampoo and let your love wash him over and over until he’s golden.

Suddenly, you break the kiss, but press a quick one to his forehead. You smile, chuckling as Spencer leaps forward at the sudden lack of contact.

He smiles to himself, looking up at you with the sunshine behind your head. Spencer doesn't believe in angels, but if he did he swears they'd all have your face and your voice and smell like tea tree and lemon shampoo. He's never sure of anything, yet for this: beyond all reasonable certainty, Spencer knows that love is golden, that you are golden, like daylight.

“Come on, Spence,” you say, climbing out of bed and onto the hardwood floors, “we’re burning daylight,”

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[reidsbookclub]

All's Well That Ends Well...But Im in a New Hell

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Word count: 2552

Category: angst no happy ending

CW: major death, angst angst angst, mentions of car crash and miscarriage.

you can find the happy fluffy version here - I recommend reading both since the story differs slightly throughout not just in the ending.

shout out to @boldlyvoid for being a beta for this and to @samuel-de-champagne-problems for encouraging me to actually write this fic

There’s a point in the life of someone where you just give up on the idea that you will find a loving partner that accepted every single shining side and damaged ruptured side that you have to offer, Spencer Reid was at this point in his life where he was just about to give up on finding a partner to grow old with. Spencer had always longed for a family to call his own, a partner he could confide in all his fears, insecurities, hopes, and dreams, and children he could teach about life and every little topic that their hearts desired. He first could see that dream become a reality when he asked JJ out on that date, but now he is forever grateful that it resulted in an amazing and unmatchable friendship with Penelope after JJ invited her to tag along. With Lila, he saw the spontaneous side of what a relationship would entail but he knew that there would be no future there, it would just be a one-time thing. Things were slightly different with Elle, he was ready to let her teach him the ropes but she chose another path, a path that he had no choice but to respect. The first time Spencer was able to have a glimpse at the life he always longed for was with Maeve, but it got ripped away from him in the cruelest of ways. Austin brought him an imaginable joy in the form of his daughter Venus, and just as he was about to propose, two short months after she was born he came home to find any trace of Austin gone, in her place a letter detailing how sorry she was but this was a life she was just not ready for.

Now, Spencer spends his free weekends at the park reading with his daughter and teaching her how to play chess. At times he finds himself wishing that there was someone next to him with her head resting on his lap reading or listening to music. Someone who actually would remember to pack snacks because he was too worried making sure Venus was covered in enough bug spray and sunscreen but, he was slowly resigning himself to the reality that a lifelong partner was just not in the cards for him.  That’s when Spencer looks up and sees her. The sunlight casting a glow on her that he had never seen anyone wear. And when she turns his direction and smiles brightly at him, waving at his little girl Spencer knew that he wanted to get to know everything about her. For the rest of the day, Spencer couldn’t concentrate on his book, just thinking about her and what it would be like to go on a date with her.

“Sweetheart, would it be okay if you spent tomorrow with Aunt Penny?”

“Yes!! I love auntie  Penny but why daddy”

“Daddy is going to be a bit busy with tomorrow, that's all, let me call your aunt penny to see if she is not busy”

Spencer spent more than half of his Sunday walking around Centennial Park looking for her, eventually feeling a little silly because the chances of her being there two days in a row were not in his favor. Spencer spotted an empty chess stable and sat down planning on starting a game against himself until he was greeted by the most melodic voice he had ever heard.

“Do you play?”

“Yeah, actually I do” Spencer replied in a rare surge of confidence

“I don’t, would you teach me?”

“I-uh- yeah of course. I love teaching people chess, I teach my daughter every Saturday.”

“Oh…so…so you’re married?” Y/N asked sadly

“No, actually I’m not.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,  nice to meet you.”

“Spencer. Spencer Reid.  Did you like Ana Karenina?

“How did—how did you know? Wait?”

“Ohh-i- i actually saw you—geez I sound like a creep and I’m stuttering like a teenager” he mumbled. “ I saw you yesterday reading it, you waved at me and my little girl.”

Spencer thought she would walk away but instead, she just laughed, a harmonious laugh that sounded straight out of one of the many princess movies that his daughter loves to watch, one that he longed to be woken by for the rest of his life.

“I know Spencer, why do you think I’m here. I was hoping to run into the handsome man I saw yesterday”

Spencer spent all afternoon teaching her how to play chess and in another surge of confidence he asked her out on a date.

Six Months Later

Six blissful months of dates with each other, and in others including Venus is what they both liked to call family outings. Everything seemed to be going very well for Spencer and Y/N. There were the slight moments that they could tell Venus was adjusting to sharing her dad with someone but they knew that eventually, they would get to become the family that both Y/N and Spencer had longed for.

It wasn’t rare for Spencer to leave Venus with her when he had a case since they started dating, what was rare was the lack of communication and how long he had been gone. Venus was starting to get antsy and annoyed at everything Y/N did that was not the way Spencer did. From not adding chocolate chips to her pancakes to doing her hair wrong, Y/N hoped that Spencer would be back soon. It was a shock to everyone when Emily let them know that Spencer was in prison in Mexico. The biggest shock came to Venus, when she heard the news she exploded, taking her anger out on Y/N.

“Everything was perfect without you here, and now he is in prison. I HATE YOU”

“Tell you what, behave for me, and when he gets out- because he will- I will leave, everything will go back to the way it was before.”

“You promise?”

“I do”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

Y/n goes to make an ‘x’ motion across her heart and says, looking directly into Venus’ eyes “cross my heart and hope to die”

Y/N could see Venus needing a distraction from everything. She needed a change of scenery so with Spencer’s permission she took her a weekend to New York City. Spending a girl's day at spas and shopping. Y/N and Venus even played a couple of chess matches at central park in honor of Spencer.  Throughout Spencer’s time in prison, Y/N made it her mission to bring just a little bit of light into Venus’ daily life. From baking nights with Penelope to movie nights just the two of them. And when Venus needed help in school she was right there to help her, even if it meant spending all night up trying to understand the ins and outs of mathematics.  And slowly but surely both Venus and Y/N were finding a new normal. And it was one of these nights when Venus got up in the middle of the night for some water that she spotted Y/N cursing at her textbooks and silently wishing Spencer to appear next to her that she found herself wishing Y/N would stay with them for a long time.

Three Months Later

Spencer could sense it in the air when JJ told him he was free. He could feel a whole new nightmare begin he just never thought about how hard it would actually hit him. All he wanted to do was go home and hug his two girls. It surprised him when they weren’t outside waiting with Penelope, and he was even more surprised when arriving at the BAU and she wasn’t there only his team, Venus and Diana.

After everyone had their turn in hugging him and welcoming him back he turns to the Venus and says, “Where’s Y/N?”

Venus had long forgotten about the pact with Y/N so she full-heartedly believed what she was saying when she replied, “oh, she said she was going home. To give us some time for ourselves.” Spencer couldn’t grasp the meaning of her words, the gravity they held. He was too happy to be back to fully hold on and notice the word choice his daughter had used.

That night, when Venus and Spencer went home, he noticed the apartment a different shade of black, it was as if every color had been stripped away. The apartment felt 10 degrees colder than usual and he felt his heart drop to his stomach when he turned to look at the coffee table and notice every photograph that had y/n in it gone.

He ran to his bedroom and noticed all her things weren’t there. Spencer started pulling on his hair, scrambling around the apartment mumbling, “no-no please no” tears threatening on spilling out.

It was as if his heart was being torn apart by a thousand cuts. A thousand paper cuts that is.  The reason a paper-cut feels like it hurts so much worse than other wounds is because of the number of nerve endings residing on your fingertips. It was this exact feeling that spencer felt slowly taking over his heart, becoming the shell of the man he once was.

Two weeks later

Spencer was worried, he alongside Penelope and Luke were picking his daughter from school and when they pulled up to where she was Venus started crying.

“No no go away I want mom, I want mom”

He could feel his heart break into millions of pieces for his daughter. She hadn’t cried out for her mom in years.

“Baby, my little V, your mom left a long time ag–”

“Not her! My mom. I want my mom Y/N”

“My sweet girl, Y/N left, remember. I think me being in prison was too much for her.”

It was then that Venus decided to look up at her father. And with a guilt-ridden face she said

“No, she didn’t leave because of you, she left because I asked her to do so.”

Spencer was stunned. That was not the reply he wasn’t expecting.

“Care to elaborate?”

“ I was mad. Everything was going well. I felt my life was perfect with just you and me. And then she came along and you went to prison so I was bottling up my feelings - which yes I know that's not a good thing to do - but I did it and then I told her I hated her and that I wouldn’t listen to her for as long as she was in charge of me. That's when we came up with the pact. She said that if I behaved when you got out she would leave. And she did.”

Spencer was holding back tears, he knew Y/N well enough to know that she wouldn’t be back because she respected and loved Venus like her own daughter. Spencer knew that if Venus didn’t want her around she wouldn't be.

“Wait,” Penelope said, which is when Spencer remembered he had brought both Penelope and Luke with him. “Why are you calling her mom then?”

“Okay so, today we had to write about a family member, why we loved them and what they do to make us feel safe and I wanted to write about you dad I really did, but all I could write about was mom- y/n. And I need to tell her. We need to tell her daddy. I need to tell her she’s my mom.”

“You need to understand that what you did has consequences, bigger than getting grounded”

“How big?” she asked

“She might not want to come back, she might have moved on already there are many things that are a factor sweetie”

“Can you at least try to find her so I can apologize?”

“I’ll do my best”

Two Weeks Later - 1h from Virginia, outside of Maryland

“Suspect is on the run LEO’s need us on a high-speed chase,” Prentiss says as she ushers the team outside. “Reid, I know you are not particularly okay with driving but we will need one agent on each SUV for this one.” she adds, sending Spencer a look that he knows to mean”‘I’m sorry”.

On the highway, Spencer and Tara are closing in on the suspect's car, one from each side. And in a split moment decision Spencer swerves the SUV he is driving, sending the car in front of him on a collision course to the unsub’s car effectively stopping it which gives Tara the opportunity to apprehend the unsub.  The team had just returned to the BAU and were ready to start debriefing on possible cases when Spencer’s ringtone interrupts.

“Hello, Dr. Spencer Reid speaking ”

“Hi, Dr. Reid this is Dr. Lancaster from Memorial Hospital I’m calling because a Y/N Y/LN has you as her emergency contact. How soon can you get here?”

“I’m on my way”

It was as if the world had suddenly stopped for Spencer.

Standing up in the middle of the BAU he felt time stand still, he couldn’t hear the world around him, didn’t notice Penelope had picked up his daughter from school and brought her in. All he could do was feel his stomach bubbling up, shivers running through his spine letting out a high-pitched shriek he crumbled to the floor.

“Dad dad dad what’s wrong”

“Spence!”

“Boy wonder??”

“PRENTISS GET HERE NOW” Luke yelled

“Y/N….Y/N”

“daddy did you find mom??? Can I finally tell her I love her like a mom and that I’m sorry”

“…Y/N she’s at the hospital”

“Well then let’s go!” A very excited Venus says. Not knowing that her father could sense that something was wrong if he got that call.

The whole team went to the hospital with Spencer and Venus

“Hello, I'm looking for Dr. Lancaster”

“Yes?” A voice from behind him says, “Oh! Dr. Reid I’m assuming follow me,” he takes them just outside the room y/n is at. Intubated, bruises all over her body, fresh out of surgery

Spencer could feel his mouth dry up when asking, “what happened to her ?”

“she was collateral damage in a high-speed FBI car chase. She had a couple of ruptured ribs, a broken arm, and severe internal bleeding, she also miscarried at the scene. The surgery went absolutely wonderful but during the post-op recovery, her brain activity stopped. I’m sorry Dr. Reid but she won’t be waking up.”

Spencer turned to his team and silently whispered “it was me.”

“Spence you can’t blame yourself”

“No. JJ. It was me. I was the one that hit the second car so they could in turn hit the unsub. It was me who caused this. I lost her and my child. I didn’t- I didn’t even know she was pregnant” Spencer started to shed some tears. But the moment his heart broke into a million and one pieces was when he turned around to find his daughter and noticed she had gone into y/n’s room where she was very audibly begging for her to wake up. “Mommy mommy please wake up. Prove them, wrong mom. Mom please, please I can’t lose another mom, please.”

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

White Lies and Warm (Sweet)hearts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (She/Her)

Summary: Spencer's overactive daydreams lead him to a date with Reader, the love of his life, expect for one thing, it's completely fake.

CW: Spencer gets drunk on Peppermint Schnapps

Word Count: 6,400

Prompt: chasing a daydream

Author's Note: Well, here’s at least one of the two fics I have planned for the Christmas/Winter Season! I really hope that you enjoy this. I also appreciate if you reblog or comment. It’s very encouraging for writers to know that their fics are loved.

White Lies and Warm (Sweet)hearts

The little bookshop on the corner of Norfolk and Speevy is 10 blocks away from Spencer’s apartment. The nearly two mile walk wouldn't have been considered out of his way if there weren't three other independent bookstores nearby. Spencer does consider himself lucky to live so close to the bookstores, even though he never goes to the ones that are more local. He’ll do anything to avoid admitting why he chooses the furthest bookstore, even though that little bookstore is the only thing he can think about. Or rather, the owner is the only thing he can think about.

Y/N, who inherited the store from her late grandfather, fits perfectly into the homey bookstore. From her quiet demeanor to her sweet disposition, she seems like she was born to work in a bookstore. Or maybe she’s just so wonderful in Spencer’s eyes it’s as if she walked out the pages of a book. He’d venture to say, if he was a more confident, self assured man, that he’d be a perfect fit for the bookstore too. But that seems too much like a fairytale. And fairytales are only found on bookstore shelves, conveniently out of Spencer’s reach.

His walk to the bookstore does give him enough time to contemplate his current predicament. Fed up with Penelope and Luke’s good natured teasing, Spencer finally snapped and told them that he didn’t need them to fix him up with one of their friends because he was already seeing someone. And in true love-stricken Spencer fashion, his mystery partner is the one person who he actually wants to date.

Y/N.

He spilled the highly fictionalized details of their relationship to Luke and Penelope over stale donut holes and terrible coffee. Spencer hates lying to his friends, but he’s positive he hates their nagging even more. And now he’s stuck in his lie after he told them he’d bring Y/N to Penelope’s Christmas party. He doesn't even think she’d know his name if it wasn’t for him giving her his credit card every time he comes in to get books. Maybe he’ll pretend to get sick and stay home. He was never one for Christmas parties anyway. Someone always gets too drunk and loud. And the lights and music are a little overwhelming. Maybe he can come up with a tragic breakup story.

And just as Spencer’s supposed to be fantasizing loving Y/N, he’s thinking about what their heart wrenching breakup would be. Right person wrong time? She sleeps with her socks on, which is a dealbreaker in Spencer’s book? Anything that he comes up with sounds trite and curated. Something that Luke and Penelope would see right through.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer hardly realizes he’s reached Y/N’s bookstore until he’s greeted by her waving at him through the picture window. Christmas decorations litter in the window. She’s made a miniature town, with all the buildings made from different books and the little people characters in famous stories.

Spencer waves back excitedly, forgetting for a moment that he told his co-workers/best friends that they are “dating.”

Laughing, Y/N opens the door and sticks her head out to talk to Spencer, “Are you coming in? It’s freezing out here,” she asks, letting the door swing open for Spencer to walk through.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, quietly to himself as he follows her through the door. He rubs his hands together, seeking warmth from his frosty walk. Even after leaving the dusty desert of Las Vegas and the balmy beaches of California years ago, Spencer still isn’t used to the cold winters native to the Eastern United States.

“Coffee?” Y/N asks, not waiting for an answer as she hands Spencer a cup of steaming hot coffee. He doesn't even have to taste it to know that it’s going to be perfect. It amazes him that she can know so little about him, but make it feel like she’s known him his whole life. He wonders if that’s what love is.

“Are you okay?” Y/N questions, taking in Spencer’s rosy cheeks and lost look in his eyes. He takes a sip of the hot coffee and shrugs his shoulders.

The noncommittal answer seems to be the less painful route. He isn’t sure how Y/N would respond if he told her that he basically told his co-workers he wanted to marry her, when in reality she doesn’t even know his middle name. It’s a recurring problem for him. Falling too fast and too hard with people that are just kind to him. Someone smiles at him, asks him how his day is or is just nice and Spencer can hear wedding bells. It’s happened before. With Lila and that became his first heartbreak. With Maeve and that ended tragically. With Max and that just fizzled out like flat soda. But with Y/N it’s different, even though there’s technically nothing with Y/N, except for the scenarios that play in his mind.

“Spence,” Y/N says, looking concerned at his lack of answer, “Are you okay? You seem out of it today,”

“I’m fine,” Spencer says, sighing as he sits down on the vintage armchair in the corner of the store. Y/N’s cat, Chester, sleeps peacefully in the windowsill, until he notices Spencer. He jumps up on Spencer’s lap, curling up to get closer for warmth, “Hey, Chest,” Spencer murmurs, scratching behind the cat’s ears as he purrs happily.

“No, you’re not,” Y/N counters, her eyes narrowing at Spencer with determination, “I know you, Spencer. Something is going on in that beautiful mind of yours,”

He wishes it was sunset. If it was sunset then he’d be able to hide his blush. It’s little things like calling him beautiful and giving him coffee just how he likes it that makes Spencer love Y/N more and more. Loving her isn’t like tripping over his feet, it’s more like tumbling in slow motion. There’s no chance to catch your breath during the free fall, only time to enjoy the rush. No hi I

Spencer looks over at Y/N, who’s working on a new book display for the New Year. She’s occupied with her work, but Spencer can tell that he mind must be going a million miles a minute trying to figure out why he’s acting skittish. Petting Chester, Spencer thinks to himself that it just might be easier to come clean and tell the truth.

“I told Penelope and Luke that I have a date to their Christmas party,” Spencer says, letting the words rush out without much thought. He brings the hot coffee to his lips, letting it burn his tongue so he has an excuse to not talk.

In his energy to not let Y/N know his true intentions, Spencer misses her important nonverbal cues: the split second look of shock and disappointment, the collecting herself as she aggressively creates a magical Winter Wonderland display in the picture winder. Spencer is too inside his own mind to realize what’s right before him.

“Oh really, Spencer. Who’s your date?” Y/N asks, her clipped tone completely lost on Spencer, who pets Chester trying to think of how he’s going to navigate this situation, “Do I know them?”

“The thing is, Y/N. I don’t have a date. I lied. Kind of,” Spencer says, leaving out the most important detail that his date, at least according to Spencer’s wildest dreams and now Penelope’s event calendar, is Y/N.

“Why did you lie about a date, Spence? You know that anyone would be the luckiest person on this planet. In this universe, in all of the universes and multiverses to date you,” Y/N says, dropping the paper figurines and walking over to Spencer. She places her hand on the back of his head, rubbing her thumb against his skin gently. In a strange way, it eases his tension. He must love her an awful lot if the bane of his tension is the only one that can relieve it.

“You’re too nice to me, Y/N,” Spencer says, brushing off her compliment because if he doesn’t he just might start to believe her, “Now you gotta help me come up with a plan for this disaster because I’m going to show up to this date single and I don’t want to deal with Luke’s teasing and Penelope’s meddling and…”

“Take me,”

His heart drops to his ankles. Spencer swears, if he were to look down at the floor, he’d find his bloody heart sitting right next to his feet.

“What?” he asks, even though he heard Y/N perfectly. He needs to hear it again. One, for confirmation that he’s not finally losing it and two, it just might be the first and last time he can take her on a date so he’ll milk it for all it’s worth, “Y/N, you’ll…”

“Be your fake girlfriend for the night? That’s literally the easiest and best job in the world, you dork,” Y/N says, playfully clapping his shoulder, “I mean it, Spence,”

“That you’ll be my fake girlfriend,” he repeats, whispering it because it’s a secret and you don’t want to say secrets too loud otherwise they’ll never come true.

“That I’ll be your girlfriend,” she repeats, “It will be easy! And fun, besides, I’ve been dying to meet Penelope,”

“Y/N, are you sure that you want to do this? We’re dating, I mean they think we’re dating. So, I just don’t want to make you uncomfort-”

Suddenly, Spencer loses all ability to speak. He feels a pair of soft lips brush against his cheek. She leaves the lightest pressure and yet her lips sting him like a thousand bees. He brings his hand to his cheek, ghosting his fingers over the spot where her mouth just was. Spencer hasn’t been dumbfounded many times in his life. Hell, the Riemann’s Hypothesis makes more sense than Y/N wanting to kiss him. Yet, her lips against his skin is a feeling that he’ll have etched into his mind long after he’s tired of equations and math.

“I just had to get that out of the way,” she whispers, talking quietly too. Maybe she’s thinking the same thing as Spencer. Maybe she wants their secrets to stay a secret, “Now you only have to worry about mistletoe at Penelope’s,”

“That’s good. Good. That’s good. Getting it out of the way,” Spencer stammers, forgetting how to talk when all he can think about is the feeling of her kissing him, “I’m gonna go. I have to get things ready for tomorrow. Penelope wants me to pick up icing. And uh, I’ll get you around 5:30?” he asks, scrambling to get up and get out of the bookstore before he does something foolish like kiss Y/N on her lips.

“Sounds good, Spence,” Y/N says, grabbing him a hat that she shoves on his head, “you know if you wait like ten minutes, I’ll drive you home, maybe we can stop for pizza or something and tell me everything your girlfriend would know about you,”

He doesn’t say much, just nods his head as he watches her clean up the supplies from the window displays. Spencer was never smooth around people he liked. He falls in love too fast and usually scares them off, but it doesn’t seem like Y/N is scared off by much, even if their relationship is pretend. Spencer’s so nervous around her, he wishes that he could send her a message in a bottle. He’d write down all the warmth and love and worthiness she makes him feel and bottle it up for only Y/N to open. He could only hope that it would get to her as he’s left on the sidelines hypnotized.

“Ready?” Y/N asks, looking towards Spencer as she shuts off their lights, scoops up Chester and places him in his pet carrier, “We can get take out and head to my place. And you can tell me all the embarrassing stories a girlfriend should know,”

“That sounds…..”

Like all he’s ever wanted.

“That sounds great, Y/N. I’ll pay,” he adds, waving off her protest, “You’re doing me a huge favor, Y/N. It’s my treat. Besides, you’re like family anyway, you know all the embarrassing stories,”

They walk out of the store, the fresh snow on the ground crunching under their shoes. Spencer looks over to Y/N’s bright face and lively eyes, a stark contrast to how huddled he is in the brisk winter breeze. Y/N loves the snow and the cold. Spencer likes the dryness and the heat, but standing there hoping that his message in a bottle makes it to her, he’s never felt warmer.

“Ooh, like the time you knocked down that display because you were so distracted,” Y/N teases, her smirk peeking through her scarf. Spencer shakes his head as he reaches down towards the ground. He scoops up some snow in his hands, balling it up into a sphere and launching it towards Y/N.

“Spencer Walter Reid!” she shouts, faking anger as she secures Chester on her elbow and scoops up some snow to throw a snowball at Spencer.

The cold snow hits Spencer's face, making him shiver. He can taste the icy particles as it stings his kiss, not unlike Y/N’s kiss on his cheek, even though that made him feel all warm inside. And as it turns out, she does know his middle name.

Spencer doesn’t even realize it’s nearly freezing until he sees his breath in the air. He hates the cold and hates the snow even more, yet he found himself digging his car out of a layer of ice and snow. But, he supposed that an unhealthy level of unrequited love will make him do things he hates gleefully. In the end it just might be all worth it, but until then Spencer sits in his powder blue Volvo rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Out of the corner of this eye, he catches Y/N walking down the steps to her apartment complex. She carries a tray of what appears to be Christmas cookies in both her hands as she navigates the icy steps. Spencer, in an effort to help her, flings the car door open. The cold air nips at his nose, but it’s all worth it when Y/N smiles and waves a gloved hand at him. He returns the gesture, nearly slipping on the icy.

“Hey, boyfriend,” Y/N teases, walking down the rest of the stairs as Spencer meets her half way. His feet are freezing in the layers of old and new snow. Wearing Converse probably wasn’t the smartest idea with so much snow on the ground. But his freezing feet and soaked socks pale in seem like the silliest problems when Y/N calls him her boyfriend, even if it’s all pretend.

“Hi, Y/N,” Spencer says, smiling as he takes her appearance in. She wears a dark green peacoat and has a lavender scarf wrapped around her neck. Unlike Spencer, she thrives in the cold. Words can’t quite help him anymore. He feels his face flush and knows that it has

Everything is so overwhelming with the wind nipping at his nose, the snow soaking his feet, and Y/N staring into his eyes and stealing his heart. Spencer’s tempted to think about how easy it is to pretend to be her boyfriend.

“You really didn’t need to bake anything, Luke makes amazing chocolate chip cookies and Penelope is having the whole thing catered so they don't have to cook,” Spencer says, taking the tray from her hands. They’re sugar cookies with pretzels on the top that look like reindeer antlers. He smiles, finding the cookies just as endearing as the girl who made them.

“It’s something a girlfriend would do for her boyfriend’s friends, besides I’ve been dying to meet Penelope,” Y/N says, rambling nervously. Spencer only recognizes it because he’s constantly stopping himself from doing it around her, “I’m freezing, let’s go,”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, following Y/N to his car. She slides into the passenger seat, shaking off the snow from her shoes before shutting the door. Spencer hands her the tray of cookies, sticking his head inside his car. And as he exits, he slams his head against the doorframe.

“Oh damn it!” He shouts, feeling the white hot pain on the top of his head. Spencer rubs the bump on his head, trying to chase away the pain.

“Spence!” Y/N says, reaching up to his head. She places her hand over his, rubbing against the spot. Suddenly, the pain in Spencer’s head is gone. As much as Spencer likes magic, he knows that it’s impossible for his pain to dissipate even if Y/N’s touch is the most magical thing he knows. Before he can react, Y/N pulls his head closer to her face. He keeps his gaze downward, silently terrified for what’s to come next. Spencer thinks that he’s having a stroke because for a split second he feels the tiniest of tiny kisses on his head.

“There,” she says, her hands leaving his neck as quick as they came, “All better,” Y/N whispers, stroking her thumb against Spencer’s cheek in an affectionate way that makes Spencer want to do more than call her his fake girlfriend.

“I-I,” Spencer says, the words failing to materialize in his mind, “I-I think we’re going to be late,” he stammers, finally able to string the words together. His head still stings, but he knows that it’s not because of hitting it against the doorframe.

Y/N nods, looking over at him. He tries to play it cool, but it’s harder than it seems. It’s not just his head that tingles with anticipation and buzzes with love, but his entire body. Spencer starts the car, turning the heat up high as he backs out of the parking space and heads to Penelope’s. As they drive, Spencer reminds himself that this whole thing, no matter how much he wants it too, will end when the sun goes down. He never considered himself a Cinderella, but then again happily ever after looks different than he thought.

Penelope’s house is always warm and bright with the faintest smell of cinnamon. Spencer walks right next to Y/N as they make their way through the doorway. He swears that he’s having heart palpitations because Y/N hasn’t dropped his hand yet, even though they are well through the door and have slid their shoes off. Spencer knows that she'll have to drop his hand to take off her coat, but he’s reluctant. He’ll milk this for all it’s worth.

She does drop his hand, but not before giving it a tight squeeze as she shrugs off her peacoat. He can spend forever thinking about what that squeeze meant, but right now all he can think about is how cold his hand is without holding her hand and how her eyes sparkle in the fairy lights.

“So this is Y/N,” Penelope says, bypassing Spencer completely to hug his “girlfriend” as Luke stands to the side, holding two glasses of champagne and the plate of cookies Y/N brought over, “Spencer talks about you so much. He’s so smitten, it’s adorable,”

Penelope, clearly more than half way to drunk, leans over to pinch Spencer’s ever-redding cheeks. He ducks his head, feeling the embarrassment fill his entire body. It’s hard to swallow, but even harder to look over at Y/N, whose eyes are glued to him.

“Is that right, Spence,” Y/N says, linking their arms together, “It’s a good thing that I’m smitten with you too,” she adds, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, just like the one she gave him back at her bookstore and it leaves Spencer’s skin tingling. His blush is authentic, almost too authentic, so Penelope squeals with delight. Part of him feels bad for tricking Penelope, for the 15 years she’s been trying to set him up and now he’s pretending to be happily committed when he's actually fooling her.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, fidgeting with his thumbs. He feels his throat get scratchy with a mixture of nerves and guilt. But then Y/N’s soft hands come to cover his. She squeezes again, that little gesture doing more than a defibrillator could ever do for Spencer’s heart.

“You too are the cutest!” Penelope shouts, clearly unable to hold her alcohol. Endeared by her antics, Luke smiles as Peneloep drags Y/N towards the living room when Tara and Emily sit by the fireplace, “Tara! Em! She’s real,”

“I’ll be fine, Spence,” Y/N says, waving as she laughs along with Penelope. He watches her leave, his hand a lot colder again. Luke studies his face and it’s like he can read his mind. They’ve only known each other for a couple years, but in that short while Luke’s carved a very special place on the team.

“You’re so whipped,” Luke says, handing Spencer the glass of champagne as they walk back to the kitchen.

“I love her,” Spencer whispers, his throat growing dry again. He drinks the champagne, chasing the light and airy feeling it gives him. He remembers drinking too much of it at JJ and Will’s wedding and doing magic tricks for Penelope. It seems like a lifetime ago, he’s so different now, but somehow exactly the same, “I love her, a lot,”

“It’s painfully obvious,” Luke quips, smiling widely. Like Penelope, he’s clearly thrilled that Spencer has finally found someone, which makes Spencer feel all more guilty, “I mean look how you look at her. It’s all in the eyes, man,”

“Actually Luke, that’s scientifically impossible. You can do that with human anatomy,” Spencer says, bashfully. His face is a perpetual shade of pink as he drinks the remainder of champagne. Luke opens the oven, checking on the various appetizers and hors d’oeuvres he and Penelope made.

“Spencer, you are in love. L-O-V-E. Love,” Luke spells out, “And you know what, I’m glad. You deserve it more than anyone I know,”

Spencer wishes that he could believe Luke. He wishes that he was 4 years old again and believed in the magic of shooting stars. He wishes he didn’t have to pretend to pretend to not love Y/N all while loving her in the same breath. Licking his lips and nodding, Spencer doesn’t answer Luke. Maybe it’s too painful, maybe he’s too vulnerable, whatever it is, Spencer isn’t sure. But what he is sure of, is that he’s sick of bottling up all the love he has for her. He wants to let it go and watch it ooze out.

“Come have a drink with the girls,” Luke says, clapping Spencer on the shoulder. He leaves him alone in the kitchen, letting him stand there with his thoughts. Spencer can hear laughter and jokes from the living room. If he strains his ears enough, he’ll be able to pick out Y/N’s giggles from the lot.

Looking out the window, Spencer watches the snow fall. It’s fresh and light and airy as it falls to the ground, joining the gray slush from the previous night. Spencer feels a lot like snow. He was once a clean slate, falling to the ground aimlessly. But now? Now he’s not too sure. But like how he can pick out Y/N’s laughter in any crowd, Spencer’s pretty sure he’s murky snow.

“Spence! I’ll ice, you put the candy down. We’ll make a red and green pattern with the peppermints?” Y/N asks, excitement in her voice as she draws scalloped edges on the Gingerbread House roof.

“Sure,” Spencer says, keeping his words clipped and short, “Whatever you want,” he adds, unable to stop himself. Apparently, Penelope went a little heavy handed with the eggnog and Spencer had discovered Peppermint Schnapps. He knew it was a recipe for disaster; drinking like a college kid when he’s nearly 40. And on top of it all, pretending to keep their little act up.

“You having fun?” Y/N asks, inching closer to Spencer. They sit in two separate chairs, but she’s so close that she’s practically sitting in his lap. Suddenly, Spencer’s grateful for the Peppermint Schnapps and chocolate syrup that gives him the courage to stay, even though it probably won’t agree with him in the morning.

“I’m having a blast,” Spencer says, unable to control the smile that covers his face. Y/N is so close at this point that Spencer can smell her citrusy perfume. Staring at her, Spencer’s eyes flit down to her lips. For as long as he has loved her, which is nearly 946 days, Spencer hasn’t looked at her lips. How could he have been with her for all this time and not realize that her lips look like they’d fit perfectly on his.

“A blast?” Y/N asks skeptically, but a playful pulling on her incredibly distracting lips. Lips that kisses his cheek, lips that smile at him whenever she sees him, lips that tease him over a Gingerbread House, “Oh, wait,”

She reaches her thumb out to his face, grazing along the corner of his mouth. Y/N turns her thumb to face him, showing off the bit of chocolate syrup leftover from the Peppermint Schnapps and chocolate syrup drinks Luke made. He feels his breath hitch and his face blush even more when Y/N brings her thumb to her mouth, cleaning off the chocolate syrup. Her lips are shiny and glossy, proving to be even more tempting.

“There,” Y/N says, her gaze not leaving Spencer’s and Spencer’s gaze not leaving her lips, “You had chocolate sauce on your lip,” she explains, darting her eyes down to his lips for a millisecond, but it’s enough for Spencer’s quick eyes to catch it.

“We should decorate the roof,” Spencer says, breaking free from a spell that he wants to be forever enchanted under, “Before the icing hardens,”

“You’re the engineer,” Y/N replies, shifting through the candies on their plate. She takes a red gumdrop, alternating between red and green on the roof, “So, are we fooling them,” she whispers, reminding Spencer that he’s still living a lie, not the fantasies of his daydreamss.

“Oh,” he says, catching himself quickly, “I think so. I mean, Luke was teasing me because I apparently look at you like I love you,”

“Oh,” Y/N says, holding on tightly to the gumdrop, “Penelope said the same thing to me,”

“That I look at you like I love you?” Spencer says, sticking his tongue out as he concentrates on placing the candy down. Y/N draws icicles with the icing on the Gingerbread windows.

She pauses and then says, after what seems like two lifetimes,

“No, that I look at you like I love you,”

The plate of candies drops to the floor, ricocheting around on the hardwood floor. Spencer scrambles to the ground, partly to clean up the mess and partly to hide his embarrassment. No, it’s not embarrassment, more like excitement. Or both. Maybe it’s both. It’s probably both.

“Sorry, Y/N. I’m clumsy, but you knew that already, I guess,” Spencer says, picking up the pieces of the candy with Y/N.

Spencer doesn’t even realize that his hands are shaking until Y/N’s hands cover his. They are soft and warm against his worn and cold ones. And just like thinks that their lips would fit together, their hands fit together like puzzle pieces. Spencer has the sneaking suspicion that nearly every part of him meshes perfectly with every part of her.

“Hey, Spence,” Y/N whispers, giving him, yet again, the tiniest squeeze of his hand, “It’s good that they think we love each other. Isn’t that the whole point,”

“Yeah,” Spencer whispers, the chatter of the party and the tune of the music in background, “I guess it’s the whole point,”

He licks his lips, a habit that becomes worse during the harsh winter when the wind nips at any exposed skin. It’s like time gets paralyzed when they’re sitting there on the floor with the plate of candy between them. And Spencer realizes, too late, that it’s impossible for him to not look at her like he loves her because he loves her.

“Say cheese!” Penelope says, sitting down on the floor with a camera in her hands. The flash of light blinds Spencer, etching Y/N’s features into the back of his mind. He was wrong, it’s not just her lips or her laugh that distracts him, it's everything about her.

“You two are the cutest,” Penelope shouts, happily snapping pictures of Tara and Emily in their matching sweaters on the couch.

“I need something to drink,” Y/N says, getting herself up from the floor with a sigh that sounds like it’s more than what appears to the ear, “What about you, Spence?” she asks.

“Maybe a water,” he says, stopping himself before he says it, even though he desperately wants to say it, “Thanks, sweetheart,”

He drops the bomb that he swore to himself that he would not drop. It’s the point of no return, calling Y/N a sweet name that he’s only said in his daydreams. Y/N, in her defense, doesn’t look shocked, but gives him another unreadable look. He can blame it all he wants on Peppermint Schnapps and his own heart playing tricks on him, but he’ll have to face reality come tomorrow morning when this is all nothing but an elaborate prank. And the only one who’s going to get hurt is himself.

Y/N returns, silently handing Spencer the water bottle before nearly slipping out of the living room. But Spencer, tired of letting everything good slip through his fingers, catches the arm of her cardigan.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice sounding completely earnest, even without the endearing name that threatens to slip from his lips, “Please wait, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if it’s too much–,”

“Spencer, it’s not you. It’s just. It’s…I need some air,”

And then she’s gone. Spencer understands what Jordan meant when she told Nick that big parties are private, because in Penelope’s small living room all eyes are on the madly in love couple— who’s just for show.

“You’re going to follow her out there, right?” Tara asks, appearing at Spencer’s shoulder with a drink and plate of cookies in hand, both of which are for Emily.

“What?” Spencer says, feigning ignorance, something that’s foreign for him, “Why would I—”

“Because you love her,” Tara says, rolling her eyes at Spencer’s naivety, “and she loves you, probably more than you love her if that’s possible”

“Do you really think she would want me to follow her out there? If you think she does love me. If she actually loves me?” Spencer asks, searching for an answer in the crowded room.

“Go!” Tara shouts, practically shoving Spencer towards the deck door where Y/N stands.

Spencer, unsure where this conversation may lead, closed the blinds on the way out. He can feel his heart thump in his chest and even though the snow falls from the sky in frozen rainy clumps, he’s not even cold. Y/N stands motionless, watching the snowfall and the Christmas lights twinkle.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says, “I’m so sorry, Spence. I didn’t mean to freak out on you there. It’s just, I guess I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be pretending to be in love with you,”

He’s cold. From the tips of his fingers to all his insides and outsides, he’s cold. He feels the blood rush from his face as Y/N’s remark. Spencer shifts on his feet, unable to move closer to Y/N, but unable to leave too. In the seconds of silence, Spencer’s mind tumbles around and around trying to interpret what she meant.

Spencer settles on the only logical thing: he’s too much. It’s too hard to pretend to love him with all his quirks and oddities. He finds it a little sick and twisted that he fooled himself into thinking that Y/N would be different from the rest. But then again, there’s still that hopeless romantic part of him that, for lack of better words, is hopelessly hanging on.

“I’ll bring you home,” Spencer says, settling for his worst fears rather than his greatest hopes, “I’ll tell Penelope you’re feeling sick and I’ll bring you home. But I’ll have to have Luke call one of those Uber things, I’m not good to drive. But I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I roped you into this,” he repeats, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate and the coolness of the peppermint on his lips. It tasted good before, but now it only tastes like regret and heartache.

“No,” Y/N says, reaching out to Spencer. And in a couple steps they’re standing eye to eye. She licks her lips, daring to continue, “It’s not that at all, Spencer. What I didn’t realize is how hard it is to pretend to love you, when it’s all I’ve been doing for the past 2 years,”

It’s like watching a movie in slow motion. Or maybe in reverse. He’s played it so many times in his head that he’s not sure how it ends or begins.

“I–”

“You don’t have to say it back. I just, I can’t live my life without you knowing how I feel about you. How much I feel for you, how much you make me feel. And then you called me sweetheart. God, Spencer, I dreamt of that. I dreamt of the day that you’d look at me like you love me. I dreamt of being yours, even if you could never be mine,” Y/N says, her voice as breathless as the wind, “I’ll still love you if you don’t love me back, Spencer. I’ll understand if you don’t,”

“No, I–”

“I’m going to get going,” Y/N says, a tear trickling down her cheek as she drops his hand. He didn’t even know that she grabbed his hands, but he certainly knows when they’re gone, “Please don’t let me being foolish ruin what we had. I can’t bare to lose you,”

“Sweetheart,”

“Please don’t go,” Spencer whispers, rejoining their hands. He squeezes Y/N’s hand, like she did before. He feels his belly fill with a sudden warmth and a smile play at his mouth, “Please, Y/N. Let me have my turn, let me tell you all that you mean to me,”

With a slight nod of her head, Y/N gives him permission. He’s not quite sure how to string the words together. Words can’t quite seem to do their story justice, even though, ironically, the love of words on pages and pages of books is what brought them together.

“Remember the display, the one that I knocked down?” Spencer asks, getting a look from Y/N that tells him she has no idea where this is going, “You know that happened because you’re so distracting. Everything about you, Y/N has me doing summersaults. I tried to convince myself that being in your life was enough, even if we never breached that boundary. But it wasn’t, Y/N. It wasn’t enough, I don’t think I can ever go back to loving you in secret,”

“Spence,” Y/N says, like she’s said it thousands of times before because she has. And she’ll say it a thousand more. He’ll never grow tired of hearing his name from her lips, in her voice, calling him closer and closer to her.

Spencer, lacking the words, steps closer to Y/N. They’re so close that he can feel her heart beating against his one. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly close and tries to not lose his mind at the whimper of relief she makes. Spencer’s other hand cups Y/N’s face. She’s cold in the winter wind and his thumb draws shapeless shapes around her skin. They have forever to memorize each other, but know he really just wants to kiss her.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Y/N whispers, sounding braver than Spencer feels, “Because I’d really like for you to kiss me,”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Spencer says, brushing a piece of her hair from her face as he lowers his head to hers. The silence makes his heart race with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s been daydreaming of this moment ever since he knocked down the display of books. And despite the cold, the warmth in Spencer’s chest spreads throughout his entire body.

“There it is again,”

And it’s actually like it seems to be in the movies. The distance between their lips grows shorter and shorter. Spencer can feel the vibrations ricocheting off their bodies as they meet, closing the gap. Before, when he would dream of kissing her, Spencer thought that he would be too nervous for it to be good. Yet somehow, he’s not nervous at all. Somehow, when his lips glide across Y/N’s lips he’s calm. Maybe it’s her uncanny ability to understand him or maybe soulmates are actually real, but whatever it is, Spencer knows he’ll spend the rest of his life chasing it like he’s chasing a daydream.

Y/N, growing restless, breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against his. Spencer’s breath mixes with her’s and their heartbeats thump as one, it’s impossible to tell them apart. He’s grateful for her for many things, but he never would think he’d be grateful for her breaking the kiss before he grows hungry for more.

“How I got you to love me back, Y/N. It’s beyond me, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers, his eyes scanning over her face with nothing but love in his eyes. He’ll still chase his daydreams, but now, at least he’ll have someone to squeeze his hand and dream along with him.

TAGLIST (still open, shoot me an ask)

@reidslibrarybook @reidsbookclub @shemarmooresfedora @reidsacademia @strawberryspence @pastelbabygirl19 @folkreid @doctorspenceryeet @the-chaotic-cow @alexrosex99 @emilyprentisswif3 @jswessie187 @muffin-cup @fbivestreid @fandomfriend33 @reidslovely @alexontheinternet @navs-bhat @mimischaos @xoxospencerreid @gspenc @reidsmilf @ssa-uglywhore27 @cncos-baby @drayshadow @nomajdetective @alexxavicry @spencerreidat3am

#boldlyreblog #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader Christmas fic #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

There’s A Heart On Your Sleeve (I’ll Take It When I Leave)

Summary: Spencer is no Clyde and you are no Bonnie, but why can't you just run from it all?

Content Warning: Spencer's prison arc, mention of narcotics, and Spencer being drugged.

Pairing & Category: Spencer Reid x Reader (She/Her) & Angst with a bittersweet ending

Word Count: 3,450

Note: This is based off Run (Taylor's Version) (From the Vault) with Ed Sheeran. It was one of my favorites from the vault immediately. Their voices sound beautiful together! Technically this can be considered a part 2 to this fic, but it's more like they take place in the same universe. I like doing parallels or callbacks to older fics (P.S. it's the one when they get married in the field of flowers with flower rings). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this & there's more vault fics to come!!

Latest Fic | Masterlist | Thoughts? Ideas? Vault Requests?

There's A Heart On Your Sleeve (I'll Take It When I Leave)

When he realizes what’s happening, all Spencer can hear is people yelling. His head hurts too much to think. All he can do is sit there in the cell and hope that the spinning stops. In his head, he pictures how the dust settled as the lights in the rear view flash before his eyes. Everything hurts. His hands, his head, his chest. It feels like his heart is going to explode from his chest.

Anytime when the world gets to be too much, Spencer will try to ground himself. He’ll think of things in his surroundings that remind him of the good in the world. But, hundreds of miles away from home with blood caked into his nail bed, he struggles to find the good. He reaches into his pocket, looking for the small piece of good that he has left. Your gold and red locket is heavy in his shaking hands. He hides it in his hand, keeping it safe. But he wonders, who will keep it safe from him?

The guard comes to the cell waving his hand to get Spencer’s attention. He stands up, hoping that someone will finally tell him what happened. No amount of clarity will help Spencer understand why there is blood crusted under his nails and why he feels like he is flying. All he feels is shame, though. After years and years of staying clean, after crawling out of his own grave time and time again, he’s watching it crumple like a piece of paper tossed to the side. His head hurts too much to think about that.

“I need to call Y/N,” Spencer whispers to the guard, “I need to call my wife,” he says, hoping for some mercy from this stranger.

“You're gonna need a lot more than that,” the man says, his eyes scanning across Spencer’s face. He doesn’t have a mirror, but he doesn’t need one to know he looks like he’s been through it. From his blood-caked nails to his dirty hands, Spencer, himself, knows he looks anything but innocent of whatever it is that he’s in here for.

“What’s going on?” Spencer says, desperate for answers that he doesn’t have. He’s not used to not knowing. He’s used to having all the answers, but now he’s in the dark without a flicker of light in sight, “What am I doing here?”

“You tell me,” the man says, “You tell me what you’re doing flying down the road high out of your mind. Where’s your identification? Your passport?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says, his voice growing timid with defeat, “I-I…Something’s wrong. I can’t remember anything. I need to call her. I need her,” he says, his desperate pleas going ignored.

“What’s your name? What happened to your hand?” he asks, making Spencer look down at the bloody gash on his hand. How did he not see this before? How did he miss this? He never misses things like that, it’s not like him.

As the man stares at him through the cell bars, your locket burns into his skin. He wants to curl up on the cot a couple feet away and pretend that this is all a nightmare. The rest of the room bustles around making Spencer’s head spin.

“Doesn’t that seem like something a person would know?” the guard says, the sarcasm in his voice not lost on Spencer, “And you Americans don’t understand. You don’t get a phone call,” he adds, the bitterness stinging Spencer more than his bleeding hand.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going on,” Spencer says, bringing his bloody and dirty hands to his hair. When he’s stressed he tugs on his hair like it will help him suddenly understand what he needs to do. It never works.

What works is you.

“Well, what if you help me understand why you had narcotics in your possession? Maybe then, I’ll help you get that call,” the man says, bargaining with Spencer. So many times Spencer’s been on the opposite end of this conversation, offering someone a deal for a piece of information. His head hurts too much to think straight. It looks like the man has three heads and maybe four floating eyes.

“You forgot about that didn’t you,” the guard chuckles, a twisted smile spreading to his face, “If I were you, I’d start talking,” he suggests, leaning forward to whisper through the cell bars, “Start from the beginning,”

His mom. The treatment. The car. The woman. The blood. It all comes rushing back.

You follow in behind Luke and Emily. The station where Spencer was brought to is a place you know you never want to be in again, but you know you’ll return in your nightmares. The flight down was silent. Neither Emily or Luke wanted to admit to you they had no idea what to do to help Spencer, but you knew it anyway.

Luke, despite not being on the team for long, seemed to have taken on the burden of making sure that Spencer is okay because he reaches the cell before you can. When you approach him, Spencer’s eyes darken with shame. He refuses to meet your eyes in embarrassment or humiliation, you’re not sure. Whatever it is, though, you never want to see it on his beautiful face again.

“I’m going to run some tests. Try to figure out what they got you on,” Luke says softly, his genuine care for Spencer making you believe that somehow you’ll be able to get through this, “We’re all here for you, man,”

“Thank you. Helpful,” Spencer mutters, holding the cell bars as he rests his forehead against the metal. All you want to do is reach out and fix his hair, “You came,” he whispers, his eyes, for the first time, meeting yours.

Everytime he looks at you, you fall in love all over again. His golden brown eyes melt as he looks at you. With one look, you’re transported back to all those sweet memories with his arms around your body holding you steady. Now it’s your turn.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say, “I love you, Spencer. I love you no matter what happens,” you tell him like it’s the last time he’ll hear it because it might be.

“I love you,” Spencer says, tears streaming down his face as he reaches out between the bars for your hand. He grips onto you, holding you steady as your shake with fear and anxiety, “forever and always,”

“Forever and always,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. He looks away, swallowing his fears for your shake. You want to kick yourself for letting him be the brave one again.

“We’re having a hard time finding this Dr. Rosa,” Emily says, sifting through the paperwork in her arms. She hands Luke a thin file of the information they collect from Garcia, “Can you tell us anything about her? A last name, maybe? Why were you going to Mexico to see her?” Emily asks, glancing at Luke.

Their silent communication makes you feel a little uncomfortable and totally useless. There isn’t much you can do, but hold Spencer’s hand through the cell bars and try not to cry. You know they don’t mean to purposely leave you out, but your desperation to see Spencer free outweighs the way it stings.

“I’m trying to remember,” Spencer says, his gaze moving down to his shoes. You recognize that look, the shame of it. What you would give to take all his pain away. You want to bottle it all up and toss it away into the ocean, far away from Spencer. He’s had so much to try to strip him of his goodness, it will be a tragedy to see it wilt away yet again, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” he repeats, his words slurred as he speaks.

“My agents chased you near the border. My best guess is you planned out crossing it,” the man from earlier says, appearing from the left near the officer’s desks. Emily and Luke make eyes at each other again, the communication lost on you, “Is that true?”

“No, I don’t...I, uh,” Spencer says, stammering through the words. He brings his hands to his head, the blood dried around the wound. It looks like it hurts, but from the way he talks you’re not ever sure he remembers his name, let alone feels any pain, “I think I was chasing someone,” Spencer says.

“My officers believe you were too,” he says, looking at Emily and Luke, “But they didn’t get any information on that person,”

“I think I’m being framed,” Spencer says. You suck in a breath, even though you knew he was innocent the whole time, you wonder how he got himself into this mess in the first place, “I didn’t hurt anyone. I would never hurt anyone,”

“I know, baby,” you whisper, “I know you wouldn’t” you reassure, wishing you could do nothing more, but hug him so tight he forgets all about his terrible day.

You pinch your skin, hoping foolishly that you’ll wake up cuddled up next to Spencer’s sleeping body under your warm sheets and golden sunlight. But you don’t wake up. Your skin hurts from the pinch, but it’s nothing compared to the pang in your heart.

“Who would do this Spencer?” Emily asks, “We put so many people away, but this, this is something different,” she gathers, sharing looks between Luke and Spencer.

“It’s not looking good, Reid,” Luke says, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I’m trying to get our counterparts to release you to us. It’s going to take some time, but we’re going to do our best to get your home,”

Spencer nods, thanking his co-workers for their unyielding loyalty. They really are good people, you think. If you would be able to have it your way, you would have broken him out of here guns blazing. You would have been in the getaway car on the open road with responsibilities in the past and possibilities in the future.

“I want to talk to Y/N,” Spencer says, his voice threatening to break as he says your name, “I need to say somethings,”

“Spencer, baby, I’m right here,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady for both of you, “I’m not going anywhere,”

The man from earlier returns with a partner, maybe the second in command. He walks over to Spencer’s cell without a word, unlocking the cell. Spencer’s cuffed hands don’t make for an easy hug, but neither of you care. Spencer doesn’t smell like his normal coffee and mint shampoo. He smells like bleach and sweat, but, again, you don’t care. His metal cuffs cut into his skin and he lets you hug him. You know that you want nothing more than to put his arms around you and pretend that this day has never happened.

“No touching!” the partner shouts angrily, making you jump and remove Spencer from your embrace.

Spencer’s pale face looks more ghostly than ever. His hallowed cheeks and wild eyes look nothing like the gentle, golden, and good man you know and love. But somewhere, under the caked blood, bloodshot eyes, and dirty skin is the man you married. He’s still him, even though you don’t recognize the lifeless stare he wears.

“I’m not weak, I’m not weak, I’m not weak,” Spencer whispers, rocking on his feet slightly as he tries to soothe himself. You want to reach out to him, tell him he’s the strongest person you know, but the words don’t come. It’s like you’re paralyzed by it. The reassurance that lives on your lips falters into nothing.

“You have five minutes,” the man says, dismissing his partner and himself as they walk away towards the direction they came in.

Emily and Luke share another pointed look, communicating silently as Spencer continues to mutter under his breath. Now that the police are gone, you rush to Spencer’s side. First you inspect his wounds. The bleeding on his hand has stopped, but looks really painful. His head is bruised too and his lips are puffy. Whatever has happened to him has left as much of a mental scar as a physical one. You were forced to leave your purse at security when you first arrived, but it’s not like it would have been much help anyway. Afterall, bandaids don’t fix bullet holes, or in this case, grazings.

“I’ll be okay,” you tell them, wanting a moment alone with Spencer before you lose the chance. You know, without a shadow of doubt, that he’s innocent. But, unfortunately, it’s not for you to judge. And, like Luke said himself, things aren’t looking in Spencer’s favor right now, “Five minutes,” you confirm, smiling a tight-lipped smile as they follow the police out the door and into their offices.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you say, “come sit,” you tell him, directing him to the metal bench against the wall, “I don’t have any bandages or anything. I just—”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Spencer says, holding your face in his hands. You lick your lips, a nervous tick you’ve always had. You don’t know what to say. Was this a confession? No it can’t be, “We shouldn’t be in this town,” Spencer whispers, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes, “I’m so sorry, I fucked this up for you too,” he says, resting his forehead against your forehead in a moment of profound tenderness.

“I just—Spencer, tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you were doing here,” you say, hoping to get some answers from him, whatever they might be.

“I—I came here because Rosa has this experimental medicine that’s going to save my mom. I needed to save. I have to take care of her,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut as the memories of the last three days flood through his mind.

“Your mom?” you ask, you know her condition and Spencer’s anxieties surrounding it. He’s always had this intense sense of responsibility for his mother, “Spencer, whatever I have to do I’m going to get you out of here. I will do anything for you,”

“I know,” he whispers, his lips ghosting across your lips. They are chapped and rough as he kisses you. It’s not much of a kiss, more like teeth clashing against teeth in a passionate and frustrated mess. You’re skin and bone, fated to get through all the challenges that life throws your way, “I love you. So much. And I fucked it all up,” he whispers, his voice breaking for the first time.

You kiss him to silence his worries, even though it’s only temporary. This one is much sweeter, less desperate. Spencer lets you set the pace. He loses himself in it, kissing you like it’s the first time and last time he’s kissing you.

“I have something for you,” he whispers, his lips moving against your cheek. He breaks the kiss to reach into his pocket. He pulls out your locket, the gold and red necklace that he gifted you for your first anniversary together. Spencer puts it around your neck; the cool metal resting against your skin, “Take it with you. I’m sorry I swiped it from you, but I needed a piece of something good when I left,”

You told yourself the whole plane ride here and car ride to the station that you’d have to be the brave one. You know that doing that was a long shot, because when it comes to seeing Spencer in pain you’re automatically a mess. Gently, Spencer wipes the tears that glisten your cheeks. You hate yourself for the split-second that you doubted him.

“Spencer, you’re the good thing,” you tell him, hoping that he knows just how good he is. He might not believe it, but you’ll believe it enough for the two of you, “You’re always the good thing,”

“You always had more faith in me than I could ever understand,” Spencer says, kissing your knuckles as you lower your hands to your lap, “I’ll love you forever, but you don’t have to love me forever, whatever happens to me, Y/N, I never want it to stop you from being happy,”

“Shut up, Spencer,” you say, almost mad that he would suggest that, “I’ll break down any jail with my bare hands before that happens,” you promise, looking him in the eyes so he knows you’re serious. He smiles sadly, kissing your forehead as you melt into him.

“I wish we could run away,” you say into his shirt. He wears his old plaid green shirt. The one he wears when you do yard work together or go apple picking in the fall. You wonder if he’ll ever be able to wear it again without it being tainted by today. Or if he’ll wear anything besides a very different uniform, “Let’s run, Spencer,” you offer.

He sighs deeply, knowing that you know you can’t run. No matter how much Spencer wants to see your sweet home again, he knows that he can only do it with the law on his side.

“Tell me a story,” Spencer asks, hoping to change the subject. You feel him tense under your touch, but you can’t help yourself.

“We can go where our eyes can take us,” you say, hoping to convince him, even though you know you can’t, “Darling, let’s run,”

“Remember that time we went to that little field and got married, it was the best day of my life, Y/N. I remember your vows, they were the most beautiful things that I have ever heard. You were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You are the most beautiful person I’ve seen,” Spencer says, continuing on his train of thought.

“We can run like we’re running from the law,” you say, kissing his shoulder. Maybe that’s the key to get him to agree; he can never resist your kisses, “It’s a shot in the dark, Spence, but we could do it,”

“And my vows, you made me recite them for weeks and weeks,” Spencer continues, “I can say them now, if you want?” he offers.

“Please,” you say, forgetting, for a second your determination to run, “Please,” you say again.

“On February 14th, 1990— years before you and I met— Voyager One captured our first picture together. It’s not a great picture, it’s really fuzzy and hard to see. It’s just a pale blue dot in a sea of grainy grayness…But we’re all in it. All of us. And, uh, I’m not the best with words, Y/N. So I’ll like Carl Sagan say it, ‘Everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam,” he recites, perfectly remembering his speech from all those years ago.

You mouth the words as Spencer says them. You’ve been married long enough to have them committed to memory. He continues as you cry into his arms, wishing that things could have been different.

“Say you’ll never let them tear us apart,” you whisper into his shirt, squeezing Spencer so tight that maybe you’ll mold into one and you’ll be able to take him home with you, “Please, Spencer,” you beg, hating yourself for sounding so desperate.

“We’ll go where no one else is,” Spencer promises, kissing your head as he sighs again. You look up at him, bridging the gap between your lips.

“Darling, let’s run,” you say, hoping he’ll believe you this time.

He kisses your eyes, doing your cheeks, your nose and under your neck. This isn’t his I Love You Kiss this is his Goodbye kiss. Your skin is like Braille and he’s doing everything he can to memorize you. He commits to memory the way that your skin feels against his lips, the sighs of peace you make when he finally connects your lips to his lips, the feeling of your eyes on him. He kisses you like it’s your last kiss, a kiss you never thought you’d get. Of thousands of kisses it has to be your best one, even though it’s the one you hate the most.

“Darling, let’s run,” Spencer repeats, but there’s no promise in his voice, only defeat.

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